“I doubt that,” Felix says. He puts his arms round her in an exaggerated parody of affection. “Did he tell you how lovely you were? Gaze into your eyes? Was he gentle?”

“No.”

“He wasn’t gentle?” Felix pretends to be shocked. “What a shit! He certainly fed you well. But I’m not sure I believe you. I think he spoiled you, that old man. Made you forget who you are.”

His fingers are digging painfully into her upper arms, but she doesn’t flinch. Amara has belonged to Felix so long, she knows that he is going to rape her, to humiliate her, to try and destroy the last traces of the happiness she has brought back, now fading like the scent of jasmine on her skin. She grips the scroll Pliny gave her. There are parts of herself Felix cannot know or touch.

“I never forget,” she says.

“Good,” Felix lets go of her. “You should get back to work then.”

She is almost over the threshold of the doorway, giddy with relief, when he stops her. “Did I say you could take that?” Amara waits as he walks up to her, lets him take Pliny’s gift from her hands. “I might be able to sell it.” He turns the scroll over, a dismissive look on his face. “You never know what someone else will value.”

26

“Thais: Me not speaking from my heart? That’s not fair! What have you ever wanted from me, even in fun, that you didn’t get?”

—Terence, The Eunuch

The theater’s stage is blazing with torches, even though dusk has not yet fallen. The brightly painted columns and statues, the flamboyance of the actors, the laughter, reminds her of the atmosphere at the Vinalia. Amara has never been to see a play before and is enjoying the luxury of watching rather than being watched. Let someone else have the hard work of entertaining for a while. Beside her, Rufus has taken her hand, and his look of utter delight at the unfolding scene endears him to her. He really is like a child, she thinks.

She finds the play easy to follow. It is The Eunuch by Terence who, Rufus eagerly assures her, is a greater master than Virgil. She would certainly like to borrow the luck of the play’s courtesan, Thais, who seems to rule the men through charm alone. Amara suspects Thais never encountered a pimp like Felix.