Feast of Sorrow Read online

  I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. It wasn’t the first time my dominus had lied and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. I closed my eyes and prayed to the gods to get me through this trip and back to Baiae. I longed to see Passia. She had just begun to talk to me a little more each day and I savored every moment. Each day since I had left felt too long.

  When I opened my eyes, the Nubian woman was standing in front of me, holding a tray full of glasses of honey water. I was shocked. Slaves were often overlooked and I had expected to remain thirsty until we were dismissed later that day. I took the glass, a tall, pale blue shaft painted with the face and name of Cosmus, a gladiator who was well ranked and beloved by the people. The honey water was sweet and cold. The slave could see the weariness on my face. She set the tray down on a nearby table and went to fetch me and Sotas stools. Fannia’s kindness toward her slaves was well known but I had not believed it to be quite so true.

  “While I’m in Rome, Fannia, I’m also hoping you can recommend me to a few good toga makers. I’m considering buying several for gifts for my Saturnalia cenae this year. What do you think?” asked Apicius.

  “Certainly! Everyone would talk about your generosity!”

  Generosity was an understatement. Togas were expensive. Giving them as gifts would further indebt Apicius’s key clients.

  Apicius leaned back on the couch and sipped his honey water. “Also, do you have a source for Cyrenian silphium? Thrasius has some new sauces that suffer when he uses that wretched asafetida. The taste is not the same.” He glanced over at me.

  “They are starting to restrict sales. My supplier just came back from Cyrenaica. He told me about another experiment to farm it, but of course it didn’t work. Our goddess Ceres is determined not to let anyone but her cultivate it. I strongly suggest you buy as much as you can now. Oh, how I wish it were possible to make a little go far.”

  Apicius chuckled. “My dear Fannia, let me tell you one of Thrasius’s secrets. Take twenty or so pine nuts. Place them in a clay jar with a sprig of silphium, stopper it up, and leave it for at least a week. When you need a taste of silphium, crush up the pine nuts and add it to your dish! It will last for as many weeks as you can keep the nuts fresh—much longer than the herb would itself.”

  “Brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Oh, the gods were looking down on you the day you found your cook. Is he taking good care of you, Thrasius?”

  I nodded my assent and raised my glass in toast.

  “I make sure he has all the latest tools for the kitchen and have given him the use of a slave who has caught his fancy.” Apicius twirled one of the couch’s pillow tassels as he talked, a nervous habit I had learned to identify. “I’ve even asked him to take over as my aide during the salutatio. I know it is unusual, but I want him to become familiar with my clients—my parties will be all the better when we cater to specific guests.”

  Fannia patted Apicius on the arm. “Once again, my little caretaker, you have made me proud. Such cleverness!”

  She smiled at me and I forced myself to smile back. I was still bristling at Apicius’s offhanded mention of giving Passia to me. I so desperately wanted to protect her. I could only hope that Apicius would not consider “giving” her to another.

  One of the door slaves entered the atrium and handed Fannia a parcel. The slave withdrew and she opened it, removing a card with flowery script.

  “Bastard,” she said, scowling.

  “Is everything all right?” Apicius sat up in alarm.

  “It’s from Messalla Corvinus. He is bringing Livia and Publius Octavius with him tonight. He knows you are dining with us but begs I do not invite any others. How presumptuous! Now I have to disinvite people.”

  My stomach lurched at the sound of those names. I was not anxious to see Octavius again, but it was Livia who gave me pause. I had never met Caesar’s wife. Many thought of her as the model Roman matron, and women across the Empire tried to emulate her. The thought of being in a room with someone so renowned filled me with both curiosity and fear.

  Apicius also paled. “I wonder how they found out about the cena.”

  “No doubt someone asked Corvinus where he would be tonight. He can’t easily lie to Livia. I’m sure she’s coming because of Octavius. He seems to have curried her favor. I heard in the baths today that Octavius is rumored to be on Caesar’s short list for gastronomic adviser now that they finally—eight years later—have decided to replace Maecenas. Livia is forever trying to antagonize me. She will do anything to remind me that she will never forgive me for sleeping with her ex-husband. But why would Octavius come here? To show you up?”

  “Maybe.”

  Fannia stood up and shouted for her slaves. “I’m sorry, my dear friend, but I should attend to these changes, starting with notes to the other guests. Please, feel free to use my baths, or, if you like, go visit the public baths or the market. I can have one of my servants guide you through town. Nasia will compile a list of my most trusted vendors for you.” She waved a hand at the Nubian woman.

  “Thank you, Fannia. I’ll be fine. Are you sure you don’t want my help? Or Thrasius’s?”

  She shooed him off. “No, no, no. My cook is already cooking from the recipes Thrasius gave me when I last visited. Go enjoy yourself and rest up.”

  Apicius rose from the couch. I was hoping he would give us the afternoon to ourselves but I knew he would want to keep me close to discuss the situation. I had heard of the rivalry between Livia and Fannia but had never been unfortunate enough to witness a direct exchange. And Octavius—what were his motives? He was a man who did nothing without cause and often that cause was in direct opposition to my master.

  “Sotas and Thrasius, let us go.”

  • • •

  We took one of Fannia’s litters, as oxen, mules, and horses were not allowed on the city streets. “What will I do?” Apicius asked the second we were ensconced inside. “I have always hoped to avoid Livia until it was advantageous to me. This could be dreadful! I will never have a chance at becoming gastronomic adviser if she knows how close I am to Fannia.” He twisted his toga in his hands as he ranted. What if he fell ill? What if he paid men to kidnap Livia? No, those wouldn’t do. He must have angered one of the gods, but which one? I had no answers for him.

  “This is a disaster! I should have stayed home with Aelia.”

  Hindsight was much clearer, I thought.

  “Oh, Apollo, tell me your truths, what could Livia want with Fannia? And what role do I play in this farce?” Apicius lifted his eyes skyward. I too crossed my fingers, hoping for a good omen. I wanted to go home.

  After the baths, Apicius decided we should meet with the vendors Nasia had marked on a slim wax tablet to take his mind off the night ahead. By the end of the afternoon all of Apicius’s slaves were loaded with goods, ranging from fresh togas to game sets of ivory knucklebones to jewelry and silver statues of Fortuna and bronze likenesses of Apollo.

  In addition to the gifts he bought for clients and for future cenae, Apicius also ordered complete sets of new furniture and bedding for the villa in Baiae as well as the villa in Minturnae. “What we have now can go to the slaves,” Apicius declared. “I’m sure you could use new blankets, eh, Thrasius?”

  I agreed, but I was shocked by the cost of the new goods and by my master’s lack of concern for the waste of the old items. Wouldn’t it have been better to sell much of the furniture for a profit? It would be a healthy profit too, enough to give a small gift to all his slaves and have enough left over to justify some of the cost of replacing the furniture with new items. When I first started as his coquus, I thought that one day I would get used to how much money Apicius spent, but over time I found I was becoming only more appalled by the incredible waste.

  On the way back to Fannia’s house, Apicius requested a stop at the Capitoline temple to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. Sotas and I followed him into the vast great court of the temple. I was amazed at the glory of the building. Ever
ywhere I looked there was gold. The floors were marble, with intricate mosaics of every color. The ceilings were so high that I could not imagine how men could have painted them with so many stars.

  I wished I could gaze upon the massive golden statue of the god but only priests were allowed. We waited near the doors of the temple while Apicius spoke to the priest and gave him the offering that would be left on Jupiter’s altar. “The last time I was here was seven years ago,” Sotas said to me in a low voice. “It is still just as beautiful. I wish we had time to visit the temple of Fides as well.”

  Sotas had always been enamored of the goddess of fidelity, which made sense for a slave, but few believed in her power to reward those who remained loyal. I always wanted to ask, but the way he spoke of her made me feel like I would be intruding on something private.

  When Apicius returned to us, I noticed he was missing the large emerald ring he had been wearing on one hand. He had left a generous sacrifice. As we exited the temple, Apicius handed each of us an amulet and instructed us to wear it that evening, tucked beneath our tunics. The charm he gave Sotas was heavy, made from thick gold, fashioned into the shape of a hand with an eye in its center. It was designed to protect against the evil eye. He hesitated for a moment before he handed me mine, which made me wonder. It was a slim golden disk with the shape of a leaf on one side—the precious silphium leaf. The other side was etched with an elaborate evil eye with a blue lapis lazuli stone in the center. It was beautiful, and so appropriate that Apicius must have commissioned it and brought it with him for a blessing. The import of such a gesture was not lost on me. We slipped the expensive charms around our necks. I felt proud, and in a small way a little powerful, that my dominus desired so much to protect me.

  When we returned to the domus, Apicius convinced Fannia to let me guide her cook in making an asparagus patina for Livia.

  “This is my chance, Fannia,” Apicius said as she led us to the kitchen. “Livia will marvel at every bite she takes. And if she likes it . . .” He trailed off.

  “You hope that she will set Octavius aside. It may not be so easy as that, Apicius, my dear,” Fannia said, patting him on the arm.

  “It is a start. She knows nothing of me and now she will.”

  Despite Fannia’s command, her cook did not seem pleased for me to teach him how to make the patina. He was an older man with a brow full of worry lines. Only begrudgingly did he let me into his space and allow me to borrow his knives. If Apicius and Fannia hadn’t been standing nearby gossiping, I think he might have outright sabotaged my efforts.

  I cut up the asparagus tips and instructed him to add them into a mortar with pepper, lovage, coriander, savory, and onions. Once they had been thoroughly ground, I added raisin wine, garum, and olive oil.

  He looked at the mixture, skeptical. The lines in his forehead deepened. “This will not work.” His voice was gruff.

  “Not like that, certainly. You need two of these,” I said, cracking eggs into the mixture. “Once you beat those in, you can put it into the oven to bake. When it is firm, take it out, cut it into wedges, and sprinkle with pepper.”

  The old coquus was about to say something else when Fannia came over. “Make sure to follow his instructions exactly,” she told her cook. “We must make Empress Livia proud. The meal that comes out of this kitchen today must be your finest work.”

  “I have seen his technique,” I said, hoping to make peace with the man and also to prevent him from spitting into the food. “It is no wonder you hired him for your kitchen, Fannia. I think there is much that he could teach me.”

  Apicius laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and squeezed in approval. “Fannia has always had impeccable taste!”

  The man beamed.

  • • •

  Before the guests arrived, Fannia and Apicius met in a cubiculum off of the atrium where a small set of couches was arranged. Sotas and I stood in a corner with four other slaves, ready to attend to our masters if the need arose. Fannia carried a glass of Roman absinthe in her hand as she paced the room.

  “What on earth could she want?” She took a sip of the bitter drink. “She wants to shame me somehow.”

  Apicius took a seat but didn’t recline. He sipped his glass much more slowly than his hostess. I wondered how quickly those glasses would disappear when the guests were introduced. It was not customary to drink before dinner and women were never supposed to drink.

  “When was the last time she dined with you?”

  Fannia’s voice quavered. “She has never dined with me. She wouldn’t stoop so low.”

  “Think hard. What could she want?”

  Fannia paused. “She wants me dead. I should have thought twice before I bedded that old ex-husband of hers.”

  Apicius shook his head. “You exaggerate. I don’t think she wants you dead. And if she did, I don’t think she would have you killed in front of me, nor would she do it herself.”

  “True. She enjoys tormenting me too much.” Fannia resumed her pacing. “Let’s see. . . . Well, I know she wants me to leave Rome.” The late-afternoon sun was starting to disappear and the atrium was losing its light. She waved a hand and her slaves rushed to light the lamps.

  “Does she have any way to force you to move?”

  “No. She knows I hate my husband—which I’m sure gives her great pleasure. I have no child so she cannot threaten my family. Blackmail will not work; I have lived my life in the public eye as truth. She could not pin me with scandal before, nor could she now.”

  They continued to discuss scenarios that would explain Livia’s intent, but when the door slave came to announce the guests’ arrival (and to whisk away the absinthe), they were no closer to understanding. Fannia and Apicius hurriedly popped mint and anise seeds into their mouths, chewed to mask the smell of alcohol, and spat the seeds into a nearby planter moments before Corvinus and Octavius escorted Livia Drusilla Caesar into the triclinium.

  Time seemed to stop when Livia entered the room. I’d never imagined that one day I would be in the presence of the most powerful woman in the world. Caesar’s wife was as the rumors said—radiant with strong features, clear skin, and ocean-blue eyes. Her graying hair was threaded with tiny glass beads and piled high upon her head, with two curled ringlets falling to each side, cradling her high cheeks. She wore a stola of yellow, pinned by two simple small ruby and amber brooches in the shape of lions. Her arm was linked in Corvinus’s arm. Octavius followed. I thought he was a pig in comparison to the empress, with a protruding belly and tufts of hair growing from his ears.

  “Livia! Corvinus! Octavius! What a pleasure to have you dine with me tonight!” Fannia stepped forward to greet them, the jewels adorning her stola tinkling with the movement.

  “You look lovely as always, Fannia.” Corvinus kissed each cheek.

  “Cousin, thank you for inviting me.” Livia politely bestowed a kiss on Fannia, and then looked in askance at Apicius, who stood a few feet behind his hostess.

  “And this must be Gavius Apicius? I have heard much about you.”

  Apicius bent to kiss the delicate gold ring on Livia’s hand. “I hope they are songs of praise!”

  Octavius reached out and shook hands with Apicius. “Rest assured, old friend, our ears have merely been tantalized with stories of your provincial feasts.”

  “I am flattered.” Apicius ignored the insult. “I hope one day, Empress, you will join me and judge for yourself.”

  I was beginning to understand the intent behind Octavius’s visit—to put Apicius in his place.

  Fannia led the group to the Lares shrine, where she gave each of the guests a cluster of grapes to sacrifice to the gods of the house. Sotas and I followed behind with the other slaves. Fannia passed a vial of wine to Livia and let her pour the libations to Edesia and Bibesia, goddesses of feast and of drink. We knelt in prayer and I silently asked for an extra boon of protection. Fannia sprinkled some wine on the ground for the spirits of the ancestral dead, the Lemure
s, who took their sacrifice off the floor of the dining area. When food fell to the ground, the Lemures expected it to remain. The slave who was responsible for cleaning the floor in Apicius’s Baiae villa and burning the remains on the Lares shrine was an unlucky girl, always falling, breaking dishes, or having some other form of bad luck for thwarting the Lemures from their sacrifices. No slave wanted to be the one to clean the floor in a triclinium.

  When the guests had settled onto the couches and the first course of eggs, olives, fig tarts, whole bread, and fried oysters had arrived, the conversation became more interesting.

  “Fannia, where is your husband tonight? It’s been so long since I’ve seen him,” Livia asked before she slipped an oyster between her reddened lips.

  “Thank you for asking, cousin.” From her tone one would never know how much Fannia hated her husband. “He is in Gaul right now, negotiating for transport of the slaves from the armies in the region. He handles the transactions and takes a small portion of the profit from the soldiers who capture the slaves. I am fortunate to have a husband in such a lucrative trade.”

  Livia appeared amused. Fannia was always clever when it came to subtle retorts.

  Corvinus seemed anxious to change the subject. “Apicius, I understand that Officer Sejanus is related to your wife?”

  Apicius’s nostrils flared. I wondered why the name Sejanus bothered him. He plucked an olive from the plate in front of him and considered it as he spoke. “Why, yes, Corvinus, they are cousins. I imagine you know a few of my wife’s relatives. Her father, Lucius Aelius Lamia, is one of Caesar’s cavalry officers.”

  “I do know Lamia. He’s a good man who will go far. He has found much favor with Caesar,” said Corvinus. “And Sejanus seems to show promise as well.”

  Fannia diverted the topic by motioning for the gustatio to begin. The slaves brought goblets of pomegranate juice mixed with honey, and platters of boiled eggs, as well as lentils, onions, and mustard beans.

  It was a quiet dinner with only a flutist for accompaniment. Fannia likely wanted to be hospitable but not offer up any reason for the meal to go on longer than necessary.