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Much later that night, after I had purchased a score of new slaves for the Herculaneum villa, negotiated for furniture made from dark black pine to be sent, hired several new guardsmen, and shared a light meal with Apicius, I collapsed onto a couch in the garden. I began reading a scroll of the Aeneid Passia had left on a nearby table but it wasn’t long before I passed into sleep. I awoke hours later to a slave shaking me.
“Dominus Thrasius, hurry,” the girl was saying. It was one of Passia’s maidens.
I jolted awake. I tossed the scroll aside and followed her through the house to the bath, where I found Passia and Apicata. Apicata sat on the edge of the bath wrapped in a towel, crying. Passia combed her long hair between comforting hugs. They had sent all the other slaves from the room.
I rushed to their side. “What happened?”
Apicius appeared then, wrapped in a loose robe, Sotas following and taking a place next to the door.
At the sight of her father, Apicata put her face in her hands and began weeping anew. Passia hugged her close. “It’s all right. Tell them what happened.”
She sniffled. I saw she had several bruises on her arms. Fingerprint bruises.
“Who did this to you?” I tried to keep the anger from my voice.
Apicata couldn’t answer. She took in big gulping breaths of air between her sobs.
Passia looked at us, her own eyes wet with emotion. “Sejanus.”
“What? How?” Apicius came to his daughter’s side and put his arm around her.
Apicata wasn’t able to talk so Passia told us what she could. “He came to the party. I don’t think he was invited, but Gratius Stolo didn’t dare turn him away. Livilla was with him. He was high on opium and staggering drunk. He had his Praetorians arrest the one man who dared to comment on his condition.
“I was talking to one of Stolo’s daughters when he came in the door. I saw him first, but by the time I found Apicata so had Sejanus.”
Apicius cursed. I felt as though my blood were thickening in my veins.
“I ducked into the closest room, a huge bedroom. Livilla wasn’t with him; she must have gone to greet Stolo. I heard Sejanus in the corridor talking to Apicata, telling her how much he missed bedding her. Right before he pulled her into the room, I hid under the bed and curled up against the wall so they wouldn’t see me.”
Apicata seemed to regain herself. “I was glad to find that Passia was there. Now someone else will believe me.”
“Did he rape you?” Apicius asked, his voice soft.
She nodded, tears falling off the edge of her golden skin. “It was much like our marriage.”
I clenched my fists and wished I had something—no, someone—to punch.
“But that wasn’t the worst of it.”
“Bloody Apollo, how could it get worse?” Apicius gripped the edge of his robe so tightly that his hand was turning white.
Apicata dried her eyes on the towel. “Tell him, Passia.”
“When he came into the room he sent all the slaves away and told them to bar the door. He had at least ten guards with him. I knew if I tried to help Apicata they would kill us both. I stayed under the bed. It was awful.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. I would have rushed to the river Lethe if its waters could have erased the memory from my wife’s mind.
“Apicata was brave. She didn’t fight him and she didn’t cry. Afterward, when he lay spent, she was very bold and asked him to tell her the truth about Livilla.”
Apicata kicked a foot in the water, making a big splash. “When he drinks heavily he becomes boastful. It was the same then as it was during our marriage. Sure enough, the bastard told me everything. That he slept with her regularly, that he’d divorced me for her, and that he would see Tiberius dead for denying his marriage to her.”
Apicata rarely cursed and it startled me despite the circumstances.
“He told Apicata to tread lightly, that he had killed Drusus and he could kill her too,” Passia said.
I couldn’t believe what I heard. “By the gods! How did they kill him? Poison?”
“Yes.” Apicata wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I told him I didn’t believe him . . .”
“I thought he would strangle her then and there,” Passia added.
“I thought so too, but instead he told me how he and Livilla had done it,” Apicata continued. “They had his cupbearer put something in his drink one night and paid off the doctor to make sure he declared it death from drinking. One moment he was giddy with how brilliant he thought the plan was, and the next minute he was angry Tiberius still thwarted his marriage to Livilla.”
“Why didn’t he kill you after he told you?” Apicius asked what I had been thinking. I couldn’t understand why he would have let her live after spilling such a secret.
“He passed out. I gathered myself together and Passia and I left as quickly as we could. On the way out, to my horror, Livilla stopped me. She had no idea what had happened, thankfully.”
“She was horrible,” Passia said. “She told Apicata that she would never win Sejanus back. That he loved only her.”
“As though I would ever want to be with that monster again. I wanted to tell her that her husband had just had his way with me, and that I knew the truth about Drusus, but Passia pulled me away before I could say something stupid.”
It was terrible news. And more terrible because Apicata knew the truth about how Caesar Tiberius’s son died. If Sejanus remembered that he had told Apicata, he would most certainly have her killed.
Apicata saw the realization in our eyes. “Oh, Father, what should I do?”
I had already been thinking of the answer to her question.
“I have an idea. Get dressed and meet us in the library. Apicius, come with me. I think I know what to do.” I kissed her on the forehead and hauled Apicius to his feet.
We stopped at Tycho’s cubicle to wake him. My slave was an excellent scribe and we would need his help.
When we reached the library, I told Apicius of the plan. He only nodded his head and went to work. I know not how much time passed before Apicata and Passia appeared, but Apicius was dictating the last sentence on the sixth letter when they arrived. He gestured for them to sit.
“What are you planning?” Apicata’s eyes were bloodshot but dry. She wore a thin gray stola and her mother’s favorite sandals, so old and tattered, Aelia had worn them only around the house.
“It’s quite simple.” Apicius brought the letters to the table in front of them and fanned them out.
Apicata gasped. “What if this backfires?”
“I trust each of these men implicitly. It will not backfire.”