Feast of Sorrow

by Crystal King

  Apicius snapped his fingers at Sotas, who dutifully trotted over to Glycon, said a few low words to the man, and waited patiently until Glycon gave his good-byes.

  “A good reading, Master Apicius.” Glycon fell into step alongside Apicius, a sight that was now all too common in our household.

  “You are sure this will be a good night?”

  “Yes, yes, it will be a fine night!” Glycon’s voice was slick, like fresh pressed oil.

  I didn’t believe him.

  • • •

  The day’s preparations flew by, and before we knew it, the first guests began to trickle into the garden, some more than an hour earlier than we expected.

  “They want to secure the best couches,” Fannia remarked, coming up from behind. She had also arrived early, and was overdressed, as usual, in too many golden necklaces and rings and a garish blue stola one step away from the Imperial purple, a dangerous choice considering the possible insult to be made.

  I stood with her, watching as our slaves escorted the guests to various couches. I sent the first group of slaves out with the wine. Fannia stopped one of them and took a brightly painted goblet from the tray. She winked at me.

  “So much more civilized this Caesar is! Drinking before dinner! Women partaking without shame!” She lifted her glass at me.

  While Tiberius had a more relaxed attitude toward wine, most did not share his views. Fannia didn’t care one whit and had embraced drinking in public with great gusto.

  “Some guests aren’t sure what to do.” I motioned toward a group of equestrians and their wives. One couple took a glass and other guests frowned at them. “I know I don’t like it. You shouldn’t drink before dinner. It dulls the senses and the taste of your food.”

  Fannia laughed. “Oh, you silly man. That’s simply not true! A good wine will enhance the flavors of your food. You are too much of a purist!”

  “Hmm.” I looked back at the crowd. We had to turn up a good portion of our gardens to be able to set up more than sixty couches to accommodate 540 guests. At the head of the feast was a larger triclinium with cushions of sumptuous red and purple silk set up for the emperor and his most important guests. Flanking the Imperial couches were two monstrous gilded bronze statues, one of Neptune and one of Diana.

  I was about to return to the kitchen when I saw Sotas emerge from behind Diana’s shining skirt. He lifted one massive arm and waved it to make sure we saw him.

  “Apicius sent me to tell you Tiberius and Livia are here,” he said when he arrived. “Sejanus sent a messenger ahead.”

  “Wasn’t that kind of him?” Fannia smirked. “It’s not often you get fair warning before the Hydra strikes.”

  I shook my head at her remark and turned back to Sotas. The big man jerked his head in the direction of the couches. “Apicius wants us waiting at the dais when Tiberius and Livia arrive.”

  “Onward!” Fannia gestured for me to lead the way. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to follow. Mixing Livia and Fannia was like mixing oil and water, and, as a result, Apicius had been trying more and more to distance himself from his old mentor. Plus I was beginning to suspect Fannia was a little in her cups.

  My former master and his wife waited for us at the Imperial triclinium. Aelia wore a golden-edged white silk stola fastened at the shoulder with a ruby-studded pin of gold. Her palla, also edged in gold, was draped lightly over her head and shoulders, obscuring most of what looked to be an elaborate weave of curls pinned to the top of her head. Apicius wore a brand-new toga and sported new gold rings on his fingers, each of which held a large gem in its center. I marveled at how much younger he looked than his forty-nine years—younger than I looked, and I’d been born ten years after him. I suspected it was the extra layers of fat on his body, giving his face a rounded countenance, devoid of wrinkles.

  “I’m surprised they are arriving so early.” I took my place next to Aelia in the line to receive Tiberius and his company.

  “We are too.” Aelia squeezed my arm in greeting.

  Fannia defiantly took a spot next to me. Apicius glanced over with a look of horror. He motioned to me, as though I would be able to say something to convince her not to stand with us. I shrugged. I couldn’t control his friend.

  Panic began to fill Apicius’s eyes, now wide and staring at me. Horns sounded at the entrance, marking Caesar’s arrival. “Thrasius!” Apicius hissed at me in a low tone filled with fire.

  The crowd began to cheer and moved to line the aisle in the center of the garden to watch Caesar pass by. I looked away from Apicius and back toward the procession. Fannia was oblivious to Apicius’s concerns, her eyes fixated on the Imperial family walking toward us.

  Apicius gave Aelia a message to whisper loudly in my ear. “She does know she can’t sit with us, doesn’t she?”

  I whispered back, “We spoke about it earlier. We’re seating her in the front, but off to the side, with friends of her choosing.”

  She relayed the information to Apicius, who looked as though he were about to ask Fannia to depart the receiving line. He hesitated too long, however, and then it was too late. Tiberius advanced toward us, his mother on his arm, and his son Drusus with his wife, Livilla, behind. Sejanus and Apicata followed the Imperial family with several Praetorian Guard in tow.

  Tiberius strode past us all and greeted Apicius with a hearty arm clasp. He appeared to be in much better spirits than he was earlier. “My good Apicius! I am a hungry man ready for a feast! What do you have in store for us?”

  Apicius launched into a description of the dishes to come, but my attention was seized by Livia, who was greeting each of us in the line as etiquette dictated. That was as far as etiquette went. She did not kiss or hug Fannia, only nodding at her when she passed. Drusus, however, took Fannia’s hand and kissed it grandly, causing the old matron to blush. Livia offered a hand to me, which I kissed, noting the blue veins under her pale skin. She kissed Aelia on the cheek and stood back, waiting for Tiberius to finish his conversation with Apicius. Apicata looked radiant and she greeted us all warmly.

  Sejanus shook hands with Apicius and leaned in to hug Aelia, who froze when he touched her. As his cousin, a hug would not seem untoward, but I noticed the hand that caressed one of her breasts when he pulled away. Aelia gave away nothing, turning after the hug to make small talk with Apicata. Sejanus smirked and turned away to give his guard and Imperial body-slaves their orders for the feast. I began to run through my head all the foods I could feed him that would make him ill, perhaps deathly ill. Then I saw Apicius talking with Tiberius and knew that I could not do anything to mar this occasion. Instead I dug my nails into my hands, which were curled into fists that I wished could meet with flesh.

  Drusus made his way through the line and joined his father in the conversation with Apicius. “I trust you have some cabbage tops boiling up for me, Apicius? I fancy a good bowl of them about now.”

  Apicius shook his head gently at the man. “No, Drusus, there are no cabbage tops at this feast! It would not do to have the masses see you eating such common food! But, if you like, I’ll have Thrasius bring you some on the morrow?”

  Drusus chuckled. “Common food? I guess I didn’t realize.”

  “You’ve been eating with the soldiers more than the senators,” Tiberius mused.

  Livia sneezed, loudly, with a high-pitched note at the end. “Salve,” I said instinctively.

  “Salve,” Aelia, Apicata, Drusus, Livilla, and Tiberius echoed.

  Fannia merely smiled at Livia. Apicius had also failed to say the word and, distracted, continued to tell Drusus more lofty ways to eat cabbage. Aelia seemed unaware of her husband’s mistake.

  Livia’s eyes narrowed. She looked at Fannia and waited for the customary response. I held my breath and willed Fannia to do the right thing. To withhold the word for good health was wishing tremendously bad luck on the person who sneezed.

  Fannia smiled sweetly at her cousin. She was not going to budge. Livia looked at Api
cius but there was no response there. Tiberius and Drusus didn’t notice that Apicius hadn’t responded. Aelia seemed to realize the mistake but she was no longer standing close enough to Apicius to nudge him.

  Livia took a few steps forward to stand in front of Fannia. She leaned in, looking as though she were bestowing a welcome kiss on her, but I could hear the words that were said. Livia’s whisper sounded as papery as her skin had felt when I kissed it. “You and your dear Apicius have insulted me for the last time, I promise.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there will be more opportunity,” Fannia whispered back defiantly. She began to giggle, a sound I had heard all too often after dinner when she had been drinking with Apicius.

  Livia paused, as if pondering her words. Then she said simply, “No. Your opportunities have run out.”

  Aelia squeezed my elbow. I dared not look at her.

  Livia turned away and took her son by the arm. “Come, Tiberius, I grow hungry. Let us recline.”

  As they ascended the steps to the couches, I led Fannia away far more roughly than I should have.

  “Take your hands off me,” she hissed once we were far enough away.

  “What’s wrong with you, Fannia? Are you drunk or just stupid?”

  Fannia pulled her arm out of my grasp. “You have become such a bore over the years since Apicius freed you, Thrasius. So bossy!” She laughed and waved a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, you think she killed Marcellus? Or Lucius? Or you believe the rumors about Livia smothering the oh-so-divine Augustus? Oh, please. That old bitch has a bark far worse than her bite. She wouldn’t touch me.”

  It was more than possible that Livia had had a hand in the deaths of those men, each of whom didn’t quite fit into her plans to have Tiberius become Caesar. I tried again. “Please, Fannia, stay out of her way.”

  “Don’t you worry. Go do what you need to do. I’ll sip my wine happily at the couch over there—out of Livia’s way.” She gave me the same sweet smile and hiccuped.

  I sighed and set off for the kitchen, making a note to myself to have the cupbearer water her wine down far more before serving it to her.

  • • •

  When most of the tables had filled up, Tiberius stood and clapped his hands loudly. His toga and golden laurel diadem were bright in the fading afternoon light. Immediately the front tables fell into a hush. The quiet spread through the crowd until all eyes were on Caesar.

  “Welcome, my fellow Romans and countrymen! Today we gather to witness a battle which you have never imagined. To tell you about this magnificent battle, I present to you my new gastronomic adviser, a man whom you all know, Marcus Gavius Apicius.”

  The crowd began clapping and cheering. Apicius rose to stand next to Tiberius, a broad smile on his tanned face. He raised his arms, welcoming the sounds of the people reclining on his couches. His voice rang over the crowd.

  “My friends! Caesar told you true—there will be a grand battle today. Neptune, ruler of the seas”—he gestured toward the massive statue to his right—“has challenged the lady of the forest, Diana, to a duel.” He waved at the goddess on his left.

  “You will be participants in this mighty fight—a fight of the senses, of the most delightful tastes, smells, and sights to cross any mortal’s plate!”

  It was an arrogant boast and I marveled at his bravado. He was in his element and this was his crowning moment.

  “You will taste various dishes of land and sea tonight. Given the bounty of these gods, which foods will we, as men, be able to make the most of? Will it be god or goddess that you bow to as victor?”

  Tiberius touched Apicius on the shoulder to indicate he would like to speak. Apicius stepped back.

  “To judge these dishes,” Tiberius shouted to the crowd, “I give the honor to the new governor of Illyricum, Drusus Julius Caesar!” He waved his son forward.

  Drusus was a man Passia had once described as “too handsome for his own good,” with dark sandy curls cropped close and sparkling green eyes. The crowd roared, cheering at a volume far greater than they’d given to Caesar.

  I looked at Sejanus as Drusus waved to the diners. A dark frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. I wondered about the animosity. Perhaps Apicata was right about Sejanus and Drusus’s wife, Livilla.

  While the crowd clapped for Drusus, Apicius signaled to me and I passed the command on to my slaves.

  The sound of trumpets rang out, signaling the arrival of the first course. A parade of glittering slaves trotted forward, some carrying decorations of the sea, statues made of shells, ribbons of blue and silver, or wearing costumes turning them into fish or mermaids. These slaves wandered among the diners as they ate, entertaining them with music or dances reminiscent of the sea. In the midst of these spectacles were the slaves carrying the food on massive trays covered in snow from the mountains, topped with stuffed mussels, lobster mince wrapped in grape leaves, and sea urchins boiled, honeyed, and served open in their own spiny husks. The air was filled with the sounds of delight from the crowd as the dishes arrived at their tables. I breathed a sigh of great relief.

  As requested, the slaves serving Tiberius were naked, except for ribbons in their hair. He toyed with them as they served the food, much to the chagrin of his mother and the other women at the table.

  Neptune’s bounty was followed by that of Diana. I had staged a “hunt” to take place while the diners ate. Several of the bigger slaves were dressed like bears, and hunters with bows chased them playfully around the couches while nymphs tried to hinder their progress. They ran carefully around the slaves serving trays of pork cracklings, mushrooms marinated in wine, stuffed dormice, and figs soaked in milk and honey.

  The next two courses alternated between the sea and the land, and with every course more elaborate spectacles entertained the diners. Things did not run entirely smoothly, but the things that did go wrong—broken dishes, not enough oil for the garden lamps, running out of grapes, having to substitute lesser wine when the good wine began to run out—were not noticed by any of the diners, or by Apicius, who, from what I could tell, was having a perfect time dining on the Imperial couch. Even Livia seemed to be enjoying herself.

  The person who seemed unhappiest was Apicata. She smiled and was cordial with her dining companions, but I quickly realized her thoughts were on Livilla, who was seated on the other side of Sejanus. Sejanus and Livilla seemed particularly chatty. I was surprised Drusus didn’t take notice. I wished I could have taken Apicata away from there, to wander through the gardens as we did when she was a child, looking for birds and butterflies and not caring a thing about the world.

  Unfortunately, I had much to care about that night. After the second course I saw Fannia had passed out on her couch. I instructed our slaves to bring her, as inconspicuously as they could, home to Apicius’s villa. I wished upon her a terrible headache when she awoke.

  At the end of the meal Tiberius and Drusus stood to announce the “winner” of the battle. I stepped forward with the massive wreath of flowers woven for the occasion. “I hereby offer this wreath to the winner,” Tiberius shouted grandly, the crowd clapping and whistling their approval. He waited a moment, building the tension of the crowd, then motioned for Drusus to place the wreath at Diana’s golden feet. The lamplight flickered off her gilded skin, making it look as though she glowed with pleasure.

  “A perfect cena!” Tiberius proclaimed before he left for the night. He waved at his body-slave to slip pouches of golden aurei into our hands. I was not prepared to feel such weight in my palm.

  “Now I know what I have been missing,” Livia said to me pleasantly before she took her leave. She leaned in conspiratorially. “Apicius was a fool not to have sold you to me those years ago. Such a costly mistake that was.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the banquet . . .” I was unsure what else to say.

  She didn’t reply and moved on, leaving me in the company of my dear little bird. Apicata gave me a kiss on the cheek and made me promise to send her s
ome of the leftover sweetmeats for her children. I watched her go, my heart aching.

  • • •

  I left the slaves under Rúan’s care to clean up after the feast and rode in the litter with Apicius and Aelia to the villa. I had hoped to tell Apicius about Fannia and also about Livia’s words to me.

  I didn’t have the heart. Apicius was elated. I don’t remember ever seeing him so happy. I couldn’t bear to break his mood.

  “What a night! Tomorrow we will go to the temples of Neptune and Diana and give tribute.”

  “Tonight we will sleep hard as rocks, I suspect.” Aelia patted Apicius’s knee.

  He smiled and kissed Aelia on the cheek in a rare display of affection. “Tonight we will. Tomorrow, we begin planning another feast, Thrasius!”

  I coughed. “We do?” The last thing I wanted to do was go through that exercise again.

  “Yes! In a fortnight we entertain King Herod of Galilee.” He clapped his hands together joyfully.

  “Ahh, Herod, we meet again,” I muttered. I hoped that the next banquet for him would be better than the first—the terrible one we held at the school all those years past.

  “Yes, Tiberius informed me tonight. No pork and no shellfish at this feast! This will be a challenge, Thrasius!”

  I smiled, but dreaming up another feast was the furthest thing from my mind.

  PART IX

  24 C.E. to 26 C.E.

  RELISH FROM BAIAE

  Put chopped oysters, mussels, and sea urchins in a pan, add chopped roasted pine nuts, rue, celery, pepper, coriander, cumin, passum, liquamen, dates, and oil.

  —Book 9.11, The Sea

  On Cookery, Apicius

  CHAPTER 24

  Over the course of the next three years, we saw little of Livia, but her warning still echoed in my mind. I had no doubt the grudge she bore was deep, heavy, and would last longer than the stones of the Appian Way. Apicius and I also found that the parties and banquets we threw were not mandated by Tiberius as much as they were by Sejanus.