Juventus and Philos are laughing together when she walks into the atrium. They are speaking a local dialect she does not understand, leaning against the wall, enjoying some private joke. Juventus is a much burlier man than Philos, with a thick beard where the steward is clean-shaven, but in moments like this, they look as familiar as brothers. Amara knows the porter owes his position to Philos, and she notices he is holding a hunk of bread. Philos must have brought it for him from the kitchen. The two men fall silent at her approach.

“Is anybody here for me today?” she asks.

“A woman is waiting on the bench outside,” Philos says. “Neither of us have seen her before. Metella from the Venus Baths.”

Amara nods to Juventus. “You can let her in.”

“Will you need me to draw up a contract?” Philos asks.

“Give me a little time alone with her first,” Amara replies. “Maybe you could bring in the tray from the garden?”

“Of course.”

Metella walks in. She is the sort of respectable married woman who would once have refused to acknowledge Amara on the street. Now she steps into her home, looking both nervous and defensive.

“I’m so glad you could call on me,” Amara exclaims, embracing her. “I’m sorry you were kept waiting.”

Metella returns the smile but still looks wary. Amara keeps up a stream of pleasantries as she steers her guest toward the tablinum, her public study for entertaining guests, prattling about Julia Felix, their mutual friend and the owner of the private baths where they both met. By the time the two women are sitting opposite each other and Philos has left the food and wine on the table, Metella seems more at ease.

The tablinum is one of the finest rooms in the house. A large window is set behind Amara, letting in the air and scent of the garden. The walls are yellow, and birds fly from panel to panel or perch on flowering branches. A peacock is painted opposite the window, his tail fanned out in a glorious display behind Metella’s head, and doves rest on the door lintel. Amara does not get down to business straight away. She shares the wine, asks about Metella’s family, gushes over her guest’s children’s accomplishments and nods sympathetically at tales of a tyrannical father-in-law. The whole time Metella talks, Amara is attentive. Learning about a client’s life is a trick she learned from her old master. Felix’s skill with moneylending was always exceptional. His shadow lies across these meetings, but Amara’s memories of him are not wholly unwelcome. She wears his easy charm like a cloak, hiding their shared passion for making a profit.