Ariadne's Diadem by Sandra Heath Read Free Book Online

during which Hugh held on tightly to the prize, the frenzied faun slithered close to the water’s edge. Gervase had the presence of mind to seize one of the creature’s cloven hooves and haul him into the pool. Filled with dread as his lower half was dragged into the water, Sylvanus pointed a quivering finger toward Gervase. Mystical words in a strange, unknown language began to ring shrilly from the faun’s lips.
    Gervase clung to the bank with one hand and stretched the other desperately toward Hugh. “For God’s sake, help me out!” he cried.
    But an instinct for self-preservation cut through the remains of Hugh’s alcoholic haze. He had no intention of putting himself at risk in order to save his loathed cousin, and with sudden, savage decision, he brought his heel crashing down upon the hand Gervase was using to hold the grass.
    Gervase let go with a gasp of pain and disbelief, and his eyes cleared as he finally understood the depth of loathing and jealousy consuming his only kinsman. Then the faun finished his dreadful incantation, and as Hugh began to run for his life with the diadem, the blood became slow and cold in Gervase’s veins. His limbs began to petrify. His flesh turned to the whitest of marble, and there was nothing he could do, no movement he could make, but his mind was still alert and clear as he sank slowly to the bottom of the pool. He’d become as perfect a Roman statue as any yet found.
    Hugh glanced back in time to see Sylvanus trying to clamber from the water, but no sign of Gervase. Had he drowned? What other explanation was there? He ran on and didn’t look back again as he reached the horses. Within moments he was riding like the wind for Naples, trying to convince himself that it was a mere mortal who’d attacked them.
    Sylvanus was desperate to pursue Hugh, but his frantic scrambling only made the bank so muddy that his clawing fingers found nothing to grip. The dawn was lightening by the moment, and he wasn’t permitted to leave the grove in daylight. Hugh was going to escape with the diadem! With a huge effort the faun tried to think sensibly, and after a moment edged farther along the bank until he reached a dry portion, then he pulled himself out next to Gervase’s discarded clothes. But he knew it was already too late to chase Hugh, for there was too much light.
    The guardian of the grove lay face down on the grass, his hands clenched into frustrated, frightened fists. How was he going to explain his incompetence and stupidity to Bacchus? The gravest of punishment lay ahead, for the god was going to be very angry.
    Sylvanus got up and with a spurt of anger kicked Gervase’s costly clothes across the grass. Then, his little goat tail drooping, he crept despondently back to his hiding place and curled up in a ball on his bed of leaves.
    * * * *
    As soon as darkness fell again, the desperate faun hurried down the mountain to Naples, there he was dismayed to learn from Teresa that Hugh had already taken passage for England. Gervase’s disappearance had been explained by a very convincing tale of an ill-fated nighttime excursion to Vesuvius, during which Gervase had slipped and fallen into a smoking, red-hot crater. The British consul had believed the story, and so had the Neapolitan officials whose palms had been discreetly crossed with silver, in order that a death certificate would be issued the same day. Hugh had been able to set sail immediately, with not only the priceless diadem, but also every hope of becoming the next Duke of Wroxford. Sylvanus knew there was nothing more he could do, and so returned dejectedly to the grove, where he collected Gervase’s clothes and took them in a neat bundle to his lair to await Bacchus. But it was to be two long months before retribution came.
    And while Hugh made good his escape to England to claim his cousin’s wealth and title, Gervase remained at the bottom of the pool, fronds of weed wafting gently around him. He was marble to