They were old stones, the stones that buried Leporino, the boundary markers of a rustic edifice or a low wall. They might have tumbled down the ravine under the weight of last winter’s snow, or at an unlucky push.
(Written for cygnes and the prompt: the secret history au where it's a jacobean revenge tragedy.)
You can't say this fandom doesn't have it all, genre fusion-wise --sibling incest, weird scholars, preposterous murder, Classical allusions. There's escalating revenge gambits and everybody probably ends up murdering each other with poisoned editions of the Republic or something. Here's one piece, anyway.