Elodie Harper - The Wolf Den

It is afterwards that she enjoys most, hearing Rufus tell her he loves her, holding her as if he will never let her go. She doesn’t really believe him; she knows he cannot love her, not truly, not the way she loved her family or loves Dido, as someone you consider of equal value to yourself. Still, she never tires of hearing him say the words.

After Rufus has kissed her goodbye and crept from the room, she hears him in the courtyard below, laughing with the other two men. He rarely stays the whole night at Drusilla’s, but Amara has no intention of ever telling Felix this. It is one of the perks, staying over like a guest, not a slave, in the house of a friend. She smiles to herself, imagining Dido safe nearby, stretching out on the sheets, just as she is, a night of blissful, undisturbed sleep ahead.

The cool morning air has the scent of autumn. Amara and Dido wait for their host in the small courtyard, enjoying the tranquillity. Drusilla has made clever use of space, the fountain is against the wall rather than taking up too much room in the centre. It falls in a cascade over a mosaic of blue tiles, water splashing against a statue of Venus who stands naked at the edge of the pool beneath, as if poised to bathe.

“It’s so pretty,” Dido says, looking around.

“The fountain is perfect,” Amara agrees.

“I’m glad you ladies approve.” They turn to see Drusilla watching them. She is in a light tunic, the gold band on her arm. Her head is dressed in a silk wrap that Amara instantly wants for herself. It’s the perfect way to disguise undressed hair, if there was ever anyone she needed to impress in the morning. “Why don’t you take some refreshment with me before you leave?”

They are only too eager to agree, following her to the dining room. It has been cleared since last night, and a plate of figs, pears and bread is waiting on a side table.

“So how was Lucius?” Drusilla asks, tucking herself up on a couch and gesturing at the others to take the one opposite. “He seemed quite taken.”

“He is going to try and find my family,” Dido says, looking from Drusilla to Amara, clearly excited to share the news. “He thinks it might be possible, through the census.”

“But that’s wonderful!” Amara exclaims.

“Did he tell you this before, or after?” Drusilla asks.

“After,” Dido says. “As he was leaving.”

“That’s a good sign.” Drusilla nods. “That means he was serious. Though you may still need to remind him. Lucius is not used to thinking of other people.” She pushes the platter towards them, waiting until they have taken some food before helping herself. “And if he finds them? What then?”

“I don’t know,” Dido says, looking more uncertain. “It would mean so much just to know they were alive.”

“Would they not buy you back?” Drusilla takes a bite of pear.

Amara looks at Dido, anxious for her. They have discussed this many times. “No,” Dido says. “I don’t believe so. Not when… Not after what I’ve been. There would be no place for me at home now. If I were free, if I had some money saved, then they could overlook it. Save face and pretend. But not when I’m… like this.”

“Does Lucius know?”

“Yes. I told him there was no way back for me.”

“Perhaps it’s as well. Less work for him, and he might actually do you the favour if there’s no chance of drama. Unless he has finally found his romantic side.”

“Were you and Lucius once…?”

“We were lovers once, yes.” Drusilla nods. “For some months. And he sometimes still visits. I have a certain fondness for him. Though I have to be careful with Quintus; he has more pride than you might imagine.” She looks at Amara, raising an eyebrow. “Though not as careful as you. Rufus would not take well to a rival at all .”

“No,” she replies. “But there’s no danger of that.” She looks down, peeling her fig, thinking of Menander. It had been Dido who insisted she stop communicating with him, even through graffiti. She had not had the strength to tell him herself that she now had a ‘patron’ and so took the coward’s way out, letting Dido visit the potter’s shop instead. It hurts even thinking of him. She stops peeling. The fruit lies pale and naked in her hands. She glances up at Drusilla. “Have you and Rufus ever been lovers?”

“Would the answer to that matter to you, one way or the other?”

“No,” Amara replies. “My feelings aren’t…” She pauses, not sure how to explain the way she feels. She shrugs instead.

“Only very briefly,” Drusilla answers. She watches Amara’s reaction. “I see I have upset you.”

“No, not at all,” Amara says, surprised to feel as shaken as she does. “Or rather I’m not jealous. It’s just he told me you hadn’t. He was quite convincing.”

Drusilla laughs. “All men are born liars. You should take it as a compliment. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings. At least he realizes you have some.”

“Does Quintus not?” Dido asks.

“Well,” Drusilla says drily, breaking off a piece of bread and leaning back on her cushions. “I don’t even have to ask if either of you have fucked Quintus. I know you must have. Otherwise, he would be pestering me to try you out.” They all laugh. “He is just as he appears,” she continues. “But it is strange how men can grow on you, even Quintus.”

“Some men never do,” Amara says.

“Your master?” Drusilla asks. Amara nods, not wanting to say his name.

“I don’t know,” Dido teases her. “You and Felix sitting together, going over the accounts. Surely you’ve seen his softer side?”

“He’s a shit ,” Amara snaps. The ugliness of the word slams into their pleasant morning, bringing the shadow of the brothel with it. “I’m sorry,” she says to Drusilla, flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be crude.”

“I’m sure nobody here is shocked by swearing.” Drusilla laughs. “Quintus is also a shit, though I cannot imagine him making me angry enough to say so.” She looks more serious. “But then he is the one paying the money, and believe me, I understand the difference.”

Because she is free, and we are enslaved , Amara thinks. It is easy to forget with Drusilla – she is so welcoming, so friendly, and yet, she is almost as distant as Rufus in the privilege she holds as a freedwoman. Even if she does have to earn her bread the same way they do.

The thought of Felix brings a strain to the gathering where before there was only playfulness. “I suppose we had better head back,” Dido murmurs, after the second awkward pause in conversation.

Drusilla does not press them to stay, though she is gracious in her insistence that they visit again, as if they were real guests rather than ones paid for by the men they accompany. On the threshold of the house, Dido and Amara stand together for a moment, watching life on the street flow past. Then Dido steps down onto the pavement, and Amara follows.

The brothel feels even less like home now Felix has crammed in yet more women. Only Beronice and Victoria have a cell to themselves, after two Spanish dancers moved into Cressa’s cell a week ago. Cressa is sharing with Britannica, and the pair of them see far fewer customers than anyone else. Felix cannot admit it, but Britannica was a terrible investment.

Ipstilla and Telethusa either speak little Latin, or perhaps they simply prefer not to mix. When Amara and Dido walk in, they are laughing loudly, shouting at one another in Spanish, taking up the entire corridor. Fabia tries to sweep the floor around them, but they ignore her, refusing to move their feet.