The three of them walk swiftly along the colonnade toward the water fountain, calling Beronice’s name. There’s no sign of her. They go back along the waterfront and the docks, ignoring the whistles and attention from the men they should be trying to catch. “Perhaps she went for more food?” Amara suggests. They head toward town, walking through the narrow alleyways of the fishermen’s quarters. It’s almost empty here, most of the men are out at sea. They are about to turn back when they hear a woman screaming.

“Beronice!” Victoria yells. They run further in, and there, under an arch in a narrow side street, is Beronice. She is on her knees trying to fend off two men. Victoria starts shrieking, making an astonishing amount of noise for one small woman. Amara and Dido join in, yelling as loud as they can. “Murder, murder!” Victoria wails. A few doors open. The two men back off.

“For fuck’s sake,” one bellows at the screeching trio. “She was selling!”

“And you weren’t paying!” Beronice shouts back, getting to her feet.

Both men look round, unhappy at the sudden attention. One spits at Beronice. “Fuck you, you lying Egyptian whore!” He scrabbles in his leather purse and throws down a coin before running off, his companion close at his heels. Beronice bends to pick up the money.

Victoria runs over to her as she straightens up, but instead of embracing her, she slaps Beronice hard across the face. “What the fuck were you doing?”

“There was only one customer!” Beronice protests, clutching her cheek. “Then his friend tried to get in for free.”

The few people who had ventured out to see what was going on realize it’s just a women’s brawl rather than the excitement of a dead body. They head back to their lives, grumbling at the false alarm. “You could have been killed!” Dido says. “Why would you do that?”

“It’s for Gallus! I don’t want him getting in trouble for not paying.” Beronice’s three friends gawp at her. She is wide-eyed, her hair wild where one of the men must have grabbed it. She puts both hands to her chest with passionate sincerity. “He loves me,” she says. “Don’t you understand? He loves me.”

Victoria stands with her hands on her hips, facing Beronice, ready for battle, but the sight of her foe clutching her heart like a tragic actress turns her anger into amusement. “Beronice, you amaze me. Of all the whores in the world, you’re the only one stupid enough to pay her own customers.” She turns and the rest of the women follow, heading back to the harbor where there are still men waiting to be caught.

7

“The whole place rang with their theatrical laughter, while we were still wondering why this sudden change of mood and looking now at each other, now at the women.”

—Petronius, The Satyricon: “Quartilla’s Brothel”