Elodie Harper - The Wolf Den

Amara knows exactly where Felix will be at this time of day. There’s an unspoken rule among the women to steer clear of the Palaestra, precisely to avoid him. She hopes he isn’t so angered by her presence that he doesn’t listen to her proposal. She goes over the details of the deal in her head as she walks swiftly along the Via Veneria. Surely, he will see the opportunity it offers?

It was difficult to hide her reasons for needing time off from her friends, but an offer to stay in for the entire day in return eventually secured their help without too many questions. They had set out as if in pairs, to fool Thraso, then met up again so that Dido wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t ask Amara anything, just pressed her hand and begged her to be careful. Amara knows Dido imagines she is going to see Menander, as if love could be the only possible reason for secrecy. Her friend’s naivety feels like a reproach. Amara knows Dido would never try to make extra money without telling the others. Even Victoria is open about her gambling. Amara walks faster, guilt pricking at her heart. It’s not a feeling she can afford, not if she wants to escape from the brothel.

The Palaestra is at the opposite end of Pompeii, a public park surrounded by a forbidding walled enclosure. Amara tells herself her breathlessness is due to the long walk, rather than nerves. A couple of men slouching by the entrance break off their chat to stare at her as she passes through the gate. Inside, she is greeted by high, piping voices. A gaggle of young boys sit learning their letters at the corner of the colonnade. She skirts between them, attracting a disapproving look from their schoolmaster. It’s clear he knows what she is.

Only men are permitted within the exercise grounds. She hopes Felix is on the track rather than in the pool, as brazening her way past the tall plane trees that surround it would be impossible. She waits at the very edge of the track. It’s warm here, the sun high overhead. The Palaestra is open to the public for a few set hours and is always crowded. Young men jostle each other, running circuits. She picks out Felix as he sprints past, bare torso shining with sweat. He doesn’t see her. She watches him as he runs the length of the grounds. His movements are so fluid and graceful, he looks like a stag in a herd of cattle. It’s painful, now, to remember how she felt when he bought her. Her sense of relief that at least he was attractive. What a limited imagination she had then when it came to human nature.

The second time Felix passes, one of his cronies spots her staring after him and smacks his arm, laughing. The men slow down. They stop just off the edge of the track, looking back at her. Felix is flanked by three others. There’s so much she doesn’t know about his business or his life. Could these be clients? Friends? Rivals even? Fortunately, whoever the other men are, they seem to find the idea of Felix being trailed by a jealous, lovesick whore hilarious.

“You didn’t fuck her hard enough,” one says, slapping him on the back. “She wants more of your dick.”

“Maybe she’ll pay you .”

Felix shrugs them off, but the attention doesn’t seem to have annoyed him. He jogs towards her. His friends whistle and call after him, yelling out their advice before starting up their circuits again. Felix stops, resting his hands on his thighs to get his breath back. “What’s this?” He looks up, amused and curious, not a hint of his usual cruelty. Perhaps Victoria really did put him in a good mood.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” she says, trying to sound as relaxed as he does, but failing. Felix straightens up, wiping the sweat from his eyes. “There’s a woman called Marcella. She runs a fast-food store near the theatre, lots of business, regular income. But her husband drinks too much, and there’s nothing to spare for a loan to her sister. She needs twenty denarii.”

“And you want me to do this friend of yours a favour?” Felix sounds incredulous rather than angry, but she knows his rage can rest on a knife edge.

“No, no!” Amara protests. “I only met her this morning at the baths. It’s a business deal.”

“You came all this way, interrupted my day, to do a deal for twenty denarii?”

“But it’s not just this deal, is it?” Amara says. “Women are never going to come to you; they’re not even allowed to. But women still need money. So what do we do? We talk to each other; we lend to each other. But if Marcella, or anyone else, does business with me, she does business with you.”

Felix’s friends run past on the track, whooping. He swears, making them laugh. They keep going, and he turns back to her. “And what do you expect to get from this?”

“Same commission as we all get for sex,” she replies. “I know Victoria gets extra because she brings in more business, and that’s only fair. But if I get you more money through loans, rather than men, what’s the difference?”

“How did you leave it with this woman, with this Marcella?” Felix sounds dismissive, but she knows he’s interested. He has the same look on his face as he did when he took ownership of her and Dido at the slave market. The sweet anticipation of making money.

“I told her I would be at the Temple of Apollo tomorrow morning with your steward, Gallus, and a contract. She doesn’t know about the brothel; I thought it best she sees the cash before I tell her who you are. Once the money is in her hands, once she can smell it, she won’t be able to say no.”

Felix grins at her, a look of such genuine warmth that she understands for a moment why Victoria is so addicted to pleasing him. “Amara, do you have any idea what happens to people who can’t pay me?”

She thinks of Celer begging Felix for money, of the threats that her master made to Celer’s family business. Marcella will be able to pay , she tells herself; nothing bad is going to happen to her. I won’t let anything bad happen to her . “I can guess,” she says.

“Enough of the fucking lover’s chat!”

Felix’s companions have stopped running and are stretching at the side of the track a few feet away. The amusement value of their friend’s tryst is obviously wearing thin. “Your girlfriend can suck you off another time,” says one, wandering over. He has a mark down the length of his face, a white line that his beard refuses to grow through. “You should try my dick,” he says to Amara, rocking his pelvis. “You won’t be wanting him to fuck you after that.”

Felix laughs, but Amara senses he is irritated. More, she suspects, at being asked to hurry his business along than at any slight to his manhood. “Your cock’s so small, none of my whores can even find it,” Felix says, pulling her towards him, one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her face. He kisses her, long enough for the others to start whistling, then slaps her on the backside in an obvious sign of dismissal. “Mind how you go,” he says, already walking away. “I can’t have anything happening to my favourite whore .”

The cell is the cold, dark of night-time, even though the sun is still bright outside. Stone walls muffle the noise from the street, making it seem more distant. Amara catches the odd word as voices, raised in argument, pass her window. The hustle and excitement of the Palaestra feels like another world. Lying here on the hard bed, the air still stale with last night’s smoke, she could have passed into Hades, the kingdom of the dead.