“Oh, yes,” Sejanus broke in. “It was a proper bidding war!” He clapped me on the shoulder as though I were a fellow soldier.
“And why didn’t you win?” Apicius asked.
Sejanus smirked at me.
Bastard! Sejanus found the situation amusing! If I had still been a slave, I would have already been whisked away to have my back scarred with the lash.
“I could have bought three goats for the price of that fish.” I tried to sound assertive, not defensive.
“Yes, but you know expense is not a concern.”
In the outdoor triclinium Aelia, Apicata, and Passia were already reclining, a small retinue of serving boys fanning them. Sotas took a spot standing nearby in the trees behind the couch.
“It was brilliant,” Sejanus said as we crossed the threshold. “Driving up the price to stick it to him.”
I almost stopped in my tracks. Did he really think that? I had merely dropped out of the bidding when I couldn’t, in good conscience, pay that much for a few pounds of flesh from the sea.
Apicius didn’t say anything else but the warning look he gave me was enough.
We joined the ladies on the couches and Aelia whispered in Apicius’s ear as he sat down. He took a look at Passia and begrudgingly gave his assent. As a slave, for her to dine on the couch with guests present was generally unacceptable, but Aelia knew he wasn’t going to make a scene in front of Sejanus. I loved her for the kindness. She knew how much spending time with Passia would mean to Apicata.
The serving boys arrived as soon as we took our seats. They wore halos of gold in honor of Sol, whose holiday was the next day. The plates were Apicius’s best gold, polished to a brilliant shine. The cushions of the couch were an airy white and yellow. I had found some exquisite sun-shaped lanterns in the market that hung from poles in the earth.
The first trays the boys held were laden with the best of summer’s bounty—melons with pepper, dates stuffed with fine Iberian almonds, sweet flower bulbs, and honeyed plums.
“You have outdone yourself, Father.” Apicata looked at me and I winked at her.
“Truly magnificent,” Sejanus agreed, skewering a bulb with the sharp end of his spoon. “A fitting send-off before my long week away.”
“Where are you going?” Aelia sounded tired. I wasn’t sure why—Helene said she spent much of her time sleeping late into the morning and often retiring again in the afternoon.
Sejanus finished chewing the bulb. “Tiberius is traveling to Illyricum tomorrow to formally recognize the province as Roman. Caesar is riding with him to Beneventum, and may stop at Nola.”
“Will you ride the whole way?” I asked.
“For some of it. I suspect Tiberius or Caesar will have me ride with them for at least a few legs. But otherwise, yes, a long ride ahead.”
Passia shifted against me. She, wisely, had remained silent so far and would likely not speak unless directly asked a question. To do so would be to face Apicius’s wrath later. Even when I was a slave and his favorite, I dined on the couch only as a shadow, never reclining like nobility. He tolerated her presence only for Apicata.
Apicius leaned forward on the couch. “How is Caesar’s health?”
Sejanus threw back his head and laughed. “Dear father-in-law, you are too transparent.”
“I know not what you mean, son.” Apicius was doing a good job of looking wounded but I knew the anger that seethed within his breast at the insult.
Sejanus grew serious. “Fear not, good Apicius. I have not forgotten. Your turn will come! But time, my friend . . . It takes time. Even if Caesar dies tomorrow, I still have Livia to contend with.”
“I did not mean—”
Sejanus cut Apicius off. “No offense taken, Father. But know this is an issue near to my heart. Publius Octavius is a pompous bastard and, unlike you, I do not consider him a friend.”
Apicius smiled but the twitch of his nostrils gave him away to me. He was angry and struggling to contain himself. He was not accustomed to such rudeness from anyone.
Apicata, wise child that she was, saved her father from saying something embarrassing by changing the subject. “Thrasius, tell us about the rest of the meal. I know you must have something delicious planned next.”
Apicius directed his attention at me. “Yes, Thrasius. In lieu of the red mullet, what are we eating tonight?”
The tone of his voice wasn’t lost on anyone. I ignored the implications. “Instead of the mullet, I purchased a sow that had just given birth. I think you will be pleased. First you will savor the vulva, in the peak of perfection, seasoned with pepper, liquamen, and some spiced wine.”
“Oh, it sounds divine!” Aelia exclaimed.
“I’m impressed.” Sejanus nodded in approval. “I’ve had the delicacy once before, many years ago.”
I noted Apicius’s expression was beginning to soften into approval. “Then the udder, first stuffed with salted sea urchins ground with pepper and caraway, then boiled and served in a mustard sauce. To finish off the main course, its stomach, stuffed with the pig’s own meat and brains, pounded and mixed with eggs, pine nuts, pepper, anise, ginger, and a pinch of silphium before boiling. I’ve asked Timon to serve that with olive oil, liquamen, and a sprinkling of lovage.”
“Much better than any old red mullet!” Seeing Apicius smile lifted a weight off my chest.
Sejanus chuckled. “Apicata tells me mullet is one of your favorites. Is that true?”
“Yes. There is something divine about a red mullet cooked tenderly in its own juices. Next time you dine with us, Thrasius will make sure we have mullet.”
He winked at me and I thanked the gods my transgression seemed to be forgiven.
? ? ?
Mostly forgiven. “You courted the favor of the gods today,” he said to me after we escorted Apicata and Sejanus to their litter. “You prepared an excellent meal tonight. But, Thrasius . . .”
I looked at him. His face was grave. “Yes?”
“Never put me in such a position again. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good.” He took Aelia by the arm and led her away, Sotas in tow. I bored a hole in his back with my eyes until the corridor swallowed them up.
? ? ?
Glycon’s prediction came true. A week and a half later, Caesar died at the family villa in Nola where his father had died years before. Augustus was seventy-six, dying a month short of his birthday. He had reigned over the Empire for nearly forty-one years. His body was carried to Rome on the shoulders of senators and soldiers from the area. Tiberius was named his heir and businesses closed for the day of his funeral.