“I can promise you that your daughter will have love and laughter. Narses and Dolabella care not for her as much as they do for your money. My motives are pure. Few in this world have the chance to marry for love. Let your daughter be one of them.”
The silence was thick, like a sauce with too little water. Apicius did not speak for a long time. Instead, he sat there looking patiently at Casca, his face devoid of emotion.
I couldn’t take it any longer. “Apicata returns his favor.” As soon as I said the words I knew they lacked the confidence Casca had exhibited. Apicius’s silence had caused me doubt.
Apicius set a steely eye on me. I feared he would ask me if the two had been meeting and I would have to decide whether I should lie.
He didn’t. Instead he spoke to Casca. “There are other men who would be better suited to marrying Apicata. But I admire your gall. Give me one more reason why I should consider your petition, though it will likely not sway me.”
Casca paused, his eyes glancing somewhere in the vicinity of Apicius’s knees. I thought he was going to falter but then he lifted his gaze, and when he spoke I knew that if Cupid was not with him, Venus certainly was.
“Apicius, I should marry your daughter because we are meant to be. We are like rose wine and oysters, like truffles and pepper, like lentils and chestnuts or crane with turnip. We belong together like mullet and dill, milk and snails, suckling pig and silphium. You have known these loves, Gavius Apicius. You know the truth of their pairings and it is that truth I hold up to you now. Apicata and I are like spoon and plate. One is worth little without the other.”
My stomach fluttered. I closed my eyes as Casca finished, half expecting to see a blinding light around the boy, the protection afforded him by the gods.
Instead when my eyes opened I saw Apicius staring at him, his mouth slightly ajar but with his expression still strangely unreadable.
Apicius headed toward the door. “Sotas,” he said, pausing a moment before leaving, “have word sent to Antius Piso. I invite him to dinner to discuss a marriage arrangement between his son and my daughter the day after tomorrow. Thrasius will inform Timon of the dinner details.”
Then he was gone, Sotas trailing behind him, leaving Casca and me staring at each other, dumbfounded. I had not expected such a swift response. At minimum I thought Apicius might need some time to think.
“I’ll have Passia send for Apicata. You can tell her yourself,” I said, unable to keep a broad smile from my face. I stood up to go but Casca caught my arm.
“Thrasius, I will never be able to thank you enough.”
“Treat her well, as you promised.” I gripped his arm in return. “That will be thanks enough.”
In the hallway I ran into Passia. I had barely told her much of what had happened before she threw her arms around me and smothered me with kisses before running off to deliver the news.
I stopped in to see Apicius before I headed to the kitchen to let Timon know he would be planning a celebration cena two days hence. He was back in the library, finishing the dictation of his letters. Sotas stood next to the scribe, helping to seal and pile the letters to ready them for delivery.
Apicius waggled a finger at me. “You’d better be right about Casca.”
“I have a good feeling about him.” Which was true. I did. It was one of the first important things I thought Apicius had done right in many years.
“I know Piso is not fond of Publius Octavius. Now let’s hope he pushes favor more heavily in my direction or this marriage will be for naught.” He continued his pacing as he talked. “No matter, we have other things to worry about now.”
I deposited myself into the sumptuously padded chair near the window that had a view of the Forum below. It was one of my favorite views from the villa, with all of Rome’s most important happenings playing out among the temples, statues, and paths at the foot of the hill. The day was hot and many of the pedestrians walking in the gardens of the vestal virgins carried umbrellas to ward off the Roman sun. It was like watching many tiny butterflies flying in a cloud far in the distance. “What worries you?” I asked, not tearing my eyes away from the view.
“A messenger arrived. Sejanus wants to see me tomorrow.”
That got my attention. “Why?”
“I don’t know. He asked to see me, not Aelia. He’s coming tomorrow morning after I meet with my clients.” Apicius stopped his pacing. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the elaborate cat and bird mosaic on the floor.
“He wants something,” Sotas said.
Apicius rubbed a smudge at the corner of the mosaic with his toe. “Yes, but what?”
I stared out the window. One of the largest statues of the Divine Julius Caesar was casting its late-afternoon shadow. A flock of starlings flew through the shadow, a dark and ominous streak of inky feathers.
CHAPTER 18
When I awoke the next morning it was with a heart full of dread. All night I had tossed and turned, wondering what Sejanus might want.
The salutatio was particularly slow. It seemed all of Apicius’s clients had something trivial to whine about.
“Lucius Atticus left graffiti on my house because I would not sell him my best pig,” complained Valerius Tiro.
Apicius made the same sort of promise he had been making all morning, agreeing to take care of matters, to protect, to fix, all for the want of a vote.
Taking care of Atticus meant I would arrange for a man to let Atticus know that if the graffiti didn’t stop, the result would be banishment from Apicius’s banquet couch. In return, Tiro would vote no against reinstating the Lex Sumptuaria, a 171-year-old law regulating the use of luxury items and limiting the display of public wealth. Caesar backed it but the majority of the senators and most of the equestrian and patrician population were against it. Although the plebs were excited about the law, most of them were clients whose patrons would exact the same vote requirements that Apicius did with Tiro. The likelihood of it passing was slim.
Tiro bowed. “Yes, yes, Apicius. I’ll cast no, I promise.”
It continued from there. “My neighbor keeps stealing melons from my garden!” Licinius Bucco wailed, demanding Apicius send guards to threaten the neighbor.
Sotas leaned down and said in a low voice, “If I had a melon right now, I know where I would put it.” I held back a laugh as the next client was ushered in.
? ? ?
The door slave ushered Sejanus into the atrium just as Sotas escorted out the last clients. Sejanus smiled broadly, which made the scar on his cheek tighten and twitch. He was clean shaven and wore a freshly bleached toga over the traditional red tunic of the highest of Caesar’s guards.