Feast of Sorrow

by Crystal King

  “Tragic how Gaius died, don’t you think?” Fannia said, joining us.

  Apicius jumped at the sound of her voice. Aelia leaned toward Fannia in response.

  “Tragic! And so far from home! I feel terrible for poor Livilla, being forced to marry Drusus. It’s not even been a year since her husband died!” she murmured behind a cupped hand.

  Gaius Caesar was one of Caesar’s two now dead heirs, and had been married to Livilla. He had died under what some said were strange circumstances in a military campaign in faraway Lycia.

  “And so soon after his brother Lucius died from that odd sickness! Don’t you find it curious that both of Caesar’s heirs are no longer? The poor girl. In some ways it’s probably good for Livilla that they took so long to recover Gaius’s body from Lycia or she would have had to remarry even sooner.” Fannia shook her head. Today her hair was blond, braided, and piled high around a small but elaborate gold and jewel-encrusted headdress.

  “At least they are the same age,” Aelia offered. “Drusus is handsome and charming. I suppose she could do much worse. I hope he will be kind to her.”

  “How did you manage an invitation?” Apicius asked Fannia. I had been wondering the same thing.

  “Thankfully, Livia didn’t have anything to do with the invitations.” Fannia peered toward the flowered entryway where Caesar and his wife were due to arrive. “Agrippina asked me to come. She knows how much I adore her son. Drusus will be pleased I came, but I’m sure Livia will be furious when she sees me here. She wouldn’t dare throw me out in front of all these guests. It wouldn’t be a good omen for the new couple.”

  Apicius smiled. Fannia was right; throwing out a guest would not be auspicious. The wedding had been, as tradition dictated, a small family affair, but the reception was turning out to be quite the opposite.

  Aelia jerked her chin toward a small cluster of patricians. “Octavius and Gaia are here. I know you don’t want to talk to them but I should thank Gaia for the flowers she sent to me when I was sick last month. Excuse me, husband. I’d like to bring them greetings.”

  Octavius waved in our direction and Apicius waved back politely. I suspected that my dominus was happy to have Aelia fraternize on his behalf. Aelia and Gaia were not oblivious to the contention between their husbands, but they never seemed to let it deter their friendship.

  “Ahh, my favorite friend has arrived,” Fannia said in a sardonic whisper as three tubicines appeared in the sunlit entryway, their straight gold tubae sounding one long note signifying the entrance of Caesar and his wife, Livia. After sounding their horns, the men stepped to the side with a practiced march.

  A small tremor reverberated through my belly as I watched the Imperial couple walk through the doors, flanked by the newly wedded Livilla and Drusus Julius Caesar.

  Tiberius drew up the rear, looking both tired and uncomfortable. The gossip was that he had reluctantly returned from his villa at Rhodes to which he had retired several years prior. Apparently his new appointment as heir to Caesar had been enough to make him reconsider. Upon the recent deaths of his grandsons, Lucius and Gaius, Caesar had moved quickly to adopt Tiberius in order to ensure a successor. The plebeian masses had rumbled about the adoption for the last few weeks, concerned about the idea of the dictatorship passing to yet another heir, just as a crown might pass to kings. Augustus merely declared several public feasts (with freely distributed food) to commemorate the event, which quelled the rabble. As for Tiberius, bets had already been placed on how long it would be before he retired once more to his island retreat.

  “They look happy,” Apicius said to Fannia. “But Tiberius looks as though he ate a bad piece of meat.”

  “Maybe the wine will cheer him up.” She pointed at the long line of amphorae gracing one wall. “Caesar is far too conservative, denying women wine at his parties. Women should be able to partake of wine just as the men do.”

  “It makes women wanton,” Apicius teased.

  “Of course it does!” Fannia laughed.

  Caesar began speaking, his commanding voice loud enough to be heard even at the back of the garden. He stood between the new couple while Livia and Tiberius hovered in the background, eying the crowd.

  “She saw me.” Fannia lifted her semicircular gold-painted fan to hide her lips as she spoke.

  “I worry about you.” Apicius shifted so another patrician blocked Livia’s view as he spoke. “This rivalry is dangerous. Fannia, there is talk she may have had a hand in Lucius’s death. I heard she paid one of Gaius’s soldiers to make his murder look like a battle wound!”

  “Rumors, rumors!” Fannia chuckled softly behind the fan. “Besides, you should talk. You are the one who keeps avoiding her for fear she may seek retribution for refusing Octavius’s purchase of your coquus. And you dare to bring him here today!”

  Apicius shrugged off her criticism. “Fannia, she is staring at you, not me. You shouldn’t be here. What if those rumors are true? You do not want to be in the sight of the gorgon. And if you are in her sights that means I am too. Sometimes I wonder how much of a liability you are to me.”

  “I see.” She seemed annoyed. “Well, too late now.” Indeed, Livia was staring at Fannia—directly, with the intensity of a vestal flame. Despite the burning gaze, she remained composed, her face still beautiful at sixty-two years. She wore barely any jewelry, as was her practice, and her white stola was adorned with a bright red sash. Her gray hair was cropped close in a simple but elegant cut, with dozens of curls circling her barely lined face. Her lips were stained red, the same color as her sash. After a few moments of looking directly at Fannia, she raised her hand in a slight wave, a movement driven purely by the need for public protocol.

  Fannia smiled sweetly and tipped her fan in response.

  Caesar’s speech was ending. I had been so absorbed in watching the exchange between Livia and Fannia that I hadn’t heard a word. It didn’t matter; wedding speeches were always the same. Good luck, happy life, gods smiling down, et cetera. I glanced at Aelia. She stood next to Gaia and Octavius, smiling at Livilla and Drusus, her face aglow with the moment.

  A flock of white doves flew over the garden, predictably, at the close of Caesar’s speech, circling twice before landing in an orderly huddle on the roof overlooking the party. It bothered me that the rulers of Rome had always danced with the favor of the gods, faking such displays to puff themselves up for the plebs. No wonder so many of them came to ominous ends.

  “What fortune will come to them with so many doves!” Aelia had returned and was beaming. “Apicata will be sad to have missed such a sight.”

  “Come now.” Fannia took Aelia and Apicius by the elbow. “Refreshments are in order.” She propelled them toward the front of the garden, where the slaves were distributing wine to the men and juice to the women. Sotas and I followed behind, nodding our brief hellos to other slaves we recognized as we passed.

  Throughout the garden, plush couches and chairs were nestled in nooks shaded by bushy palms. Many of the women began to congregate in these cool gossip pockets while others laughed gaily as they watched their husbands line up to be chosen for a drinking game.

  Fannia stopped a young slave girl with a tray of glasses. “Here’s your first taste of Caesar’s finest.” She handed Apicius a glass of golden wine, taking a glass of honeyed water for herself and one for Aelia. Apicius lifted the goblet to his nostrils and took a deep whiff.

  “Apples, pepper, and cloves.” He sipped. “This would have gone well with the pork minutal Thrasius prepared last night.” He didn’t look at me. It made me wonder all the more why he brought me because he acted as though I were not there. With slaves that was standard, but his insistence on my attendance made it seem strange to me.

  Apicius was tipping his glass up for another sip when something slid down the folds of his toga and hit his toes before bouncing off into the grass. I saw it was my silphium carved amulet—the one he had given me the day Octavius first tried to purchase me.
I instinctively reached up to the spot where the amulet normally rested against my breast. It had gone missing a few days before. I’d assumed it lost, not taken. He must have had someone remove it from the table near my bed when I slept.

  Sotas stepped forward and retrieved it for him. I stood in shock, trying to process how I felt at him taking the amulet without telling me. I dared not say a word. In truth it was his amulet—he could take anything of mine at will, but why did he? And why have it taken so surreptitiously?

  Apicius took the amulet from Sotas. I watched, my heart beating as fast as a dragonfly’s wings. “Hold this for me, Fannia dear?” He handed her his glass and tucked the disk into the folds of his toga.

  “Certainly,” she said, glad for the opening. While Apicius rearranged his toga, she looked around to make sure no one was watching and took a slug of his wine. Aelia gasped but a look from Fannia silenced any admonishment that might have been forthcoming. Apicius recovered his wine from Fannia and took a sip.

  “Aelia,” a voice called from behind.

  Fannia made a small, panicked noise. Apicius jabbed me in the side and I quickly realized he wanted me to step back and find some way to become inconspicuous. I wasn’t sure how to do so but I slipped in behind Sotas and Helene, hoping Livia wouldn’t notice me.

  Livia came near with Drusus and Livilla. Caesar’s wife held out her hand and Apicius leaned down to touch his lips to her ring. She turned to Fannia and Aelia to do the same. Fannia relaxed when it became clear that Livia hadn’t noticed her transgression with the wine.

  “May the gods smile upon your new union,” Aelia said to the new couple.

  “Many thanks. I hope this marriage will be as long as that of Caesar and my dear lady.” Livilla inclined her head toward Livia. I wondered if there was an underlying meaning in her words. Her previous marriage to Gaius had been short and the rumors about Livia’s desire to have Tiberius as heir at any cost, even that of Livilla’s previous husband, had circulated widely. Livia remained impassive, betraying nothing.

  Aelia smiled, oblivious, and clearly delighted to be in the presence of such beautiful, famous people. Livilla was more alluring up close than she had been from afar. Her black hair, worn in an elaborate jeweled headdress, shimmered in the sunlight.

  Drusus was barely eighteen, but already aiming to be a great military man. He smiled at Aelia. “I have word of your cousin, Sejanus.”

  My ears perked up.

  “You do? Oh, tell me he is well,” Aelia said, giving no hint at her true feelings. I marveled at her composure.

  “Yes. He vanquished another band of barbarians in Germania. There is much for the gens Aelia to be proud of in their adopted son.”

  My heart sank and I’m sure Aelia’s did as well.

  “I hear Sejanus is a very brave soldier,” Livilla added.

  “I’m sure that you are quite brave, Drusus.” Aelia adeptly changed the subject. “I hear that you have the makings of a fine soldier yourself.”

  “I do love swinging a sharp sword about, true. I will be joining Tiberius in the north in a few months. I’m sure a few barbarians will meet the edge of my steel.”

  Livia pointed a long finger at Apicius’s wineglass. “Perhaps you should join the drinking game, Apicius. You know wine better than so many others, I suspect.” Her voice was like honey, sticking in my ears. I knew it took everything for Apicius to smile at her words, as though they were the most welcome he had heard all day.

  “Fantastic idea! I’ll stand in line,” he said, bowing his head. I was sure he was desperate to get away from Livia before she asked him anything, before Fannia said something that might implicate him, or, the gods forbid, before he developed sudden nausea, which might manifest itself on Livia’s sandals.

  “Drusus, will you join me?”

  The young man chuckled. “A drinking contest? I have a secret that will help us.” He reached into the folds of his toga and pulled out a little pouch. “I came prepared! Five or six of these bitter almonds should keep us sober. Lead the way, Gavius Apicius.”

  Apicius indicated that Sotas should remain with Aelia, then raised his glass in salute before the two of them turned toward the line of men waiting to be chosen for the game. I took my cue from Sotas and didn’t move.

  “Oh, I didn’t get to tell him thank you!” Livilla exclaimed. Her arm reached out toward Apicius, as though to beckon him back, but he was already out of earshot.

  “Thank you for what?” Livia asked with a sniff.

  “For the delightful dish of stuffed pumpkin fritters he sent for our wedding meal last night! I have never tasted anything so wonderful,” she said, her eyes rolling up toward the heavens.

  “I wondered who’d sent those,” Livia said in a quiet voice. Then she saw me. She wrinkled her brow as though puzzled at my presence. My heart jumped like a bean in a hot pot. I lowered my eyes, praying to the gods that she would lose interest in me.

  Aelia touched Livilla on the arm. “I’ll be sure to tell Apicius you liked the fritters. Did you also receive the pepper?”

  Livilla took Aelia’s hand in her own and clutched it excitedly. “Yes! What a thoughtful gift and, I have to say, the little jars in which it came were my favorite part of the gift. Such bright colors.”

  Livia had lost interest in the conversation and was staring in the direction of the game, watching Apicius as he went to sit on the long padded bench next to Trio and Drusus. Twenty patricians lined the benches to partake in the game and the slaves had already begun filling their first of eleven glasses. The winner was, quite simply, the one who could drink the most. An intricate crown of laurel leaves would be placed upon his head and a generous purse from Caesar would be placed in his hand. “I take it the fritters were good,” Fannia said, testing the waters with Livia.

  “They were.” Livia tore her eyes away from the game and turned to Fannia. She flashed a smile at her rival.

  “I know an easy answer to your dilemma.”

  “My dilemma?” Livia sounded unsure if she should be angry or amused.

  She flipped a thumb toward me. “You want his food in your kitchen, do you not? Simply convince Caesar to give Apicius the position he desires, that of gastronomic adviser. You win and he wins.” Fannia shifted her fan to better hold her glass. She glanced over to Apicius and the game. The group of men had downed their first glass and were being handed their second.

  What was Fannia doing? I suspected that the wine had made her tongue loose.

  Livia’s nostrils flared at Fannia’s suggestion. She turned her attention back to the drinkers. Her head lifted slightly as the men tipped their heads back to down the next glass of wine. She closed her eyes as though savoring the idea of the wine. Her voice was soft, but clear. “Fannia, you are a stupid cow. Pluto will visit Apicius in the Underworld before your friend ever steps foot in Augustus’s home as an adviser. Why you think I would help anyone connected to you is beyond me.”

  Fannia did not have time to reply. Livia called to Livilla and strode off before the new bride could even say her good-byes to Aelia.

  When she was gone, Fannia warned me and Sotas, “Tell Apicius nothing of this. Swear to me. Swear by the gods!” We swore.

  “Good. Good.” Fannia turned her attention to the game but her brow was wrinkled deep with worry.

  I glanced at Sotas, hoping for some word or look of comfort to combat the churning in my stomach, but his face was a mask of stone as he stared ahead, eyes on his master.

  On the drinking couches, the twenty patricians were readying themselves for glass number three. I was sure that Apicius could keep up for at least eight or nine glasses, but I didn’t know how he would manage the last few. We watched as the Magister of Revels cut the wine with water and the slaves once more went to fill the glasses. At first I worried Livia might try to poison him, but when I saw the wine was directly from the lot of unopened amphorae along the garden wall, I relaxed.

  The poet Ovid appeared beside Fannia, leaning over
to kiss her cheek in greeting.

  “What a delight to see you here!” She beamed.

  Aelia held out her hand in greeting and blushed to her toes when he kissed her cheek in welcome.

  “Why aren’t you participating?” Fannia asked.

  “I’d never make it through the fourth drink!” He tipped his wineglass toward us in a mock toast.

  As I suspected, glasses three through five were no problem for Apicius to drink down in one long slow draft, as was required by the rules of the game. Other rules included no burping, no falling off the bench, no declining a drink. None of the participants wanted to be disgraced in front of Caesar. At glass five, one of the city’s more prominent lawyers—and one who had begun drinking long before the party started—fell off his bench. The crowd laughed heartily. Caesar didn’t smile. A wave of his hand brought two burly men over to pick up the drunkard and carry him unceremoniously out of the garden, his worried wife in tow.

  Everything went sour after that. Octavius stood with the Imperial couple, talking with Livia while Caesar was occupied with Tiberius and other patricians. Octavius and Livia held their eyes on Apicius. Then Livia said something to her body-slave, who dutifully trotted over to the slaves serving the wine. Subsequently, on the sixth glass I could see that they had stopped watering down Apicius’s glass. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.