David Wishart - Old Bones

'Titus?' Mother said. No response. 'Titus!'

'Mmmaaa!'

Whatever the whacky writing was it'd produced one hell of an effect. The guy's mouth was waggling like a manic sturgeon's and he was the colour of plaster. I hadn't seen him look like this since he'd drunk a quarter pint of fish sauce thinking it was tamarind juice.

Mother was looking as seriously worried as I felt. 'Marcus, do something!' she snapped. 'He's having a seizure! Titus! '

'Mmaaaa!'

I got off the couch, picked up a couple of fingerbowls and threw the contents into Priscus's face. He stopped bleating and blinked at me like a constipated owl.

'Marcus, if you've..!' Mother began.

Priscus waved her down. The water was running off his face onto his mantle, but he ignored it.

'Marcus, my boy, where did you get this?' he said. His voice was quiet and level, not like Priscus's at all.

'Uh, it came out of a tomb,' I said.

'And where is this tomb exactly?'

Gods! For the first time since I'd known him the guy sounded almost rational. It was as if someone had clouted him from behind with a blackjack and he hadn't actually realised it yet. 'I don't know. Somewhere in the Caere cemeteries.'

'I doubt that,' he said. 'I doubt it very much, unless the records have been lost, and that is most unlikely. The bracelet, yes, but not this.'

I felt the first prickle of excitement. 'Yeah? So what does the writing say?'

'It says "I was made for Lars Tarquinius, king of the Romans".'

I didn't take it in at first, in spite of Mother's gasp. Then I did.

No wonder Bubo had built himself a special cellar.

Clusinus had found the tomb of Rome's last king.

I left Nepos's with my head swimming. So; Tarquin the Proud's tomb. I didn't know where it was supposed to be, and nor for a wonder did Priscus, but it sure as hell wasn't Caere, Priscus had been adamant over that. Still, there wasn't any doubt that that was what Clusinus had found, and if the grave goods had hit the black market then illegal operation or not he and Bubo could've written their own ticket: it isn't every day you auction off a king of Rome's dinner service. Sure, I could see Clusinus's reasons for claiming that it was somewhere in the Caere cemetery complex, because anyone trying to pull a fast one on him would have their work cut out finding it before they started; but if it wasn't there after all then where the hell was it? Tombs tend to stick together, and an isolated one was queer as a three-legged cat. Also queer was the fact that no one seemed to have noticed it. Even in death – especially in death – there's such a thing as cutting a social figure. When you go you like to leave something behind somewhere prominent, to remind the passing punters what a rich, powerful, well-respected guy you'd been, and if you're a king that applies in spades. Only this time, obviously, it didn't. Why not? That didn't add up, either.

Another thing was, it had to be close: close enough for Clusinus to get to it in his free time. That was queer too, in a different way; the guy was no farmer, he had free time by the barrow-load. If for some inexplicable reason the tomb was out on its own in the hills somewhere pretending to be a lump of earth then why couldn't he just have foregone the pleasure of hunting hares for a month or so and cleaned it out?

It didn't make sense; none of it.

I was passing the Navius property, where a gang of grape-pickers were at work among the trellised vines by the road. Over to my left, the thunder rumbled in the hills: east, the favourable direction, Vipena would've said. Maybe it was a good omen. I looked up towards the higher ground, behind Vetuliscum. The sky was broken with clouds. Certainly the rain couldn't be long in coming now, and when it did the ditches would have their work cut out. If the pickers on the terraces didn't…

I stopped as if one of the lightning bolts had strayed a couple of miles out of line and fried my brains.

Shit. Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter Best and Greatest…

I knew where the tomb was. Where it had to be. And knowing that, why Navius, Clusinus and Bubo had died. Or at least I knew part of the why.

And of course I knew who had killed them. That bit was simple.

But why Hilarion? And why should the guy bother? It wasn't as though he had a vested interest. Still, he had practically told me; told me himself…

Something was coming towards me. I looked: a mule without a rider, running like the clappers with its tether trailing. My spine went cold.

Oh, gods, no! Not the Princess!

As it came closer I stepped into the middle of the road, yelling and waving. Corydon slowed, bared his teeth, then stopped and backed. I jumped forward, grabbed the bastard's nose-rope and pulled. I'd got him reduced to some semblance of docility, which meant that instead of biting me he was trying to turn round and kick my teeth through the back of my skull, when Marilla came charging up behind, red-faced and out of breath.

'Oh, you've caught him,' she gasped.

I was still shaking. 'You okay?' I said.

She took the nose-rope from me and made gentle cooing noises. The change was amazing: Corydon stopped throwing himself around and stood stock still, grinning. That kid really has a way with animals.

'Of course I am,' she said, looking up. 'Why shouldn't I be?'

'I just thought maybe you might be lying somewhere with your neck broken, that's all.' I tried to keep my voice light. Jupiter! That had been a bad one! 'Nothing important. What happened? He throw you?'

'Corydon wouldn't do that. Would you, dear?' She kissed the bastard's nose and he snickered. 'He just ran away. He does that sometimes.'

'Ran away?'

'I'd stopped for a…' She hesitated. 'I'd tied him to a branch and gone into the bushes for a minute. While I was busy he undid his tether.'

I stared at her. 'He what?'

'Undid his tether. Oh, he's very clever. Aren't you, darling?' She kissed the brute again. Sickening. 'He can unpick knots with his teeth. And of course when I came back he'd gone.'

'Hey, that's…' I stopped. Suddenly everything went very still and clear as the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place.

'That's what?' the Princess said.

'That's quite smart. Very smart indeed.'

'Corvinus, are you all right?'

'Sure.' I fondled Corydon's ears; the bugger looked surprised but he didn't object. Lovely animals, mules. 'Sure. Never better.'

'Only your eyes have gone funny.'

'Yeah, well.' So. That explained why he'd never been claimed or recognised. And because Alexis had touted the brute round all the neighbourhood farms, including Nepos's, it explained why Hilarion had been killed, too…

'Are you on your way home?' She was still looking at me like I'd dropped a few marbles on the road. 'I really think you should be. You don't look well. If you want I can -'

I shook my head. 'No, I'm fine. You can head on there yourself now, though, and tell Perilla I've gone on into Caere on business. I shouldn't be long.'

'Well, if you're sure.' She swung herself up onto Corydon's back and gave me a doubtful look. 'I'll see you later.'

I watched the two of them trot back down the road ahead of me. Then I followed them, past the track up to Flatworm's towards Caere.

There was just one last thing I had to check before I confronted the murderer.

The guy at the stables where I'd hired Flash for the trip to Pyrgi was mucking out. He put down the fork, wiped his hands on his tunic and came over grinning.

'Good morning to you, sir,' he said. 'You want to hire a horse? Fulgor's out at the moment, but -'

'Not today, friend.' No way. I took out my purse. 'You sell mules?'

'Of course. Mules and donkeys.' The grin widened. 'If you'd like to look over the stock I've got one or two that might suit you very well.'