Livia took a few steps forward to stand in front of Fannia. She leaned in, looking as though she were bestowing a welcome kiss on her, but I could hear the words that were said. Livia’s whisper sounded as papery as her skin had felt when I kissed it. “You and your dear Apicius have insulted me for the last time, I promise.”
“Oh, I’m sure there will be more opportunity,” Fannia whispered back defiantly. She began to giggle, a sound I had heard all too often after dinner when she had been drinking with Apicius.
Livia paused, as if pondering her words. Then she said simply, “No. Your opportunities have run out.”
Aelia squeezed my elbow. I dared not look at her.
Livia turned away and took her son by the arm. “Come, Tiberius, I grow hungry. Let us recline.”
As they ascended the steps to the couches, I led Fannia away far more roughly than I should have.
“Take your hands off me,” she hissed once we were far enough away.
“What’s wrong with you, Fannia? Are you drunk or just stupid?”
Fannia pulled her arm out of my grasp. “You have become such a bore over the years since Apicius freed you, Thrasius. So bossy!” She laughed and waved a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, you think she killed Marcellus? Or Lucius? Or you believe the rumors about Livia smothering the oh-so-divine Augustus? Oh, please. That old bitch has a bark far worse than her bite. She wouldn’t touch me.”
It was more than possible that Livia had had a hand in the deaths of those men, each of whom didn’t quite fit into her plans to have Tiberius become Caesar. I tried again. “Please, Fannia, stay out of her way.”
“Don’t you worry. Go do what you need to do. I’ll sip my wine happily at the couch over there—out of Livia’s way.” She gave me the same sweet smile and hiccuped.
I sighed and set off for the kitchen, making a note to myself to have the cupbearer water her wine down far more before serving it to her.
? ? ?
When most of the tables had filled up, Tiberius stood and clapped his hands loudly. His toga and golden laurel diadem were bright in the fading afternoon light. Immediately the front tables fell into a hush. The quiet spread through the crowd until all eyes were on Caesar.
“Welcome, my fellow Romans and countrymen! Today we gather to witness a battle which you have never imagined. To tell you about this magnificent battle, I present to you my new gastronomic adviser, a man whom you all know, Marcus Gavius Apicius.”
The crowd began clapping and cheering. Apicius rose to stand next to Tiberius, a broad smile on his tanned face. He raised his arms, welcoming the sounds of the people reclining on his couches. His voice rang over the crowd.
“My friends! Caesar told you true—there will be a grand battle today. Neptune, ruler of the seas”—he gestured toward the massive statue to his right—“has challenged the lady of the forest, Diana, to a duel.” He waved at the goddess on his left.
“You will be participants in this mighty fight—a fight of the senses, of the most delightful tastes, smells, and sights to cross any mortal’s plate!”
It was an arrogant boast and I marveled at his bravado. He was in his element and this was his crowning moment.
“You will taste various dishes of land and sea tonight. Given the bounty of these gods, which foods will we, as men, be able to make the most of? Will it be god or goddess that you bow to as victor?”
Tiberius touched Apicius on the shoulder to indicate he would like to speak. Apicius stepped back.
“To judge these dishes,” Tiberius shouted to the crowd, “I give the honor to the new governor of Illyricum, Drusus Julius Caesar!” He waved his son forward.
Drusus was a man Passia had once described as “too handsome for his own good,” with dark sandy curls cropped close and sparkling green eyes. The crowd roared, cheering at a volume far greater than they’d given to Caesar.
I looked at Sejanus as Drusus waved to the diners. A dark frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. I wondered about the animosity. Perhaps Apicata was right about Sejanus and Drusus’s wife, Livilla.
While the crowd clapped for Drusus, Apicius signaled to me and I passed the command on to my slaves.
The sound of trumpets rang out, signaling the arrival of the first course. A parade of glittering slaves trotted forward, some carrying decorations of the sea, statues made of shells, ribbons of blue and silver, or wearing costumes turning them into fish or mermaids. These slaves wandered among the diners as they ate, entertaining them with music or dances reminiscent of the sea. In the midst of these spectacles were the slaves carrying the food on massive trays covered in snow from the mountains, topped with stuffed mussels, lobster mince wrapped in grape leaves, and sea urchins boiled, honeyed, and served open in their own spiny husks. The air was filled with the sounds of delight from the crowd as the dishes arrived at their tables. I breathed a sigh of great relief.
As requested, the slaves serving Tiberius were naked, except for ribbons in their hair. He toyed with them as they served the food, much to the chagrin of his mother and the other women at the table.
Neptune’s bounty was followed by that of Diana. I had staged a “hunt” to take place while the diners ate. Several of the bigger slaves were dressed like bears, and hunters with bows chased them playfully around the couches while nymphs tried to hinder their progress. They ran carefully around the slaves serving trays of pork cracklings, mushrooms marinated in wine, stuffed dormice, and figs soaked in milk and honey.
The next two courses alternated between the sea and the land, and with every course more elaborate spectacles entertained the diners. Things did not run entirely smoothly, but the things that did go wrong—broken dishes, not enough oil for the garden lamps, running out of grapes, having to substitute lesser wine when the good wine began to run out—were not noticed by any of the diners, or by Apicius, who, from what I could tell, was having a perfect time dining on the Imperial couch. Even Livia seemed to be enjoying herself.
The person who seemed unhappiest was Apicata. She smiled and was cordial with her dining companions, but I quickly realized her thoughts were on Livilla, who was seated on the other side of Sejanus. Sejanus and Livilla seemed particularly chatty. I was surprised Drusus didn’t take notice. I wished I could have taken Apicata away from there, to wander through the gardens as we did when she was a child, looking for birds and butterflies and not caring a thing about the world.