Feast of Sorrow: A Novel of Ancient Rome

Tycho chuckled. I smiled, knowing what he was thinking. He had been scribing the letters and knew the contents and to whom they were addressed. “Of course it helps that we know a secret about each of them they would rather not have others know. All those years on Apicius’s couches have paid off.”


Passia looked at me with approval. “Blackmail within blackmail. By Jove, dear husband, I knew you were brilliant but I had no idea how much!”

Apicius gathered the letters up. “When dawn breaks, Apicata, we will send a boy with a note for Sejanus to meet you here. I suspect he will be here faster than you can blink. If he isn’t, it will be because he doesn’t remember any of it.”

“What if he comes here to kill me?”

“He will have to go through me first. And Sotas. Now go, try to sleep. Have Timon make you some poppy juice if you need it. I’ve got to get some messengers on the road.”

? ? ?

In the morning I had Apicata pen a note to Sejanus, barely hinting at his words the night before, in case his memory was poor. I sent my fastest messenger off to his house.

Sejanus arrived within the half hour. His memory wasn’t poor.

Apicius and I were waiting for him in the atrium. When he arrived, he stormed through the front door, not bothering to wait for the guards to announce him. “Where is she?” he snarled when he stopped in front of us.

“She is resting. I understand she had a bad night,” Apicius said. Behind him, Sotas grunted.

Apicata and Passia were in the nearby cubicle where they could hear.

“What else did she tell you?”

“Enough that I think you should guard your tone with me.” Apicius sounded bold but I knew he was shaking inside. What if my plan wasn’t enough to stop Sejanus?

Sejanus laughed, his golden armor clanking as he threw back his head. He had taken to wearing the formal Imperial armor more often now that Tiberius was ensconced in Capri. Tiberius likely wouldn’t have approved of such ostentation.

“You are the one who should guard your tone with me! Guards!” It was a fatal command, one that left no doubt as to what he intended the guards to do to us. Six burly Praetorian guards drew their swords and moved forward.

“That would not be wise,” Apicius said. His voice projected no fear.

The guards did not stop their advance.

“Go ahead!” he shouted. “Kill me and find out what happens to you! Kill me! Kill me and all of Rome will know about your treason!” He threw his arms upward as though welcoming their blades. I did the same, as did Sotas, each of us on either side of Apicius. I wondered how long it would take for me to die when the first blade passed through my body.

The words gave Sejanus pause. “Halt.” The guards stopped but did not lower their weapons. I heard the sounds of slaves coming to the atrium to hear what the commotion was about. Several guards broke off to attend them. A few waves of their blade points sent the slaves scurrying into the depths of the villa.

Sejanus advanced until he stood a few inches from Apicius. He pulled a jeweled dagger from the leather sheath strapped to his arm and held it to his throat.

“What could you possibly have to say that would make me reconsider killing you?”

“If you kill me, or Apicata, or harm any member of our families or our households, six letters telling the truth about Drusus will be sent out from different parts of the Empire.”

“Letters? You are bluffing. There are no letters.” The knife bit into his skin and a bright drop of blood surfaced.

“But there are letters. To Tiberius. To the Senate.”

He laughed but it didn’t sound as convincing. “Letters that will never reach their destinations.”

“How can you be sure? You know not where those letters will come from, nor when or how they will arrive.”

The knife bit deeper. “Nothing goes in or out of Capri without me knowing.”

“Ahh, but you, of all people, should know anyone can be bought for the right price. You are not in Capri. How can you be sure?” I gave thanks to Jupiter for his boldness. It seemed to be enough to put some caution into Sejanus. He pulled the knife away and stepped back.

“And if I do nothing to any of you, nothing will happen?”

“Exactly. Leave us in peace. You do nothing and we will do nothing.”

He stepped forward again, waggling the knife. “You cannot be trusted. Your mind is not always clear.”

“I’ve heard the rumors,” Apicius said, deadpan. “But I assure you, I am quite clear about this.”

“How do I know they will not share the contents of those letters anyway?”

“They won’t. Unlike you, I know my friends are loyal. This decision is yours, Sejanus. You are, as ever, in control.”

Although we both knew Apicius was the one directing this play.

Thick tendons stood out in Sejanus’s neck and his face had grown purple. I had never seen anyone so angry. He stared Apicius down for a spell before turning on his heel. The guards sheathed their weapons to follow him. At the door he looked back at us.

“If one of those letters gets into the wrong hands, I swear to the both of you, the following will happen.” He looked at Apicius. “I will kill your daughter, then I will take all of your lands, and all of your money, kill your slaves, cut out your tongue, remove your hands, and leave you penniless in the streets of Rome.”

Then he turned to me. “I will hunt your wife down and rape her till she bleeds. I will do the same to your son. Then I will, while you watch, cut away every part of their faces, cut off every limb and feed them to my dogs. After, I will have you crucified.”

He left, his men in tow. When the door shut I nearly fell onto the bench behind me. Tycho ran to our sides. “I’ll fetch the wine.”

Apicius nodded. “Thank you, Tycho. A bottle of my finest, I think. We all deserve it after that.” Apicata and Passia emerged from their hiding spot and threw their arms around us. Unfortunately, the outcome of the encounter did not lessen their fear.

? ? ?

Apicius retired immediately to the bath. “I need to think,” he said, but I knew that what he meant was that he would be actively not thinking by taking a heavy dose of opium.

“Sejanus will find a way to kill us.” Apicata began to pace the floor, wringing her hands with each step.

“I don’t think he will chance it,” I said, somehow convinced this was true.

Passia collapsed on the bench beside me. “I pray to the gods you are right.”

“I will never let him touch you. You would die at my own hands before you would ever die at his.”

She pressed herself closer against me.

? ? ?

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