She saw me and a look of shame crossed her face. I stopped as I passed and leaned down to kiss her brow. She sighed.
As slaves we all knew our bodies were not our own, but this was the first time Apicius had crossed into territory that he himself had set when he “gave” Passia to me. I clenched my jaw tight, determined not to let my anger show.
When we reached the atrium I waited in the corridor with two of the other house slaves. I could see and hear everything well but it was dark enough that Octavius would not be able to pick me out from the nondescript forms of the slaves waiting in the shadows.
“Octavius!” Apicius said jovially as he crossed the atrium. “How good it is to see you!” He clasped hands with the man.
“It’s good to see you as well.” Octavius surveyed the room. “I must say, I love what you have done with this atrium. It reminds me of Livia’s chambers in her villa,” he observed. Each wall was part of a large garden scene, decorated in great detail with olive trees, bright feathered birds, and a sky of vivid blue.
“Yes, Aelia admired that room when she attended a gathering Livia had arranged, so I hired the same painter.” I had heard the story many times before. He loved to boast about the commission.
“I thought so. You should see his new work.” His eyes continued to wander over the images in the frescoes. “I hired him last month to design my baths and to decorate the walls of all my slaves’ chambers. I anticipate keeping him very busy for the next year!”
Apicius ignored the one-upmanship. Slave quarters were often painted, but never by someone with such esteem.
“Come and sit. Enjoy some wine with me,” he said instead. Octavius followed Apicius’s lead and sat back on one of the plush couches. Sotas, without prompting but knowing his dominus well, took a spot so that he was standing not far behind Apicius, in large opposing view. The two rivals chatted about the weather, news of the war, and other trivial things. After a short while, Passia swept by me, her arm brushing against me on purpose. She came forth with the tray of wine and food and set it on the small tripod table in front of the men. The front of her tunica dipped down, affording Octavius a glance at her shapely chest.
“Thank you, Passia.” Apicius dismissed her with a nod.
“Beautiful girl,” Octavius remarked, licking his lips. He stared at her as she left and Apicius smiled with satisfaction. I fumed, thinking about Sejanus and how he had desired my lover as well. It was then I realized what my master had done by introducing Passia. He was flaunting yet another unattainable purchase in front of Octavius.
“Now tell me, Octavius, what brings you here?” Apicius reached forward and took a cluster of grapes.
Octavius lifted his glass to his lips, closing his eyes as the wine went down. After savoring the taste for what seemed to be an inappropriate amount of time, Octavius responded, “I hear you are building a cooking school?”
“Where did you hear that?” Apicius forced a smile.
“Gossip is always easy to find in this city.” Octavius waved a hand to indicate Rome’s expanse. “I do not recall. At the baths. Are you? Building a school?”
“I’ve considered it.”
“Well, if you have only considered it, why are you breaking ground at the foot of the hill? You tore out an entire block of insulae. What for?” Octavius popped an olive into his mouth and spat the pit out onto the floor for the ancestral gods.
“Ah, that.” Apicius took a sip of wine.
“Do you really need so much space for a school?” Octavius pressed.
“Does it matter?”
“Just curiosity, my old friend. I was surprised when I heard the news and saw how much space you have planned. Do you truly think you will have so many students?”
Apicius paused. I had said the same to my master on several occasions but I found he always gave more weight when such observations were made by others.
“I said, ‘considered,’?” Apicius reiterated with a little too much force.
“Well, what are you building, then? A shrine to Edesia?” Octavius laughed at the reference to the goddess of feasts.
“You will have to wait and see.”
Octavius leaned forward, his smile gone and the many folds of his chin stretching out as he elongated his neck. Darkness slipped into his voice. “I would advise you against such a school.”
“And why would that be?” Apicius was struggling to keep his composure. His fingers were playing with the edge of his toga; it was a gesture I knew all too well.
“I am trying to keep you from wasting money.” Octavius’s chin and lips jiggled. “Who would send their cooks to such a school? Who among us patricians wants our cenae to come out the same?”
“Some patricians could use a cook with skills,” Apicius replied. “Take Oppius Velius Justus, for example. You’ve dined on his couch, drunk his plonk, and complained wholeheartedly to everyone afterward.”
Octavius lowered his glass. “Perhaps.” He didn’t deny the claim. “However, I’m also not sure Caesar would approve.”
“And why wouldn’t he?”
Those words convinced me that Octavius was scared of the cooking school being a success. Caesar couldn’t care less about such matters.
“He would never want his parties to fall short of another’s,” Octavius managed, but it sounded like he was floundering.
“I doubt that could happen with you at the helm.” Apicius sounded as though he were beginning to enjoy the conversation. “If I were to build such a school, Caesar would have nothing to worry about. No one would dare outshine him.”
Octavius winked. “Except you and me,” he said conspiratorially.
Apicius paused, clearly unsure if Octavius was trying to lure him into a conversation he didn’t want to have. “I heard you were in Cyrenaica,” he replied instead.
Octavius pressed forward. “Yes. I went to meet with my silphium supplier.”
I suppressed a snort of derision. How many times was Octavius going to try to trump Apicius during this conversation? Apicius didn’t waver. “And how did you fare?”
“Better than I hoped.” Octavius picked up the last cluster of grapes. “My supplier stumbled on a few precious plants along the coast. All for me.”
Apicius had grown weary of the discussion. He set his glass down on the table and tapped the edge of the couch idly with his fingertips. The tap was an indication to Sotas, who signaled the serving boys waiting in the hallway next to me.
“Really? And he sold them only to you? Impressive.” Apicius smiled broadly as he flattered his guest.