Pushing her way through the busy street, she mindlessly stepped from stone to stone, aware vaguely of her general direction. She had not considered at length where she was headed to. So far, she had followed an impulse which seemed to be leading her to Publius’ house; it was only when she had travelled nearly half the way there that it struck her that it would be unwise to pay him a visit, given the company of soldiers who had shown up at her door barely an hour before, requesting her audience. She thought back to the fears Publius had confided in her about the Legate investigating the senators under suspicion of loyalty to the fallen dictator; men such as those Publius had entertained in his own home. They had expressed their concerns about being next on the Legate’s list, though despite all their apparent foresight, they had not foreseen that he would choose to approach their women first. Courtesans were notoriously fickle in their allegiances after all; even the best women among them would eagerly sell her loyalty to the highest bidder. Adeia, always the sensible pragmatist, did not deny for a moment that she would do the same.
Given this, it troubled her deeply that, in a moment of uncharacteristic trust in her flighty slave’s advice, she had eluded the rare opportunity which had presented itself at her doorstep earlier this day. How foolish she had been to overlook the benefits of ingratiating herself with the restorers of the Republic!
In her anger, her errant path had taken her past the turn into her usual route through the cattle market to the Palatine. She found herself in a part of the city which she had visited only rarely in the last few years, an area near the Circus Maximus, which was the address to a number of brothels which catered specifically for wealthier clients. It was in one of these that Adeia, newly arrived in Rome, had begun her career. As she ventured into the street which led to her former workplace, she thought that perhaps it would not be unwise to wait out the rest of the day before returning home. In the meantime, she could pay a visit to an old friend.
Lamia had aged in the few years since Adeia had last seen her. The furrow between her brows had deepened, and her haughty smile had etched lines around her mouth, though the formidable brothel-mistress was as impeccably groomed as ever, and not a single white hair showed in her vibrant reddish mane, though this was more to Lamia’s excellent knowledge of the best dyes than to natural preservation. She had been very hospitable to Adeia on hearing of her troubles, and offered her a seat and refreshments.
“My dear, it has been entirely too long! And look how you’ve bloomed as I have withered...I can hardly recognise the skinny little Macedonian girl you were!” Ushering her towards a comfortable seat, Lamia pinched the flesh on the younger woman’s buttocks as she used to once, to gauge how much weight she needed to gain to be more palatable to customers. Adeia felt the complacency of the brothel in her own movements as she allowed herself to be manoeuvred, puppet-like, to her seat.
Adeia took her place, refusing the wine which a handsome young boy offered her on a tray. She felt a stab of discomfort as she watched him recede back down the corridor lined with doors to the cubicles, one of which had once been her own. Trained for an art higher than mere harlotry, her expectations had been dashed when the first step forward in her career had been as a meretrix, rather than a hetaira. But what did Romans know of hetairai? Even Lamia, who claimed to have read the works of the Greeks widely, could not make the distinction. When she had come from Macedon as a soft girl, bearing a letter from her tutor Eidyia that she was to work in the brothel for a year, Lamia had promptly set her to work.
“How has business been?” Adeia asked aloofly, arranging and rearranging her palla, in a way that quietly spoke of her unease.
Lamia smiled like a crocodile. The glint in her bright eyes was mocking. “Excellent! I daresay my house has never been better off, nor my girls ever this plump. But what about you, my sweet one?”
“I do well enough,” Adeia answered quickly. “Though I suffered too at the dictator’s demise. I had many clients in his favour. It is unfortunate but I do hope to rebuild my reputation.”
“I am sure that will come in time,” Lamia assured her, and Adeia perceived that her honeyed tone was layered with genuine pity. “Now tell me: what was it that brought you here?”
Adeia recounted the story in full, while her former mistress listened on intently, her face betraying the same fusion of pity and disapproval as it had when she had first learned that her most valuable girl was leaving the brothel to pursue a ‘career’ of companionship to powerful men.
“...it was my slave who forced me outside from some irrational fear for my safety,” finished Adeia, eyes still fixed on the dim corridor. “I had nowhere better to go, so I came to you.”
Lamia twisted the rings on her fingers thoughtfully. “If you will allow me to be quite frank, my dear child, I will say that I think you made a grave mistake in escaping. Co-operation might have placed you in a very unique position indeed...and this Legate of whom you spoke? If you seek a way back into the respectability, that man may be your only chance.”
Adeia nodded. However bitter Lamia may have been about the parting of their ways, her advice was still as sound as ever. She forced herself to admit that no-one knew the ways of men as well as Lamia did.
“I see that now,” replied the younger woman. “I have resolved to co-operate, should I be offered a second chance.”
“I am glad we agree, my dear. Now, I think the time is ripe to settle a matter which has plagued me for years. I have an apology I wish to offer you.”
Adeia’s face was pure bewilderment. “What ever for?”
“When you came to my house, bearing that letter from Eidyia, about how I was to take you under my wing, I thought it was a terrible imposition on your behalf to have free board and food, with no benefit for me. The letter, Adeia, it gave no instruction that I should make you work as a meretrix as long as you lived with me: those terms I made up on my own, to satisfy my own greed.”
Only a heavy silence followed. Adeia’s face did not move a fraction, blank as marble. Unable to bring forth words, she merely nodded. Lamia reached for her hand; she did not recoil from the touch. Instead, she placed her other hand on Lamia’s in a gentle gesture of forgiveness. “If I was in your position, I would have done the same.”
The words were said easily, and after the crime was forgiven, Adeia was left to ponder on the words she had said last. As she took her leave of Lamia and the brothel, retracing her way past the Circus Maximus, and across the cattle market, she reached the uncomfortable conclusion that she had lied to Lamia when she said she would have done the same. Lamia’s practicality was so great that it transcended moral boundaries; regretfully, Adeia recognised that she could only aspire to such pragmatism: achieving it was altogether beyond her moral limitations.
As she neared her house, however, she drew her thoughts away from Lamia and fixed them to the task that called her attention most urgently. She did not know when, or if, the soldiers would visit her home again, but she could only hope it would be soon
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