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Back The House with the Golden Door Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR
  3. PRAISE FOR
  4. Dedication
  5. 75 CE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. FLORALIA
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. LEMURIA
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. NEMORALIA
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. 39
  48. 40
  49. 76 CE
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. EPILOGUE
  59. AFTERWORD
  60. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“There’s nothing like being transported to a different place and time and wholeheartedly believing you are there. . . . A compelling story of survival, friendship, and courage. Amara and her fellow she-wolves are vividly drawn in a fascinating depiction of women at the time. Utterly spellbinding.”

—Woman & Home, Best Books 2021

Dedication

To my dearest son Jonathon—I love you with all of my heart

75 CE

PARENTALIA

1

“Man alone of living creatures has been given grief . . . and likewise ambition, greed and a boundless lust for living.”

—Pliny the Elder, Natural History

The painter stands balanced on a wooden platform, his brushstrokes hidden from sight as he brings the goddess to life. Amara watches him. The rest of the fresco is complete, a hunting scene encircling her small garden. Only Diana’s face is unfinished. She breathes in deeply, enjoying the scents of spring. Narcissi lie scattered at her feet like white stars, and the air is sweet with them.

“Nobody could do justice to her beauty,” the painter remarks, standing back briefly from his work to scrutinize it, before busying himself with the brush again.

Amara knows he does not mean the goddess Diana. She could have hired anyone to paint a god, but she chose this man, Priscus, because he was once the lover of her friend Dido and the only artist capable of drawing her likeness. “I know that you will,” she replies. Or she certainly hopes so. The rest of the painting has been done by his craftsmen at a far cheaper rate. It cost ten times as much to hire Priscus, the master of the firm, to immortalize her friend.

“She was the most exquisite woman,” Priscus says. “There was a lightness to her unlike anyone else. I can still remember the way she sang.”

Dido has barely been dead three months and Amara feels tears prick her eyes. She blinks, not wanting Priscus to notice. It is strange to have him in her home. The last time they had met, she and Dido were enslaved. Priscus had been a regular customer, paying their pimp to spend the night with Dido, while his friend Salvius paid for Amara’s company in the bedroom next door. Now she is a freedwoman paying for his services. She suspects neither of them quite knows how to treat the other after this change in fortune.

He stands back from the wall again, looking over his work. “I believe it is finished.”

Amara steps forward. “May I see?”

“Of course,” Priscus climbs down from the platform, finally leaving his painting in view.