Water fanned out in concentric circles, rippling around him. His lips curved into a smile and the humidity of the evening that had clung to him lapped away with the little waves. Torchlight studded the imported flora of the garden and the theme of the party illuminated by it was cause for costume just as exotic. Zebras, lions, monkeys, and other equally unlikely creatures cavorted in clusters and stole kisses under the boughs of oak and chestnut. The yew and boxwood trees that lined the most intimate pathways were festooned with garlands and the flowers that dripped from the arches to leave a petal-strewn path beneath the feet of the festive guests.
It was amongst these mischievous and colourful figures that Giscard de Veyrac found himself reveling. He had been pleased to receive an invitation from Count Alexandre to celebrate amongst the most famed and enviable of the nobility. His pleasant features and youthful strength making him a welcome addition and easy favourite amongst the other attendees. They had gathered from every corner of the region to spill as freely as fragrant blooms through the estate, seeming to flow everywhere about the grounds at all hours in the same manner as the wines that stained their lips flowed from their generous host.
The party, which had been meant to last only one night and incorporate a viewing of what they were given to understand was a rare occurrence of celestial storm, had stretched into what was now its third night. The predilections of the count's guests grew progressively more venturesome as the time passed. Their bawdy and bright laughter, dancing, and other merriments were the stuff upon which their monarch thrived. Some rumours even said the prince himself had come to join the festivities in secret, enraptured by the charms of the count's eldest daughter, Emeline.
It was to take a breath from the ceaseless luxury and mischief that de Veyrac had come to the gardens to clear his mind and found the rolicking menagerie still actively stalking through the grounds. With a laugh to himself he had unbuttoned himself from his coat and left it draped at the edge of the fountain, gazing into the eyes of the marbled mosaic mermaids that swam beneath the waters. He dipped his fingers into it and splashed his face, standing as a rustling caught his attention. A nude gazelle broke across the garden path and ran through two potted tropical plants in her escape from a tiger in nearly the same state of undress.
Blinking and startled for a moment, Giscard laughed. Touching a hand to his temple as a wave of dizziness passed over him, he wondered if his wine-addled brain had imagined the scene. Reaching to collect his coat, he sighed at the sudden peace amidst the revels. He blew a kiss to the mermaid gazing down on him from her commanding position at the center of the little courtyard, torchlight glimmering from the water that spilled from the pitcher in her arms. Her travertine eyes regarded him without sight, her two sisters whispering to her from the standing tableaus of which they rose half-swimming out of the friezes in which they were trapped, tears running into the basins beneath them. The basins were etched with waves, and the three sisters seemed somehow mystical in the quiet moment.
Giscard lifted an arm on a whim to touch the mermaid's smooth hand and fell forward, his lips still curved into a smile as the little waves lapped at his body. In a few moments time, he was dead.
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"The gardens of the Alexandre Estate boasted one of the grandest collections of non-native flowers and trees in its day and even up to the present it remains one of the most impressive in the country. Many of the show gardens designed in the years after its commission took cuttings from the estate rather than buying entirely new and costly ones themselves. This practice continued into the current century, though from time to time a few are auctioned off to help with the upkeep of the estate.
"You will note that the architecture is in some places badly in need of restoration, just as with the interior. For the next few years this process will be ongoing, beginning with structural repairs to the mansion itself and landscaping work in the gardens. For now, public tours such as these are limited to the renovated areas of the garden. Private tours are available through a few of the most well-preserved rooms during the restoration process and to the sites within the grounds that have already been partially restored. If any of you are interested in these, please see me after the tour and I shall be happy to book one for you."
The guide stood with her back to the small courtyard in which a crumbling fountain stood in disrepair. The shape of a mermaid rose above her, becoming a little more indistinct with age and weathering, but still identifiable as the creature she was. Her arms still lifted the same pitcher she had borne for hundreds of years, though it was filled with dust and leaves. A silken web covered half her face and an orb-weaver spread its long, striped legs like a fan to hide her unseeing eyes.
Birds cawed overhead, calling to one another amidst the trees and the guide followed the glance of one of the small group of only about six people - most of which were reporters - and giving a friendly acknowledgement to where they rested their gaze.
"Ah, you've noticed the chestnuts. While much of the grounds host non-native plants, you will also find specimens of natives from all around the country. These are some of the oldest of their kind, and quite productive in season.
"Now, behind me you will see the small courtyard that was one of our first spots for renovation. The tiling of the courtyard itself has been excavated and fitted together, and a master craftsman is currently using materials from the same region of Italy from which the tiles were created. We are fortunate to have sculptors and artists both independent and from the local university to lend us their expertise in the renovation decisions. In fact, there are many subcommittees that lend their support to these efforts.
"Back to the fountain, you will notice the natural colour. It was made in several large pieces and so well-fitted that the structure itself has remained largely intact. It was chosen to complement the terra cotta construction of the buildings throughout the estate and the style is very appropriate for the era. It was said that the reigning king's son took inspiration for the royal gardens from some of the features found in the Alexandre gardens.
"Something unusual about this fountain in particular is an unusual stain on some of the tiling and the fountain itself."
Stepping to one side, the guide waved a hand to allow the group to move closer. Cameras flashed as a deep brown stain became obvious, running along the side of the fountain itself and spilling outside the fountain on the lighter marble and stone.
"Our historians are still going over the information we have from the period, including Count Alexandre's personal diaries that give an account of his life. There are also letters and similar diaries kept by many nobles and other people who spent time within the count's home. Testing has shown the stain to be blood, that of a human male, but little else is known at this time and whether or not the man who matches it survived is also currently unknown."
Smiling at her little tantalizing tidbit, the guide whose name badge read 'Cherie Duvalle' began walking again.
"If you will all follow me to the terrace walk, we'll have a final look at the hanging gardens before lunch."
When the group had moved on, a lone visitor in the group lingered behind, eyes still drawn to the rusty brown bloodstains on the tiles. The wind lifted the boughs of the trees surrounding it, leaves rustling so that the three mermaids seemed to whisper to each other.
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