“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
I thought I detected a sneer in his voice although the smile on his lips revealed nothing.
“We heard news of the engagement,” Apicius began pleasantly. “We wanted to pay our respects and bring a gift.” He signaled Sotas forward and the body-slave passed Sejanus a small sack of what I assumed were a number of heavy coins meant to help supplement Junilla’s dowry.
“That is gracious of you! We are very pleased about the union, of course.”
“We’d love to see Apicata and congratulate her,” I started to say, but was stopped when Livia and Apicata entered from the far entrance to the atrium. Livia leaned on one of her slaves as she walked.
I froze for a second, then forced myself to relax. It was always an effort to hide my thoughts about Livia.
“Father!” Apicata glided across the room to where we stood. She threw her arms around his neck and enveloped him in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming home! Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” She reached up to kiss each cheek.
It was as I expected, she hadn’t even known that her father had returned.
“We came to congratulate you about Junilla.” He sounded put off. I sighed to myself, wishing he were better at hiding his emotions.
While this small scene was playing out, I overheard Livia talking to one of her bodyguards, a few words that sounded like “the boy or the girl, either one.” I watched out of the corner of my eye as the guard slipped off into the corridor.
I averted my eyes when her gaze turned toward me.
“I sent a messenger days ago,” Sejanus was saying. “I never heard back from you.”
He was lying. I watched his nostrils twitch as he talked, a trick I had learned from Fannia, may the shades treat her well.
“No messenger came.” Apicius turned his attention to Livia. “Livia, it is, as always, a pleasure to see you.” He smiled broadly and bowed his head toward her in respect. I inclined my head as well but did not smile. Apicius did not know about Livia’s part in his wife’s death. But I did and nothing could make me smile at such a harpy.
“I’m sure you are happy to have your granddaughter joined in union to my great-grandson. It seems you are to become part of my family.” She sounded about as pleased as a bath attendant at the front counter stuck taking coins all day.
“I hope the two of them will be compatible,” Apicius said politely.
“Why don’t we go see Albus and Junilla?” Apicata said in an attempt to alleviate the tension. “They are in the back playing hide-and-seek with Capito and Strabo.”
“I would love to see them,” I said, seizing the opportunity. I knew Apicata was happiest watching her children.
“Yes, let us go to the garden.” Sejanus moved in that direction. “Claudius will be joining us presently as well.”
We walked through the villa, making petty chat about how beautiful Junilla was becoming and what a fine wife she would make young Albus.
Suddenly a child’s scream rose from the garden in front of us. We all broke into a run, bursting from the darkness of the corridor into the bright sunlight of the garden. At the other end of the garden, I caught a glimpse of Livia’s bodyguard leaving through the opposite doorway.
Junilla and Capito stood over an unmoving form on the tiles alongside the central garden pool. As we neared, we could see it was the boy Albus. His face was a terrifying purple-red and his eyes were unmoving and open, lined with broken blood vessels. His mouth was stretched wide as though gasping for air. In his hand he held a pear with a large bite taken from it.
Apicata was the first to reach the children, with Livia right behind. “What happened?” She picked up the boy and cradled him in her arms.
Junilla began crying. “We were hiding and waiting for him to find us.” Her voice caught on the edge of a sob. “When Albus didn’t come, I came out and he was dead!” She turned away, tears staining the front of her tunica.
A young slave woman, dark with long braided hair and green eyes, appeared with Strabo. “Where were you?” Apicata asked, her voice frantic. “Weren’t you watching the children?”
“I was hiding with Strabo,” she started to say.
“Get the children out of here!” Sejanus spat at her. She jumped, then hurriedly ushered Junilla, Capito, and Strabo away.
“Give him to me!” He tore Albus from Apicata. “He’s choking!” Sejanus pulled the boy close and pushed on his chest hard, over and over, until a huge chunk of pear flew out of his mouth. It was splattered with blood.
Still the boy did not move or gasp for breath. “Breathe!” Sejanus screamed at the boy. “By Jove, breathe!” He pounded on the child’s chest. I thought I heard a rib crack.
“Sejanus, stop,” Livia said calmly. She bore no tears for her great-grandson. She put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s gone.”
“No!” He continued to pummel the boy with his fists. “He can’t die! He can’t!”
Apicius stood next to me, with Sotas and Tycho standing behind. We watched, aghast. No longer was this about the death of a child. It was about Sejanus—what madness had overtaken him?
“Sejanus, stop! I command you!” Livia’s voice cut through his haze and his hands fell to his sides. Tears flowed freely across his cheeks, something I had not thought him capable of. “Pick him up,” Livia said, her voice firm and still without emotion.
Sejanus did not move to pick up the boy. Instead, he stood and backed away a few paces, continuing to mutter, “No, no, this can’t happen,” not quite under his breath.
Livia indicated to her body-slave to pick up the child and bring him to her. Then, with two fingers she closed his eyes. She pulled her shawl from her shoulders and had the slave wrap it around Albus, covering the purple of his face.
“What happened?” A man’s thin voice broke our silence. It was Claudius, flanked by a door slave who had likely intended to announce his arrival. Claudius limped over to us as quickly as his clubfoot would allow.
I expected Sejanus to respond as he should have, being the man of the house. Yet when I looked for him, he was gone.
Apicata collected herself and rose from the grass. She started toward Claudius, who was closing the distance between them. He struggled with the effort to run.
Apicius stepped in front of her. “Let me,” I heard him say. She moved aside as Claudius shuffled to a stop.
Apicius held out his hand to touch Claudius on the shoulder. “There has been a terrible accident.”
I watched Claudius’s mouth work to find the words. “Wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . what is going on?”
It was well known that Claudius had a stutter but I had never been close enough to hear him talk until now. No wonder he was the laughingstock of the palace.
“It’s your son,” Apicius started to say.