“Four little hillocks full, no less!” Octavius started to elaborate but paused when one of the serving boys who had been standing with me emerged from the shadows to whisper in Apicius’s ear.
“My apologies, Octavius. It appears I am late for an engagement with a client. I must prepare. Sotas can see you out.” He rose from the couch and leaned forward to clasp Octavius on the shoulder. “Thank you for your visit. I promise to consider your words.” He gestured to Sotas and hurried out of the atrium, taking me by the arm as he walked past.
When we reached the garden, Apicius collapsed on the divan across from his wife. I took up my spot on the stool next to him.
“Bastard,” he muttered as he lay back.
I didn’t say anything.
“What did he want?” Aelia asked, not looking up from her scroll.
“He warned me not to build the school. How did he know?”
“You know how slaves talk.” She winked at me, then turned to her husband. “Maybe you should listen to him.”
“Listen to him?” Apicius was incredulous. “Me? Listen to Octavius? You can’t be serious, wife! I would sooner eat a pile of fresh sheep dung than listen to that man.”
“I know.” Her voice softened. “He has his own reasons for making such a suggestion, I’m sure, but I’ve been thinking, and, well . . .”
“And what?” He looked at me as though expecting me to back him up. I’m not sure why; it was not my place to speak up in such matters.
“I’m concerned about how it may fare.”
“Explain. What do you mean, wife?”
I closed my eyes and wished I were in Baiae, sitting on the beach, looking at the water, with Rome and its intrigues a hundred miles away.
“Now, don’t be upset. Think for a minute. What if no one sends their slaves to the school?”
“They will!” he roared, sitting up. “What do you think, Thrasius?”
I opened my eyes. “I’m not sure, Dominus. I do know we have had many requests for me to teach other cooks.”
Apicius’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know they will,” he said again, with less enthusiasm.
“How can you be sure?” Aelia asked.
“My clients, for one. They will send their slaves if they want to continue to have room on my couch!”
Aelia raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it wouldn’t only be under duress?”
“Is that what you believe, wife?” He sprang to his feet, unable to contain his anger. It bled into his words, lending his voice a screechy quality. “You know how they talk about me in Rome! Even the plebs gossip in amazement about how marvelous my parties must be! My clients are already asking me for advice and to have Thrasius train their slaves. There is no duress.”
“All right, but consider this. Once their slaves are trained, who will want seats on your couch?”
I groaned inwardly, wishing Aelia had not opened up this jar full of worms. I hated being with them when they argued, which was often.
Apicius took a sharp breath. “Then tell me,” he hissed at Aelia, “why would Octavius threaten me if he wasn’t scared? He knows this will be a success.”
“But, Marcus, where will your new students come from? How long do you think it will run before people start laughing and calling you a fool?”
“Wife, you are out of line.” Danger rode on the back of each word.
Aelia pursed her lips. She rolled the scroll downward to the next stanza of her poem. “Of course, husband. I should not have spoken.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Apicius stared at her for one long moment, then abruptly rose and left. Sotas followed behind.
“You are dismissed,” Aelia said to me, her voice catching.
As I left the room I heard a sob escape from my domina.
CHAPTER 14
It was just as Hippocrates said—the building of the cooking school took a year, almost precisely to the day.
Apicius burst into the kitchen to tell me. There was sweat on his brow and a broad smile on his face. It had been many weeks since I had seen him in such a good mood.
“Today is the day, Thrasius!”
I pushed aside the meat I was chopping and washed my hands. The water was cold against my skin. “What do you mean, Dominus?”
For the entire year Apicius had been obsessed with building his cooking school. He wouldn’t let me see inside, telling me he wanted it to be a surprise. I even tried to get the guards to let me in when I walked by on my way to market, but they had been instructed to let no one in unless the foreman or Apicius was there. And the foreman knew me, so I was equally thwarted on that front.
Apicius brought his hands down against the counter with a heavy thud. He smiled broadly and exclaimed, “My school is done!”
“Already? I thought it was weeks away from being finished.”
Apicius grinned, pleased with himself. “I brought in extra workers. I was tired of how long it was taking to build. Come now; let’s do what we have talked about doing.” He glanced toward the stoves where Rúan was helping the slave boy tie a pig to a spit above the flame.
“Rúan! Come here!”
Rúan approached and looked askance at me, confusion flaring in his green eyes. From that look, I knew my assistant feared the worst. Apicius had become increasingly difficult to read in the past year. Rúan had been on the receiving end of Dominus’s anger all too often in recent months, usually for no reason, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Everyone was watching us, but Apicius winked at me and, without warning, picked up a wide pan and slammed it down upon the counter several times. Then there was no doubt everyone was listening.
“Today is a day for celebration!” Apicius gestured at me with one ringed thumb. “Your coquus, Thrasius, will be assuming duties as head of my brand-new cooking school!”
A murmur of surprise and disappointment rose among the slaves, sounds from those who doubtless assumed Apicius was granting me my freedom (which, despite my growing peculium, I didn’t believe he ever would). There were grunts of confusion from others. My face reddened from both the heat and the intensity of being under the gaze of all the staff in my kitchen.
A voice rose from the crowd. “A cooking school?” No one had ever heard of such a thing.
Apicius ignored the question. “Tell him!” The tone of Apicius’s voice was giddy, like a child opening presents on the first morning of Saturnalia.
I raised my voice. “Rúan, I am giving you full control of this kitchen. Today Dominus Apicius and I hereby bestow upon you the title of coquus of the Gavia household. From here forward, all servants of this kitchen will take their orders from you.”
Apicius bobbed his head with approval. “You will give Rúan the same respect you gave to Coquus Thrasius. If not, then you will be subject to both his lash and mine.” He sounded as though he would be delighted at the prospect. A few slaves shuddered at the warning.