Victoria’s question is interrupted by the arrival of Felix sauntering into the bar, wearing a look of absolute self-satisfaction. “And how are my favorite whores this morning?” he demands, gesturing impatiently for Cressa to move along so he can squash in between Amara and Dido. He kisses them, one after the other, taking their faces in both his hands and squeezing hard. “Your boys paid their debt. Sent their slave round this morning.” He looks elated, Amara thinks. She has never seen him in a mood like this. “Zoskales! Everything for the girls is on me today! Some wine for us all.” He smiles at Beronice, Victoria and the drooping Cressa. “Even if you didn’t all earn it.”

“Poor Dido didn’t even get a fuck out of them,” Victoria sighs. “Her lover was limp as a cabbage.”

“And they still paid!” Felix looks at Dido with renewed respect. “What a girl you are.”

“It wasn’t just about sex,” Amara says. “You heard us sing. That’s what they paid for, that’s what they wanted. To be entertained.”

“They could have dressed up as chickens and ordered a spanking for all I care,” Felix says, taking the wine from Zoskales as he brings it over. “As long as they paid.” Beronice and Victoria snigger. Cressa buries her head in her hands, moaning at the noise. Felix tops up all their glasses. “So what was it like, this party?”

“The house was . . .” Dido hesitates, trying to find words that will conjure up the scale of the wealth. “Enormous. So much silver and gold! And fountains. And the world’s biggest pie.”

“Apparently the wine cost two thousand sesterces a jar.” Zoskales sets one of his own amphora down behind the bar with a thump. “Madness.”

“Almost everyone at the party was a freedman,” Amara says. “Apart from the posh boys who bought us. And they did nothing but sneer.” She remembers Fortunata and her branded forehead. “If I were rich, I wouldn’t bother inviting men like that to share my wine. Why set yourself up to be laughed at?”

“Yes,” Felix says with feeling. He glances at her then turns away. It is a rare moment of intimacy between them. “But the question is”—he stretches out his arms and puts them around her and Dido—“can you pull this trick off again?”

They both start answering at once, eager to tell him everything about Cornelius, from his blue robe to the songs he requested. “Too much, too much!” Felix points at Amara. “You can explain it upstairs.” He keeps his hand on Dido’s shoulder, pushing her downward as he rises. “You stay here. It’s quite enough with one mouthy little whore.”