“It more than covers the loan,” Marcella says.
She’s correct, but Amara is not going to concede the point. “Not the interest though.” She gestures at Gallus to hand her Felix’s wax tablets. “This is my master’s proposal.” She gives the tablets to Marcella. “And here’s the money.” Gallus fumbles at his belt for the purse, nearly dropping it. Amara snatches it before it falls, handing it to Fulvia while her sister pores over the agreement. As Amara anticipated, the feel of the money in her hands has a physical effect on Fulvia. She looks close to tears.
“This rate is very steep,” Marcella says, frowning. “I’ll be paying almost double the value of the loan!”
“We can be flexible about the time period,” Amara says, unsure if Felix will agree but eager to seal the deal. She can persuade him to extend the repayments later, she tells herself. Just as long as Marcella signs.
“Marcella, please,” Fulvia begs. “Please think about what he’ll do if I don’t have the money.”
“But this is too much!” Marcella hisses back. “You’re risking mother’s necklace and all for a rate that’s going to punch a giant hole in my accounts.”
Fulvia clutches the purse to her chest. “Please, I’m begging you. Please.”
“Let me look at it again.”
The two women huddle anxiously over the tablets. Fulvia’s distress makes Amara feel edgy. She understands the terrible, ceaseless pressure of never being able to make as much money as you need, of knowing you are running out of things to sell. After all, it’s the reason she’s here herself. “If it’s too much…” she begins, gesturing for Fulvia to give back the coins.
Marcella puts a hand out in front of her sister, preventing Amara from stepping closer. “Alright, I’ll sign it,” she says. “I’ll sign. But tell your master he needs to give me a few more months.” Amara and Gallus watch as Marcella scratches into the tablet with the stylus. “Where is your master’s business?”
“Opposite The Elephant Inn,” Gallus replies, taking the tablet and snapping the wooden frame together. Fulvia and Marcella exchange glances.
“Not the…?”
“I will visit to take the first payment in two weeks,” Amara says with a bow.
She and Gallus head back swiftly through the Forum, leaving the two unhappy sisters to their recriminations. “I’ll take that,” Gallus says, gesturing for the amber necklace. He stuffs it into a bag as they walk.
“Don’t scratch the beads.”
“Least of our worries,” he replies. “What were you doing telling that poor bitch Felix would give her more time?”
“What difference will another month make if he gets the money?”
“This is Felix we’re talking about.”
The guilt Amara had been trying to ignore starts to surface, making her feel sick. “I’ll think of something,” she says. Gallus shakes his head. “What will you tell Beronice?”
“I won’t tell her anything!” Gallus snaps. “I’m not a fucking woman. I never talk about Felix’s business. And neither should you, not if you want to live out the year.”
They almost miss the turning off the Via Veneria with their bickering. Amara waits to let Gallus go first, and they walk in single file onto the narrower pavement. To her surprise, as they round the corner, she sees Felix standing in the street outside the brothel.
“Get a move on,” he calls, as they hurry to meet him. “Fabia’s gone to round up the others. You’ve all got another chance with Vibo.” He peers at Amara, frowning. “Do something with your hair; you look like a slut.” He turns his back on her, taking the tablets from Gallus. “All signed?” Gallus nods. Amara waits for Felix to acknowledge her part in the transaction or ask what happened, but when he sees she is still standing in the street, he loses his temper. “What are you staring at?” He grabs her by the hair, pulling her towards him before shoving her back towards the brothel. “I told you to fucking move!”
The splash of the warm water as she slides into the pool brings back memories of their last ill-fated visit. On the domed ceiling above her, light ripples over an elaborate mosaic. It’s Europa, her naked body wreathed in flowers, being carried across the sea by the god Jupiter in his form as a Bull. Amara had forgotten how opulent this place is. Beronice drops down heavily beside her. The light on the ceiling dances, reflecting back the waves she’s made. All Felix’s women are more flustered than usual. Victoria wouldn’t let them leave until everyone’s hair had been styled, so instead of having messy curls, they are flushed and sweaty from rushing to make it in time.
“Already had a busy morning, ladies,” Drauca calls. She is draped languidly against the side, both arms resting on the ledge of the large open window at her back. Simo’s other two women, Maria and Attice, are floating either side of her like a pair of bodyguards. A third woman, whose name Amara doesn’t know, lurks sullenly in the corner.
“We’re always in demand,” Victoria replies.
“I’m sure you must have picked up a few tricks at the Wolf Den,” Drauca says. “But have any of you had a man in water?” None of Felix’s women reply. “Just try not to drown. That’s my advice.”
“Is she serious?” Beronice whispers, as Drauca and Attice laugh. “I don’t want some idiot sticking my head underwater.”
“She’s just being a bitch,” Amara says, though the threat of drowning has done nothing to calm her own nerves. It’s an ugly secret she carries, the panic which so often threatens to overwhelm her. A terrible sensation of being unable to breathe, unable to move. The horror began that first time with Chremes and has never left her. It’s bad enough when it happens with a customer in her cell. She couldn’t bear the humiliation of crying here, in front of Drauca.
She looks round the room for the others. Dido and Cressa haven’t joined them in the water but are sitting on a marble bench not far from the side of the pool. Felix sent for Dido this morning while Amara was in the Forum. The thought makes her feel guilty in ways she cannot explain. Dido hasn’t said what happened, but Amara knows she is upset. She looks like a wounded bird. Not that the customers will care. Dido’s vulnerability always seems to attract the greediest men, like wasps to honey.
“I suppose coming here makes a lovely change for you,” Victoria says to Drauca. “A break from all that slopping out and changing the sheets when customers have pissed in them.” She turns to Beronice and Amara in mock sympathy. “Imagine working all hours in a bar and having to screw the customers! Exhausting!”
“Fuck you,” says Attice. “At least our master isn’t a total shit. When was the last time Felix-the-tight-arse let you keep any tips?”
“You’re right he does have a tight arse,” Victoria replies. “A hard, tight arse, like an apple. Such a shame we have to serve a master who looks like Apollo. I’d so much rather be squashed under fat old Simo with his bad breath and bald patch.”
“Yeah, must be brilliant for you all,” Maria says. She points at Dido, raising her voice. “That one looks like she’s loving life.”
Dido turns her face away, in no mood to fight back, but Cressa is angry. “Why don’t you just keep your big mouth shut?” She flaps a hand at Maria. “As if you’ve never cried over a man. Sure, Felix is a dick. So is Simo. Big deal.”