We made little money on the cookbook, however, because Apicius loved to give it away for free to his friends and to people he met. I tried many times to counsel Apicius about his money—my son’s inheritance—which he spent at an alarming rate, but he refused to listen. I was comforted by the fact that he was entertaining less, but also worried about the money that we spent traveling from villa to villa. His latest project was renovating a new villa in Herculaneum.
The villa proved to need supplies and Apicius wanted to purchase more slaves, so we returned to Rome. Apicata greeted us at the gate. She had remained in Rome over the last year to stay close to her boys, even if they could not live with her. Sejanus never forced her to remarry, and for that I think she was glad. He, on the other hand, had tried to marry Livilla after sufficient time had passed from his divorce and from Drusus’s death. It was said that Tiberius had thrown a glass at Sejanus and told him not to under any circumstances, and that Sejanus had overstepped his bounds. While I held little respect for Caesar Tiberius, I liked him more after I heard the story.
Nine-year-old Junilla pulled back the curtain of the litter and jumped out. She ran to Apicius and hugged him, then threw her arms around my waist, seemingly not aware of the road grime that coated my clothes and skin. I patted her head and hugged her tightly. “It is good to see you, Junilla. Do you bring your brothers?”
She shook her head, which was not unexpected. Sejanus eventually let Junilla live with her mother but Sejanus rarely let his sons out of his sight, save for short, occasional supervised visits with Apicata.
“No, they are with Father. But look what Strabo gave me!” She held up a straw doll complete with a tiny tunica and a flower tucked into her straw hair. She was almost too old for dolls, but was clearly pleased to have a gift from her brother.
I smiled. “Strabo loves you very much, I suspect.”
“He does,” Apicata said as she neared. My heart caught in my chest. I could have been looking at her mother’s shade.
Apicius hugged her close and praised her beauty. I kissed her cheek but did not hug her for fear of leaving dirt on her stola. “We came to pick up some supplies and I missed Passia and Junius,” I said.
“We’ll be here for just a few days,” Apicius said.
We walked up the path to the villa, Junilla running ahead to find Junius, whom she admired. I watched her race up the walk.
“When you return, I think we should come with you to Herculaneum. It might be a good idea,” Apicata said.
“What do you mean, it might be a good idea?” I asked.
She looked at me, an incredulous look in her dark eyes. “By the gods, you haven’t heard the news?”
“What news?” Apicius asked.
“Livia is dead.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Dead?”
“Finally? You are sure?” Apicius was equally incredulous. Livia had been ill more than once over the last decade and there were many times she had almost died.
“Yes. She died on the ides. I’ve seen the body. When I left, the Senate was still waiting for Tiberius to come for the funeral, but he says he cannot, that he is otherwise occupied.”
Five days had passed since the ides. I couldn’t imagine what state her body would be in when Tiberius returned.
“I don’t understand. Why would her death make you want to leave . . . ?” It dawned on me then. Without Livia, Sejanus would run unchecked.
“He rules Rome by striking terror into all. I fear him. And now that the boys are older, he lets me see them less and less.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes, yes, daughter, you must come with us to Herculaneum,” Apicius agreed. “We’ll gather supplies tomorrow and leave the day after.”
“Let us go find Passia.” I took her arm and wrapped it around mine. Apicius fell in step on her other side.
Apicata squeezed my arm. “Tell me about the cookbook! I heard all the senators have bought a copy!”
“I sent three copies to the library in Alexandria and two more to the library in Athens.” I was proud of this fact for it meant our book would be part of the historical collections.
She chuckled. “The rumor is that after they bought your book, three of the new senators hired tutors to teach their cooks how to read!”
“That is good news!” Apicius said. “Now, if only we could convince the rest of the senators to do the same!”
? ? ?
We found Junilla and Junius in the atrium playing ball around the burbling fountain. Junius tackled me when he saw me, which sent both Apicata and Junilla into peals of laughter.
Apicius and I played with them while one of the slaves went to fetch Passia. Apicius stood in one place and threw the ball, not very well, and the rest of us teased him when we had to run after his errant throws.
When Passia emerged from the interior of the house I thought my heart might burst with the happiness of seeing her. Oh, how I hated being away from my beloved wife.
After I had lifted Passia off her feet and swung her around, covering her in kisses, she broke free to embrace Apicata. “I know you live close but I wish we saw each other more often.”
“You’ll see more of her now.”
Passia looked to me, then to Apicata. “What do you mean? Is everything all right?”
Apicata patted Passia’s hand reassuringly. “Yes. But with Livia gone, I think I may take Junilla and join my father in Herculaneum.”
“With you and Junius,” I asserted, moving closer to my wife and draping my arm around her shoulder.
She tensed. She knew that if I wanted her to leave Rome it was because I was afraid for my family. For as much as we hated Livia, we knew that she was one of the only reasons Sejanus hadn’t become a real Roman tyrant.
“He leaves me alone because of the children but I fear what he might do to you and Father. Out of sight, out of mind, would be best for all of us,” Apicata urged.
“I can take care of myself, daughter,” Apicius said, although his voice belied the truth.
I never thought I would need to move my family from Rome, but Apicata was right. Sejanus stood to gain a lot if he accused Apicius of treason and demanded his fortune be handed over to Rome—or essentially into coffers he alone had access to. And if Apicata was afraid, it meant we should be doubly careful.
“Will you stay for cena?” Passia asked.
Apicata smiled and shook her head. “My neighbor Gratius Stolo is celebrating his eldest son’s name day. His wife invited me to join. I thought you might accompany me.”
“Is that the son who is campaigning for a Senate post?” Apicius asked.
“It is.”
Apicius waved a hand. “Go and enjoy yourself. Take the Guard with you to accompany you home. Junilla can stay here for dinner and tell her grandfather stories.”
I smiled. “She does love to tell tales! And when she and Junius are telling stories together, Comus himself would fall over laughing,” I said, referring to the god of comedy.
Apicata hugged me. “Thank you, Thrasius! Come, Passia, let’s figure out what you should wear!”
I kissed my wife and Apicius and I watched them scamper off, giggling like young girls. It made me glad to see Apicata smiling. Her smiles were few and far between.