David Wishart - Old Bones

'Yeah.' I got up and took a silver piece out of my purse to pay for the wine. 'Well, it doesn't matter. I'd best be getting back. Thanks for the information.'

'You're welcome. Any time.'

The Gruesomes weren't in evidence when I rode past. Maybe it was just as well: I doubted if they would've taken too kindly to a strange man trespassing on their virgin modesty. This was a job for Perilla, or maybe for both of us, since I might want to follow up that one question with others. We could sort of drop by by accident tomorrow.

Meanwhile I had a lot to think about. Like for example what Mamilius had been very careful not to say about Attus Navius.

Perilla was still on the terrace with Aulus Caecina when I got back, but she rolled him up when she saw me and lifted her mouth for the traditional welcome-home smacker. Bathyllus was hovering with the wine tray as per standing orders. I sat down and let him pour me a belt of Flatworm's best.

'Well?' Perilla said.

I gave her the basic run-down.

'What on earth did he think he was doing?' she said when I'd finished. 'The silly, silly man!'

'That's our Priscus.' I downed a swallow of the Caeretan. 'The guy ought to wear ear plugs to stop the wind blowing through.'

'So what can we do?'

'Find the real killer. Oh, sure, the chances are when the case comes to court the jury'll take one look at the poor old bugger and throw it out the window, but if they don't then Priscus could be in real trouble. On the other hand if I can give them the guy who did it neatly parcelled up with a bow round him then we're laughing.'

'Corvinus, we are on holiday! I am not going to sit at home twiddling my thumbs while you go traipsing around digging the dirt. Let alone wash the blood off you when you get your silly head bashed in for being, to use your own expression, a smartass.'

I was shocked. You don't expect language like that from respectable Roman matrons, certainly not when they've got Perilla's wide vocabulary.

'Uh, yeah,' I said. 'Well, actually -'

'And what about Marilla? The poor girl's tucked away most of the time in the Alban hills. When she goes on holiday she expects a bit of excitement.'

I tried not to grin. The Princess loved it up at Perilla's Aunt Marcia's with the sheep and the chickens; it was why we'd left her there instead of dragging her off to Athens after we'd adopted her, and although Marcia would've surrendered her without a murmur losing the kid would've hit the old girl hard.

'Yeah,' I said. 'All those tombs. And I hear the smart set in Rome are coming to Caere this year instead of going to boring old Baiae. In fact, they say that the Wart's travelling up specially from Capri for the annual cheese-rolling festival.'

'There is no such thing as an annual cheese-rolling festival!'

'There is now. As of this year. That and goat-pitching. The local Caeretan Committee for the Propagation of Tourism's reviving all the traditional Etruscan sports. King Porsenna of Clusium was the Etruscan League's all-comers' goat-pitching champion five years running. Your pal Caecina didn't mention that?'

'Corvinus -' Perilla's lips were beginning to tremble.

'Then there's Guess How Many Hedgehogs in the Amphora, the five-a-side Pass-the-Bean, Juggling the Marrow and Sausage,…'

'Marcus, stop it!'

'…the Wives of the Committee of Ten Freestyle Naked Mud-wrestling, the launderers' guild's Spot the False Nose Competition, the…'

'Marcus!'

'…fluteplayers' Eat All the Doughnuts You Can Manage In One Breath, and finally the Mule and Monkey Hundred Yard Hurdles. Yeah. You're quite right, Perilla. Maybe the kid would miss out.'

'What's the Mule and Monkey Hundred Yard Hurdles?'

I turned round. Marilla had come out onto the terrace with Corydon in tow.

'Oh, hi, Bright-Eyes,' I said, ignoring Perilla creased up in the other chair. 'Sorry. Joke. I thought Alexis was getting rid of that moth-eaten couch cover.'

'He hasn't found the owner yet.' Marilla helped herself to a handful of early grapes from the bowl on the table and fed half of them to Corydon. 'Who did Priscus kill?'

'A guy called Attus Navius. Only he didn't.'

She looked disappointed. 'There was no murder after all?'

'No. There was a murder all right. But Priscus didn't do it.'

'Then who did?'

'I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out.' I glanced at Perilla. She'd stopped hugging her ribs and she was a better colour. Also she wasn't grouchy any more. 'We.'

'"We"?' Perilla said.

'Yeah.' I took a fortifying swig of wine. 'That's what I was going to say before you sidetracked me, lady. Hold the thumb-twiddling. I need your social skills to butter up a couple of elderly spinsters tomorrow. You think you can manage that?'

'I don't know. I might if I were given a good enough reason.'

Yeah, well; that was fair. I told her about the roads difficulty. 'If Ramutha and Tanaquil didn't see Navius then it doesn't prove anything, one way or the other. But if they did then the odds are he was headed for Clusinus's place as such, or at least had business on the guy's property. And the combination of his reputation for a roving eye, the honey I saw with the basket and Clusinus being off hunting is too good to pass up.'

'You said Mamilius discounted that possibility.'

'Yeah.' I topped the cup up from the jug. 'But I wouldn't necessarily take what that old guy said as hard fact. Oh, he wasn't lying, but where this Vesia's concerned he obviously has stars in his eyes. It happens more often than you'd think with these regular army types, boiled leather slit-your-throat-if-you-cross-them one minute, soft as Suburan grandmothers the next. And he didn't like young Navius at all.'

'What makes you think that?'

'Nothing specific. He didn't actually say anything bad about the guy, but I'd bet a barrel of fish sauce to a corn plaster he was holding himself in. In fact for all the impression he gave of being ready and eager to spill the local beans when it came to it old Mamilius was pretty tight-mouthed.' I took another swallow of wine. 'Ah, hell. Leave it for the moment. What time's dinner?'

'Early. I thought we'd have it out here. Meton's making a hare and squash casserole.'

'Great.' I looked at Marilla, who was feeding more grapes to her pal the mule. The bastard was being good as gold at present, but I didn't trust him an inch. 'Alexis struck out, you say, Bright-Eyes?'

'He's been trying all afternoon, asking round the local farms, but no one he's talked to so far knows anything about it.' She stroked Corydon's neck while he tucked into our cream-of-the-crop dessert. 'Can't we keep him if he isn't claimed? He wouldn't be any trouble.'

Gods alive. One look at the set of the bugger's ears and the permanent sneer on his face would be enough to convince any reasonable person just how valid that prediction was. But then where animals were concerned the Princess wasn't a reasonable person. Corydon could've been guilty of the muline equivalent of first-degree sacrilege, multiple murder and five separate counts of grand larceny and in her eyes he'd still be a snow-white innocent. Sure, if he kept at it then Alexis would come up trumps eventually, but there was a big stretch of country out there, and it was filled to bursting with small farms, especially the flat land between us and the coast. If Corydon was a real stray we could be talking long term, and I had a sneaking suspicion that that would be bad news. I felt like the guy in the story that the king gave an elephant to and who couldn't get rid of it.

The Princess was still looking at me. I swallowed and put my best judgment aside. 'Yeah, well,' I said. 'Give it two days. Tomorrow and the next. If Alexis still hasn't had any luck then subject to later developments I reckon we'll've done all we could. Deal?'