The talk continued, about life at Caesar’s villa, about Sejanus’s treks across Germania, defeating the Dalmatians and Marcomanni, and how he and Tiberius were fast friends. I wasn’t sure I believed all his tales, but, then again, I had little trust for him at all.
We heard Apicata coming down the hall with Helene. As she passed the door to the room we were in I heard her say, “I would rather die.”
And then she was in the room and Sejanus’s voice rang out.
“Oh, my dear Apicata, how you have changed since we last met!”
Apicata didn’t respond, or if she did we couldn’t hear her.
“Apicata has been studying philosophy,” Aelia said, trying to be conversational. “Apicata, recite for us some Plato, will you?”
I could hear a waver in her voice, although it was slight. I wondered if Apicius could hear it too.
“Yes, Mother.” She was as obedient as you would ever hope a well-educated Roman child to be.
She cleared her throat and her voice rang out in a loud, clear tone. “From his Republic: ‘The man who finds that in the course of his life he has done a lot of wrong often wakes up at night in terror, like a child with a nightmare, and his life is full of foreboding; but the man who is conscious of no wrongdoing is filled with cheerfulness and with the comfort of old age.’?”
Oh, I could not have had more pride than I did then. Our little bird had spread her wings and let her voice take flight. I wished I could see the look upon Sejanus’s face.
There was silence, then a brief flurry of applause. “Lovely, my dear!” Aelia crowed, clearly pleased with her daughter’s choice of words. “Oh, Sejanus, I’m sure you would be even more delighted by her poetry.”
When Sejanus spoke, his voice had a warning edge. “I’m sure I would be. All the more reason for me to visit more often. Perhaps next time I can make a special request. Thank you, Apicata. That was admirable.”
I couldn’t see Aelia, but I was sure she understood the veiled threat. She did not respond.
“May I go now?” Apicata asked in a petulant tone.
“Of course you may.” Apicius sounded as though he’d been made uncomfortable by her recitation. Could he have thought it was directed at him and not Sejanus? It was likely. My former master was apt to assume the world revolved around him.
“It must be hard for you to manage both the school and the kitchen, with your other cook gone.”
I gave a start. He was talking about Rúan. He didn’t give Apicius time to respond. “I think I have an answer for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You need a cook so Thrasius can focus on your other needs, am I right?”
Apicius sounded skeptical. “Perhaps.”
I peered through the thin crack at the edge of the tapestry. I saw Sejanus tuck a hand into the fold of his toga. “One of my guards is related to a man who was cousin to Maecenas. When Maecenas passed, he willed all his slaves to his son, who has himself just died. This is lucky for you, I suspect.”
“Do tell.” There was true curiosity in my former master’s voice. Maecenas had been cultural and gastronomic adviser to Augustus Caesar and was known for his incredible feasts.
“The son left no will and no wife. All his slaves are going up on the market and the proceeds will pad Caesar’s coffers. One of those slaves is a man who served in Maecenas’s kitchen. He grew up preparing meals for Caesar and for foreign kings.”
“Is he for sale?” I could hear the anticipation in Apicius’s voice. He felt desperate to fill the gap Rúan had left, and while I did too, I was not anxious to trust Sejanus.
“He is. He went up on the block today. I remembered you were still looking for a cook so I sent word to the slave master to hold on to the slave until you could look him over.”
My former master lauded Sejanus with thanks.
Passia and I exchanged a wary look.
The rest of the conversation was banal, except I learned there was a party planned the following week to celebrate Consul Publius Cornelius Dolabella’s new arch erected as a gate on the Caelian Hill. I suspected I would be dragged along. At last, Sejanus left, saying he had to get back to Caesar for evening duties.
? ? ?
The next morning found me with a slip of paper in hand, heading to the market to purchase the cook Sejanus had reserved for us. Was he a relation to Sejanus? I wondered. A spy?
As I walked along the line of slaves I was reminded of the day Apicius had purchased me, more than eleven years gone past. I often went to the market to purchase slaves for Apicius, but it was my first time as a freedman. I felt the same wash of sadness I always had when I passed the slave pens and saw the dirty people in rags and chains. The slave master I was looking for had set up shop along one end of the market, with a line of slaves of varying ages.
“There he be.” The slave master jerked a bony thumb at one of the cages. The man huddling there had not been cleaned up before I arrived. His shirt was ripped and I could see large bruises along his ribs.
“You’ve been beating him well, I see.” I gritted my teeth and turned to the slave before the slave master could respond.
“Stand up. Did you cook for Maecenas?”
The man grasped hold of the bars and pulled himself up, wincing. He was an older man, nearing forty, I suspected. His hair was speckled with gray and he had deep lines around his eyes and mouth, lines I somehow knew were from a life full of laughs. Until now the man had likely never seen the inside of a cage.
“Yes, sir.” His voice did not hold the weakness his body did.
I glared at the slave master. “He’s injured and old. This is not what I expected.”
He shrugged.
“How much?”
He turned his head and spat on the ground. “Three hundred denarii.”
“Are you trying to rob me? This man probably only has another five years in him! I’ll give you two hundred.” The figure was ridiculously low in the first place but I was always one for a good haggle. I felt a pang of sadness for the man. We were bargaining for his life with such a petty amount. All those years ago, Apicius had paid a staggering twenty thousand denarii for me.
“Two hundred and fifty. Can’t go lower.”
“Fine.” I handed over the money and he opened the cage door. The man stumbled out, looking at me with empty eyes. The smell wafting from him nearly made me gag.
“Come now, let’s get you to the baths.”
That’s how Timon came to Apicius’s kitchen—by way of a cursed man. Fortunately, there was no other connection between Sejanus and the cook he recommended for us. Timon turned out to be more than either Apicius or I had imagined. I could only guess that it was a way for Sejanus to make us feel like he was a nicer, changed man somehow. Or to make Apicius feel more indebted. Regardless, Timon easily stepped into the role left by Rúan and, much to our surprise, he did so with the gusto of someone half his age. In the months following his purchase we collaborated on some of the most elaborate feasts Rome had ever seen. It also gave me time to focus on growing the school, which was enrolling more students with each banquet Apicius gave.
CHAPTER 17