by Crystal King
Mato stopped right before he reached Sotas. He dropped to his knees and threw his hands into the air.
“In Jupiter’s name I curse you, Apicius!” he screamed toward the heavens. “I curse your family to an early death, like you gave my son. I curse you to doom and delirium. I curse you to a life so terrible that you take your own life and your slaves inherit all you own.”
Apicius didn’t move a muscle. He watched calmly as Mato made his pronouncements. But when Mato pulled out a long, shiny knife from inside his ripped tunic, Apicius backed up quickly, knocking me over in his haste to get away from the man. I had just enough time to look up from my spot on the dusty ground to see that Mato hadn’t stood at all. Instead he held the knife against his throat and, with one fast motion, tore it across his skin. Blood gushed forth in a rush, soaking his tunic. A horrified cry arose from the crowd of slaves. Collectively, we turned our heads, making signs to ward off the evil eye. Mato’s body hit the ground with a thump.
• • •
Like he had with his mother, Apicius instructed that the body be dumped in the ocean, weighted with stones. He wouldn’t come out of the domus until all the blood was gone. He said nothing of the incident after that, but he didn’t let anyone ride in his carpentum with him, not even Sotas. I was grateful for the distance from my dominus. A dark melancholy consumed me and I wanted to talk to no one.
We rode through the night and arrived in Rome at daybreak. We stabled the oxen—they were not allowed into the city—and picked up Apicius’s litter from storage. It was a long journey back to the villa from the city gates.
Despite the early hour, the city was bustling, preparing for yet another holiday, Vinalia Rustica, the celebration of the year’s first grape harvest. The streets leading to the Forum were decorated with ribbons and vines. Vendors hawked painted miniature amphorae to tourists, and troupes of flutists and dancers could be heard practicing in the alleys as we passed.
I loved Vinalia. Every year Passia and I looked forward to the first feast of the three-day festival. Aelia would line up the servants on both sides of the long hallway leading from the front door through the atrium. Together Apicius, Apicata, and Aelia would walk the lines and place a grape on the tongue of each slave and say a blessing to the lady Venus. Then Apicius would have ten jars of his best Falernian wine brought up from the cellar and he would give them to his most loyal servants. I would make sweet curds and honey tarts for the whole household, slaves included, and we would read poetry and listen to music. With Aelia and Apicius on such poor terms, I wasn’t sure there would be much of a festival in our villa this year.
When we turned onto the street winding up the Palatine toward Apicius’s villa, a young man came running toward our party, shouting, “Apicius!”
Whenever we traveled through Rome, some vendor would race after the litter to sell Apicius some new luxurious food or a special serving dish. These sellers never sold anything worth stopping for. But of course Apicius always stopped.
Sotas stepped forward to block the man from moving closer to the litter, but the man, a wiry Jew, hardly seemed to notice Sotas. He continued to shout and wave his arms as the litter moved farther down the street.
“Apicius! I have silphium! Please stop, I have silphium! I’ve come from Cyrene and I was told to find you whenever I have silphium!”
I wondered at the man’s tale. Silphium had become increasingly rare and costly. The Greeks couldn’t figure out how to cultivate it and had to rely on wild sources. Trade was tightly controlled and even the most influential had a hard time obtaining the herb. Where had he gotten it?
The man drew close and, much to my surprise, Sotas didn’t stop him. Instead he reached out and gave the man a hearty hug. “Benjamin! It is good to see you. You have silphium? Real silphium, not the stuff from Parthia?”
“Yes! I secured some from a patrician whose life I saved from drowning when I was in Cyrene. I asked for silphium in payment.”
I snorted. It was more likely the man had robbed the noble and walked off with the herb.
Benjamin stared past us. Apicius had stopped the litter and disembarked to greet this bearer of herbal gold. I wanted to shake my dominus. Apicius had done nothing for the last twenty-four hours but rant and moan about Aelia. But instead of moving forward, he decided to delay the reunion to buy a plant. I resisted saying a prayer to Jupiter to strike the Jew down into the paving stones.
“Do you truly have silphium? Let me see.”
Apicius reached out a trembling hand in expectation.
The man reached into his bag and pulled out a lump of cloth. Carefully he unwrapped it to reveal a thick, reddish-brown root no longer than a finger, twisted and still dirty.
I watched my master scrape the root with his fingernail, then place the bit on his tongue. Apicius closed his eyes to savor what should taste like the bitter pith of a pomegranate with a hint of something spicier.
“Yes, it is silphium! How much do you have? I’ll take all of it.”
The Jew shook his head. “This root is all that I have. I’m sure you know how rare it is.”
“I do know. I’ll pay you seventy-five thousand denarii.”
I tensed when he named the amount. I thought that after Apicius had offered the captain only a bit more to sail to Carthage I would never again be shocked at my master’s extravagant spending. I was wrong. If he was frugal, Benjamin would never have to work another day in his life.
The exchange was made. Benjamin had come prepared with a wax tablet to take down the signed wager and seal mark enabling him to draw the money from the city coffers in Apicius’s name. Apicius retired to the litter and we started off again. Sotas and I lagged behind.
I was angry at my master. “What I don’t understand is why Apicius couldn’t have let me handle that transaction. He would have had his silphium at a fraction of the price and he would already be home to his wife. It’s infuriating.”
Sotas made a sign to warn against the evil eye. “Why do you wonder about his motives anymore? You know things will unfold as they may.”
I understood what Sotas meant. “‘For every success, greater failures will cluster to the sides.’ This is the prophecy coming true before our eyes. He has his silphium but at what cost? To his purse and to the detriment of his wife.”
“And what of Mato and his son?”
I was surprised. Sotas never spoke critically of our master.
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
CHAPTER 11
As we neared the domus, a surge of adrenaline sliced through me. I recognized the bright family colors of the litter leaving Apicius’s villa. It was large and luxurious, with gilded supports and vermilion curtains edged with rich Tyrian purple. A dozen slaves carried the litter, holding on to thick poles wrapped in purple ribbon and capped with golden lions the size of a man’s fist. I prayed to Juno that Apicius wouldn’t notice the approaching envoy, but as the drumbeat of the slaves’ feet came closer, he parted the curtains to peer out. I saw his jaw set hard as he watched the litter pass.
“By Tartarus! What was Sejanus doing in my house?” he cursed when the other litter was out of earshot, bidding his slaves to move even faster toward the villa. Sotas pulled one of the younger slaves aside and told him to run ahead and warn Aelia of their arrival.
Apicius jumped out of the litter before the slaves had the chance to finish setting it on the ground. He waved aside the guards at the front gate to the villa and strode through the courtyard, Sotas and I practically running behind him.
Aelia met us in the atrium. She wore a simple tunica of white and the afternoon breeze played with the edges of her overlying pale yellow stola. She appeared a little haggard, as though she had been crying, and I thought there was a small bruise upon her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back in a hasty bun at the nape of her neck. I wondered if her ornatrix was sick; it was unlike her not to have her hair coiffed. She held a small papyrus scroll in her hand. Apicata stood next to her.
She held her doll close, as though she were taking comfort in the embrace. Her seventh birthday was only a few months away and dolls would be a thing of the past soon. I was struck by how much taller she seemed to have grown in the few short weeks since we had last seen her. Helene and Passia stood behind them. I longed to rush across the atrium and caress the cheek of the woman I loved. She looked at me, but her lips held no smile. Instead there was something else in her look—a warning, a plea, that made me desperate to get her alone and see what had happened while we were gone.
“Wife, what was Sejanus doing here?” Apicius stopped a few feet away, not reaching out to embrace her as he usually would after a long visit. “I did not expect you might entertain in my absence.”
Aelia appeared to gather her courage. “I have entertained while you were gone. Sejanus is in between campaigns so he visited a few times. Today he brought a gift for Apicata, and last week, we dined one evening with my father and his father—my uncle, if you recall. But he has not been our only guest. Every day my lady friends have come to weave with me and Apicata.”
A strange look crossed her face and she moved away suddenly, leaning to the side in order to gaze past us. “Where is your haul, by the way?”
Sotas smiled when I nudged him conspiratorially with one elbow. We too lamented the wasted trip that had brought us nothing but a smaller coin purse and an angry domina.
“The prawns were not as I expected.”
“So you just turned back?”
“Yes. And when I returned, I found my wife was no longer there. By Jove, woman! What possessed you to leave without me?”
Aelia looked him square in the eye. “The same thing that possesses you to leave your wife for weeks on end without even bothering to kiss her good-bye.”
“You didn’t even say good-bye to me, Father,” Apicata said. Her voice shook and her eyes welled with tears. I wondered at the display of emotion. Apicata was always a little dramatic but this display seemed more so than usual. “Why were you gone so long?”
Apicius fell to his knees, scooped her up, and buried his head in her shoulder.
“My little one, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Aelia watched the scene between her husband and daughter, her eyes neutral but her chin trembling. She crushed the center of the scroll in her hand with the force of her grip. I wondered at its contents.
Finally, Apicius let his daughter go. He gestured for Passia to take Apicata and depart. Then he turned back to Aelia. “Wife, you are never to leave of your own accord again. I have few rules for you in my house but I will not tolerate disrespect.”
Aelia lowered her eyes. “Yes, husband.”
“You will not teach Apicata insolence. It is my expectation that as matron of this house you will provide her with a role model befitting our station. You will explain to her how your actions were not appropriate. You will also offer an extra sacrifice to the Penates this evening. You have shamed us and the household gods demand retribution.”
“Will that be all, husband?” She sounded more defeated than petulant—we had all seen Apicius in his moods and to provoke him was never wise. A blanket of sadness encompassed her. She refused to look up at Apicius.
“Yes, that will be all.”
She left the atrium, a cheerless cloud trailing in her wake. I suspected that by leaving she had hoped Apicius would see how she had been wounded. Instead he meted out punishment. I wished I could run after her and give comfort.
“Come, Sotas, we have much to unpack,” said Apicius.
The “we” was not as inclusive as it sounded. Sotas would end up unpacking while his master went to the baths to enjoy a massage and a glass of Falernian wine.
“Dominus?” I raised my voice in question, not daring to assume I too was dismissed.
“Go, get out of my sight.”
As I crossed the atrium, I noticed Aelia had crumpled and tossed the scroll she had held. I picked it up from the line of plants where it rested and pocketed it, intending to return it to her when I saw her next. But a short while later, my curiosity won out and I pulled out the scroll.
It was a love poem she had written for Apicius, lamenting the distance between them. It left my heart hurting for my domina.
• • •
It was several hours before I could be alone with Passia. I longed to wrap my arms around her, to run my fingers along her skin. I had been dreaming of her for weeks and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could contain this hunger. And yet there was a seed of worry—what had that look she gave me meant?
When Apicata was taking her nap, Passia slipped away and we sought the privacy of my cubiculum.
“Sejanus is a monster,” she began as soon as the door was shut. Anger played with her features, wrinkling her brow. My desire dissipated, turning into deep concern.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know where to start.” Tears filled her eyes and I enveloped her in my arms. She wept into my shoulder.
“Did he touch you?” I could barely ask the question.
“Not me.” She choked and fresh tears began anew.
Horror rose in my chest. “Apicata?”
“No, but, but . . .” Again, her tears consumed her.
I led her to the bed and sat with her, comforting her, letting her cry. After a time, she quieted.
“I’m so glad you are home.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
I smoothed the hair back from her face. “Tell me what happened, my sweet love. Take your time.”
“Domina Aelia told true earlier, but she did not tell it all. Last week Aelia’s father, Sejanus, and Sejanus’s father came to dine with us. They arrived in the late afternoon and the dinner was very enjoyable. You know how I’ve always liked her father.”
I did. Lucius Aelius Lamia had advanced to be governor of Germania and we did not see him often. He was a kind man who doted on Aelia and often sent her gifts from his travels across the Empire.
“They were here for many hours and there was a lot of wine that flowed. In fact, too much wine. Eventually Lamia left for home. He had some things he wanted to finish up before he left Rome to return to Germania the next day. When he was gone, we retired to Aelia’s library because Apicata wanted to have Sejanus play backgammon with her.
“Helene and I sat on the slave stools near the door, along with four of Sejanus’s guards. Aelia read from Virgil while Sejanus played the game with Apicata. Everything was fine for a little while. Sejanus kept waving to have his wine refilled, which I think I must have done three or four times.”
“Let me guess, he didn’t want it to be cut with water.”
She shook her head and tears rose in her eyes once again.
“At some point, he had Apicata sit on his lap while he showed her how to make more strategic moves on the board. Oh, Thrasius, that’s when everything started to go wrong!”
Heat prickled the back of my neck. “Tell me, Passia. What happened? What did he do to Apicata?”
“He, he . . .” She swallowed and choked back her sobs. “He started to rub his hands up her legs and under her tunica, upward. But Aelia saw, and she threw her scroll aside and yanked Apicata away.
“He told her that he was having a little fun, that there were other types of games he could teach her. He grabbed Aelia with his free hand and Apicata slipped away, running to me. I tried to take her out of the room but one of his guards grabbed me and held me back. He held me, with my hand over my mouth so I could not scream. One guard took hold of Helene and another guard grabbed Apicata and did the same. She was hysterical and finally the guard told her that if she didn’t stop screaming they were going to hurt her mother. That stopped her, but she was terrified.”
“Where were the house guards?” I asked. Besides the regular door guards, there were guards present when visitors came to the house. Apicius had always been somewhat paranoid and demanded it.
“Aelia had dismissed them to guard the outs
ide of the house like they would if we did not have visitors. We all felt safe. Sejanus had his men with him. He is her cousin—she did not think that anything would happen!”
Much as I didn’t want to hear what was to transpire, I bade Passia to continue. I held her and stroked her shoulder and her face while she spoke.
“Aelia struggled in Sejanus’s arms. He kept trying to kiss her. He ripped her stola to get at her breasts. When she tried to scream, he slapped her.”
I swore. Never in my life, even when I had been abused as a slave in times past, or even when Vatia had died by Popilla’s mechanisms, had I ever wanted anyone dead so much as I did Sejanus in that moment.
“He was so drunk. I think that was the only thing that saved Aelia. He could barely stand up. After he slapped her, he told her that he had evidence of something very terrible that Apicius had done, that he had tried to murder someone close to Caesar. And that it would destroy Apicius and his entire family if Sejanus shared the evidence.”
Her eyes pleaded with me. “Oh, Thrasius, do you think it is true?”
Reluctantly, I nodded. “Yes. It is. It is better that you do not know.”
She paled.
“Did Apicata hear about the murder?”
“I don’t think so. The guard had made her promise to not scream if he took his hand off her mouth. She was crying and praying aloud to the gods most of the time. But she did hear Sejanus when he made us swear on our lives that we would never speak of what had just happened. If he found out we had, he would expose Apicius and we would all be put to death. That really scared her and the guard had to put his hand over her mouth again.”
Passia paused, her tears beginning anew. I let her cry for a few minutes, then bade her to continue.
She gathered her courage. “He told Aelia that if he ever decided he wanted her that she would comply. And that if he ever decided he wanted Apicata that Aelia was to make sure it happened. If not, he would turn the evidence of the murder over to Caesar.”