David Wishart - Old Bones

'Yeah? From the financial and sociological angles, eh?' Jupiter! Those were a couple that had slipped past me somehow. 'You care to explain, lady?'

'Certainly.' She straightened a fold in her mantle. 'It's all about property. First, Clusinus's death frees his farm; at least there's a good chance Vesia will sell up, and with the condition the place is in the price won't be high. Second, if Papatius is executed for the murder then his land may be up for sale as well.'

'He's not the owner. Thupeltha is.'

'I know. But Papatius is the actual hands-on farmer of the partnership. Thupeltha would have to bring in a bailiff, and that would eat into her profits as well as being unsatisfactory in other ways. Also, life in Vetuliscum as the widow of a convicted murderer, especially when the victim was a local man, wouldn't be easy. If Papatius does die then personally I won't be surprised if Thupeltha decides to leave the district.'

'She could always stay put and marry again. Knowing that lady, finding another husband wouldn't be a problem.'

'A remarriage wouldn't wipe out the past. And however thick- skinned the woman is or pretends to be she's given rise to enough scandal to make her life here thoroughly unpleasant in future. Don't forget that it's only the threat of Papatius that's kept tongues from wagging publicly so far, and her affairs with both Navius and Clusinus must be common knowledge by now.’

'Fair enough.' I was getting seriously interested. 'Go on.'

'Thirdly, there's the Navius property. Again with both the male members of the family dead continuity is far from assured. And you said yourself that Gaius Aternius is making eyes at Attus Navius's mother.'

I sat back. Long words or not, the lady might have something here: the three properties formed an unbroken line, and together they made up half of Vetuliscum. If Aternius could get the Navius place by marriage and tack the other two on at knockdown prices he'd be the biggest landowner in the area bar none; and with one property producing top-quality wines and a second ready to roll with mass-production, this close to Rome he could clean up.

Was it worth murder, though? Not just once, but two times; three, counting Hilarion (why the hell had that guy died?). Maybe; I didn't know, although if you're going to kill someone you can do a lot worse than get yourself appointed as the officer investigating the case. It would explain why Aternius was so keen to see Larth Papatius chopped, too.

'Well, Marcus?' Perilla was looking at me. 'What do you think? Is it possible?'

I shrugged. 'Anything's possible. Certainly it sounds good, and like you say it's another angle. I might do a little digging when I'm in Caere tomorrow seeing this Aulus Bubo. Go round and talk to Aternius himself, maybe, see if the bastard sweats.'

The chill was back. 'Corvinus, the doctor told you to rest for at least a day. Going to Caere is not resting.'

'These guys always overestimate recuperation time in case the patient dies and the family drop round with hatchets. I'm fine, Perilla. Or I will be after a decent dinner and a good night's sleep.'

'We'll see.'

'Yeah. We will.' I leaned over and kissed her. Actually, I wasn't spinning a line: whatever had been in that boiled boot stuff was working marvels, and my head didn't feel quite like a dozen sadistic-minded elephants were using it as a football any more. Half a dozen, sure, but at least that was an improvement.

Besides, I'd had experience of Perilla's brand of post-op care before. In essence it consisted of strained chicken broth and a total ban on wine, and it was as debilitating as hell. Me, I'd rather have the elephants.

I got my way. By breakfast time next morning the cut wasn't looking nearly so angry and the swelling was down. I could even manage without the bandage. Still, Perilla insisted that I take Lysias and the carriage into Caere, even if it was only a half-hour's walk.

Maybe the carriage was a good idea in any case. The weather was changing, heading for the autumn break. We'd had a scorching few days, but the morning was close and muggy, with thunder rumbling in the hills. It couldn't be long to the rains, and getting caught by a cloudburst out in the open with nowhere to run to would be no joke.

We were rounding the first bend when I caught sight of Larcius Arruns. The guy was on foot, heading the same direction we were. I thumped on the carriage roof for Lysias to pull up and leaned out of the window.

'Hey, Arruns,' I shouted. He turned. 'You headed for Caere?'

'I might be.'

'Want a lift?'

That got me a long slow stare.

'Maybe.'

I grinned. Jupiter! Talk about grudging! 'Fine.' I opened the door. 'Climb aboard.' He did, and Lysias whipped up the horses. 'You get the rest of your ditch cleared without my help?'

'Don't get cocky, Corvinus.' He was scowling. 'You did well enough, but ten days in the country don't make a farmer.'

'Make that nine, pal. And I've counted every joyous hour.'

'Is that so, now?' The scowl cleared. He chuckled and prodded the cushions before settling back against them. 'Nice carriage you have here. First time I've been in one of these things. They're fine for long journeys, but I wouldn't like to use them that often.'

'Me neither.'

We trundled along for a bit in companionable silence. Then Arruns said:

'I hear that you were round at the Caere records office a day or so back.'

I glanced at him sharply. 'That's right, I was. You've got big ears, pal.'

'Maybe, but this time I didn't need them. The boy who looks after it's my grandson Publius. His mother lives near the Fufluns Gate.'

'Uh-huh.' I tried not to let my surprise show; for some reason I'd thought Arruns was a bachelor, but then maybe his wife was dead, like Mamilius's. And if the clerk had been Arruns's grandson it explained why he'd done a double-take when I'd asked to see the bill of sale. 'He's a smart lad.'

'Oh, he is that. A credit to the family. Enjoys his work, too.' He was looking out of the window at the fields we were passing: I've noticed that about farmers, they pay more attention to what's growing on the ground either side of the road they're on than to the person they're talking to. 'So. You were checking up on that vineyard sale.'

There was no point in denying it. 'Sure.'

'And you found out that the man who witnessed it was Quintus Cominius's father. Aternius's grandfather.'

'Yeah.'

He turned back to me. 'I was wondering, after we talked, if you might've thought the vineyard was a reason for me to murder Attus Navius.'

Well, that was direct enough, anyway. 'Were you, now?' I said carefully. 'And why would I do that?'

'You'd have cause. And as far as the vineyard goes you're right, I want it back and always have done. Navius's death has improved my chances. His father's dead, and the family've got no real roots here; old Velthur was the first of them, he moved over from Veii seventy years back. With Attus gone too Sicinia Rufina'll be thinking of selling up and moving into town, maybe even to Rome. I've got a bit put by, and I'd be willing to offer any new owner a fair price for the land. More than a fair price.'

'Why pay good money for something you think is yours already?'

'Because that vineyard's important to me, Corvinus. It's family land, it's always been family land, and it belongs to us. I wouldn't pay a penny to these Navii crooks out of principle, but the money itself doesn't matter. A stranger would be different. Only there's one thing I want you to remember.'

'Yeah? And what's that?' I tried to keep my voice light.

His eyes held mine. 'That I'm no killer. I wouldn't murder anyone just for a piece of land, however badly I wanted it. That stretch of vineyard's waited fifty years already, it can wait a bit longer. We'll have it back eventually, if not me then Publius or his sons or grandsons. The family's got a long memory, and that's what's important. More important than changing the name on a title deed. You understand me?'