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Hostilius and Acceius are representing him in a court case against his brother.’
    ‘Acceius?’ Perilla said.
    ‘Hostilius’s partner.’ I turned back to Clarus. ‘You know what the case is about?’
    Clarus grinned. ‘If I didn’t I’d be the only one in Castrimoenium.’
    ‘They’re wrangling over old “Lucky” Maecilius’s will,’ Marilla said.
    ‘Happen to know the details?’
    ‘Not as such,’ Clarus said. ‘But the gist of it is that although his elder son got most of the cash old Maecilius left all the land to Fimus.’
    ‘That so, now?’ Well, as a valid reason for litigation you wouldn’t get better, not somewhere like Castrimoenium. In farming districts like Latium they take land very, very seriously, and  there isn’t a surer way to split a family at a death than a spat over how the acres are divided. Besides, Pontius had said there was quite a bit of actual money involved, too, which might well’ve complicated matters. But it raised a question in its own right. If anything, barring a general parcelling-out - and I could see that that’d cause problems of its own - testamentary dispensations usually went the other way, with the property in toto going to the eldest son and the younger ones taking their share of the available cash. Maecilius was a farmer to his boots, he must’ve known a cack-handed arrangement like that would lead to trouble. ‘He have a reason for doing things that way, do you know? Old “Lucky”, I mean?’
    ‘Certainly. Or at least, it makes good practical sense. Fimus’s worked Six Cedars with his father all his life. Bucca’s no farmer, never has been.’
    ‘Bucca? That’s the other son?’ They did like their nicknames, the Castrimoenians: the word means ‘The Mouth’ or ‘Bragger’.
    ‘Yes. He’s got a carting and saddlery business in town. His name’s really Gaius, but Bucca’s what everyone calls him. It fits, too.’
    ‘Not a popular bunny, then?’
    That got a grin. ‘Oh, no.You won’t find many locals who’ve much time for Bucca Maecilius. Nor did his father, for that matter. The general opinion is he was lucky to get as much as he did, and as far as the court case is concerned he hasn’t got a hope in hell.’
    ‘Why do you think Hostilius’d call -?’ I began, but I was interrupted by the sight of Marcia and Hyperion coming from the direction of the study with Quintus Libanius in tow. ‘Never mind, we’ll pick up on that one later.’
    ‘Ah, Valerius Corvinus, you’re here.’ Libanius came across, hand outstretched, and I stood up. ‘A pleasure to see you again.’
    ‘Likewise. How are you, Libanius?’ We shook.
    ‘Hello, Marcus.’ Marcia lowered herself carefully onto her usual stool and straightened a fold of her mantle. She looked old, even older than she usually did; but maybe that was just me noticing it more. ‘Now. Hyperion and I have discussed the situation with Quintus and he fully understands the position.’
    ‘Absolutely,’ Libanius said. He had that glazed, punch-drunk look about him that being on the receiving end of one of Marcia’s discussions leaves you with. ‘Hyperion’s quite right, Corvinus, the matter ought to be investigated. Consequently I’d be grateful for any help you can give.’ He paused. ‘However, there is the major problem of a formal charge. I’ve told the Lady Marcia that as representative of the town authorities I’m more than willing to provide you with authorisation for an investigation, but –’
    He stopped. The guy looked unhappy, and I didn’t blame him. Yeah, that aspect of things had been worrying me too. Hell!
    ‘But Hostilius’s death wasn’t obvious murder.’ I filled in what he hadn’t said. ‘No obvious murder, no excuse for a public enquiry, certainly not without the family’s permission. Meaning, in this case, the guy’s wife. And if - what’s her name; Veturina? - doesn’t give it, and why should she because she’d be a prime suspect if not the actual