“I bring you a message.” I reached out my hand with Apicata’s note.
He stepped forward and took it warily, keeping his attention focused on me as he opened the folded sheet of papyrus.
I had no idea what it said, but it must have been favorable. Casca scanned the note, tucked the message into the fold of his toga, then took my hands in his and pumped them in gratitude.
“Our lives are in your hands, Thrasius.”
I smiled, unsure I wanted to bear the weight of such expectations. I tried to extract my hands from his but his grip held firm.
“Does your father know of your intentions?”
“He does, but he knows Apicius has been talking with Dolabella and Narses. He doesn’t believe I have a chance against the current consul or a man so prominent in the Imperial household.”
“He may have a point.”
“But Apicata’s note said—”
I cut him off. “I know, but I cannot promise anything.”
In looking at the young man, his eyes desperate and flooded with love, I decided I knew the fastest way to either nip this in the bud or change Apicius’s mind.
“You want to marry Apicata? Come now, I have an idea. We have one chance.”
He followed me back to the villa, asking me questions that I didn’t answer.
When we reached the villa, I led him to a small triclinium the family used for breakfast and which had little traffic during the day. He was uncomfortable being in the house with only my permission and no formal reason for being there, but I assured him he had nothing to worry about. I instructed one slave to bring him refreshment and another to watch the door and make sure Casca was not disturbed until I came back.
I went to find Apicius. He was in his library, going over the results of the day’s Senate votes. A messenger brought them to him every day after they closed session at the Curia and then his scribe took dictation, letters of thanks or disappointment to the senators who had a hand in each vote.
Sotas ushered me in. “You’re lucky,” he said to me in a low voice. “All the votes were in his favor today. And he has other good news which I’m sure he’ll impart to you.”
Apicius was in an excellent mood. He looked up from his papers and a broad smile crossed his face when he saw me. “Thrasius! You will never guess what happened last night! Publius Octavius tripped at his banquet. Fell right into a servant carrying a pot of soup and it splashed all over Caesar and Livia! Oh, what I would have given to see that unfold!” Apicius’s face reddened more with each chuckle.
I didn’t like to laugh at someone else’s expense, but I have to admit, picturing the scene did give me pleasure. Soon Apicius had me laughing as well, as he made up mocking scenarios of what the apology to Caesar must have sounded like.
I broke in, knowing I had to address the task at hand and remedy the situation of Apicata’s poor suitor waiting in the atrium.
“Apicius, I come on other business this afternoon,” I said, hoping my nervousness was not apparent.
He grew sober. “Oh, yes, what is it?” Apicius poured himself a cup of wine and offered me one. I declined but let him quaff his portion. He might need it.
“I brought someone to the villa to speak with you,” I said, unsure how he would take my news. “He’s waiting in the breakfast triclinium.”
“Let’s go.” Apicius motioned to Sotas to follow. “Tell me as we walk.”
We left the room and headed down the hallway toward the atrium. “Before I tell you, Apicius,” I said, still unused to the taste of his name in my mouth, “I want you to seriously consider what the man has to say.”
Apicius looked at me in earnest. “Now you have me intrigued! I have always trusted your advice, Thrasius. But why must you warn me?”
“I’m unsure this man would normally have entered into your plans. I believe he’s worthy, however, and I want you to consider his petition in all seriousness.”
“Who is this man? Stop speaking in riddles!” Apicius no longer seemed inclined to humor me, but fortunately we had reached the door to the triclinium.
I ushered him in. Casca was sitting on the couch, holding a scroll of poetry Apicata had left in the room after breakfast. For one brief moment when we entered, the look on his face was pure terror. To his credit, he composed himself immediately and stood to greet us.
“Apicius, you remember Leonis Antius Casca? He has come here to speak with you about marrying your daughter.”
Apicius studied me long and hard, then addressed young Casca. His voice was laced in ice.
“You want to marry Apicata?”
“Yes, Gavius Apicius, I do.” Casca was the epitome of a man of determination. I saw his hand reach into the fold of his toga and touch Apicata’s note and I realized it was the strength of Cupid guiding this man.
Apicius walked over to the chair next to the couch and gestured for Casca to sit. I took a seat opposite them both. Sotas remained at his post next to the door.
“Tell me what you can bring to this family. Does your father agree with this union?”
Casca didn’t waver. “He does. He has remarked to me many times how much he would like to see our families united.”
Apicius responded with an incline of his head and his mouth turned up at the edges in a thoughtful smile. “Explain to me, then, why are you here instead of him?”
“He doesn’t have my conviction—that you would find me more suitable than Dolabella or Narses.”
I was surprised at the audacity of this young man. Apicius was also surprised. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual. When he did, he sounded amused and—although Casca couldn’t know it—impressed. “And why do you think I would find you more suitable?”
“It is quite simple.” Casca looked at me, then at Apicius. “I love your daughter. They do not.”
Apicius snorted. “Love is not a prerequisite to marriage.”
“Quite true. However, I bring to you both power and influence—through my father now, but also in my future as I follow in his footsteps. I will continue to bring you and your family honor, and precious votes in the elections. And what I can do that Dolabella and Narses cannot is assure you I will take care of your daughter with every fiber of my being.”
“Go on,” Apicius said, intrigued. I was glad I had decided to bring Casca here on such impulse.
“I have watched you with Apicata over these many months. I know how you dote on her, how you hold her close to your heart. She is as important to you as your love for culinary delights,” he remarked.
Good, I thought. The boy had a sense of how to stroke Apicius’s ego, though I knew the truth that Casca—and likely even Apicius—did not. Food and fame would always be first in Apicius’s heart.