This little chunk follows a little bit after a previous Snippet that I posted. There is actually a scene in between them, in which something in particular happens to the knives but for this book it is no longer important. Originally all these scenes about Apicius were part of a prologue to a longer book, but I became so enamored of his story that I decided to turn those scenes into a historical fiction piece about him. The other idea though, which is pivotal to these knives, is still one I may pursue. The knives aren’t really central to this story in the original way I intended but I decided to keep them in because it fulfills some plot needs and if I do decide to write the other story, this book will have some of the most important elements to serve as a preceding book.

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, probably has numerous errors bound to change, get cut, etc.

Nearly two years passed before Malleolus sent word to Apicius with the news that his knives had been completed and that the blacksmith had traveled to Rome to present them personally. His note requested a meeting the next morning. Apicius read the scrap of parchment and put it down with a shaking hand.

“Is there anything you would like me to carry back?” asked the slave who had delivered the message.

“Tell him that I’ll be there as requested,” he said, dropping a copper coin into the boy’s hand.

That night was mostly sleepless for Apicius. He couldn’t stop thinking about his decision and about the knives. He was worried that he had wasted his one million sestartii on a trickster. Last night Thrasius had gone over the books with him once more. He had estimated that there was close to 11 million sestartii left in the city coffers under his name. Only 11 million! Gone were the days of lavish feasting. Gone were the days of heavy patronage to schools and the arts. Gone were the expensive gifts that each guest received upon leaving his domus. He was nearly a pauper and it wouldn’t be long before all of Rome would know.

That thought steeled his resolve. He decided to forgo his morning meal in bed, instead rushing his slaves through his morning rituals. When he left the house with a large bag of gold aureas tied beneath his toga, he felt, for the first time in the last two years, in control and powerful. He knew how this would end and it wouldn’t end with all of Rome seeing him as a pauper.

When Apicius reached Malleolus’ insulae, he dismissed the four slaves he had brought as bodyguards before knocking on the door. Malleolus himself answered, a broad smile on his tanned face.

“My dear friend, today is a very happy day for you! Come inside and meet Sayyid, master of swords.” He ushered Apicius into his apartments. The curtains were drawn on the eastern windows and the sunlight gave the room a warm glow.

Sayyid waited in the courtyard where he was lounging on a long chaise that Apicius recognized from the interior of Malleolus’ rooms. A large tray of grapes and cheese sat on the table in front of him, untouched. He was a tall man with a close cropped beard of thick dark hair. Not a Roman citizen, he did not wear the traditional toga but instead wore trousers and a dark shirt as was befitting a foreign merchant. Apicius caught a flash of gold from a long chain hidden underneath his tunic.

Introductions were made and Apicius took the bench opposite Sayyid. He was pleased to find that he was not nervous but instead felt an excitement that he had never thought possible. These knives were crucial to his elaborate plan and he found that he was anxious to have them in his own hands.

Malleolus waved a slave over to clear the table. From under the bench, Sayyid brought forth a box of dark mahogany and set it in front of Apicius. “My lord,” he said, his Latin heavy and punctuated with northern accent, “I believe that you will find great pleasure in these knives.”

With a deep breath, Apicius reached over and opened the box. Inside lay two beautiful ebony handled knives, both made in the shape he had specified. One was longer, meant for carving and the other shorter, designed for smaller kitchen tasks. The metal of each blade contained a beautiful and delicate pattern that looked very much like flowing water. He touched his finger to the flat of the larger blade, expecting to feel a raised impression but instead found that it was smooth.

“Pick them up,” Malleolus urged.

Apicius did, pleased at the weight of the instruments. And oh! The blade was very sharp. He knicked his finger with the slightest test.