Elodie Harper - The Wolf Den

“Felix, please , you can’t, you know that I—”

“You can have ten denarii,” Felix says. “Until the shipment comes in. Then if you’ve kept up with the other payments, we can consider that second loan.”

“But that won’t cover the earrings!”

“These”—Felix says, picking up the jewellery and dangling them at him—“are for the first loan. The offer of ten denarii is pure generosity on my part. Take it or take nothing.”

Amara watches as Celer signs another agreement, scratching his name in the wax. Felix looks bored. When Celer is finished, Felix folds the tablets away and takes out the money from a drawer. Celer thanks him, his voice almost inaudible. His face, when he passes Amara, is flushed with humiliation.

Felix and Amara are left alone. He files away Celer’s agreement, ignoring her for some minutes while he’s busy at his desk. She knows better than to open her mouth.

“Yesterday, I asked what happened at the baths,” he says, finally looking up. “I didn’t ask for advice. What made you offer it?”

His tone has not changed since he spoke to Celer. She can read nothing in his face. “I must have misunderstood what you wanted,” she says.

“No, you didn’t.” He waves her lie away with a flick of his hand. “And then you recommended I do a deal with Vibo, a man who’s hated by every whore in Pompeii. Why?”

“Vibo is the only way into the private baths,” Amara says, trying to match his blank face with her own. “We can earn more money there. The men are much richer.”

“So you want to suck a superior class of cock, is that it?” Felix laughs. She knows better than to react to his sarcasm. “What a selfless whore you are. I can’t believe you’re trying to make me richer.” He glances at the silver earrings which he left out on his desk. “You can’t think you would see that extra money? You’re not as smart as you look if you imagine I’m going to share the profits.” Felix beckons her closer, his manner conspiratorial. “So tell me, what was it about?”

Amara is wary. “I don’t know.”

“Come along,” Felix says, “I’m not going to be cross. I’m asking because I’m interested. So tell me.”

Amara twists her hands, still uncertain what to say. They have never had a conversation like this. Often when she sees Felix, he doesn’t talk at all. Except, of course, to tell her afterwards how bad her performance was, how he cannot imagine why any man would pay money for that . Even though she hates him, his contempt is still wounding. It hurts, the way he touches her as if she were nothing. And now he’s gazing into her eyes as if he’s interested in what she has to say, as if what she thinks is important. All her instincts tell her it’s a ruse, but she’s desperate for it to be true. Perhaps she can reach him.

“Why did you buy me?” she asks. “I was sold as a concubine. I’m educated, play the lyre. I know that cost you more. If you didn’t want all those skills for yourself, then why? What sort of investment am I if I grind out the rest of my days in the cells downstairs?” Amara thinks of Gallus, of the self-assured way he stands when he’s getting customers to pay up at the door. She tries to hold herself a little taller. “I could make you a lot more money than that, if you let me.”

For an unbearable period of time, Felix says nothing. Amara waits, the fear she has tried to squash mushrooming in the silence. “Why did I buy you?” He rests his elbows on the table, cupping his chin in his hands. It’s a gesture of familiarity, almost as if they were equals. “It wasn’t for your marvellous tits; let’s be honest, we’ve both seen better. And I wasn’t dazzled by your beauty.” He pauses, letting his words sink in as he looks her up and down. “You weren’t much prettier than all the other girls standing naked in a row. You’re no Dido.” Felix stares into her eyes. “But I couldn’t look anywhere else from the moment I saw you. There you were, being auctioned off as a common whore, but you could have been the goddess Diana, from the way you held yourself. As if at any moment, you would call on your hunting dogs to tear apart every man who had dared to see you naked.”

Felix crosses from behind the desk. Amara watches him walk towards her, forcing herself to stay still, even though she wants to back away. When he is very close, he puts his hands lightly on her neck. “And you would, wouldn’t you? Tear them all apart .” Felix tightens his grip, pressing down on her throat. “Would you like to tear me apart?” Amara struggles to breathe, and dark spots form at the sides of her vision. Panic seizes her, and she puts her hands over his, unable to supress the instinct to claw them away. He lets go, and she collapses over the desk, gasping for air. “Do you know what happens to people who betray me, Amara?” She nods her head, unable to speak. “You do, don’t you? You didn’t hesitate to encourage me to punish Simo.” Amara is slowly getting her breath back but doesn’t dare stand upright. She stays crouched over the desk, leaning as far away from him as possible. “You are not the goddess Diana.” Felix circles round her. “Or Artemis , as you Greeks would have her.” He draws out the foreign words, mocking her accent. “ Porna eis . You are a common whore. Even if you do play the lyre.” He pushes her down on the floor so that she is kneeling in front of him. “And I own you. Don’t ever think you are cleverer than me.”

In the women’s baths with Victoria, the steam cannot hide her tears. Amara wants to dive under water, for it to swallow her so that she never has to surface. She stands by a large communal basin, sweating in the heat. Victoria gently wipes Amara’s face, cupping cool water in her hands, splashing her friend’s cheeks.

“You can’t let every encounter upset you like this,” she says, her fingers gentle on Amara’s skin. “It’s just fucking. It’s just your body; it’s not you . You’re strong. I know you are.”

It’s noisier and more crowded than at Vibo’s, and the decoration is nothing like as grand, but even without a huge warm pool to soak in, the women’s baths are still more relaxing. Men cannot come here, not even Felix. “It’s not every encounter. Felix is different,” Amara replies. “It’s not just what he does, though that’s bad enough. It’s what he says. How does he know what will hurt the most?”

Victoria splashes herself with water, sloshing it over her neck and arms. “Felix is different, you’re right.” She is jostled by a pair of matrons flanked by slaves carrying private tubs. The matrons settle themselves nearby, taking pains not to look at the women at the basin. They saw how Victoria and Amara rubbed each other down earlier, too poor to have attendants do it for them. “You might be rich,” Victoria mutters, too quiet for the other women to hear. “But look at your arses.” Amara doesn’t laugh. She would exchange beauty for money in a heartbeat. “I know what you mean,” Victoria continues. “Felix gets under your skin. He does it to everyone. It’s not just you.”

“I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Oh, he would never do that!” Victoria says indignantly. “Think of the money he would lose!” She peers at Amara’s neck and its faint row of bruises. “Very unusual for him to leave any marks though. You must have made him really angry.”

“Everything makes him angry!” Amara says. “Just looking at him sends him into a rage. He’s impossible.”

“You did go on and on yesterday, telling him what to do. He hates that.”

“I gave him good advice,” Amara says. “What was there to be angry about?”