Oh, he knew how to make a good recovery.
“Explain,” Apicius said loudly, to be heard over the clanking of dishes as the next course was served to us.
“The stars were particularly clear tonight. The moon is in Gemini, which is good for your ambition. You will need to have patience. If you do, I see things changing for you. As you know, Caesar is ailing—I checked his stars and I do not see his health lasting for more than a year or two—and Tiberius may take his place soon. Then there will be opportunity for you. And with the star Cynosura controlling your fortune over the next five years . . .”
“Five?” Apicius said, aghast.
“Yes, do not worry! It is good. It means you will have the opportunity for great success over the next five years as Cynosura moves through this portion of sky. If Caesar does not last beyond the next year, you will have the chance to make your move when his household staff changes.”
“Excellent.” Apicius drained his wineglass. “Thank you. I’ll send for you tomorrow.”
Glycon stopped chewing the morsel of lamb he had popped into his mouth. He swallowed the meat, gathered up his robe, and stood. “Yes, Apicius.”
Before he had the chance to leave I stopped him with a touch to his arm. I decided to take a chance. “You look familiar, Glycon, and it just occurred to me why. You remind me of someone I used to see when I would visit the temple of Fides every year for the goddess’s October festival.”
Glycon smiled despite his abrupt dismissal. “Ah, yes. I was a priest there for many years. You have a good memory.” He turned back to Apicius. “Good night.”
Good night, indeed.
CHAPTER 21
My son, Junius, was born on the ides of Junius, after Passia endured a short labor with no complications. I had prayed heavily to the goddess of childbirth, Juno Lucina, for the safety of my lover, and praised the goddess that she answered my pleas! I repaid my debt by naming my son after her. Everything about Junius was perfect. All his fingers and toes intact, his dark eyes shining, the wail healthy and strong. I did not know how I could be filled with more pride, save if my son had been born free.
Apicius showered me with gifts when the boy was born. He took an instant liking to the child and seemed to delight in playing with him, trying to make him smile. It surprised us all—I had never imagined Apicius being friendly with any child save Apicata, and certainly not a tiny babe. Aelia told me wistfully once that he was not even so loving to Apicata when she was that age.
From the beginning Junius seemed to be a talker, making all sorts of gurgling and cooing sounds. By the time he was two months old, I was convinced he was trying to emulate our words, although Passia assured me it was my wishful thinking.
“Perhaps he’ll be a famous orator, or a poet like Virgil,” I mused to Passia one morning as we lay in bed cuddling while she suckled the babe at her breast.
“As long as he doesn’t become an actor!” Passia joked.
“No!” I was horrified at the thought. Actors were base and full of vice. “We will raise him better than that.”
I rubbed my boy’s little toes, marveling at their perfection. “Did you hear about Glycon’s latest prediction?”
Passia stroked Junius’s head, already growing thick with dark hair. “What now?”
“Do you remember how Caesar Augustus saw the eagle at the census ceremony at the Pantheon last week?”
“Yes. How the eagle landed in the A of Agrippa’s name?”
“Right. He was terrified of the import and Tiberius finished the ritual for him. Well, it seems Glycon took it as a sign too. Last night at the cena he predicted Caesar would die within the month.”
Passia snorted. “That’s not much of a prediction! Anyone can tell Caesar has not long to live. Before Junius was born, when we were at the games for Apollo, I remember thinking it was a miracle of the gods he was able to stand on his own two feet!”
Together we laughed until Junius was smiling along with us.
? ? ?
One day, a few months after Junius’s birth, I began my morning by heading to the Forum Piscarium to see what fish I could feature as the centerpiece for the evening cena. Apicius had invited Sejanus and Apicata, and everything needed to be as impressive as possible. As he was wont to do, Apicius planned on haranguing Sejanus about making the right connections with the Imperial palace. I was dreading the evening as much as I looked forward to it. I wanted to see Apicata desperately. We saw little of her despite the fact that she lived only a short walk away. Aelia visited her frequently but it would not be seemly for me to try to visit. Seeing her healthy would calm my soul.
The market was busier than usual. Several ships had docked at the same time, their sails making the Tiber seem like it was swarming with butterflies. The stink of fish was heavy in the air and the market was loud with men yelling out the prices of their catch. Colorful awnings kept the sun off the marble-topped tables where the fish were laid out on display. Some fish were still alive in big jars of seawater sitting alongside the tables. Occasionally a fish would jump up and create a splash or would tumble off the side of the jar onto the pavement, where it would flap wildly until the fishmonger swooped it up and threw it back into the jar.
At the far end of the market two dozen soldiers had gathered around a merchant’s booth where some of the larger fish were sold. As I came closer I realized they were bodyguards for the tall man who looked over the fish on the table. It took me a moment to realize it was Tiberius. I hadn’t seen him in nearly ten years, since Drusus and Livilla’s wedding. He had been away for so long, and when he was home he preferred to stay out of the public eye.
Caesar’s heir stood taller than most of the crowd. He had broad shoulders and handsome features, with short-cropped dark hair starting to show hints of gray. He wore the traditional garb of a Roman general and his sword hung against his thigh. One of his men carried his red feathered helmet. Why was he at the market?
When I neared and could hear the conversation, it made more sense. Tiberius seemed to be checking on permits. There was always corruption among the stall owners, who often rented out their tables for a profit and failed to give the proper tax to the Empire. Every few months Caesar would send his men to enforce what was due. Tiberius probably came to help put the fear of Augustus into them all.
I edged closer until I could see the fishmonger and the swath of fish on the table in front of him. He was a small man, of slender frame and dark eyes. He wore a thick apron and a broad hat to keep out the sun.
“Glad to see everything is in order.”
I recognized that voice. Sejanus.