“And what about the farms? The school? My pay from Caesar?”
I sighed. “The farms don’t turn much of a profit because we use them to feed your dinner guests. The school never turned a profit—we operated at a loss, and we still owe money after the fire. Your pay from Caesar is long gone. You spent most of it on new villas, furniture, and gifts for all your friends.”
“This will not do.” He continued to pace.
“We can cut back on various expenses,” I offered.
Apicius stopped, nearly knocking an array of scrolls off the shelf next to him. “Cut back how?”
“Simple things would go a long way.” I rolled up the scroll and knotted it with a cord. “Take, for example, all those geese and pigs you are fattening up in the farm boxes. Stop feeding them the expensive figs and put them back on slop. That alone would save you nearly five thousand sestertii a year.”
Apicius sat down on the chaise across from me. He clutched his stomach, wrinkling the creases of his toga. “I cannot. No, absolutely not. Their livers are all the rage among my diners!”
I tried another tactic. “Find a way to philosophize it . . . make it unfashionable. You are the gourmand, not your diners.”
“They will see through it. They will know my money is disappearing!”
“Fine. Don’t worry about the livers. Even if you served fewer dishes it would curb your expenses. No one would even notice. There is so much waste at the end of every cena. There is no possible way for every dish to be eaten when you serve so much food.”
Apicius would have none of this conversation. “No, no, that will not do,” he said, standing again. “I cannot let Rome know my current standing. That will never do. They must suspect nothing. I will find another way. That boy will never be able to write about me as a failure.”
“What do you intend to do?” I asked, pouring myself a glass of wine from the flagon on the desk. I thinned it with water from the accompanying pitcher.
Apicius ignored the question. “Ten million sestertii? How long do you expect my fortune to last?”
“Maybe five years if you are even the tiniest bit more thoughtful. Far longer if you consider what you should do to start making money rather than spending it.”
“That’s all?” He started to pace the room once more, muttering to himself under his breath. Eventually, he drew near to the desk once more, having come to some sort of internal decision.
His look startled me. It was a look of determination, something Apicius never exhibited when it came to money. I used his familiar name, which I never had before, hoping it would convey my concern. “Marcus, what are you thinking of doing?”
Apicius poured himself a glass of wine from the flagon, not bothering to thin it down. He smiled and raised his glass to me. “My good man, you will see. I think I have an answer. In a few months’ time all will be very different. And that boy? We’ll make sure he writes only the most glorious things about my history.”
I raised my glass, but there was no joy in my toast. Only worry.
? ? ?
After Sejanus fell and Apicata died I sent for Passia and Junius to return to Rome. I wanted to ease my aching heart, but a part of me also hoped Apicius would take comfort in their company, especially that of Junius, his adopted son and only living heir.
Unfortunately, Apicius barely noticed them, and when he did he was curt to the point of being rude. “That’s fine with me,” Passia said to me as we were readying for sleep one night. “He’s become so mean. I’m not sure how you can stand to be around him.”
“His heart is hurting,” I replied, but even as the words came out of my mouth I knew they sounded inadequate.
“So are ours. We were closer to both Aelia and Apicata than he ever was, and I don’t see either of us snipping at everyone crossing our path.”
I slipped off my tunic and hung it on the back of the low chair against the wall. “I think something is very wrong with him,” I said, voicing my concerns for the first time. “He’s become erratic. He threatens me one moment and in the next he praises me, seemingly forgetting he just told me he was going to make me a eunuch. He has also started to leave the house without guards, even without Sotas.”
Passia put down the comb she had been running through her hair. “Without Sotas? But why would he do that? All manner of things might happen to him! He’s got more than a few enemies in Rome.”
“I don’t know. Sotas trailed him yesterday and apparently he went to a knife and arms master, but came out with nothing.”
Passia wrinkled her nose. “How strange. But he’s been very social lately. More than he has been in a long while.”
“Exactly. Which is yet another thing on the list of things that don’t make sense to me. And now he wants me to start preparing for a very elaborate convivium next month, the biggest one we can hold here in the house. He wants to spare no expense. None at all. He wants gold plates, jeweled napkins, rubies in the bottom of every wineglass. I’m supposed to buy any silphium I can find, regardless of price. He wants me to source only the best honey, the best figs, the best wine, and the best meat. He wants me to buy new serving boys and girls, only the prettiest, he said.”
“But I thought you said he was worried about money.”
“I thought he was. And if not, he should be.” I pulled back the covers and climbed in. My eyes roamed the saucy painting on the wall above our bed.
“But what about Timon? He’s so ill.”
“I know. But even if he wasn’t sick, Apicius didn’t want him to be in charge of this meal. He wants it to be me. He keeps saying this will be the most amazing meal Rome has ever seen, and if so, it means Rome’s best cook needs to be in charge of the kitchen. Which I suppose I should be flattered he thinks is me.”
“Well, you are the best cook in Rome.” Passia climbed into bed next to me, and I marveled at how her body was still so slender after all these years. She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.
I snatched her by the arm and pulled her close. “Good thing you are married to me, then, right?”
She laughed and her hair tickled my face. “I didn’t marry you for your food, you silly goat.” I felt her hand between my legs.
I smiled and put Apicius and everyone else out of my mind.
? ? ?
The next day was not pleasant. Timon died in the night, succumbing to the fever that had consumed him off and on in the last two weeks. I always wondered how long he would serve us. After all, he was old when I found him. I was doubly upset now, though, for his death left me with such a feat to accomplish in such a short time frame.