“Let’s see.” Amara holds out her hand before Marcella can intervene. Fulvia is clearly the weaker of the two. She smells of need and desperation. Amara tries not to imagine why she might want the money. Fulvia unwinds a long rope of amber beads from her neck, placing it carefully into Amara’s palm. The stones are perfectly round, a couple shot through with twisted, sparkling strands. It is years since she has touched anything this valuable.

“It more than covers the loan,” Marcella says.

She’s correct, but Amara is not going to concede the point. “Not the interest though.” She gestures at Gallus to hand her Felix’s wax tablets. “This is my master’s proposal.” She gives the tablets to Marcella. “And here’s the money.” Gallus fumbles at his belt for the purse, nearly dropping it. Amara snatches it before it falls, handing it to Fulvia while her sister pores over the agreement. As Amara anticipated, the feel of the money in her hands has a physical effect on Fulvia. She looks close to tears.

“This rate is very steep,” Marcella says, frowning. “I’ll be paying almost double the value of the loan!”

“We can be flexible about the time period,” Amara says, unsure if Felix will agree but eager to seal the deal. She can persuade him to extend the repayments later, she tells herself. Just as long as Marcella signs.

“Marcella, please,” Fulvia begs. “Please think about what he’ll do if I don’t have the money.”

“But this is too much!” Marcella hisses back. “You’re risking mother’s necklace and all for a rate that’s going to punch a giant hole in my accounts.”

Fulvia clutches the purse to her chest. “Please, I’m begging you. Please.”

“Let me look at it again.”

The two women huddle anxiously over the tablets. Fulvia’s distress makes Amara feel edgy. She understands the terrible, ceaseless pressure of never being able to make as much money as you need, of knowing you are running out of things to sell. After all, it’s the reason she’s here herself. “If it’s too much . . .” she begins, gesturing for Fulvia to give back the coins.

Marcella puts a hand out in front of her sister, preventing Amara from stepping closer. “Alright, I’ll sign it,” she says. “I’ll sign. But tell your master he needs to give me a few more months.” Amara and Gallus watch as Marcella scratches into the tablet with the stylus. “Where is your master’s business?”

“Opposite the Elephant Inn,” Gallus replies, taking the tablet and snapping the wooden frame together. Fulvia and Marcella exchange glances.

“Not the . . .?”

“I will visit to take the first payment in two weeks,” Amara says with a bow.