Apicius faltered, surprised at the question. He could not know the answer, having never seen the roofs to know if there was a suitable spot.
He motioned to me. “Certainly. Thrasius will make those arrangements. By tomorrow we shall have readied a place suitable for you.”
Glycon tilted his head in acceptance. It was a patient, sage movement, as though he were a wise old priest with much knowledge. I didn’t believe it.
“Tonight over dinner we will discuss the various factors that will enable me to divine the future for you,” Glycon said. “There is much the heavens have to say, but I need to understand where your place in the stars lies.”
Sotas led Glycon and the slaves through the villa. I went along, still curious. We wound our way through the long central atrium, past the deep blue pool, through the long hallways, beyond the smells of the kitchen, and to the back of the domus, where Sotas gestured toward a midsized room flanked by a small unused cubicle. The slaves set down the trunks and immediately began the process of unpacking. One trunk appeared to hold many tools, compasses, and charts, while the other held Glycon’s personal effects.
Sotas turned to leave with me but Glycon touched him on the shoulder, stopping him. A strange look had overtaken his features, turning up one side of his mouth in a slight smile.
“I see you are marked by a golden goddess.”
Sotas stared at Glycon, clearly disturbed, but said nothing. He took a deep breath and backed out of the room.
What did those words mean to Sotas? I was determined to find out.
? ? ?
That evening, we met in the triclinium for an informal dinner. Apicius had not invited any clients, reserving the time for Glycon. I took my seat on the couch and Sotas was offered a place sitting at Apicius’s feet. Passia and Helene were allowed to stay as well, Helene at Aelia’s feet and Passia at mine.
While Apicius still refused to let us marry, I was pleased that he allowed me to keep Passia close. When a child of a patrician married, she was often allowed to bring her body-slave and other personal slaves with her. Apicata had refused to take Passia, saying that she would not be someone to break love in two. It was the most precious gift our little bird could ever give me. Apicius seemed to recognize the gesture. For the last two years, he had been generous, letting Passia share duties with Helene as Aelia needed. Sometimes she helped me at the school or in the kitchen.
Timon had made an egg patina of sea nettles and my favorite dish of pheasant meatballs, accompanied by green beans in a cumin sauce, hot pumpkin fritters, and slices of roasted venison. When the scissor slaves had cut our food and left, Glycon began asking questions.
“First, I need the date of your birth and those of your wife and child.” He held a stylus in one hand and a wax tablet in the other, ready to take down the answers to his questions.
“And Thrasius,” Apicius said, inclining his head toward me.
I didn’t want to know my chart. I spoke up, hoping to get out of the obligation. “I am afraid I do not know the date of my birth. I know the year, but not the date.” I wiped my napkin across a glob of sea nettle sauce on my chin. I made a mental note to mention to Timon to adjust the proportions of sauce to the vegetables.
“Unlucky, but no matter. Answer me these two questions and I will tell you.”
I was skeptical that anyone save my unknown mother would have any true way of knowing the date of my birth, but on account of Apicius, I forced myself to look eager.
Glycon cocked an eyebrow at me. “In dreams, in what season do you find yourself the most?”
My dreams were always seasonless, devoid of any indicator of the exterior setting. I dreamed mostly of people, of places inside the villa, and, most often, the kitchen where I spent my time as a child learning my trade.
“Harvest.” It was my favorite time of year if not a true reflection of my dreams.
Glycon made a scribble in the wax before leaning forward to pluck a meatball from the tray in front of him. He popped it into his mouth, chewed, then spoke while his mouth was still full.
“How old were you when your voice began to change?”
Passia stroked my ankle with her finger and I almost jumped.
“I was thirteen,” I managed.
Glycon began to write on his tablet again. “Your day of birth is on the nones of October.”
I tried to appear impressed. It was hard not to let loose a chuckle of my own. For all I knew I could have been born on the ides of Martius. Despite my ever-growing misgivings, I didn’t dare laugh—Apicius took astrology and divinations very seriously.
Apicius broke in before I could say anything. “I was born twelve days before the calends of Julius, Apicata on the ides of Febrius, and Aelia was born three days before the nones of Ianuarius.”
Glycon recorded the dates. “Good, good. Now I can begin a more thorough examination of the stars to determine your outcomes. But we can begin with some general observations.”
Apicius waited for Glycon to continue. I knew he was doing his best to be patient but patience had never been easy for him.
“Start with me.” Aelia smiled sweetly at Apicius, a smile laced with petulance and dissatisfaction. Earlier I had heard them arguing about Glycon coming to live in the house.
Glycon looked to Apicius, who nodded his reluctant assent.
“Certainly, my lady. Three days before the nones of Ianuarius? Ahh. What a good date. You love people and love to see people happy. You are honest and helpful and, above all, affectionate. When you love, you love deeply. I must tell you to take care of your ankles as they may be prone to sprains or breaks.”
“Aelia, be sure to tie your sandal straps tight,” Apicius said, anxious to move the conversation along. The look he gave Glycon said as much.
“I cannot tell you more without consulting the ephemeris—my star chart.” The old man set his plate aside.
“Very well,” Aelia said, understanding the underlying exchange. “Husband, I look to you for dismissal. I am tired this evening.” Helene stood quickly to help her up. She waved her away and rose gracefully to stand in front of the couch, where she awaited Apicius’s response.
“Thank you, wife, for joining us tonight,” Apicius said formally. I watched her leave, her yellow stola hugging her lithe body as she walked.
Apicius signaled for the wine to be brought. “Now, Thrasius.” I looked up in surprise. With his desperation to hear the astrologer’s predictions, I was shocked he wanted to hear about me first.