David Wishart - Old Bones

'You're coming?' she said.

'Why not? I've nothing better to do.' I nibbled at a crust of bread soaked in olive oil: breakfasts have never been my thing, not the solid variety anyway, and Perilla had broken me of the other kind years ago. 'Besides, bears are my favourite animal. Especially fricasséed with juniper berries. Joke.'

'You're sure, Marcus?' Perilla said.

'Well, maybe not juniper berries. Plum sauce.'

'I'll go and saddle Corydon.' The Princess crammed in the other half of the omelette and raced off.

I watched her go. 'Hell’s teeth! She's taking that brute? I'd kind of thought in terms of Lysias and the coach.'

'We can go with Lysias.' Perilla leaned over and kissed me. 'And Corydon's not a brute. He's really quite sweet when you get to know him.'

Oh, Silenus! Maybe the lady was going soft on me. Still, if Marilla wanted to trust herself to that moth-eaten clothes rack that was her business. 'You, uh, have any other plans for things to do when we get there?' I said cautiously. 'Besides Alexis's bear, I mean?'

'There's a nice old temple of Velchans I'd like to see. The pediment and cult statue are supposed to be quite impressive.'

Yeah, I'd thought as much. There's always a temple. And whoever the hell Velchans was he could keep his bloody pediment as far as I was concerned. 'Is that right, now?'

Perilla was grinning. 'Oh, I'm sure there'll be a wineshop somewhere nearby,' she said. 'We can drop you there and pick you up when we've finished.'

I brightened. A day out with the family's one thing, but sightseeing's another. And making the acquaintance of a new wineshop is always a pleasure.

'Fine,' I said.

'Then of course there's the shrine of Nortia, the sanctuary of Vertumnus, and if we have time….'

I stopped listening. Well, to each his bag. I just hoped the wine was good. I was going to need it.

We saw the bear. I'd been afraid it might be one of those sad buggers with a chain through its nose that street musicians drag around and have a boy prod with a stick to make it dance – Marilla would've hated that – but it was a plump, cheerful little bastard the size of a big dog that was more of a family pet than anything else. The owner let Marilla feed it with lumps of bread soaked in honey, and the kid had the time of her life. Finally, about two hours later, we called it a day, washed them both down with a sponge and a couple of pails of water, and headed off to look for for Perilla's temple.

It wasn't all that far from the harbour, which was all I noticed about the place. I waved Perilla and the Princess goodbye at the steps and left them to their pediments. The lady had been right, as usual: just up the road was a tight little wineshop with a plane tree outside and an interesting collection of wines on the slate. Top of the list was a cut- price Falernian, but remembering Vipena I gave it a miss and settled for a jug of Privernatian, a plate of the local goat's cheese and a bunch of fresh-picked dessert grapes. Good choice: Privernatian's not one of your absolute top wines, but for sitting outside under a plane tree on a hot day watching the world go by you could do a lot worse, especially if it's cellar-cooled and the alternative's a temple. The place's owner was quite an interesting guy, too; he had a cousin who ran a wineshop I'd been into once or twice near the Livian Portico on the slopes of the Esquiline, and we swapped memories of low life in the Subura until my bladder filled up enough to make the trip across the street to the local urinal something I couldn't put off any longer.

I suppose my brain registered the fact that someone had come in behind me, but I didn't pay him any attention: I had most of a jug of wine inside me and besides my nasty suspicious mind was out for the day gathering rosebuds. In the event I was happily adding my contribution to the Pyrgi Launderers' and Dyers' Guild's stocks of mantle-cleaning fluid when the latrine's roof collapsed, smacking me above the right ear, and everything went black.

I woke with a splitting headache and the knowledge that I had major problems. The biggest of these was leaning against the wall next to the only way out, watching me.

'That's him coming round now, boss,' he said over his shoulder without taking his eyes off me.

'Thank you, Baro.' Uh-oh. I knew that voice, sure I did. Well, at least they'd left my hands and feet free. Mind you, the way I felt at that moment I couldn't've fought past a five-year-old kid armed with a rag doll, let alone Big Bad Baro with the lump of seasoned oakwood he was hefting. If that was what he'd hit me with then I was lucky to wake up this side of the Winter Festival.

Baro moved aside and Titus Tolumnius came into the room. With three of us in it the place was looking pretty crowded. I'd guess, from the sacks I'd been propped against, we were in a small storeroom somewhere in the Tolumnius pottery. Which was more bad news, if I'd needed it.

Who the hell had suggested coming to Pyrgi anyway?

'How're you feeling, Corvinus?' Tolumnius asked.

Gods. As far as pointless, inane questions went that one took the nuts.

'You know what can happen to you for belting a five-star Roman purple- striper in a public lavatory, pal?' I said. Or that was what I thought I said; my tongue wasn't working too well either.

He grunted. 'You were warned. Still, if it's any consolation Baro was told to bring you in peaceable.'

'Is that so, now?' I reached up and touched the lump on my head. It was as big as a duck's egg, it hurt like hell, and it felt like a tacky sponge. 'Then we've got a problem here with basic semantics, friend. Or maybe your tame gorilla's a sadistic bastard with serious hearing difficulties. You like to choose, perhaps?'

'Shut it, Roman,' Baro growled.

'I'll handle this, Baro.' Tolumnius sat down on one of the sacks. He hadn't so much as given the other guy a glance. 'You've only yourself to blame, Corvinus. Like I say you were warned. And we had to talk.'

'About the murders of Attus Navius and Titus Clusinus?'

'Sure. Among other things.' Tolumnius leaned back against the wall. 'Baro, get Valerius Corvinus some water.'

Baro shifted. 'But, boss -'

'Do it.' His eyes hadn't left my face. He waited until the big guy had gone. 'Now. You think I was responsible, right?'

'You or your slippery cousin. Sure. Why Clusinus I don't know, but Navius -'

Tolumnius held up a hand. 'I'd nothing to do with Navius's death,' he said. 'Nor as far as I know had Gnaeus. Let's get that clear from the start.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' He was looking at me straight, not smiling. 'Oh, I thought about it, sure. If the boy hadn't died we might've had to make certain arrangements, but in the event it wasn't necessary because someone else made them for us. Clusinus I'd never even heard of. That's part of what I brought you here to say.' The eyes bored into me. They were hard as chips of marble. 'The other part's to tell you one last time to get the hell off my back.'

'You chose a pretty drastic way of fixing up a meeting, friend. And why should I believe you all of a sudden?'

'Corvinus, listen. I'm a businessman, right? Hassle I can do without, and unlike Baro I'm no fool. If it's of any interest to you he wanted to put a knife between your ribs and get my brother to drop you over the side of his boat somewhere between here and Ostia. I could still let him have his way, but I wanted to try negotiation first. If that doesn't work, well, I'll have to think again.' His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. My stomach went cold and I said nothing. 'The four of us have been running this business for quite a few years. We're not greedy, and we don't harm anyone, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to sit back and let it go down the tubes just because some smartass Roman gets a fancy idea into his head and starts making waves. Clear?'