“Not worth worrying about,” he said curtly. “Just tear this mess down as quickly as you can so we can begin building.”
I regarded the buildings in dismay. Not only did he just eliminate the living spaces for dozens of families but he was throwing away thousands of sestertii in building materials. I understood none of it. Granted, the gods had been kind to Apicius when it came to money, but when he ruined lives and squandered his money, I felt nothing but anger toward my master.
“I’ll return in four days to check on your progress.”
I was sure that when we returned the foreman and everything on the city block would be gone. Doubtless the foreman would run as far and fast as he could with his profit before Apicius realized how much money he had given away.
Sure enough, when we returned at the end of the week the insulae were gone and all that was left on the land was some rubble from broken concrete walls. It was a large piece of land and without the buildings it looked even more expansive, just a vacant slab of dirt in the middle of the city.
? ? ?
The architect, named Hippocrates, met us a little past noon. He rolled out several sets of papyri showing how the building would be constructed. He was from Greece and rumored to be one of the most talented designers in the whole Empire. He appeared to be twenty-five at most. The man’s foot was twisted to the side and he used a cane to walk.
“This is an ambitious project, you understand?” Hippocrates surveyed the plans and gazed back over the land.
“Yes, I do. I will pay you well for your efforts.”
“I know what you suggested in your letters to me but, respectfully, I must disagree. I don’t think we should make the entire building two stories. Now hear me out,” he said, halting Apicius’s protest with his hand. “I think the areas where there are stoves and fires should be one story, with ample ducts for the flames and air to escape. I think it would be dangerous if you put rooms above this area. Instead, let us take only one quarter of the building and make it rise upward. You could have three floors for your lectures and for housing for the school’s slaves. In the rest of the building, which would be only one floor, we’ll place the kitchen and storerooms. What say you?”
Apicius studied the plans as the architect spoke. “Interesting. Where do you see the entrance?”
“Look here.” Hippocrates thrust a dirty finger at the drawing. I leaned in for a better look. “I propose we have a large walled garden at the front of the building where you could hold outdoor parties. There would be a gate at the entrance with a walkway and a series of canals and fountains leading toward the doors of the main building.”
“What do you think, Thrasius?”
It was the first time that I could recall Apicius asking my opinion when we were in front of others. I could barely find my voice. “It sounds incredible.” And it did. There were no organized school buildings in Rome. Most of the wealthy hired private tutors and those who couldn’t sent their children to attend classes in the streets where many teachers held lessons. This would be a different school indeed—there had never before been a place where students would learn how to cook. Despite my trepidation, I felt a great excitement blooming within me.
“I don’t want travertine or marble for the columns.” Apicius lifted his chin in the direction of the Roman Forum. “You will use porphyry, regardless of the expense.”
I sighed. The purple stone was expensive to import and usually reserved for temples built by the wealthiest of patrons. A cooking school was hardly a temple—how did Apicius expect to recoup any of these costs?
The architect nodded, as though requests like this were common, as though building a cooking school were, in fact, common. “You will have your school in one year, Marcus Gavius Apicius.” He lifted his cane and shook it in warning. “That is, if you stay out of my way and let me get the work done.”
Apicius was silent for a few moments, unaccustomed to such insolence. Eventually he asked, “Do you think I will be in your way?”
Hippocrates smiled for the first time, a wide, yellow-stained grin. “Of course you will be. Patrons are good at finding methods to get in my way and slow my work down or change it from the grandeur of my vision. I dare not hope you will be different, but in the event you might be, I ask you to place your trust in my hands. If so, I will build you a school that will be the talk of the Empire.”
“One year?”
The architect grew serious. “Yes. One year and you will have your school.”
“And you promise me it will be the talk of the Empire?”
Hippocrates began to roll up the papyri. “Yes, by Apollo, I promise.”
I shook my head, wondering if this promise would be like that of the foreman of the last villa Apicius had built, in the Alban Hills beyond Rome. The man had promised a vast estate, but while building it had asked for greater and greater sums of money, half of which went into the use of inferior materials, and the other half he pocketed. Still, there was something about Hippocrates that made me believe he was true to his word. It also helped that he was quite well known, and if he cheated Apicius it would be more damaging to his reputation than it might be worth. Sotas cracked his knuckles; it was as though he knew what I was thinking.
Hippocrates turned at the sound and grinned. He understood the gesture.
“One year, Master Apicius. I promise you, it will be magnificent.”
? ? ?
A few days later I was going over a cena menu with my dominus when we were interrupted by one of the door slaves.
“Publius Octavius is here to see you,” the boy announced.
Aelia reclined on a long chaise next to us, reading Homer and basking in the afternoon sunlight filtering into the garden where we sat.
“I’ll be there presently.” The door slave hurried off. Apicius waved the lyre players entertaining us to silence, and dismissed them with a flick of his wrist.
“What could he want?” Aelia snapped her fingers at Helene to hand her a glass of honey water.
“I know not, but I’m sure it isn’t good. Come, Thrasius. I want you to wait in the corridor and listen.” He gave Aelia a peck on the cheek before stalking off in the direction the door slave had gone. Sotas, who had been standing at his post along one wall, fell into step with me.
On the way to the atrium, we encountered Passia heading toward the kitchen with a tray holding the remainders of Apicata’s midday meal. She bowed her head as she attempted to pass but Apicius stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Have some Falernian wine, grapes, and olives brought to the atrium.” He paused and considered her. He brought a hand to her chin and she gawped at him, her eyes widening at the strange, intimate gesture. “On second thought, bring it yourself.” He let her go and continued on.