“Cressa is a mother,” Victoria answers, hurrying them further away from the brothel. “She had a little boy. Felix sold him last year when he was three.” Amara and Dido gasp, and Victoria nods, her expression grim. “We were all amazed he let her keep him that long; it would have been kinder to have exposed the baby when it was born. Before she got attached.”

“That’s terrible!” Dido exclaims. “Poor Cressa.”

“He was called Cosmus,” Victoria says. “Sweet enough child. Fabia used to have him when we were working. Cressa adored him. I didn’t think she was going to survive when Thraso took the boy away. Felix had to lock her upstairs, she was screaming so much. She was up there for days. And then after she came down, she never spoke about Cosmus again.”

“I don’t think she can bear to,” Beronice says.

Amara thinks about the way Cressa saved her from the dice player, her kindness, her endless patience with Fabia. She is amazed Cressa has any compassion left to give after losing her child. “But she’s always so thoughtful,” Amara says. “I would never have guessed she carried all that grief. I had no idea.”

Beronice and Victoria exchange glances. “I think she finds ways of drowning it out,” Victoria says. “You must have seen how much she drinks.”

“You can’t blame her though,” Beronice adds quickly. “And she doesn’t drink that much. Not really.”

“That’s why I always use my herbs at the end of the night,” Victoria says. “Kill off everything inside before it can take hold.”

They have reached the Via Veneria and walk in pairs along the wider pavement. Victoria and Amara in front, Beronice and Dido behind. Victoria changes the subject from Cressa, as if eager to leave their friend’s sadness behind. She points out the clothes of the wealthy women who pass them by, admiring the styles she likes, laughing at the ones she doesn’t. The journey to the harbor is short, but the roads are so busy it takes a while to arrive. The closer they get to the sea, the fresher the air becomes. Amara can almost taste the salt.