Elodie Harper: The Wolf Den

Amara stares at the wall. No gambolling nymphs or lovers here. Everything is painted in a geometric pattern of black and white. The sharp-edged lines turn and interlock in an endless maze that’s hard to follow round the room without feeling dizzy.

They sit and wait, not talking, time stretching out. It starts to rain more heavily, water beating down on the roof. It’s impossible to tell over the noise whether Felix and his client are still doing business. Then Amara sees a downcast figure pass the doorway, hears him thud down the stairs. Nobody gets up from the bench.

Paris sticks his head around the door. “You’d best go through.”

Thraso rises, stalking past him. Amara and Victoria follow.

The room is large, dominated by red. Their master is sitting behind his desk. He doesn’t rise as they enter. If he is surprised by their arrival so much earlier than expected, he gives no sign. Felix has half Thraso’s bulk but twice his strength. His wiry frame is all bunched muscle. Amara knows there is no softness anywhere on that body hidden beneath the folds of the pale toga. Nothing to give the lie of tenderness when he holds you.

“That was a quick orgy,” he says. “The rich boys couldn’t keep it up for long then? But they paid you double, of course.” Felix looks at Victoria. “That’s what you’re here to tell me, isn’t it, my darling? How much money you made.” Felix is smiling, but Amara can feel his anger vibrate through the sarcasm. The room grows darker. She knows without looking that Paris has just closed the door to the balcony.

Victoria opens her mouth, but Thraso jumps in. “It was Simo,” he says. “Simo betrayed us…”

“He must have been in it with Vibo,” says Victoria. “All Simo’s girls stayed in the pool, but some old crone dragged the rest of us out. She forced us. She said it was Vibo’s orders. That fat slug! We never even saw the punters—”

“Balbus was in on it too,” Thraso interrupts. “I thrashed him for you, the lying little—”

“Thraso only stopped because Vibo made him!” Victoria says. “And Drauca was sneering at us; she knew, I’m sure she did…”

Amara watches Felix as Victoria and Thraso babble on, falling over themselves to shift the blame as far away from themselves as possible, shovelling it aside like shit from a latrine. She knows that if the boss doesn’t interrupt, they will soon start blaming each other. Felix listens in silence, absorbing everything, his anger visibly growing. If there were a way of making herself smaller and less noticeable, she would shrink to the size of a dormouse.

“And you?” Felix turns sharply to Amara, catching her off guard. “Do you have nothing useful to say? Or are you just going to stand there like a dog?”

“It’s… it’s like they said,” she stammers. Felix waits for her to continue, radiating rage. Behind him, the wall glows red. The only sound is the heavy drumbeat of water above. Amara knows her master is just moments from erupting. If she doesn’t fill the silence, there will be nothing between her and the rain of blows that fall. “The old woman forced us out of the baths,” she says. Her eyes avoid his face, skirting instead to the fresco that frames his desk. She tracks up the black plinths, reaching the bulls’ skulls painted at the top. “She used your name. She only wanted the women belonging to you. It was an insult aimed solely at you.” Victoria gives a stifled gasp. Amara glances over, sees the fear in Victoria’s face then looks quickly away. “I don’t think it was an insult from Vibo. What would he have to gain?” Nobody replies. Amara continues, talking to the small bag of coins resting on the desk by Felix’s right hand. “Simo must have bribed him. It’s the only explanation. Simo’s got a nice little deal going on at the baths right now, why would he want to double the women and halve the profits?”

The rain is still falling, and she is almost out of courage. Nobody has ever frightened her more than the man in front of her. Amara looks up from the desk. She always avoids staring directly into his eyes, and so now, when she does, his expression surprises her. He is listening . For one brief moment, she sees him. It’s enough.

“I don’t think it’s Vibo you want to punish,” she says, her voice a little steadier. “He could be valuable. If Simo can pay him off, so can you. That way we could still make money at the baths and show we won’t be put off so easily.” Felix raises his eyebrows. She has surprised him. Amara tries to let go of her fear, imagines it rising from her body like steam, evaporating. “As for Simo, I’m sure you could teach him a lesson. Doesn’t he run a bar? Perhaps it will become less attractive to customers.”

Felix’s expression has barely changed, but she knows the worst of his anger has passed. “You bark a lot for such a little dog,” he says. He nods at Thraso’s swollen, bloodied lip. “And what did you do to Balbus in return for this?”

“I broke his nose.”

“More than that, I hope.” Felix rises from his seat, and the two women step backwards. Thraso stays still. Felix clicks his fingers at Victoria. She hurries over. He runs his hands over her, feeling her body, rearranging her clothes, a critical look on his face. It’s not a man touching a woman, but a salesman checking his goods. He slaps her backside, hard. “Will you make me as much money as Simo’s whores? Hmmm? Will you?” He gestures towards Amara without looking at her. “ That one thinks so, but I’m not convinced.” He takes Victoria’s chin between his fingers. “What were you doing at the pool today? Gawping round the place like peasants at the games? Slouching about on your flat arses?”

Victoria can’t shake her head; Felix is holding her too tightly.

“I’ve seen Drauca. That whore has the finest ass in Pompeii. And what do you have? What sort of tits are these?” He lets go of Victoria, pushing her face away. She sways but stays upright. “Simo may have paid Vibo off, but would Vibo have thrown you out if he thought any of you could fuck like Drauca?” He pauses, daring them to answer but neither do. “Our friend Simo’s been bragging he sells the best cunt. So you ”—Felix jabs a finger at both his women—“need to show Vibo he’s talking shit. Vibo gets to fuck you whenever he likes, however he likes, no charge, all part of the service. If you’re not his favourite girls after that, I’ll know why.” Amara glances at Victoria, trying to judge her reaction, but her face is blank as wax. “ Get moving !” Felix shouts, making them both jump. “I want five denarii each from you lazy, fucking whores. Tell the others they’d better put some effort in.”

Amara almost stumbles over Paris in the doorway in her haste to get out of the room, but Victoria is still quicker. They scuttle along the balcony, shoving their way down the stairs. Victoria reaches the bottom first. She turns round, blocking the door so Amara can’t get back into the street. Amara steadies herself against the wall, jolted as much by Victoria’s obvious anger as the sudden stop. “Why did you do that?” Victoria whispers. “Felix would have dropped Vibo. Why ask him to send us back? What sort of idiot are you?”

“Think of the money,” she whispers back. The pair of them are rammed together at the bottom of the smelly, dark stairwell. “Think of all the rich men! Not like the dregs who come here.”

“You’re crazy. What do you think they’re going to do? Turn up at the baths with bags of gold? They go there to screw, not find a bride!” Victoria’s whisper grows louder with exasperation. “And now we have to put up with Vibo!”