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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

Philos’s attempt at charm sounds strained to Amara, but Egnatius is mollified. They spend a little longer drinking and chatting, Philos finally accepting a glass which he barely touches. It reminds Amara of Felix, the way Philos always likes to keep his wits about him. She tries again to up the price and fails, but she does manage to persuade Egnatius to provide an escort home, for her women’s safety, without having to pay for it.

When it is time for Amara and Philos to leave, Egnatius accompanies them to the door rather than calling the porter, helping Philos light the oil lamp for the journey home. He seems a little reluctant to let them go. Amara realizes that he might be lonely.

Saying goodbye, Egnatius embraces her, holding her by the upper arms as he kisses each cheek. “Rather thin,” he says. “Be careful, darling. Your patron must want a little more flesh for his six thousand, surely.”

“On the contrary,” Amara says. “This is just what he likes.”

Egnatius chuckles, mistaking her words for flirtation, not understanding that she means it literally. Amara steps onto the pavement with a last goodbye, and Egnatius shuts the door behind them. It is dusk. They will have to hurry to avoid being trapped out in the dark.

They walk along the narrow alleyway, Philos holding out the lamp, Amara with her hand against the wall to steady herself in the failing light. It doesn’t prevent her from stumbling. “It would be safer if I held your arm,” she says. Philos stops but does not reply. Even in the flicker of the lamplight, she can see he looks uncomfortable, just as he did when Egnatius asked him to recount her price. “Only if you don’t mind,” she adds, feeling embarrassed.

“I don’t mind.” Philos holds out his arm. She takes it, and he draws her close to him, much closer than she is expecting. The warmth of his body, the physical sensation of him, is a shock. They stare at each other. He is going to kiss her. Amara knows that she should step back, that the risk to them both far outweighs any attraction. Instead, she clasps his arm tighter, to let him understand she wants him.

But Philos does not kiss her. He turns his face back to the light, his expression drawn. “We should hurry,” he says. They walk back to the house in silence.

13

“Love and fear will not mix.”

—Seneca, Letters from a Stoic