“What happened to Albus was an accident, Junilla,” Junius reassured her. “Don’t worry. You’ll be married in due time. And it will be to someone rich enough to buy you a cook who will make you sweet bread every day.”
“You’ll be a beautiful bride, Junilla, but you don’t need to grow up so fast. I’ll make you sweet bread whenever you come to visit. Will that do for now?” I said. Apicata mouthed her silent thanks to me.
“It will have to do,” Junilla said in a childish huff. Junius laughed and ruffled her hair.
? ? ?
In September two pivotal things happened. As Apicata had predicted, Sejanus divorced her.
The day Apicata came home was bittersweet. She arrived in the middle of the night, alone and without her children. At her behest the door slave woke me and not her father. Passia and I met her in the atrium and walked her to the room we still kept for her.
“They tore the boys out of my arms,” she sobbed. “Junilla kept screaming for me. Oh, dear gods! Why? I was a good wife! Why did he take my children away from me?” She had shredded the front of her stola with her hands and the skin on her breast was wet with tears. Passia brought her a robe to cover herself but she flung it off. “It’s that whore Livilla, I tell you! She has bewitched him and cursed me!”
“Shhhh.” Passia smoothed down her hair. “You’ll wake your father.”
She quieted and cried against my wife’s shoulder for a long time until, finally, she fell asleep in Passia’s arms.
“I’ll stay with her tonight.” Passia waved at me to go. I did but I did not sleep much, so full of concerns was I about the implications of Apicata’s divorce.
The implications became clear enough in the morning. At first light a messenger arrived with a note from Sejanus, addressed to Apicius. Apicius, who did not yet know Apicata was home, accepted it when he arrived in the atrium to receive his clients at salutatio. I joined him as he finished reading the letter.
“What did you do?” He threw the scroll at me.
I picked it up off the ground, confused. I rolled it open and read the official decree. Apicius was no longer cultural and gastronomic adviser. There was no explanation, only a thank-you for his service and a statement that he would no longer be required to attend Sejanus or Tiberius at future banquets and dinners.
“What did you do?” he screamed at me again, then charged me without warning, his bulk slamming into me and throwing me to the ground. His fists hit my face before I could stop him.
“Nothing!” I held up my arms to protect myself. “Sotas, get him off me!”
“Don’t you dare!” Apicius screeched at Sotas as the big man came near. “I’ll have you lashed if you disobey me.”
Between the blows I saw Sotas hesitate. I pushed myself upward, trying to heave Apicius off me. His weight made it difficult.
“Father!”
Apicata’s voice rang out across the atrium. “Sotas, get him off Thrasius. This has nothing to do with him.”
Sotas pulled Apicius off me, holding his master at arm’s length. “I’ll have your hide for this,” he spluttered at the body-slave.
“No you won’t!” Apicata nodded for Sotas to let Apicius go.
“Wait, Apicata, what are you doing here?” Apicius said, suddenly realizing his daughter stood before him in her morning robe.
“Sejanus has divorced me.”
“He what?”
“He divorced her.” I allowed Passia to help me up. I tasted blood at the corner of my mouth. “That’s why your services are no longer required.”
Apicius stared at his daughter, his mouth ajar. Disbelief shone in his eyes.
“Divorced?” he managed after a spell.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Apicata cried.
He looked at me, his face a mixture of emotion. “I’m sorry, Thrasius.”
“I know.”
He took a deep breath. “I hated the bastard anyway.”
His words did not disguise his true feelings. Every part of his body seemed to radiate defeat. “No salutatio today. We will resume on the morrow.”
We watched him leave the atrium. Apicata fell to her knees and began to sob.
? ? ?
It was two weeks after the divorce and we were listening to a new harpist in the garden when Tycho brought us the news about Drusus. He’d died in his cups the night before. Few thought it strange; he was known for his heavy drinking. His death left Tiberius without an heir and many assumed Sejanus would be chosen to succeed him.
“Now he can have Livilla,” Apicata said when she heard the news. “How convenient.”
“You’ve seen how much Drusus can drink. He just had more than he could handle,” I said, trying to ease the emotion of the situation.
“No he didn’t. Sejanus had someone poison him.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” I said halfheartedly.
“Yes I can.”
“It is too much coincidence,” Apicius agreed. “I am coming to believe it will be good we are no longer in his sights. I think he is a very dangerous man to cross.”
Apicata fingered the edge of her shawl. I knew that no one understood that fact better than she did. “You are right, Father, he is.”
Apicius said what I had been thinking since the divorce. “I think if it were not for your children, Apicata, he would have me killed.”
Apicata stared off into the cluster of trees lining the garden walls, her face a mask devoid of emotion. But her head bobbed up and down, a nearly imperceptible movement that said everything words could not say.
I looked across the garden where her eyes were fixed. A crow sat on the wall, tearing apart a mouse. It pecked one last time at the carcass, then tossed it away. It wiped its beak on a wing and then took flight, its black feathers a momentary ink against the sky.
CHAPTER 27
Apicius’s paranoia about Sejanus was strong. With nothing to hold the Praetorian prefect in check, he feared for his life. To stay out of Sejanus’s sight in the following year, Apicius avoided Rome, instead staying at his various homes in the countryside. I traveled with him, sometimes with Passia and Junius. I continued to write, and together, Apicius and I published another cookbook. The latest had been such a success I’d rented a space in a small shop on the Aventine and employed three scribes full-time to make copies. The book was a massive compendium of recipes to complement any kitchen. It had taken two years to write, and while many of the recipes came from our other books, there were scores of new dishes for the accomplished cook to try.