Old Bones (Marcus Corvinus Book 5)

by David Wishart

  'You're up early, Corvinus,' Mamilius said.

  'Yeah.' I picked up an apple from the blanket. It was as big as my fist, evenly-shaped, and the peel was unmarked. I thought of the scraggy spotted abortions that I'd seen hanging on Clusinus's trees. 'Good quality.'

  He nodded. There was a stiffness in the movement that had nothing to do with age. 'The best,' he said proudly. 'I may not be a wine grower but apples're another thing altogether. Go ahead, have a bite.' I bit; the apple was firm-fleshed and juicy. 'That's a Matian. I've Appians, too, grafted on quinces, but these're the real sellers. They store well, too.' He paused and looked away at Decimus. 'You've come about the business with the horse, right?'

  'Yeah,' I said quietly. 'You're a smart man, Mamilius.'

  He shrugged and turned. 'Fine. We'll talk inside.' Then, to the slaves: 'Carry on, lads. I'll be back later.'

  We walked to the house in silence. He pushed open the back door and led the way in, down a short corridor and into a small kitchen. I'd expected the place to be untidy at the least, but everything gleamed like a new pin. No dust, no grime, not so much as a dirty plate in the sink. Vesia couldn't've done better.

  Mamilius had seen me looking. 'I do the cleaning myself,' he said. 'Since my granddaughter died. There's a woman comes in to collect the washing once a week, but we manage well enough otherwise, Decimus and me.' He lifted the napkin from a jug on the table and poured wine into two cups. 'So. Sit down, make yourself comfortable. You want to start or will I?'

  I sat on the bench that ran the length of the rough wooden table.

  'Your son was responsible for the death of Navius's father, right?' I said.

  Mamilius had sat down facing me. He nodded, slowly, his eyes on mine.

  'Yes,' he said.

  'Was it an accident?'

  'Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?'

  'I might.' I took a sip of the wine. 'You want to tell me the whole story?'

  'There isn't much to tell.' He was turning his own cup round and round in his gnarled hands. 'Not as far as what happened goes, anyway.'

  'Just start at the beginning, go through the middle and stop at the end. That'll do me fine.'

  Mamilius's lips twisted, but he didn't smile. 'It was just over a year ago. Decimus, me and the lads, we were over in the corner field cutting wheat. Decimus was at the end of the line nearest the road. I saw Gaius Navius ride past. When he gets level with us I see Decimus suddenly drop his sickle and run at Navius waving his arms.'

  'Like he did with me up at the irrigation pond?'

  'Just like that. We don't have many horses round here. Maybe that's what put it into his mind.' His lips twisted again. 'Into whatever passes for his mind. In Vetuliscum most of us ride mules, or we just walk and use donkeys to carry stuff. Horses are for the nobs. No offence.'

  'No offence. Gaius Navius considered himself a nob?'

  'Gaius Navius,' Mamilius said carefully, 'would've ridden a fucking camel bareback if he thought it made him look good. He'd be about as competent on it, what's more.'

  'Navius wasn't a rider?'

  The old guy chuckled. 'He was what my cavalry mates used to call a tin-arse, Corvinus. That was what killed the bastard. The horse shied and threw him. Me and the lads ran over, but he was out cold so we carted him home on a hurdle.'

  'And you didn't give his wife the full details, right?'

  'Would you?' I said nothing. 'No. I just told her he'd had a fall and we'd found him lying on the road. We were lucky there were no other witnesses and he never woke up.' Mamilius was watching me levelly. 'That's all there is, the full story. If you want to call it murder instead of accident you can go ahead. Decimus wouldn't understand the difference anyway.'

  'Uh-huh.' I took a swallow of wine. 'The obvious question is, why did he go for Navius in the first place?'

  Mamilius was silent for a long time. Then he said: 'I told you he thought the world of his mother?'

  'Yeah. You told me that.'

  'He thought the world of Mamilia as well. The lad's always been good with young animals. He'll nurse a sick lamb or a kid you or me'd give up on, and nine times out of ten he'll pull them through. Trouble is, after that they're safe from the cookpot. To Decimus, Mamilia was just like one of his other foundlings. When she first came he was the one who looked after her, and he did it better than I could've done. He loved her, Corvinus. It nearly killed him when she died. And he knew why she died, too.'

  'Because of Attus Navius?'

  Mamilius nodded. 'After the...when she fell pregnant I went round to arrange the wedding with the boy's father. The bastard threw me out.'

  'And Attus?'

  'He wasn't there. His parents'd sent him down to their fancy relations in Pompeii.' Mamilius took a mouthful of wine and reached for the jug. 'Not that he kicked up much of a fuss about leaving. They were a pair, these two, father and son, both stuck-up bastards. Decimus knew what was going on. He may be slow, but he's no fool, not in that way. When Mamilia's time came and she died I had to keep him tied up for a month. And I warned Gaius Navius never to let his son come anywhere near our land when Decimus was around or –' He stopped.

  'Or Decimus might kill him,' I said softly. 'Right. Did he?'

  Mamilius didn't answer at once. He was staring into his wine cup. 'I don't know,' he said finally. 'I don't know, and that's the gods' truth. Usually Decimus is with me, or with the lads. They're family, they keep an eye on him as well.' He drank and refilled the cup; he still wasn't looking at me. I didn't say anything, just waited. 'The day Attus Navius died I was going round the farm checking on ditches. The lads were over in the far field burning the wheat stubble, but Decimus'd got a nail in his foot a few days before and he was resting it up, pottering round the house. I didn't see him until I got back.'

  Shit. So that particular end was still flapping around loose. Navius, I knew from the talk with Thupeltha, had been working among the vines in the stretch near the road. If Decimus had come out the front door and caught sight of the guy, he could've followed him and committed the murder. That scenario left a few holes, sure – like why the Gruesomes hadn't seen him pass, and why he'd left it until Navius was up Clusinus's track – but it was still within the bounds of possibility.

  Mamilius obviously thought so too. He sank the new cupful and reached for the jug again.

  'You know the worst thing about all this?' he said softly.

  'No.'

  'It's that Decimus could've killed the bastard without knowing what he was doing.' He raised his eyes to mine. 'Me, I'd've enjoyed every fucking moment of it, even if it meant I'd die myself. If Decimus is your murderer, Corvinus, then I envy him.'

  He wasn't kidding, either. Maybe Decimus wasn't the only mad one in the family. The hairs rose on my scalp.

  I stood up.

  'Yeah, right,' I said. 'Thanks for the wine, pal. And the apple. I'll see you around.'

  He didn't look up as I left.

  23.

  I walked the short distance to Vipena's place. There was no sign of the Gruesomes, but the foreman Baro was hanging about the yard and I gave him a wave. I noticed that when he saw me he glanced round at a couple of slaves plaiting panniers, and he came over slow and careful, like he'd half a mind to throw me out and see how far I bounced. Which, when you thought about it, was interesting. We might be a fair way from Pyrgi, but I'd risk a pretty hefty bet that someone had made the trip already.

  'Vipena at home this morning, pal?' I said.

  'Maybe.' Baro was scowling.

  'All of that, right? You think I could see him, perhaps?'

  His scowl didn't lift. 'The boss is busy. We all are. We've a business to run.'

  'So I notice.' I wished I'd brought my knife. The guy probably wouldn't try anything but you never know with those obvious in-your-face types. If looks could kill then I'd've been rissole. 'I've been having words with one of the partners, as it happens. Your boss's cousin Titus Tolumnius.'

  He grunted; no sur
prise, just pure dislike. That made sense, too. 'Okay,' he said. 'Vipena's inside. Find your own way.'

  How to win friends and influence people. I went across the yard to the farmhouse entrance. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Baro make a hand-sign to the basket-plaiters before tagging along.

  Vipena was in the wine-fermenting court where I'd last seen him, counting jars. He looked up when I came in. His face went grey, and he dropped the tablets.

  'Valerius Corvinus.' He tried a smile that didn't work: the guy was scared stiff, and it showed. 'I'm sorry, but I've too much on today to socialise. Some other time, perhaps.' He bent down and picked the notebook up.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Baro was there, but he'd stopped at the door. He was leaning against the jamb with his arms folded, watching. I got the distinct impression Vipena wasn't too happy about that, either. His eyes flicked behind me, following mine, then away.

  'That's okay,' I said. 'I'll keep it short.'

  Vipena didn't answer, but I could almost feel him shrivel. He tried another smile. 'Baro,' he said, 'Corvinus and I have to talk. Go and make sure everything's in hand for the picking this afternoon.'

  The foreman didn't move. I turned to face him fully. 'You've got your orders, sunshine,' I said quietly. 'Why don't you do as you're told like a good little slave?'

  It was a close-run thing. Our eyes locked for a good five seconds before the guy straightened, spat sideways and ambled off the way we'd come. When he'd gone I turned back to Vipena. His face was the colour of dirty flour, and the muscle in his right cheek was twitching.

  'I don't want to butt in on your staff relations, friend,' I said, 'but where I come from that's called insolence.'

  'Oh, Baro means no disrespect, either to you or to myself.' Vipena tried to tuck his pen behind his ear and missed. The pen fell and he ignored it. 'He simply takes his job very seriously.'

  'His job? And what would that be exactly, now?'

  Instead of answering Vipena turned away. 'So, Valerius Corvinus,' he said. 'What can I do for you?'

  I walked over to the pile of wine jars. Vipena's eyes followed me like an anxious dog's.

  'I've just been talking to a cousin of yours in Pyrgi.' I brushed the topmost jar with my finger. 'The guy who made these for you. We had a very interesting conversation. About potter's marks.'

  'Indeed?' If Vipena's face had been grey before, now you could've used it for a dish-rag.

  'Yeah.' I gave him my best smile. 'It turned out he'd made a slight mistake with the stamp he'd used, put HOLC on them instead of TOL. Strange, right? And I couldn't help noticing that you'd corrected it. As far as it could be corrected, naturally, once the jars were fired.' I waited. Silence. 'Two things puzzled me about that. First, why the foul-up in the first place? And second, why take the trouble to fix things?'

  'Corvinus...'

  I ignored him. 'Of course, to a suspicious-minded bastard like me the explanation for the original mistake was simple enough. Publius Holconius is a big Falernian shipper. Fill jars labelled with his mark with heat-aged wine and you can sell them at twice the going rate for Caeretan easy, if the punters're either too stupid or too crooked to care what's inside. A wine grower who was less than scrupulous could make a packet on a scam like that, especially if he's got the distribution angle sewn up as well through a second partner in the shipping trade. Such as Titus's brother Gaius.' Silence. 'The snag is, Holconius turns out to be the uncle of a certain Attus Navius who's the wine grower's neighbour and who supplies the Navius family. So when Navius accidentally stumbles across a whacky version of his uncle's wine he's going to know it for what it is, and being family he'll take the trouble to find out where it came from. And when he gets his answer he isn't going to be too pleased.' I paused. 'How am I doing so far?'

  Vipena's face was ashen. 'Corvinus, I swear to you by all the gods that I had nothing to do with–'

  'No one's accusing you yet, friend. You'll get your say in a moment. Just let me finish.' I leaned against the pile of jars. 'So. Navius discovers that you and your two cousins are operating a wine scam. He could blow the whistle on you, but he doesn't because crook and hypocrite though you are you're also a neighbour of good standing locally and the kid's got scruples. Instead, he calls round to discuss the problem in private. The result is a deal: he'll keep his mouth shut but in exchange the scam stops there and then, and it stays stopped. As a pledge of good faith he insists you change the marks on the jars. Now. Do I win the nuts or not?'

  'Changing the marks was my idea, not his.' Vipena's voice was so low I had difficulty hearing him. 'And if it's worth anything I was glad he'd found out.'

  'Is that so, now? And would that go for your partners as well?'

  There was a long silence. Finally Vipena said:

  'I wasn't in touch with Gaius – he's away at the moment on business in Rome – but I discussed it with Titus. We...came to an agreement.'

  'Which was?'

  'I told him that I was no longer willing to continue with the scheme. Just that. Gaius could dispose of the current stocks – he has a warehouse near the harbour – but I intended to sell the wine from this year's pressing and all future harvests legitimately, under a Caeretan label.'

  'And how did Cousin Titus take that?'

  'He had no choice but to agree. As you say, if we'd carried on with the scheme Navius would have reported us to the authorities. It was profitable while it lasted, and it did no one any real harm.'

  'Except for Holconius.'

  'Not even him. The buyers weren't fooled. They knew that what they were getting wasn't real Falernian, not at the price we were selling. And if you think about it we were providing a service. The Falernian vineyards are far too small to supply the demands of the market as it is, and because we only sold to second-rate wineshops Holconius's trade wasn't really affected.'

  Justifications, now: maybe confession was good for the soul after all, because the guy was easing off. He even looked more relaxed. It was time to go for the jugular.

  'You're sure your cousin agreed?' I said quietly. 'About pulling the plug on the scam?'

  'What else could he do?' Vipena gave a tight smile. 'Like I say, he had no choice.'

  'Except with Navius out of the picture there wouldn't be a need any more. Would there?'

  I was watching closely for the reaction, and I got it. Scratch relaxed: the guy gave me a look that was pure terror.

  'I told you, I had nothing to do with...' he began.

  'The grape pickers've arrived, sir.' I turned round. Baro was back, slouched against the door post.

  'What?' Vipena was gazing at him blankly like he was a lifebelt that someone had thrown. Or maybe a cruising crocodile, I wasn't sure which.

  'The squad from Caere. For the first picking.' The foreman's eyes were boring into me like bradawls. 'You wanted to talk to them.'

  Vipena shook himself. 'Yes,' he said. 'You'll excuse me, Corvinus. We'll talk later.'

  'Now just hang on, there, pal!' I stepped forwards. 'Your grape-pickers can –'

  A hand gripped my shoulder. Jupiter, the guy was fast! I hadn't even seen him move!

  'The master's got other business,' Baro said. 'He wants you to leave. Now.' The grip tightened and pulled me round slowly. I looked over his shoulder and saw the basket-plaiters waiting in the background like a heavy Greek chorus.

  There wasn't much I could do. I shrugged and unprised the fingers one by one.

  'Okay,' I said. I glanced back at Vipena. His face was a white mask. 'But I'll be back. And the next time the conversation won't be so friendly. You understand me?'

  'The choice is yours, Roman.' Baro stepped aside. 'Only if I was you I'd think very, very carefully before you make it.'

  They were watching me when I left, all four of them. Only I had the impression that Vipena's eyes held a touch of desperation.

  24.

  I shook the dust of Vipena's place off my sandals and headed up the road towards the fork and Clusinus's farm
. What had been Clusinus's farm. That little interview had been interesting, and not just because it confirmed a theory. Now I reckoned we could take things further.

  Okay. Scenario. Vipena, Titus Tolumnius and his brother Gaius ditto are running a profitable wine scam, with Vipena the weak link. Attus Navius rumbles them and calls round at Vipena's threatening to blow the whistle unless the partners mend their evil ways forthwith, whereupon Vipena caves in and agrees. He goes to Cousin Titus and tells him the whole sad story. Titus lets the guy cry on his shoulder and then sends him home with a promise to lead a reformed life from that day forward.

  So far so good, and if you believed Vipena that'd been the end of it; only having met Titus Tolumnius I'd bet a gold piece to a poke in the eye that it hadn't been. So. Now comes the twist. Tolumnius has plans of his own. Unlike Vipena the guy's no cream bun, and he decides to solve the problem at source. Without consulting Vipena he tells the foreman Baro who's his plant down on the farm to zero Navius, which Baro does. As a result, Vipena is in the shit up to his eyebrows with nowhere to go but down. He's the one on the spot, his quarrel with the dead man is on record and he's got a prime motive. Worse, his cousin the tough cookie is putting on the screws through Baro. If Vipena does feel the urge to blab then the odds are that either he'll be for the noose himself or before he has the chance to tell what he knows his minder will send him the same way as Navius and whistle through his teeth while he does it. Result: Vipena's caught between the rock and the proverbial hard place without even room to squeeze.