then . . .” Acastus kissed his fingertips. “The finest garum on earth. I taste each batch myself before it’s shipped out.” He flashed a gaptoothed smile. “You were wondering, weren’t you, why the master has kept me on, long past my prime? Not for my squinting eyes or my half-deaf ears. For this.” He tapped his nose. “And this.” He stuck out his tongue.
I heard laughter behind me and turned to see Patro and the other slave cover their mouths and look away. Acastus squinted in their direction. “Did you hear squirrels chattering?” he said. “Terrible pests. Known to open the garum pots during fermentation and scatter it all about. We have to throw the whole batch away when that happens.”
“Would it spoil if you simply resealed it?”
“Probably not, but we can’t take the chance. The master has a standard to maintain.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Perhaps once a month.”
“I suppose you note the loss in your ledgers?”
“Of course! I keep strict accounting of all expenditures and losses, including spoilage. It’s not a major problem; still, I feed the workers fresh squirrel as often as I can, so as to thin the ranks of those nasty pests!”
_________
That night Acastus and I dined not on squirrel but on herb bread and liver pâté, with generous helpings of garum. Acastus went to bed early. I stayed up for a while, examining the ledgers, with his permission. Eventually I went to bed myself, with instructions to be awakened at the beginning of the workday.
A slave woke me at dawn. I roused myself, went down to the stream to splash my face, and ate a crust of bread on the terrace. Acastus was not yet up, but the rest of the compound was stirring. I strolled over to the fermentation area.
From a distance, I saw young Patro with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Can you believe it? They’ve done it again, those damned squirrels!”
It appeared that the phenomenon Acastus had described had occurred during the night. The lid of the container which Patro had sealed the previous day lay on the grass, salt was scattered about, and a whole layer of sardines was missing.
“Mischievous little pests, aren’t they?” I said.
Patro smiled. “More hungry than mischievous, don’t you imagine? Either way, they’re only as the gods made them. Well, I suppose I should get rid of this batch, then let Acastus know. Here, Motho, come help me carry it down to the stream.”
Together, they lifted the open container. Walking slowly and awkwardly, they headed toward the wooded cleft beside the stream.
I headed for the cleft myself, walking fast and taking a different route. I was waiting on the opposite bank when they arrived. Instead of emptying the contents of the pot in the rushing water, they crossed the shallow stream and began to climb the opposite bank, huffing and puffing.
“And where might you fellows be going?” I said.
They froze in their tracks and gazed up at me blankly.
“We . . . that is to say . . .” Patro frantically tried to think of some explanation.
“I think you’re headed for Fabricius’s place, to sell him that pot of garum. He’ll only need to add some sardines and salt to the top, seal it up, and let it ferment. A month from now he can sell it at his little shop in Rome and claim that it’s every bit as delicious as the famous garum of Lucius Claudius—since it is the garum of Lucius Claudius!”
“Please, this is the first time we’ve ever—”
“No, Patro. You’ve been doing this about once a month for almost half a year. That’s how often such a loss is noted in Acastus’s ledgers.”
“But— we didn’t spoil this batch. I was in my bed all night, and so was Motho—”
“I know you didn’t. Nor did a squirrel. I did it myself, to see what would happen. I imagine that the very first time it happened, it was the act of a squirrel, or some other nocturnal pest. And you thought: what a pity, to waste all that lovely,
I heard laughter behind me and turned to see Patro and the other slave cover their mouths and look away. Acastus squinted in their direction. “Did you hear squirrels chattering?” he said. “Terrible pests. Known to open the garum pots during fermentation and scatter it all about. We have to throw the whole batch away when that happens.”
“Would it spoil if you simply resealed it?”
“Probably not, but we can’t take the chance. The master has a standard to maintain.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Perhaps once a month.”
“I suppose you note the loss in your ledgers?”
“Of course! I keep strict accounting of all expenditures and losses, including spoilage. It’s not a major problem; still, I feed the workers fresh squirrel as often as I can, so as to thin the ranks of those nasty pests!”
_________
That night Acastus and I dined not on squirrel but on herb bread and liver pâté, with generous helpings of garum. Acastus went to bed early. I stayed up for a while, examining the ledgers, with his permission. Eventually I went to bed myself, with instructions to be awakened at the beginning of the workday.
A slave woke me at dawn. I roused myself, went down to the stream to splash my face, and ate a crust of bread on the terrace. Acastus was not yet up, but the rest of the compound was stirring. I strolled over to the fermentation area.
From a distance, I saw young Patro with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Can you believe it? They’ve done it again, those damned squirrels!”
It appeared that the phenomenon Acastus had described had occurred during the night. The lid of the container which Patro had sealed the previous day lay on the grass, salt was scattered about, and a whole layer of sardines was missing.
“Mischievous little pests, aren’t they?” I said.
Patro smiled. “More hungry than mischievous, don’t you imagine? Either way, they’re only as the gods made them. Well, I suppose I should get rid of this batch, then let Acastus know. Here, Motho, come help me carry it down to the stream.”
Together, they lifted the open container. Walking slowly and awkwardly, they headed toward the wooded cleft beside the stream.
I headed for the cleft myself, walking fast and taking a different route. I was waiting on the opposite bank when they arrived. Instead of emptying the contents of the pot in the rushing water, they crossed the shallow stream and began to climb the opposite bank, huffing and puffing.
“And where might you fellows be going?” I said.
They froze in their tracks and gazed up at me blankly.
“We . . . that is to say . . .” Patro frantically tried to think of some explanation.
“I think you’re headed for Fabricius’s place, to sell him that pot of garum. He’ll only need to add some sardines and salt to the top, seal it up, and let it ferment. A month from now he can sell it at his little shop in Rome and claim that it’s every bit as delicious as the famous garum of Lucius Claudius—since it is the garum of Lucius Claudius!”
“Please, this is the first time we’ve ever—”
“No, Patro. You’ve been doing this about once a month for almost half a year. That’s how often such a loss is noted in Acastus’s ledgers.”
“But— we didn’t spoil this batch. I was in my bed all night, and so was Motho—”
“I know you didn’t. Nor did a squirrel. I did it myself, to see what would happen. I imagine that the very first time it happened, it was the act of a squirrel, or some other nocturnal pest. And you thought: what a pity, to waste all that lovely,
Similar Books
