Feast of Sorrow: A Novel of Ancient Rome

The skin was not as dark as I would have liked. I stopped Tycho before he was to take the chicken to the table and asked him to check it for doneness. I watched as he took a knife to the leg and separated it from the chicken’s body. The juice did not run clear.

I thanked Jupiter for watching over me and sent the chicken back to cook a few minutes more. Under no circumstance would I allow another mishap that day.

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“You should have them all whipped!” Apicius raged that night after the feast when he heard what had happened.

“Dominus, these are slaves owned by others,” I argued. He was within his rights to have the slaves disciplined in the way he desired as they were acting on his behalf and on his property, but there were political ramifications he had not considered, which I tried to explain.

“What about the fact that I was embarrassed in front of a man whom Tiberius has taken under his wing? He dotes on Herod as if he were his own son and we treated him as though he were garbage, giving him bad food and throwing wine all over him. My reputation has been sullied by these students!”

“Herod Agrippa was very understanding. He was very kind to the servants, knowing that they were there to learn.”

Apicius’s jaw was set. “Fix this, Thrasius. If this ever happens again, it will be you who are whipped within an inch of his life. I will not be embarrassed by you, or by the students of this school.” He stormed out of the room and I collapsed into the chair behind me, grateful that he hadn’t decided to punish me there and then.

From that point on, I brought in slaves from Apicius’s villa to help the students during feasts.

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After several months of classes, when I thought most of the major problems of the school had been overcome, a new challenge emerged. I began to suspect that one of the students might be a spy for Publius Octavius. He was a freedman who took to disrupting courses by asking frivolous questions, being belligerent, and provoking or belittling me in class. I did my best to be patient.

In the end, I sent for Tycho. I gave him instructions to follow the troublemaker after class that day and report back to me and Apicius.

I hoped that the man wouldn’t show up for my class on cooking grains and cereals but, sure enough, there he was, at his usual station in the front. My resolve hardened.

The students gathered close to my counter. “Today we will learn how to make several different lentil and pea dishes. I’ll demonstrate, then you’ll make your own.” I picked up a large terra-cotta jar and removed the lid to show it was filled with fresh lentils. I scooped out a few handfuls and added them to the bronze pan in front of me. I added a little water and took in my fingers a bit of white powder from a tiny jar I kept on the side of the counter. I raised my voice so the students could hear me over the sizzle of the water hitting the pan. “Add a pinch of soda and some water, then set it on a low fire to cook.” I stirred the mixture around before setting the pan on the fire. I waited as the students took notes on their wax tablets.

It wasn’t long until the troublemaker spoke up and began to harangue me with questions. Fed up, I kicked him out of the class, despite his protests about how his patron was going to be furious with me and with Gavius Apicius. I nodded at Tycho and he set out to follow the man, as I had instructed him to.

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That evening, back on the Palatine, Apicius and I were going over notes for the sauce book when Sotas ushered Tycho into the room.

“What did you find out?”

“I tracked him to the domus of Publius Octavius.”

“Damn him to Tartarus!” Apicius stormed across the room to the window and slammed his hand against its edge. “How dare he?”

He stared down at the dimly lit Forum below. “How many of those shadowy figures in the streets are spies of Publius Octavius? Will I never be rid of him?” He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and seemed to collect himself. He considered Tycho, who was standing near the door, a look of abject terror on his face. “Boy, Thrasius will see to it that you receive an additional fifty denarii added to your peculium.”

I inhaled sharply at the same time as Tycho.

Apicius continued, “Now go. Tell no one of this or I’ll take back the money and beat you within a heartbeat of your life.”

Tycho nodded vigorously and bumped into Sotas as he tried to back out of the room. The big man let the youth go and watched him run down the hallway beyond.

Apicius turned to look out the window again. He tapped the sill with his fingers, drumming them in thought. “So Publius Octavius wanted my recipes but couldn’t bear to let me know that he was sending a slave. No more niceties from me.” He raised his voice but did not turn around. “Thrasius, tomorrow you will throw that spy out. Tell him his master can take up any grievances with me personally—which I doubt will happen. And moving forward, we will not accept any student into the school unless I have met the patrician who is sending him.”

“Yes, Dominus.”





CHAPTER 15


That year I finally finished the book of sauces. Between the school and Apicius’s ever-growing entertainment schedule, we barely had time to breathe, much less test all the recipes to make sure there were no errors. We hired several scribes to help us make copies, expecting it would sell well. I assumed most of my students would ask their masters to purchase a copy for them. Fannia had also spread the word to her friends. We also sent a copy to Ovid, who had been recently exiled to the isle of Tomis for writing a poem that supposedly incited Augustus’s daughter, Julia, to plot to overthrow her father. Despite his banishment, Ovid’s influence was strong, especially among wealthy families in the pleasure towns along the coast. He told us he wrote many letters to friends in far-flung places and we should expect requests for copies. Apicius, of course, planned on giving many of his clients scrolls for free. Doing so made him feel generous but it didn’t pad the coffers.

At least there was no sign of Sejanus. I often forgot about him for weeks at a time. Every once in a while we would hear word of him conquering some Germanic tribe or another, but there had been no direct reports of him. I held hope that such news would arrive on a cart containing his coffin. But no such luck.

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