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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

“Amara,” Drusilla says. “Don’t be an idiot. The only way you can keep her is as a musician to entertain your lover. What role does she have other than serving him, and through him, you?” Amara says nothing. Drusilla sighs again. “Well, I hope she can sing beautifully. She will certainly need to.” They lapse back into silence. Amara knows now is not the time to ask for money to help buy the flautists, still less the moment to share her plan to rent Victoria out at parties, but she is encouraged that at least Drusilla is not angry. She even seems to sympathize. The hiss of dripping water, the ebb and flow of voices and gentle slap of wooden shoes on stone is so soothing—Amara soon starts to feel lulled back into a sense of intimacy.

“Thank you for understanding,” she says, reaching over to squeeze Drusilla’s hand.

Drusilla does not return the pressure of her fingers. “I forgive you this time,” she says, her eyes still closed and her head tilted back, resting against the wall. “But not if you forget yourself again. The gods raised you to freedom. Treating slaves as equals only lowers you back to the gutter you came from.”

9

“She was welcomed by the kisses of the whores, taught to wheedle, shown how to make all kinds of movement with her body.”

—Seneca, Controversies 1.2

Amara stands in the doorway, watching Martha dress the dining room. It is hours until the men will arrive, but already, her nerves are stretched tighter than the strings of the harp she dreads playing. Martha is arranging armfuls of spring flowers, letting the blooms spill artfully from various vases. The air is heavy with their scent. Amara sent Britannica out at first light to buy all the stems she could carry. If Martha’s frustrated efforts at fluffing them out are anything to go by, it seems several got crushed on the journey home. Amara knows Martha hates to be watched while she works, sees it in the irritated slope of the slave girl’s shoulders, but she is so nervous she cannot help herself.

“Oh, leave her to get on with it!” Victoria exclaims, poking her head in. “Stop standing there like a twitchy old matron. We need to get ready. Drusilla will be here to practice soon.”

Victoria is far more excited about the approaching evening than Amara, even though Amara felt obliged to warn her that Drusilla might not be entirely friendly. “She’s not going to be my lover, is she?” Victoria had remarked. “So what does it matter?”