“I’m not going fishing without food,” Victoria says. “We can start at the Sparrow, have something to eat, and maybe after that, the rain won’t be so bad.”

The five women set about extinguishing most of the oil lamps to save fuel and limit the smoke. The constant smelly fug indoors means the paintings Felix recently paid for—endless sex scenes emblazoned round the top of the walls—are already smeared with soot. The picture above Amara’s cell, of a woman being taken from behind, has a new grimy shadow across the bed. She bends down to put out the terracotta lamp burning beneath it. Like every other light in the brothel, it is modeled in the shape of a penis, flames flickering from the tip. One or two even have a small clay man attached, brandishing an enormous fiery erection. Felix finds it amusing, says the lamps get the customers in the mood. Amara hates them. As if they don’t have enough cocks to put up with.

Gallus, Felix’s freedman, is guarding the main door, directly opposite the Elephant. A tall, broad-shouldered man, he’s better looking than Thraso, though just as brutal in a fight. He grasps hold of Beronice’s arm as they try to pass. “Hang on,” he says. “You can’t all go out at once. One of you has to stay behind. What if I get a customer?”

“Can’t you just come and grab one of us from the Sparrow?” Victoria says. “We’ll only be up the road.”

“No,” Gallus replies. “You know Felix’s orders.” He gives Beronice a shove. “Back in there.”

“What a shit,” Victoria mutters, as they hurry along the pavement. “We’ll have to take her something back.”

“And Fabia,” says Cressa. “She’s looking so thin.” The presence of the older woman, barely hanging on to existence, is like the shadow of a future none of them want to face. For Cressa, who is several years older than the rest of them, Amara suspects Fabia’s fate is even more frightening.

The noise from the tavern opposite is loud even at this time of day. A gigantic mural blazes with color on its outside wall. It’s an elephant surrounded by dancing pygmies and draped in snakes for good fortune. Underneath reads the boast: Sittius Restored The Elephant! The four women don’t stop to go inside. Picking up customers at the Elephant isn’t impossible, but Sittius rents rooms as well as serving food and wine. In this weather, his guests are more likely to head upstairs with one of the women who work at the inn than troop to a brothel in the rain.