by Crystal King
“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.
• • •
The next day we departed for Herculaneum. It took us two days with one stopover at a roadside inn. I had guards keep watch to make sure we were not followed by Sejanus’s men. We saw no one on the way, nor did we receive word of any trouble.
As soon as we arrived, Apicius sent Sotas to all his clients in the area, inviting them for dinner. I cursed when I heard the news. Although I had purchased an experienced cook for the kitchen, I always felt like I needed to be the overseer for such events. We decided to make it an evening highlighting the bounty of the sea, with an overabundance of oysters, mussels, sea urchins, prawns, lobsters, and little fishes. I sent some of the new kitchen boys to the shore to pick up seashells to adorn the flower wreaths and, if large enough, to serve as small plates.
After a long, tiring morning of travel and an afternoon of preparation, I finally fetched Passia for dinner. She looked radiant, as always, dressed in a pale green stola adorned with an elegant gold pin in the shape of a dolphin that Apicata had given her for Saturnalia the previous year.
“The sea suits you,” I murmured, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck with my lips.
“I have missed the sea,” she admitted. “Everything is freer here. Rome is such a den of vipers.”
• • •
The viper den was our main topic of conversation at dinner. Everyone had heard the news of Livia’s death and everyone had an opinion.
“What sort of man doesn’t come back for his mother’s funeral?” one patrician raved.
“A man who hated his mother,” another said.
One of the men, a rich local merchant, popped a plump mussel into his mouth. “Did you hear about Agrippina? The first thing Tiberius did when Livia died was to send guards to arrest her and her sons for treason.”
Agrippina was Tiberius’s niece and the widow of the great general Germanicus. She had been very vocal against Sejanus of late and seemed to disagree with much of Tiberius’s politics.
“Livia hated the woman—arresting her seems to be Caesar’s parting gift to his mother. Word is they will banish her,” said the merchant.
“I doubt they will banish her sons.” Apicius dipped a prawn in the thick sauce on the seashell plate before him. “Likely they will just kill them. Though Tiberius seems to have taken a liking to Caligula. It’s possible he will escape prison.”
“Sejanus is behind this. Once he found out Agrippina had joined with the senators opposing him, he started to get scared. She has become popular since Germanicus died and Sejanus fears her influence. I’m sure that he asked Tiberius to arrest her.” The merchant said the words others were thinking but not sure if they should say them aloud. Sejanus had become a powerful man and Tiberius had given him great leeway to run much of the Empire. It was thought he had spies everywhere.
“There are new gilded statues of Sejanus all over the Roman Forum,” Apicata said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. She had said little that evening. I knew the conversation was distasteful to her in every way but she was ever the dutiful daughter and Apicius wanted her there.
I posited the question that had been bothering me for many months. “Do you think Tiberius will finally appoint him heir?” I couldn’t imagine the world with such an evil man ruling the Empire.
The merchant grunted. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he will come to his senses and realize Sejanus is overstepping his bounds.”
Apicata stood and surveyed the diners. “He grows stronger every day. He will not stop until he is Caesar.” She put her hand on Apicius’s shoulder. “Father, I am tired from the journey. Please excuse me.”
He patted her hand and smiled. “Yes, yes. Rest up. I thought to buy a boat tomorrow. We can go sailing.”
Apicata only sighed.
PART XI
31 C.E. to 38 C.E.
PIGLET IN SILPHIUM SAUCE
Pound in a mortar pepper, lovage, caraway; mix in a little cumin, fresh silphium, silphium root; pour on vinegar, add pine nuts, dates, honey, vinegar, liquamen, prepared mustard. Blend all these with oil and pour on.
—From the Extracts of Apicius by Vindarius
30 recipes collected by a man in Imperial service, separate from the book Apicius, but with recipes that still bear his name
On Cookery, Apicius
CHAPTER 28
Sejanus kept his word. While he was ruthless and cruel to senators, patricians, and anyone who crossed him or spoke out against him, he left Apicius and Apicata alone. Earlier that year Tiberius had appointed him joint consul, rendering him even more powerful to do whatever he wanted in Rome. Most lived in fear of finding out what that might be.
Passia and Junius remained on the coast, spending their time in Apicius’s villa in Herculaneum. I visited them as often as I could. Yet with Apicius as my son’s adoptive father, and my friend, I didn’t want to leave him, especially as his moods and manners changed with melancholy, age, and time. He grew stubborn and refused to leave Rome entirely, so I stayed with him. Apicata avoided Rome, returning only when an event required her presence. She rarely saw her own sons.
The fateful night when everything began to unravel centered on an elaborate cena. Apicius, emboldened by Sejanus’s seeming lack of interest in him, had started spending more and more money on parties he threw for guests and this time was no exception. It began with the gifts, elaborate toga pins of ruby-studded gold and finely inlaid wooden boxes filled with pepper or dried apricots, a fruit still new to Rome. The most precious gifts of all were the intricately woven, self-cleaning asbestos napkins. You simply threw them into the fire and all the particles of food burned off, leaving the surface clean and white. Apicius loved showing guests how they worked. I didn’t love the price tag; each napkin cost half as much as a young goat.
The meal itself was equally elaborate and expensive. It began with sea hedgehogs, fresh oysters, mu
ssels, and asparagus with mustard sauce. There were fattened fowl: roasted duck and chicken, stuffed pheasant, flamingo steaks, boiled teals, ostrich meatballs, fried songbirds, and roasted peacock presented with its feathers rearranged in full display. Apicius also had me arrange another gift: slave girls adorned only in a small swath of fabric, white feather headdresses, and draped luxuriously with golden chains. Their sole task during the meal was to gingerly place food in the mouths of the men who wished to partake of such intimate service.
I sat as Apicius’s shadow that night, at his feet on the end of his couch, a position with which I was content. The group who dined with Apicius was opinionated and I dared not voice my concerns with such members of the elite, whose views were controversial. They were all of a faction that mostly opposed Sejanus, but I thought it wise not to share my hatred of the man in such company. Interestingly enough, Casca’s father, Antius Piso, was in attendance that night. He and Apicius had long since patched up their differences, and seemed to have bonded over their equal dislike for Sejanus.
“I have never been so well fed!” Piso exclaimed as he beckoned to his girl for more fried squid. “You have outdone yourself, Apicius.” He had fallen into deep conversation with Apicius, leaving the other diners to socialize among themselves.
“I should have camped on your couch long before now.”
Apicius gave him an oily smile. “I promise your next visit will be equally memorable.”
A weight descended upon me at those words. I didn’t know how we could keep doing these parties. They left me tired, and despite the blackmail pact we had with Sejanus, they placed us more and more in his sights, sights that had been deadly for many of Rome’s most wealthy. Worst of all, I could see my son’s fortune dwindling. Apicius had spent more in the last two years than he had in the five previous.
“Tiberius should never have let you go as gastronomic adviser,” Piso said.
“He’s a fool.” Venom laced Apicius’s words. “It won’t be long before the mob turns on him, or worse, he ends up like Divine Julius, bloodied on the Senate floor.”
The slave placed another tidbit on Piso’s tongue. He crunched loudly. “That time might come sooner than later, I think. You remember Satrius Secundus?”
“Sejanus’s man? The one who turned in that historian, for treason?” I asked.
Piso nodded and indicated with a finger that he would continue after he finished his mouthful of food.
“That was, what, six years ago?” Apicius squinted, as if trying to remember.
Piso swallowed. “Yes, one of the first Sejanus had executed, I think. At any rate, I have stayed friendly with Secundus over the years, not because I like the fat bastard but because I prefer to keep my enemies close. Yesterday I ran into him at a popina. After a few drinks, he mentioned that he knows how Sejanus is plotting against the emperor.”
Apicius snorted. “Ha! Of course he is. Who doesn’t know that?”
Piso shook his head. “No, I mean, he seemed to have proof. Documents.”
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
“I do. I think he tells true.”
It was as though all the wind had filled my lungs to bursting, my excitement was so great. Proof Sejanus was treasonous?
“Why doesn’t he go to Caesar?” Apicius asked as he dipped a meatball into the sauce on the plate his slave girl held.
Piso chortled, spitting a chunk of food onto his slave’s arm. She grimaced as she wiped it off. “He can’t get an audience with Caesar! Even I couldn’t think of a soul who could help him. I don’t dare implicate myself.”
Apicius shook his head thoughtfully. “It’s impossible to get past the watchful eyes of Sejanus. You can count on one hand the number of people who can get a message past the guards he has posted to watch Caesar on Capri.”
My elation deflated like a sheep’s bladder split open. He was right. Few would be able to penetrate Sejanus’s security and Tiberius seemed to trust him implicitly.
I found I could no longer concentrate on the conversation and excused myself, much to Apicius’s displeasure. I would hear it from him later, but I didn’t care.
• • •
My thoughts in turmoil, I decided to take a walk. It had been an unusually warm autumn and I was glad I didn’t need a cloak. I slipped out of the villa and wandered the quiet roads of the Palatine, racking my brains trying to figure out how to get a message to Capri. I knew no one who would betray Sejanus. I hated the feeling that encompassed me—the answer was so close, and yet terribly far away.
I was almost at the villa when someone behind me called my name. A figure emerged out of the darkness. I knew the voice.
“What are you doing wandering around in the night?” Rúan asked as he caught up to me.
“I could ask you the same. Have you come to drink my wine?”
“I work for Caesar. Do you honestly think your plonk can compare?”
I laughed wholeheartedly at this. I knew the quality of our wine exceeded that of Caesar’s but that did not need saying.
A noise on the path alerted us to a tall beast of a man walking toward us from the direction of the villa. I’d recognize that shadow anywhere—Sotas.
“What brings you out here tonight, big boy?” Rúan said, looking up at him as he neared.
Sotas came to a stop before us. I could barely see his face in the dark. “Apicius was feeling generous and gave me the night off. I’m heading to the brothel. Join me? You look like you could use a good poke.”
“Ha! I’m not a body-slave. I don’t have to watch my master screwing. I have my nights to myself and I fancy I see far more action than you can imagine.”
Sotas guffawed, his laugh ringing particularly loud in the night.
“Why are you out here?” I asked Rúan, glad for his company regardless.
“I needed to get out. Your abuse is preferable to that of Sejanus and his guards.”
We laughed, but I was compelled to share my news. I lowered my voice in case there were others unseen in the gardens we passed as I told them of Secundus. “We could be close to ending his power.”
“They read all the mail that goes into Capri,” Sotas said.
“Not all,” Rúan said.
“What do you mean, not all?”
Rúan leaned in and Sotas came a few steps closer. “Antonia. His sister-in-law. Claudius’s mother.”
“And Livilla’s mother! Why on earth do you think Antonia would ever say words against her?”
“You know those women I have bedded?”
“The ones you wished you had bedded, you mean?” Sotas countered with a playful cuff to Rúan’s shoulder.
“Well, one of them is Antonia’s scribe. She writes all of her letters and I can tell you two things. One, because she’s Livilla’s mother, Sejanus trusts Antonia and doesn’t have her letters to Tiberius read. And two, she is not happy with her daughter and the rumors about her ties to Sejanus, and the rumors that Livilla’s sons are not born of Drusus. Apparently they have come to words about it. Antonia once even threatened that if she ever finds out the gossip is true she will expose Livilla to Caesar.”
“Are you certain about this?”
“The lovely lass who shared these secrets was certain.”
“And you trust this girl?” Sotas sounded as skeptical as I felt.
“Aye, I do. She has slept with me nearly every night for the last year.”
I smiled, glad to hear Cupid had once again pierced Rúan’s heart.
“I must get him an audience with Antonia,” I said, already thinking of how I could do so without her rejecting my request.
“Who is this man?” Sotas asked.
“Satrius Secundus.”
Rúan coughed. “Isn’t he Sejanus’s man, loyal to the core?”
“Not based on what I have heard tonight.”
“Antonia wouldn’t believe Secundus, even if there was proof. She was a staunch supporter of that historian that Secundus turned in to Sejan
us for treason years ago. What was his name? Cordus? At any rate, I doubt Antonia would even take an audience with Secundus. He was the one who got her friend killed. You need something else—no, someone else—to back it up.”
Then it hit me. “I think I know who.”
And I told them.
• • •
When I shared the idea with Apicius, he was wary but agreed. He would take any chance he could to end Sejanus’s power. The next day I had Tycho trail Secundus and alert me when he went to the baths so I could “run into” him. After some skepticism (and anger that Piso had betrayed him) he agreed to let me buy him a cup of wine. I explained my plan and the burly man agreed.
Then Apicius and I met with the linchpin to my plan: Apicata, who had come to Rome for a friend’s wedding. She agreed without hesitation and Apicius sent a messenger to Antonia.
And so it was that Apicius, Sotas, Apicata, Secundus, and I found ourselves at Antonia’s door on the last morning of September. Antonia, daughter of the famous Marc Antony, was one of the most respected matrons in Rome, and even more so since Livia’s death. My heart pounded as the door creaked inward and the slaves admitted us. Sotas immediately took up a post by the door.
While I saw Antonia often at state affairs or at the Imperial villa, I had spoken with the revered matron only once, briefly, at Aelia’s funeral. She had been close with Aelia’s mother and knew her as a child. I remembered Antonia had been very gracious, kissing my cheeks and telling me how Aelia once told her how much she loved the honey fritters I would make her for breakfast. She had made me cry.
Seven years had passed since that day and age had not marred her visage. Her hair was a bit grayer and it was tied back conservatively as was befitting her stature. Her skin was remarkably smooth and only a few lines framed her striking green eyes. The blue stola she wore gave her face a vibrant glow, making her seem far younger than the sixty-seven summers she had seen. I wondered what magic she must have employed to maintain such a youthful appearance.
She had been friendly to me at the funeral, but this time she had no kind words of greeting.