Popilla eyed me, waiting for an answer. “Well?”
I struggled to keep the revulsion out of my voice, finding it easier to look at Aelia as I spoke. Her calm demeanor diminished the horror I felt knowing that Popilla likely had arranged for the murder of my predecessor. “Maximus had me schooled to read and write Latin, Greek, Egyptian, and Spanish. I can also understand a little Persian. He thought everyone in his household should be educated.” I lowered my eyes to avoid Popilla’s critical stare.
“I know some people are opposed to educated slaves. . . .” Aelia leaned forward on the couch. Her eyes flickered toward the edge of my tunic, which I was twisting nervously in my hands. I stopped the twisting and sat up straighter, determined not to let my nervousness show through. She continued, “But I agree with Maximus’s way. There are many advantages to schooling every member of the household. I suspect Rúan can teach you a bit of Celtic. He’s from that island just off of Britannia.”
Octavius plucked off the tail of his pig and waved it at me. “So he is Hibernian? Ha! Well, then, Thrasius, I imagine he could teach you how to be pretty fierce as well!”
Octavius was at least twice the age of his wife, with graying hair and a paunch that was evident despite the folds of his toga. “What a wonder it would have been to see such a creature painted blue with that mess of red hair coming at you, spear in hand!” His wife giggled a soft, girlish laugh. She herself wore a red wig, but red was a common color for wigs. To see someone like Rúan with naturally red hair was quite unusual. I imagined it was often a subject of conversation at Apicius’s parties.
“I don’t think he ever wore paint or carried a spear,” Aelia reprimanded with a smile. “He came to my family when he was just a boy. His father may have worn the blue war marks but Rúan was too young.”
“You have a bunch of youths running your kitchen, it seems, Apicius. How honed can this boy’s sense of taste be?” Octavius’s question cut through the laughter.
I looked up, then back down to the lion carving. “I might be young, but cooking has always come easily to me,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t waver. I raised my eyes again, but not my head. “I have always had an intense palate. When flavors blend well, it is like harmony in the mouth. I think about how the components can come together to make each dish sing.”
Fannia murmured in approval but Octavius wasn’t impressed.
“Did you think that the abundance of sand in my oyster would make my dish sing?” He turned to Apicius. “If you like, I can send my cook, Herakles, over to show your slave how to properly shuck them. Even Caesar has commented on the skills of my coquus. I think that Corvinus himself is jealous of Herakles’s skills.”
I didn’t know who Corvinus was and I didn’t care. But he was lying about the sand. I had inspected each oyster myself.
“A thousand pardons,” I said, my voice quavering and my blood boiling.
Apicius began to speak but his wife interjected. “Oh, Octavius, it was just a mistake. My mistake, in fact,” Aelia said. What in Jupiter’s name was she doing?
“Apicius, dear husband, I was in the kitchen this evening and I fear that it was I who distracted the poor boy preparing the oysters. He must have missed one when I was talking to him.”
Octavius squinted at me. “Slave, wouldn’t you have inspected each oyster before it went out?”
I opened my mouth but Aelia again came to my rescue. “He intended to, but in the interest of expediency, I told Thrasius that I had looked them over and then I had the boy put them in the snow room. We have not had him long but I imagine he wouldn’t dare disobey me, would you, Thrasius?”
“No, Domina.”
“Good. Please send out some new oysters for dear Octavius. We mustn’t have him leave unhappy.”
“No, no, do not concern yourself,” Octavius said, his jowls shaking. “I’ll be fine.”
Aelia winked at me and Apicius dismissed me with a small wave of his hand.
I was disconcerted when I left, and was several paces away before I realized I had gone in the wrong direction. Sotas tsked softly when my error took me close to his post near the door. He waved me over to him.
“Thank the gods for Aelia!” he said, leaning down so I could hear.
“Is that man always so unbearable?” I watched as Octavius licked his fat fingers of ham sauce.
“Always. And he knows what to say to get under everyone’s skin. That mention of Corvinus, for example. He has the post that Apicius wants—cultural and gastronomic adviser to Caesar.”
“I see.”
“Clearly you made Octavius nervous or he wouldn’t have made that jab. Look at Apicius. You can still see the irritation on his brow.”
I turned my attention to my master. He did seem to be brooding, saying very little while his guests chatted around him.
“I’ve heard all the ways that Dominus would like to rid the world of Octavius—dumping him in boiling water, slashing his neck with a dagger in a dark alley, infusing his wine with oleander. The list is endless. I’m sure you’ll get a sense of it soon enough.”
Aelia’s body-slave was perched on the edge of a huge flowerpot between us and the diners. She paused for a drink of water and then picked up the lyre once again. Sotas smiled in her direction. “That’s Helene,” he said simply, but longing was evident in his voice. I changed the subject.
“I’ve not met a body-slave as well spoken as you. Where are you from?”
He paused for a moment, as though considering if I were worth the story. “I’m Egyptian,” he finally said, confirming my suspicion. “My father died before I was born and my mother was forced to sell me into slavery when she could no longer afford to feed me. Apicius’s father bought me and brought me to Rome. He had me trained for several years to be a body-slave to Apicius. I was educated, much like you seem to be.”
“Do you advise him?”
“Sometimes. But I’m not his adviser.”
Something about his manner said he wasn’t interested in continuing that line of conversation. I looked back at the diners. “Why does Dominus Apicius dislike Octavius?”
Sotas snorted, his massive chest lifting with the gesture. “Dominus met him six years ago, when Octavius was summering in Minturnae. Octavius took him under his wing, teaching him about politics, parties, and Rome. He’s the one who convinced Apicius to buy the villa here in Baiae, where he could meet influential Romans who came down for vacation. Octavius was a mentor at first, but over time he became ambitious and jealous, acting more as a rival than a friend. He’s an arrogant, name-dropping fool. Fannia keeps telling Dominus to stop inviting him over, but I know that he won’t. He will keep him close.”