David Wishart - Old Bones

'Hey, Corvinus!' he said. 'Out for a stroll?'

'Yeah.' I went over. 'How's it going, pal?'

He put down the pitch brush and wiped the worst of the muck off his hands with a scrap of rag. 'Time for a cup of wine?'

There are gods after all, and sometimes they listen. 'Sure,' I said.

'Good. I could do with a break. This is my son Decimus. Say hello to Marcus Corvinus, Decimus. Nicely, now.'

The other guy – he was fifty, easy, but built like a barn door – raised his eyes from the jar he was working on and the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

'Urrrgguu,' he said, and held out a hand like a tile.

It took all the nerve I had to take it and give it the shake he was waiting for. 'Uh, hi, Decimus,' I said. 'Doing all right?'

No answer. I reckoned Decimus had given his all already.

'We'll go up to the terrace.' Mamilius threw down the rag. 'You manage on your own for a bit, lad?'

The guy turned back to the pitch bucket. I followed Mamilius up the terrace steps.

'Sit yourself down, Corvinus,' he said. 'I'll bring the jug.'

'Fine.' There were two rickety basketwork chairs next to a plank table. I pulled one up and sat on it.

Mamilius came back with a plate of sliced cheese, a wine jug and two cups. 'It's not Papatius's, but it's drinkable,' he said. 'The cheese is mine as well. I keep some sheep up in the hills.' He poured. 'Your health.'

'Health.' I took a swallow. He was right: Papatius's had it beat six ways from nothing, but it was a good swigging wine. And like I said it came as the answer to a prayer. The cheese was good, too.

Mamilius lowered himself into the other chair, slowly: the old bugger might be fit as a flea and tough as boiled leather, but he was still ninety or as close as dammit and I'd bet he didn't bend as well as he used to. 'So,' he said. 'How's the investigation coming?'

'They've arrested Papatius.'

He gave me a sharp look. 'They've done what ?'

'Less than an hour ago. Nothing to do with me. A guy called Gaius Aternius.'

'The lawyer? Quintus Cominius's nephew?' Mamilius's lips twisted and he spat.

I grinned. Mamilius clearly didn't have much time for Smooth-Chops either. 'You don't think Papatius did it?'

He picked up his wine cup and put it to his lips. The Adam's-apple bobbed up and down in his scrawny throat. Finally he put down the empty cup, wiped his mouth and reached for the jug. 'I know nothing about anything,' he said, 'but for what it's worth I don't think the killer was Larth Papatius. Especially with that doctor friend of your stepfather's dead.'

'You heard about that?'

'The whole of Vetuliscum knew an hour after the body was found. Aye, I heard about it.'

'Okay. So if not Papatius then who?'

Mamilius shrugged. 'Jupiter knows, and personally I couldn't care less. When you get to my age death isn't so important any more.'

Yeah, well, I supposed he had a point. He had to be less than a shuffle away from the urn himself, and legionary First Spears aren't exactly renowned for their sensitivity. We sat in silence drinking our wine.

Finally he nodded towards the yard.

'He's a good lad, Decimus,' he said. 'Slow, of course, but he's willing and he does what he's told. His mother died twenty-seven years back this Winter Festival. He idolised her.'

'Yeah?' I looked down at Decimus. The guy was heaving the heavy wine jars around like they weighed nothing at all, and my balls shrank. Slow . Not the word I'd've used, but he was the old bugger's son, after all. Insanity's the one thing I can't take. If I ever go that way myself I hope they'll have the grace to slit my wrists. 'He the only one you've got?'

Mamilius hesitated, then picked up the wine jug and refilled our winecups. 'I had a granddaughter,' he said. 'Not Decimus's; she belonged to my other son, Sextus. He was an optio with my old legion in Germany.'

'Is that right, now?'

'He was married to a local girl. Not officially, of course, you can't do that in the Eagles, but that was what it amounted to.' He emptied his cup and poured again. I didn't say a word. 'They caught the fever, both of them, and died of it. Mamilia survived. She was eighteen months. That was sixteen years ago.' Cup, mouth, jug. He wasn't looking at me now; he could've been talking to himself. I didn't dare breathe. 'She'd nowhere else to go so she came here. Lived here with Decimus and me until just under two years back. Then she died.' He sank half the cupful of wine and topped it up again, then sat staring blankly into space. I waited. 'You asked me about Attus Navius, Corvinus. I'll tell you. I hope the bastard's frying in hell.'

I left Mamilius drinking his way down the jug -not that it seemed to be having much effect on him – and carried on up the road towards Arruns's turnoff. Shit, this was getting complicated. For a guy only just turned twenty Attus Navius had had a real talent for making enemies. Mamilius hadn't said how his granddaughter had died, but from what I knew already of the lad's reputation I could make a good guess. I just wondered what little goodies Larcius Arruns had in store for me. If I was really unlucky he'd admit to harbouring deep, implacable feelings of hatred towards the kid ever since he'd caught him apple-scrumping.

I spotted Arruns almost straight off. He was fifty yards over to the left of the track at the edge of a field of cabbages, waist-deep in a ditch and hacking away with a spade. I went on over. He glanced up, then put his head back down and carried on with what he was doing.

'Excuse me, Granddad,' I said when it was rapidly becoming clear that a view of his bald patch was all the guy was going to give me. 'Your name Larcius Arruns?'

The man's chin came up. He lowered the spade slowly and stood glaring.

'Who wants to know?' he said.

I'd expected a hick accent, but there were good vowels there. I remembered what Nepos had said about the guy coming from an old family. He wasn't as ancient as Mamilius, nowhere near, but he was no chicken all the same: I'd guess sixty, sixty-five. And he'd been a strong man in his day. The muscles and sinews on his naked chest and arms stood out like cords.

'The name's Corvinus,' I said. 'Marcus Valerius Corvinus. I'm staying at Gnaeus Lentulus's place down the Caere road.'

Arruns cleared his throat and spat into the ditch. 'So,' he said. 'Another Roman. Why can't you bastards all just go to hell where you belong and leave us in peace?'

Jupiter on wheels! 'Uh, yeah.' I stepped back a pace. 'Right.' And I love you too, sunshine, I thought. Well, I could see already what Nepos had meant. Friendly, welcoming and accommodating were three things this bugger wasn't. 'My mother and stepfather are staying with your neighbour Licinius Nepos.'

Arruns's brows went down. 'Neighbour? He's no neighbour of mine.' He looked away and jabbed savagely with the spade at the earth in the bottom of the ditch. 'The man's a damned parvenu. He's only been here five minutes and he's telling me I can't use my own bloody water. Romans!' He straightened suddenly and pitched the shovelful of dirt over the side of the ditch. Half of it landed on my sandals; no accident, either.

This was going to be a tough one. Still, there was no point putting things off. 'I don't suppose you'd maybe consider taking a break and talking to me for a bit, sir?' I said in my politest voice. 'About Attus Navius?'

The spade paused in mid stroke and Arruns looked up sharply.

'Navius? What's your business with Navius?'

'My stepfather found his body. I'm, ah, investigating the death.'

'Are you, now?' He gave me a long considering look. You could've used the set of his mouth to pick locks with, but I thought I could see a faint twinkle in his eye. 'All right. Ask away. But I've got work to do. These ditches don't clear themselves and the rains're coming. There's a mattock over there; give me a hand and I'll talk all you like. Deal?'