Days passed, and today Francisco and Catalina had an appointment with Domingo Esquiaqui, the official master builder of the viceroyalty — a major figure in construction across New Granada. Francisco had brought along a sample of Roman cement, carried carefully in the carriage by the servants, to prove its worth.
Domingo's residence was bustling with activity. Builders shouted instructions, apprentices hauled materials, and messengers rushed in and out with reports from outside the capital. Amid the chaos, no one paid Francisco any attention; after all, he was just another visitor to the builder's department.
Francisco knocked and entered with Catalina. Inside, Domingo loomed over a large table, glaring at a set of blueprints.
"This section is wrong. Fix it!" he roared.
"But sir," protested one of the workers, "we can't be sure of the damage from the 1743 earthquake. The mayor of waters never inspected the canals properly. We'd need to examine them ourselves before we know what's required."
"That useless cabildo," Domingo muttered. "Fine. Send men to survey every canal and bring me corrected blueprints. I will not gamble with this construction."
"Yes, sir," said the construction worker, before hurrying off.
"Excuse me," Francisco said, stepping forward.
Domingo turned, eyeing him warily. "Who are you?"
Francisco bowed slightly. "Francisco Gómez. I come on behalf of the Alonzo and Álvarez families to speak with you about a new building material."
"Ah, Mauricio's partner." Domingo rubbed his beard. "I'll be honest, young man. I don't put much stock in his claims. A material that dries in weeks instead of months? That's stronger than stone? It sounds like fantasy."
"I understand your doubts," Francisco replied calmly. "That's why I brought proof. Test it however you like, and then decide. But if I may… looking at your blueprints, I'd advise you not to build anything until you've tested this material."
Domingo frowned. "And why is that?"
"Because with Roman cement, you could design a far more modern aqueduct. One on par with Europe's. Why settle for less?"
Domingo shook his head, dismissing the comment as youthful arrogance. Still, he explained:
"The reason we don't build subterranean aqueducts here is that Bogotá's soil is too humid. Materials like brick, tapia, and stone won't last. In ten or twenty years, the structure would collapse and take the city with it."
Francisco leaned in. "That's exactly why this rediscovery matters. Roman cement endures. Some Roman aqueducts still stand today — two thousand years later. Do you really think brick and tapia can match that?"
Domingo stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "I see your point. But I still don't believe your paste is the real Roman cement."
Francisco smiled faintly. "It is. In fact, I'm convinced it's even better."
Domingo studied Francisco's steady gaze. Was it arrogance, or true ability — perhaps both? He tapped the table thoughtfully."Even if you're right, there's another problem. The cabildo won't release unlimited funds. Your cement is costly, and even for a small city like Bogotá, the expense would be enormous."
Francisco narrowed his eyes. "Didn't the viceroy personally support this project?"
"He did. But Spain hasn't given him much money. Even if he wants to help, his hands are tied."
Francisco considered this, then made his move. "Then let's strike a deal. We'll sponsor the cement for the aqueduct. In return, for the next ten years, all official constructions — churches, convents, administrative buildings — will use our material exclusively."
Catalina pinched Francisco's back sharply. He winced but didn't retract his words. She knew he was a spendthrift, but giving away so much still shocked her.
Francisco leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Trust me. If Bogotá builds this aqueduct, Quito and the Captaincy of Venezuela won't sit idle. They'll want their own, and when they do, they'll have no choice but to buy from us—whatever the price."
Catalina sighed, still pouting, but relaxed. Even if the Bogotá factory ran at a loss, demand from the capitals of New Granada would eventually make it worthwhile.
Domingo thought hard, then asked, curious: "Why are you so determined to build this aqueduct, even at your own expense?"
Francisco's eyes lit up. "Call it foolishness, or patriotism. But I dream of a Bogotá as beautiful as Paris. This aqueduct could become our landmark — proof that New Granada rediscovered Rome's lost cement and dared to follow in its footsteps."
For the first time, Domingo chuckled. "If only the cabildo shared a little of your foolishness. Very well, boy. If your material truly works, I will devote myself to building the finest aqueduct Bogotá has ever seen. And in return, I'll tell everyone about your cement."
"Then we have a deal?" Francisco asked.
"You have a deal. I'll even bring in an architect friend to draft new blueprints from the San Agustín River to Bogotá."
"Excellent," Francisco said. Then he pulled another set of papers from his satchel. "One more favor. Do you know any master builder who could handle this?"
Domingo examined the plans, raising his eyebrows. "What is this? A palace?"
Francisco chuckled. For the second time, someone had mistaken his design. "No. It's a factory, modeled after workshops in Britain. I built one in Antioquia, and I want another in Bogotá to support the aqueduct project."
Domingo nodded slowly. "You're right. You'll need it. If it works, others will want their own for estates and houses. The best builders for this would be us — but we'll be tied up with the aqueduct. Still, my men will have downtime while we redo the blueprints. I'll assign the project to my second-in-command, on one condition: if your cement fails, forget about it."
Francisco smiled. "Agreed. I'll speak with the Alonzo and Álvarez families about who will oversee the factory after I leave."
"A wise choice," Domingo said. "Though I had hoped you'd stay and guide us yourself."
"Don't worry. Those families know the process too. They'll provide experts. You'll be in good hands."
Domingo nodded. "Then we'll speak again in a few weeks, after I've tested your material. You're dismissed."
Francisco and Catalina exchanged a look, then left, smiling despite being unceremoniously shown out. Their next stop was the Álvarez family estate.