“Of course,” Rusticus replies, snapping his fingers at Menander who hurries to gather up the cock lamps from a shelf in the corner. Amara says nothing. She stands rigid, bristling with fury, as Menander wraps the lamps in pieces of old cloth, tying them together to make it easier for her to carry. He is trying desperately to catch her eye, but she refuses to look at him, even when he hands the bundle over. Rusticus is struggling not to laugh. “Never mind,” he says in a mock whisper to his slave. “Maybe you can save your pennies and speak to the fine lady for longer next time.”

Amara hands over Cressa’s money and strides out of the shop without thanking either of them. She walks quickly along the street, clutching the lamps to her chest, hating herself. She is no different from Beronice, swallowing Menander’s charm, as if he would be interested in talking to a she-wolf. Life at the brothel is hard enough, without making a fool of herself.

5

“Grab your slave girl whenever you want: it’s your right to use her”

—Pompeii graffiti

When she gets back, it’s Paris on the door. The way he stands, scrawny chest puffed out and legs akimbo, makes him recognizable long before she reaches the brothel. It’s rare for Paris to be put on door duty; he’s far too slight to make a convincing guard. He looks years younger than his age and is desperate to grow a beard, hoping that then Felix will finally release him from his duties as a prostitute. The only person in the world who loves Paris is his mother, Fabia, and he treats her with a cruelty that makes Amara’s heart ache.

“Felix wants you,” he says as she approaches.

“Did he say why?”

Paris shrugs, trying to imitate Thraso’s easy indifference. Instead, he looks like a petulant teenager.

Amara hurries into the brothel. “Felix is asking for me,” she says, handing the bundle of lamps to Victoria before she can open her mouth for a greeting. “I’ve not even had a bath. He hates that. He’s going to be so angry!”

“You can borrow some of my rose water.” Victoria nods toward her cell as she starts unwrapping the lamps. “Just help yourself. And try not to worry. He almost never asks for a full service, not at this time of day.”