Disclaimer: Queen of Swords was created by Fireworks Entertainment, and is owned by ContentFilm. This story is NOT affiliated with the rights holders or the show's original creators. No infringement is intended and no profit is being made. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
The author would like to thank Robert Vincent for all his valuable support and input.
Chapter 11: Ghosts
It was now ten to two in the afternoon. Montoya was hosting a social gathering in his Rose Courtyard. He'd insisted on an official party to welcome Ambassador Enriquez to Santa Helena. Enriquez had told the Colonel that while he'd appreciated the gesture, it wasn't necessary. The governor gently persisted, saying that after such a long journey, and a day of seeing all the work of the Spanish forces situated in California, the ambassador could surely recognise the time for tranquillity and socialising. Suspecting the Colonel having an ulterior motive (possibly sycophantism to win favour), Enriquez had conceded to attend.
The atmosphere was usual aristocratic socialising. Pompous Dons and their naive wives wining and talking about trivialities, laughing blissfully, scoffing or praising each other's dresses…
All this reminded Lionel just why he couldn't stand these social gatherings. The fact that Montoya hosted at least one every week was frankly overkill to him. As he stood dressed in his best military suit, he looked around him to see too many peacocks, happy or selfish. He also saw some of his men salute him, as well as Grisham's men (stuck on duty) take turns to glare evilly at him, much to his amusement.
"Feel out of place, huh?"
The Golden Sergeant smiled as his wife sporting her black and turquoise dress came up to take him by the arm and 'walk into the fray'.
"Always, dear," he muttered to Maria, as they circulated. "Ever since we came to California, I've felt more and more like a stoat dressed in a handkerchief."
"Oh, shut up, Lionel. You look dashing as always."
"To you."
"And only my opinion should matter," Mrs Williams smiled, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek.
"True," Mr Williams smiled back, rubbing his head slightly against that of his wife.
"Hello, Maria!" waved Vera Hidalgo cheerfully, as she and her husband walked over to the Williams. "Hello, Sergeant!"
"Hello, Vera," the American smiled back warmly. "Hello, Senor Hidalgo."
"Always a pleasure, Mrs Williams," Don Gaspar greeted, gently taking her hand and kissing it. His demeanour then changed when he faced Lionel with an indifferent, "Sergeant."
"Senor," Williams acknowledged. Neither would forget their…'disagreement' during Lionel's investigation of the Queen.
"If you would excuse me, I have some business to discuss with Don Fuentes. Ladies." He then left, casting Williams a brief glance of displeasure. The sergeant just snorted at him before turning to Vera and saying, "Hello, Senora Hidalgo."
"So nice to see you, Sergeant. That's a fabulous dress, Maria."
"Thanks, I…"
"Tessa's here, by the way. She says she's recovered from that run you dragged her out on."
"Well, a bit of fresh air and exercise," explained Maria, sheepishly, "Did wonders for me back in America."
"No offence but are they all that crazy over there? Tessa looked half-dead! It's a miracle we were able to get her to Doctor Helm in time!"
Hmm, mused Maria to herself, thinking that Tessa had had that excuse in mind all along to see Robert behind closed doors.
"Honestly, Maria," said Vera in dismay, "you've got to learn to appreciate the nuances of our culture and sophistication more. Didn't your mother ever teach you these things?"
Caught off-guard by the question, Mrs Williams was immediately overcome with pain and sadness. She then abruptly walked away, leaving a confused Vera to ask Lionel if she'd said something wrong. A sympathetic Lionel looked away from his parting wife to gently explain to Vera about Maria's mother passing away when she was only a baby.
In another area of the party, Maria soon regained her smile when she saw Tessa and Marta. Then they saw Don Cascajo de la Calderon and his daughter Carmella rudely shove aside someone just to speak to Ambassador Enriquez. The Ambassador looked like he wasn't taking to their fawning platitudes very well. Tessa and Maria grinned at each other before walking over.
"The Spanish Court should really come over and see all our businesses," insisted Don Cascajo arrogantly. "Why, our holdings would impress his Majesty himself."
"I shall pass that along…" lied Enriquez, bored out of his mind.
"Oh, Ambassador!" swooned Carmella in a nauseating manner. "Never before have we had the honour of meeting royalty!"
"Is it any wonder why, Carmella?" asked Tessa and Maria simultaneously, both grinning mockingly at the Don's daughter. Before the angry de la Calderon could protest, Enriquez turned to Maria, overcome with delight and relief.
"Ah! Maria Williams, I presume?"
"Yes, Ambassador Enriquez," she nodded respectfully. The Spaniard shook her hand and said it was an honour to finally meet the wife of the hero of Spain. Carmella looked like she was going to be sick. Cascajo tried to get back into the conversation but Enriquez wasn't listening to him anymore. By the time Marta came over, the de la Calderons could only swallow their pride and retire into a huff.
"I apologise, sir," Maria then said, gesturing towards her friends. "This is Senorita Tessa Alvarado and her servant Marta. Aside from being prominent members of our society, they are great friends of my family."
"Ah, yes," smiled the Ambassador, shaking Tessa's hand. "The Alvarado name is well known back in Spain. Don Alejandro speaks very highly of his niece."
The surprised Senorita could only ask, "You know my uncle?"
"Why, yes, he's a personal friend of mine," Enriquez explained proudly. He then solemnly and respectfully added, "I also had the honour of meeting your father long ago, Tessa. He was a good man. My condolences, I was most saddened to hear of his death."
Genuinely surprised and touched, Tessa smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Ambassador."
"Please, excuse me. I must speak with Sergeant Williams. Ladies."
As he left, the trio of ladies could only marvel at what a remarkable man this new Ambassador was. Marta was impressed that he hadn't attempted to seduce her. Maria was flattered that the Spanish Court held her in the same regard as her husband.
And Tessa was genuinely moved by Enriquez's comments about her uncle, and her father.
"Ladies," greeted an all too familiar voice.
"Ah, Doctor Helm!" greeted Senorita Alvarado cordially. "Thank you so much for saving my life yesterday."
"I think that's an exaggeration, Senorita Alvarado," sighed the Englishman. "Over-exertion and dehydration are commonplace for those who don't know the first thing about exercise."
"Well not all of us have the luxury of your unshared experiences, doctor."
Marta and Maria took the opportunity to leave them be. Everyone else was too busy talking and circulating to pay any attention to them.
"Tessa, you can't keep bothering me like this," whispered the surgeon. "I was in the middle of tending to a patient who really needed my help yesterday."
"Really, Robert," the aristocrat smiled back cheekily. "The damage one can suffer from fainting like that. Vera was really concerned for me."
"That I believe."
The two walked together, speaking at normal tones to fool everyone else into thinking that Tessa was wasting Robert's time as always. Every now and again, though, they reduced their voices to a whisper.
"I hadn't seen you since you gave me a clean bill of health for my injuries last Sunday," confessed Tessa.
"It was only a few days ago," Robert gently pointed out. "And after these last several weeks…"
"Which have been the best weeks of my life."
The Englishman stopped to smile back with sincerity, "Mine as well. And yes, I did appreciate the visit, too. We've just got to be careful. That's all."
"I know," smiled the beautiful Spaniard warmly. "And we will be."
The 'acquaintances' then parted ways, leaving Montoya and Grisham with no reason to be suspicious.
Strange, thought Tessa, confused. I don't see either of them. Where are they?
"I can't thank you enough, Doctor," said Marta, who had now come over to speak with Robert. "I'm so relieved you came in the nick of time. We're so sorry to have bothered you."
"No bother at all, Marta," dismissed Helm humbly.
Marta then whispered to him, "Another thing to be thankful for over the last month…is someone else to talk with about…well, Tessa's wellbeing. All these happenings in Santa Helena. All these frightening fevers and incidents."
"Likewise. It's a dangerous town. We have to look out for each other. And anytime you need to talk to me about anything; problems, remedies, you know where to find me."
"I don't know if my mistress has told you," explained the Gypsy, "but Sergeant Williams apparently arrested Daimio Fernard for notorious smuggling."
"Yes, she couldn't stop going on about it," mused the Doctor. His mood then soured suddenly as he furthered. "Good for the 'Golden Sergeant' to claim a trophy like that."
Marta understood what the Englishman meant, and then respectfully rebutted, "Robert…Lionel would never do anything like that to the Queen. You know that…"
"Of course, I know," interrupted Helm. "I just don't have to like the way he does business. Or him."
Helm turned his attention to the Golden Sergeant, rejoined by his wife and now talking socially with Ambassador Enriquez. Marta noted the doctor's disdain and gently said, "Doctor…we've all seen into the sergeant's heart. You can't deny that he's a good man."
"Can you deny that his heart is obscured by all that blood on his hands?"
"Doctor, that's not fair. We've all…"
"Musicians, cease playing!" ordered Montoya, suddenly entering the party with Grisham and several men in tow. The sight of rifles and the colonel's deadly serious demeanour made several of the guests gasp in horror as soldiers approached Williams, who turned to face his commander with concern.
"I said stop the celebrations!" barked the governor with no-nonsense. Tessa looked on with suspicion as her nemesis' latest game unfolded before her eyes. When the atmosphere died down, Montoya ordered Williams to stand to attention.
"Guards, keep your weapons on the sergeant," he ordered, much to Maria's growing anger and Enriquez's surprise.
"What is the meaning of this, Colonel?" demanded the ambassador.
"My apologies, sir, but we have unearthed evidence revealing Lionel Williams to be a murderer and fraud."
"That's absurd!" protested Maria, putting herself between her husband and Montoya. "Lionel has never…!"
"It's alright, Maria," calmed Williams, putting his hand on her shoulder as he came forward to face the accusations. "Colonel, these are most serious allegations. What evidence do you have to support these frankly ludicrous charges?"
"Official military documents," explained the corrupt governor, holding them up for the sergeant and Enriquez to see, "of the United States army, dating back to 1807, when you, Lionel Williams, committed several atrocities under the name Conrad, and attempted to murder Malcolm Conrad, who miraculously survived and will testify against you in court."
The audience gasped in shock in alarm. Grisham smirked evilly. Tessa, Marta and Robert looked at each other with bewilderment. Enriquez snatched the documents from the colonel's hand to inspect them himself.
"These reports are official!" exclaimed the ambassador, angrily turning to Williams. "Signatures from the highest authority, seals of approval…dated 27th January 1807!"
"In view of this evidence, Sergeant Williams…" asked Montoya, resisting the urge to smile mockingly, "do you confirm or deny these charges?"
The silence was tense. All eyes in the courtyard were locked on Lionel, waiting for what he had to say in his defence. Some expected an angry denial, or a shamed confession, or maybe fight his way out of the predicament. Maria's face gave nothing away except loyalty to her husband.
Eventually, a stone-faced Lionel Williams simply answered, "I choose my right to remain silent. I will answer these charges under questioning and in court. With an attorney at my side."
"Ah!" reacted Colonel Montoya, smiling condescendingly. "How professional. For all the good it will do you in light of your insidious crimes. Capitan Grisham, place Sergeant Williams under arrest for attempted murder and corruption."
"My pleasure, sir," smiled Grisham with delight. Two of his men grabbed Williams and escorted him away, with Grisham whispering in Lionel's ears, "How the mighty have fallen, eh, Golden Boy?" The rest of the audience gasped and nattered away, a mixture of shock, disbelief and smug satisfaction.
As Williams was taken away, Montoya and Enriquez left also, to further go over the 'evidence' together. Tessa's eyes narrowed in anger over the Colonel's latest cruel scheme. When the aristocrat turned back to comfort Maria, she noticed that her friend's brave face had slipped.
To show a private face full of fear and confusion.
That was now thinking, It CAN'T be Malcolm. We SAW him die!
An hour later, Lionel sat all cold and alone in his cell, still feeling the effects of Grisham beating him back and forth upon throwing him in the cell for 'resisting arrest'. The other guards – Montoya loyalists only – looking the other way (smiling) as the captain of the guard repaid the honest soldier for the dislocated shoulder, humiliating him in front of his own men and Montoya and generally getting under his skin.
Any chance of Lionel fighting back was squandered when more guards came in to remind him the cost of assaulting a superior officer.
But Williams had just taken it all, not in the least bit bothered about Grisham and his men. Let them have their fun.
All the Golden Sergeant could think about…was Maria, what she must be going through right now because of Montoya's latest game. And the name the colonel had uttered…one that Williams had made sure to forget.
How the hell does Montoya know about Malcolm? he asked himself, scared. And how did he get those documents? They've obviously been doctored! I didn't set anyone up, that's a lie! But everything else was as official as it comes! There's only one person I knew who could…!
Lionel really didn't want to remember any of this. He didn't want to remember America…all those years ago.
"Let her go, Malcolm!"
"She's mine, Andrew! Like she always should've been! And like she's going to be as we go to hell together! And you can't stop me because if you kill me, she'll die with me!"
"I LOVED you, you piece of…!"
"Shut up, you little bitch!"
"Elizabeth, don't!"
"Arrgh!"
…
…
Lionel clasped his hands on the top of his head, struggling to quell the pain of what happened.
It's a ruse. I don't how he's doing it but it's another of Montoya's damn ruses! It's got to be!
The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps send an almost paralysing chill down Lionel's spine. He dared to look up to see a face that had changed so much…
Yet hauntingly remained the same.
The scar down his blinded eye. His missing teeth.
"Oh, that Grisham must really like you!" laughed the stranger, as his smile (wide as death) sprouted evilly at Lionel, "Not surprising…when everyone wants a piece of you. Don't they…brother?"
An enraged Lionel shot up from his bunk and lunged for the outlaw's throat. The cell bars naturally stopped him, as the criminal backed off, wagged his finger in 'naughty-naughty' fashion and sniggered again at him.
"You're no brother of mine, you evil, little freak," snarled Williams venomously.
"Aw, I don't know what hurts more! The fact that your tongue remains as viper-like as ever…or the fact that you've genuinely forgotten me…'Lionel'."
"It's not possible," denied the Golden Sergeant angrily, over the man he was now speaking to. "I had you hanged! We were both there!"
"Oh, please!" spat the insulted outlaw. "You should've escorted me from my cell to the gallows. Did you honestly think I had no means of arranging my escape in-between? And paying off guards to put a dead ringer in my place? Hmm?"
Williams tightened his grip on the bars and gritted angrily (in begrudging acceptance), "Malcolm…"
"Yes," he grinned evilly again, showcasing his missing teeth.
"What hurts more?" asked Lionel cruelly. "The fact that you didn't go to the dentist? Or when she made you cry like a bitch after poking your eye out?"
"On the contrary…I loved that. A little premonition of how much fun she and I were destined to have. And what we're going to have."
"Touch her again and I'll execute you myself this time."
"My! You have changed, haven't you, 'Lionel'? All bleeding heart, goody-two-shoes become so cold and unfeeling. And treacherous and self-serving."
"I'm nothing like you, traitor," sneered the Golden Sergeant.
"No?" mocked Malcolm innocently. "Arresting and trying to kill the only family you have left? Condemning auntie and uncle to death when you served Napoleon? Changing your name to dishonour mommy and daddy and run from the ilk that took their lives?"
"I atoned for all that! You on the other hand seemed quite happy to continue murdering and pillaging just for the hell of it! How one-dimensional can you get?"
"And that's why you're a loser, big brother. Compassion is for babies. How much money did those bandits make off with when they killed our parents, eh? Enough to buy land, houses and power. Once I got over the initial shock, I realised 'good riddance'! All they ever did was shout and cane me. Fat lot of good their precious love did them when they begged for their lives."
Appalled and enraged over that callous remark of their parents, Lionel slammed himself against the bars and reached for Malcolm's throat, who just shook his head and called him pathetic.
"Still crying over them? Good. That can torture you as you sit there waiting to die trying to escape. Well, that's what's going to officially happen. After your band of idealists get implicated for being your accomplices, my men will replace yours in Montoya's ranks. I become a hero, you become the villain. The salary, the lady, the prominence and power…all becomes mine. Just as it should have been."
Malcolm then taunted over his shoulder, "An eye for an eye, brother. I'm sure Elizabeth will be looking forward to learning that lesson."
Malcolm's departing laugh echoed throughout the jail. Tormenting Lionel so much more, as he rested his head against the bars.
"Mrs Williams, I can understand that you are distraught but the facts…"
"And whose 'facts' are these, may I ask?" Maria challenged, raising her eyebrows. "Are they really Malcolm Conrad's? Or someone else's?"
"The man who has testified against your husband has official credentials of the American army. And genuine reports validating both his identity and claims…"
"I think you mean falsified documentation, Colonel."
Montoya was secretly enjoying making Williams' wife boil with frustration, as he calmly replied, "Mrs Williams, I fear that you are letting your love for 'Lionel' – assuming that is his real name…
Maria remained stone-faced, refusing to react to Montoya's baiting.
"Blind you to the truth…that you have married a notorious criminal."
"We gave reports of what actually happened to Lionel's superiors back in America. We both witnessed Malcolm Conrad's hanging, and all that was officially logged in Lionel's military file, read by the Spanish Court and you, Colonel. You've already had our statements. Conrad was executed for trying to kill us, along with his other crimes. This was accepted and long since resolved. So why is it being brought up now to make my husband look like the guilty party?"
"The documents that Malcolm Conrad gave to us show evidence of doctoring on your husband's part."
"That's ludicrous!" snapped Maria angrily, remembering perfectly how Malcolm worked. "Let me see this so-called 'evidence'!"
'With respect, Mrs Williams," soothed the governor condescendingly, "you have no political power, no military knowledge or any authority whatsoever…you are not even a member of the aristocracy, having only gained favour the easy way by marrying this pretender."
Maria's eyes narrowed coldly at the corrupt colonel, who smiled with a subtle mix of soothing and mocking, as he continued, "Therefore, the classified evidence can only be viewed by those with authority, such as myself and Ambassador Enriquez. As for your demands to see the witness and your husband; out of the question. Senor Conrad is under strict witness protection, and Sergeant Williams is imprisoned awaiting trial, due to his crimes. No bail, no visits. And that is the way it is."
"Really?" questioned Maria simply, keeping her cool as she answered back. "I don't believe you. I think all this is just another tawdry little game of yours to get thirty more pieces of silver."
"Believe what you wish…" said the Colonel, approaching the soldier's wife and looking down on her, "but that is the way it is. And that is the end of it."
"The hell it is," challenged Mrs Williams resolutely, again retaining her composure. "Not while I'm still breathing."
"I'd advise you to choose your words – and battles - most carefully, my dear," warned the colonel, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "The consequences of such…"
Maria grabbed Montoya's wrist before he could touch her shoulder, and squeezed and twisted it just enough so that the colonel could feel her strength and capability.
"My word of advice?" warned the American woman in return, "Don't."
The colonel raised an eyebrow at her, as she kept her grip a few seconds longer and then let go. Montoya noted her strength as matching that of a potential killer. And he smiled slyly as Maria left his office, closing the doors behind her.
"I will be sure to keep that in mind for future reference…'Mrs Williams'.
The moment the American woman had left the building, her brave face had dropped. She walked into the town square looking most distressed. She refused to believe that Malcolm was really alive, after all these years. The man who had claimed to love her as much as Lionel, who had really been toying with her out of cruelty. Maria remembered that horrible day when the truth finally came out, then the loss of her father and the Williams' moving to Spain.
She was haunted by it all, and the fact that Lionel was now in jail and in grave danger. To further add to her torment, she'd had the misfortune of bumping into the sexual predator himself, Captain Grisham, as she walked down the terrace corridor on her way out. Grisham had offered false apologies for her unfortunate situation and if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, he would be there for her.
Maria had tried not to throw up over his uniform, and instead sweetly replied, "No, thank you," before trying to walk off. Grisham (who knew he could make his move now Williams was rotting in jail) had persisted in his 'subtle' attempts to seduce her, with Maria again falsely smiling and saying, "Flattered, Captain. But no thanks."
"What's the matter?" grinned the disgusting animal. "Afraid I'm gonna bite?"
"No," she smiled back sweetly, saying over her shoulder. "I just don't like misogynists."
That had left Grisham feeling very taken aback and Maria all the more angry.
"Miserable, disgusting, worm-eating pig!" she muttered to herself, looking about ready to cry.
"Maria!" called Tessa, walking fast from the rose courtyard over to her. The Spaniard gently grabbed the American's to comfort her and asked, "Are you alright?"
"No, I'm not!" shouted the housewife, angrily wrenching her arm out of the aristocrat's grasp. Maria exhaled shakily and ran her hand through her hair, worried out of her mind.
"I'm sorry," the American apologised, turning back to her friend. "I'm scared and I'm angry."
"I can speak with Montoya. Vega and Ricardo have already…"
"Fat lot of good that's gonna do! Montoya won't let anyone see Lionel! He's made it an open-shut-case! No bails! No appeals! He's playing his cards so close to his chest that…!"
"He can't do that," said Tessa. "Lionel has rights. Even Montoya can't…"
"Ambassador Enriquez took away all of his rights! Stripped him of his authority, his connections! Montoya deceived him, just like…!"
"Maria, calm down," soothed Senorita Alvarado. "What exactly is going on? Who's 'Malcolm Conrad'? Why does Montoya claim that your husband used a false name and was corrupt? And why didn't Lionel decline to comment against the charges?"
Mrs Williams stared and gaped at the aristocrat momentarily before angrily asking, "You don't honestly believe that Lionel's guilty, do you?"
A frustrated Tessa vehemently replied, "Of course I don't! You think I don't know better than to buy Montoya's lies?"
"Lionel may be an asshole at times," admitted Maria truthfully, "but he is never a criminal!"
"You're preaching to the converted, Maria! I know Lionel Williams! He's an honest soldier and a very good man!"
Maria sighed anxiously and looked away from Tessa, breathing in deep before confessing, "Lionel Williams, you may know…"
The senorita's eyes narrowed, focusing on the housewife's cryptic comment and asked intently, "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"It's a long story."
"Then tell me. As we told you."
Maria looked back at Tessa, remembering that day when he and Lionel had been taken in to her complete confidence and told the truth about her dual identity as the Queen of Swords. A day that had meant so much to all involved.
Mrs Williams paused. She knew she could tell Senorita Alvarado. They trusted each other implicitly.
"Look," began Maria earnestly, "I need a favour."
"Of course," assured Tessa, patting Maria's shoulder.
"It's almost three 'o' clock, Theresa's going to be coming out of school soon. Is it okay if you and Marta pick her up? And can she stay with you for a few hours?"
"You know she's always welcome at the hacienda. But what are you going to do?"
"I've got to get home," explained the soldier's wife. "Whatever Montoya's planning, it's bad. I don't want to bring my daughter home to yet another kidnapping committee, just in case there is one."
"Well, what do you want us to tell her?"
"Tell her what's going on. She's got a right to know."
"Maria, do you really think…?"
"She's a brave little girl with a brain, Tessa," she said with certainty. "If she can handle being abducted by a murdering psycho – and being saved by her hero – she can deal with this."
"Alright," agreed the Spaniard. "I'll find Marta and we'll go to the school. What are you going to do?"
"I haven't a clue," groaned the American, scratching her head for an idea. "Montoya mentioned…official military reports from the U.S. that somehow proved Lionel was corrupt."
"They were good enough to fool Enriquez," Tessa pointed out.
"Maybe, but Lionel kept official copies of the real report of what happened, with testimony from Lionel's superiors, fellows and key witnesses. If I can find those, I can clear his name."
"That's just the kind of thing Montoya will be expecting you to do," warned the aristocrat.
"I know," agreed the soldier's wife, "but I've got no choice. Look, I'll tell you the whole story later, I promise. Right now, I've got to get back home. I'll come over to the hacienda as soon as I can. Tell Theresa I love her."
"Don't do anything stupid, Maria," ordered a concerned Tessa.
"Who can afford to?" asked Maria, rhetorically. "I'll see you later."
"Not if I see you first," vowed the secret Queen as they parted ways
"I'd appreciate that, Tessa," her friend gratefully acknowledged.
Traitor.
A horrible, little word that meant so much negativity.
Lionel sat in his cell, remembering calling Malcolm a traitor and feeling justified for doing so. Betraying family, the woman he claimed to love and everything else he once served and protected.
But Conrad's own words had hit Williams even harder, saying he was no better than him.
And he was right.
Williams could give reasons all day long, but the facts remained facts. The soldier had arrested his brother-in-arms without any hesitation or remorse. He had turned his back on his own family name by changing it…
And he had condemned both his aunt and uncle to execution.
Uncle Joe and Aunt Elena…among the sweetest people mankind had ever produced. Strong, capable and compassionate, denied the chance to have children of their own, and there for Lionel to save him after the devastating loss of his parents.
All those years they raised Lionel and loved him like he was truly their own. Williams smiled warmly, remembering all the best times they'd had together, before Lionel had finished school and decided to return to America and enlist in the army with Malcolm.
Then after Lionel and Maria had been forced to flee to Spain, Joe and Elena had saved him a second time, giving him a home for himself once more, along with his new family.
And it would've ended happily ever after…if not for Napoleon. Lionel remembered being given that conscription notice, ordering him to defend Spain from the French invaders. Lionel remembered fighting valiantly to defend his new home, all he had left from the enemy, but he and his comrades ultimately failed. Lionel remembered that fateful day ten years ago (in 1808) in the early days of the Peninsular War, when Bonaparte himself had invaded Madrid and crushed the opposition, forcing the capital to surrender.
Out of all the resistance the dictator had executed, he'd chosen to spare the American, more impressed with how he fought than anyone. And keen to coerce him into joining his side.
Here and now in his cell, Lionel could only cry as he remembered when his family had been arrested and brought before him. With the French making him choose; be executed along with his aunt and uncle as 'traitors'…or live with his wife under Napoleon authority.
The choice would never ever stop haunting him.
Nor the sight of that burly executioner…wearing that horrible black mask, frightening Lionel just as much as the ones that had robbed his parents' lives. Williams grimaced in his cell as he remembered Joe and Elena's brave faces, contently telling their nephew…no, their adoptive son that everything was going to be okay…
As Maria discreetly wept and squeezed his hand so tightly.
And Napoleon and Joseph reminding him what would happen if he opposed him…
As that horrible masked man pulled the trapdoor lever, and the final sounds of Joe and Elena. Choking. Lionel's mind flashed back to the present. He allowed himself another moment to mourn, to reflect on the…'lesser of two evils' he'd been made to choose, to damn himself for his unwilling betrayals…then he cursed himself to snap out of it.
I'm not gonna let it happen all over again, the Golden Sergeant vowed angrily. It'll be a cold day in hell before I let Malcolm…and Montoya win. Now, if Malcolm knows everything that happened…that means he must've been stalking us our whole lives. Don't care how, don't care why…but he knows practically everything, otherwise he wouldn't have tracked us to Santa Helena.
But that must means he also knows about Theresa! All our friends!
The realisation that Malcolm and Montoya could kill them all sunk in slowly and painfully. And they were going to make him sit in the cold, damp jail and boil it all over. Completely powerless.
"Over my dead ass, you animals," he sneered venomously, sitting up off the bunk and walking over to the prison bars. Clutching them tightly he began to shake and bang them vigorously to get the guard's attention.
"Hey, Manuel!" Williams barked. "I asked for my lawyer hours ago! Where the hell is he?"
"Shut up, Golden Boy!" snapped the annoyed corporal from the lobby, before turning back to his reading.
"What's the book you're reading?" the Sergeant mocked. "How not to be stupid? Which insults are best? I don't know what's more pitiful; a man who's vainly trying to please Montoya or a man who believes scratching and sitting on his ass is the best way to do it."
As expected, Manuel rose to the provocation, angrily closing his book and slamming it down. He removed his legs from the desk, stood up and walked to the cells. Lionel smirked at Montoya's stooge as he drew his pistol and stepped up close to the bars.
"Ooooh! He's got his gun out! Desperately trying to hide the fact that he's nothing more than a pussy."
"I've been looking forward to this for a long time, you…"
"For a man who's trying to be smart," noted Williams, "killing a harmless man locked in a cell is a sure-fire way to convict yourself."
"I'm inclined to think you got out, tried to shoot me and I killed you in self-defence," replied Manuel, smirking slyly. "After all, the Colonel says that was what was gonna happen sooner or…"
Williams then thrust his arm out, grabbing the surprised Manuel by his shirt and yanking him hard, face-first into the bars. Lionel then stuck his other hand through the bars to snatch the keys from the guard's belt as he fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Congratulations, you dumb-ass," remarked the American, twirling the keys on his index finger from his side of the bars. "You're finally learning."
"As you can see, Theresa," explained Marta as she drew the card and placed it down on the table, "your parents are naturally…The Lovers. Two soul mates who have experienced much…yet still have much to learn."
Theresa sat opposite the Gypsy, nodding tentatively over the situation, yet keenly paying attention as Marta slowly drew the next card from the deck. The servant's eyes narrowed in disdain at the image, before placing it next to the Lovers card.
"The Devil. The haunting spectre who never went away…usurping the calm with his relentless chaos."
"Why is he such a bad man, Marta?" asked the seven-year-old girl, nervously. The servant looked at the child intently before answering, "I do not know, other than he simply is. That's why men like your father exist. To stop them."
"But my dad didn't do anything wrong!" protested Theresa, looking as though she was about to burst into tears. "Why's he in jail? And what if my mommy gets hurt trying to save him?"
The Queen of Swords carefully crept from the doorway's vantage point to see Marta trying to comfort the girl. The masked Tessa remained unseen, eyes narrowed angrily over Theresa's anguish as the Gypsy explained, "There are horrible things out there, Theresa. Things that will mean you and everyone else such harm. But that is why you have to be brave and clever and believing. Brave and clever enough to save the day, like your heroes."
Theresa looked down, thinking about her dad, her mom, and the Queen. And then nodded back at Marta, determined to be big and strong. Like them. From the doorway, the unseen Queen smiled proudly at child, with Marta then saying, "And you must believe in good, those who are good…"
Marta then drew one last Tarot card from the deck, studying it for a moment, before contently laying it for Theresa to see.
"And that there is always one last card to be drawn."
Theresa slowly picked the Tarot card up to study it.
"Justice?" she asked quizzically.
"An imbalance and injustice that needs righting," explained a smiling Marta, as the Queen of Swords made her anonymous leave. "And will be done accordingly."
The moment Maria got home, she'd locked the doors and windows, gotten changed into more…'combat ready' attire (white shirt, brown slacks and brown boots), and had then set to work.
Mrs Williams was most thankful that she'd taken the 'transition' from aristocracy to homemaking so naturally. All the tidiness of her home – done before they'd gone to the party - made it easy for Maria to start looking through drawers, cupboards, Lionel's trunk and any other possible hiding place in the house.
As a frustrated Maria searched everywhere for the real documents, she couldn't help but think back to what circumstance had made her into. The clothes she was now wearing; attire Uncle Joe had given her back in Spain for manual labour. Clothes that she'd worn on country rides by herself.
Certainly a far cry from the beautiful dresses her father had made her wear back in America. Before the fire set by criminals which destroyed her father, her home, her fortune…everything except two beautiful dresses which Maria had managed to recover from the ashes, miraculously intact and cleanable, both belonging to her mother…
And the silver, heart-shaped locket she'd kept round her neck at all times. The first gift Maria's father had ever given her, the one he made her swear to protect loyally and never ever lose.
The American had just opened the wardrobe to see her dresses and then touched her locket to caress it in her fingers. She opened it to see the two small painted images of both her parents on opposite sides of the hinge.
"A gift I had specially made for your mother," her father explained fondly. "When I asked her hand in marriage. And for you to know that we are always with you."
Snap out of it, girl! Maria shook her head, closing the wardrobe door. Your husband needs you!
The soldier's wife carried on searching for another five minutes, trying to think like her husband, wondering where he would keep his most guarded secrets. The look in the trunk earlier had revealed nothing except medals of honour, his beloved journal (locked and buried deep beneath clothes), various books and figurines from his childhood…but as for the official copies that Lionel kept for the sake of insurance…nothing at all, not even in his study.
Maria felt like giving up, but she couldn't. Lionel was in jail and in danger. She couldn't give up on him, she wouldn't dare. Not after everything they'd been through together. She gritted her teeth, determined to think of another solution. The American woman then remembered the munitions cabinet under the stairs and quickly got the key from the bottom of the kitchen drawer.
Upon opening the cabinet, she immediately saw nothing but Lionel's spare sword and pistol, a holster, some spare bullets…and Maria's own personal arsenal. Her own sabre and knife (complete with sheaths) - means of defence that Lionel had given her upon completing her training. Training that she'd asked for, due to her adventurous nature.
And the unfortunate circumstances.
As Maria pulled the sword out of its sheath to examine, she once again reflected on everything her ability to fight had given and made. Sparring with Tessa the other day had been tremendous fun, making Maria relive the days of her childhood and adolescence; all those adventures with her brothers.
Then she grimaced over that fateful day she became a warrior when no other was around.
"Lookee here, amigos! Pretty girl all alone!"
"Missing your husband, senorita?"
"Get out of my house!"
"Shut the baby up! Permanently!"
"DON'T YOU TOUCH MY CHILD!"
"You little tramp!"
"No…please!"
"Huuuukkkkk!"
"You animals!"
"Maria! Are you alright?"
"Oh, god…what I have done?"
"Maria, calm yourself! Theresa's fine!"
"What have I done?"
…
"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm here now. You're safe. We've covered up for you. No one will ever know."
"I murdered them…"
"NO. You killed to save yourself and our child. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. And thank God you're both safe."
"…"
"Not all adventures are fun, my love."
"Lionel…will it ever go away?"
"No, it won't. I'm sorry, it never does. All you can do is live with it. But it's a burden you'll never have to bear alone, Maria. I promise you."
…
Maria snapped the blade back into its cover, her face ridden with angst as she couldn't stop remembering her husband's enemies, invading her home whilst he was away fighting. They all meant her and baby Theresa bodily harm…and Maria had killed all three of the attackers. Stabbing, shooting…and twisting one's arm to embed his own knife right in his throat.
Who the hell am I? Maria asked herself, as she chose to take her sword, knife and pistol out of the cabinet and strap the weapons in their cases to her body. I'm so sure one moment…and the next I'm not. Why don't I know when I should?
Realising that the evidence wasn't in the munitions cabinet either, Maria gave up. She took some spare shots and filled her pistol with gunpowder from the barrel under the stairs before finally closing and locking everything up.
Come on, Maria, the American chastised herself. Are you worthy of the name Williams or aren't you? You know your husband! He's always preaching that information is like gold. Always out of grasp, yet within reach. In other words…never in the most likely searching…place.
The soldier's wife then remembered something…curious. The day the Williams family had moved into their new home, Maria had taken to it immediately, she loved the décor, the cleanliness, the back yard, the fact that it was right in town, the space, the comfort it provided…she loved the kitchen more than anything else.
All ideal…except for one scrap of wallpaper that had come lose from the upper corner in their bedroom, just below the ceiling. A spot of water damage had been responsible, also resulting in some plaster crumbling from behind. Maria could remember that as soon as Lionel had gone off-duty to come see the house…it was this spot of water damage that had made him keen more than anything else about the place. Lionel had promised he would fix it when he had the chance and he did. And although Maria was satisfied with the job he'd done, she couldn't help but notice an ever-so-slight bulge that had been wallpapered over.
"Did the best I could with what I had, and that's the truth," Lionel had rather cryptically explained. "Maybe there's something else going on behind there we don't know about. But it's not doing any harm for the moment. If something bothers you though, honey…maybe you can figure out what it is."
Maria had thought he was referring to the water damage and its cause. But now the pin had finally dropped.
"Lionel, you genius!" she smiled, realising the clue her husband had left all this time to help her in an emergency such as this. Grabbing the kitchen steps, she darted upstairs to their bedroom. Remembering the exact spot, she groaned in frustration over forgetting that they'd shunted the wardrobe in the alcove next to the bed, blocking the bulge in the wallpaper.
Maria walked over, placed her hands behind the furniture to get a grip so she could move it. The American gritted her teeth, grunting in her attempt to move it aside with all her strength, but the bulk and shape (along with the limited space) made the task rather awkward. After shoving the wardrobe barely an inch away, Mrs Williams took a respite to pull the bottom drawers completely out and put them to one side. She then opened the doors and threw all the clothes out onto the bed. The only item now left inside was a big, brown coat and hat, both belonging to Lionel. Smiling in fondness, she put the coat on and the hat to one side.
I'll wear that on the way out, she decided, before turning back to the now-much lighter wardrobe. Getting another grip on it, Maria this time succeeded in moving the furniture out of the alcove so she could get at the bulge just below the ceiling in the corner. Using the steps, Maria reached the spot and used her knife to carefully cut the wallpaper.
What she saw underneath brought such a grin to her face.
It was a portfolio, and inside was Lionel's file, copies of military reports, an assorted collection of evidence, details of name changes...Maria excitedly flicked through the sheets of paper and seconds later…she found it.
An exact copy of the report Lionel had filed back in America, detailing everything that really happened, complete with testimony and seals of approval. An authentic account to clear her husband.
I'm coming, honey, grinned Mrs Williams, snapping the portfolio shut and jumping off the steps onto the floor. Grabbing the hat, Maria put it on and left the room, with the evidence under her arm.
Only to walk into a party of four intruders along the hallway, three of them armed, pistols cocked and aimed right for her face. Their leader grinned and chuckled sinisterly, observing her body with a spyglass.
"Knew it was a good idea to let you do the work for us…" smiled Malcolm, shutting the spyglass and bearing his horrible teeth at her, "my darling Elizabeth."
Doctor Helm still didn't know what to make of the events of this afternoon. It smelt of yet another Montoya set-up, but Williams' attitude had been most strange indeed. Why profess innocence and then surrender himself so easily upon hearing the charges?
Robert didn't like the Golden Sergeant. He never had, and he didn't see any reason to change his stance, even in light of them both being brought in on Tessa's secret and her crusade.
However, the Englishman was concerned for Maria. And hoped she would be alright, regardless of this skeleton that had seemingly fallen out of her husband's closet. The Queen would doubtless be 'working' – placing herself in danger yet again – leaving the Doctor with no choice but to put his worries aside and remind himself that it was just another day in their lives.
With nothing else to do, Helm did the only thing he could after the party ended so abruptly. He returned to his office to go over his list of appointments left for the week, then decided to check on a patient out of town to see how they were healing.
The Queen's got her job to do, realised Helm now in the stables, securing his bag to the saddle of his horse. Might as well focus on mine.
All ready to go, the Englishman was about to mount his steed…then stopped. Taking his shoe off the footrest, the former spy focused. It had been an ever-so-slight sound, reminiscent of a pin dropping. Helm looked from left to right, shrugged and then prepared to mount his horse again. Then he stopped before he could get on, groaned and then left the stables, muttering to himself that he'd left his stethoscope back in his office.
The coast now clear, the figure crept out slowly from behind the bundle of hay, secretly chastising himself for nearly allowing the surgeon to see him. The fugitive carefully stepped over to his stable and unbolted the gate, his horse waiting for him. The runaway looked over his shoulder one more time; no guards, no peeping Toms. All was still clear.
Or so it seemed.
He was just about to mount up when he felt the terrific crack of the wooden club right across the back of his head. He reached out for the stable gate to stop himself from falling over and then felt the hand grab his shoulder to spin him round and pin him against the fence.
"I'd almost forgotten that hole underneath the back wall," explained Doctor Helm, his knife in hand. "Should've known that…"
As Robert pressed the knife to the fugitive's throat, he was caught off-guard slightly when the angered man had managed to regain enough of his bearings to draw his pistol and press it hard against the Doctor's cheek. For both men, though, anger turned into surprise when they finally recognised each other.
"Williams!"
"Helm!" seethed the Golden Sergeant angrily, his head throbbing wildly. "I might've known. By the way…that hurt."
"What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Robert, whispering to avoid attracting attention. "And more important," the Doctor noted Williams' contusions, "what scuffles have you been causing?"
"Get that knife away from my throat now," ordered Lionel, equally quiet as he moved his pistol away from Robert's head, "or I'll head butt your nose deep into your…"
"Fine!" snapped the Englishman, withdrawing his blade, and backing off to allow the American some space.
"Now answer my question. What are you doing?"
"Leaving to clear my name. See ya."
Helm sidestepped to block Williams' path and then demanded, "If you were innocent, why didn't you just say so at the party?"
"When did you start caring about me?"
"Never. I'm more concerned about your wife, and that you'll have naturally dragged the Queen into this as well."
"I don't have time for this," remarked the sergeant, shoving the doctor aside to get at his horse. "I trust we're at least amicable enough for you to keep your mouth shut about me being here."
The surgeon then forcefully grabbed the soldier's arm to make him stop and the situation grow even more intense.
"Tell me what's going on, Williams," ordered Doctor Helm sternly. "Now."
"I don't care how much the kid loves you," spat the Golden Sergeant venomously, spinning round "you're really asking for a fat lip, and as much as I…"
"You owe me, remember? When you came to me for answers about the Queen of Swords, I gave them to you when I didn't have to. And I would really prefer not going to my grave a blind idiot!"
Williams stared thoughtfully at Helm for a second before nodding and conceding, "Alright. But if you want to know, then shut up and come…"
The slight sound of guns cocking was enough to make Williams turn his head round to the gateway out of the stables. The figure of an outlaw – obviously one of Malcolm's men – was smiling, holding two pistols, aimed for both heads in his sights.
And about to squeeze the triggers.
His reflexes kicking in, Lionel drew his own pistol, shoved Robert hard onto the ground, and fired his weapon before the killer could even react. The Doctor looked up, spitting out the dirt that had entered his mouth…to see the top of their attacker's head explode into blood.
"You bastard!" shouted an angry Helm as Williams yanked him up to his feet. "You didn't have to kill him!"
"Tell him that!" spat the soldier angrily, nodding at the bandit's body.
"Get in there! Kill them both!" jeered the voices from outside, making both Doctor and Soldier look up with alarm
"Rrragghh…SHIT!" growled a frustrated Lionel, before running to his horse. "Come on, Helm!"
"What the hell have you dragged me into, you…?"
Robert's tirade was cut off by the fist of a man who'd had more than enough. The Englishman crashed back to the ground, now sporting a bloody, fat lip. As promised. Lionel then picked Robert up off the ground again, shoved him forward to his horse and yelled at him to "Ride, damn it! Ride!".
Doctor Helm could only try and shake off all the cobwebs and anger as he and Sergeant Williams mounted and kicked their horses to hightail it out of the stables as fast and as hard as possible. Several more of Conrad's men then entered the premises, all armed with rifles, but before they could even prepare to fire, they were forced to jump for cover as the riders and their horses raced past with all haste. One bandit tried to shoot Williams regardless, only for the Golden Sergeant to draw his sword and knock the gun out of his grasp, then put his boot right into the killer's face on the way out.
The outlaws regrouped to open fire as the doctor and the sergeant kept their heads down, the shocked townsfolk in alarm over Lionel Williams and Robert Helm fleeing. More shots fired, sending the people screaming and scattering.
"Damn it!" snarled one of the outlaws as the fugitives soon became out of range. "Get word to the boss! Tell Montoya's grunts what's happening!"
Malcolm 'oohed' and 'aared' as he flickered through the pages of the portfolio.
"I remember that!" he chuckled mockingly. "The time when me and him went on our 'working vacation' in Washington with Abe! You remember that one right?"
Maria - disarmed, hatless and bound to the chair – simply stared at the horrible man, with one of his cohorts pressing a sharp knife to her throat. Also in the living room, another outlaw was guarding the kitchen looking out the windows for any intruders. Malcolm's third man was resting against the front door.
"Hmm? No?" the murderer asked the silent housewife. "That story had you in stitches when we first told you. Don't you remember that first day we met?"
Maria could never ever forget. Back in America, when her father had been in talks with the military over a new factory he was building for them. Lord Nigel Parker had ordered his daughter to come along to help oversee matters that should concern her. Really he wanted to get Elizabeth away from her brothers and maybe find a husband for her at the same time.
She remembered it all so vividly, like it were only yesterday. Seventeen-year-old Elizabeth being bored out of her mind, told every now and again to 'come along' and 'pay attention', expected to act like a classy puppet. The day was tedious…right up to the point when she met the Conrad brothers, twenty-six-year-old Andrew and his younger brother Malcolm (twenty-four), both soldiers of corporal rank. Malcolm was immature, something of a joker. Andrew was the polar opposite; reserved, yet kind. Although he didn't smile anywhere near as much as his brother, he could appreciate a good laugh.
And underneath that exterior…that mask…Elizabeth could sense the damaged heart of someone who felt so alone.
Like herself.
Malcolm was bored with his routine patrol and suggested they'd all relocate elsewhere. Elizabeth had been quick to agree, and despite Andrew voicing his concerns, he reluctantly conceded. Conversation and laughs followed - more with Andrew than Malcolm – then the approval of Lord Parker came.
And the rest was history.
"I'm hurt you've forgotten, Elizabeth," Malcolm 'sweetly' confessed, gesturing his follower to back-off with the blade. He then approached the restrained woman, handing the portfolio over to his cohort, and leering into her indifferent face. "But I suppose that comes with change, doesn't it…'Maria Williams'?"
Maria didn't give him any response. She tried to unfasten the ropes that were binding her wrists together. Her brothers had taught her how to do so, and she'd been able to free herself before but that was when time and slacker ropes were on her side. Nevertheless, she secretly persisted as Malcolm continued to prattle.
"Just look at you. So beautiful…so adventurous. But to be honest…you look so much more sexier in your mom's dresses than you do in those man's clothes. No wonder your dad wanted you to do as you were told.
"That sword, the gun, the knife…naughty, little girl. Should be the faithful house-wife. And yet, here you are…from aristocrat to wife to homemaker to actress to killer to…I could be wrong about this…mother?"
Maria didn't even flinch, but inside she was shouting at herself to, Don't react. Don't talk about Theresa at all. Change the subject.
"Come on, Elizabeth," nodded the insidious outlaw, licking his lips at her. "You've put on a little weight since last time I saw you. On stage back in Madrid starring in Hamlet. May have been several years ago, before Bonaparte screwed up the world, but I recognise maternity pounds anywhere. So is it boy or girl? Singular or plural? Uncle Malcolm would…"
"Why are you even here?" asked Maria simply. "What do you want?"
"What do I want? Isn't it obvious?"
"You tried to kill me, your own brother, faked your death, stalked us all this time, running like a coward from Napoleon while we were fighting, pursued us from Spain to California…and why? You said it was to get everything that Lionel has. But I know the real truth. All that immaturity, all that shirking responsibility…ever since day one…
"Should've known. It was all because you were never good enough for anything."
"Don't even try to get in my head, Lizzy," Malcolm told her condescendingly. "You're not that smart."
"All those months you manipulated me, claiming to love me…hitting me with those sob stories about how your parents disciplined you for misbehaviour, never loving you as much as they did Andrew…he became the hero, you became the bitter, smelly tramp. That's why you turned to crime along with the other losers, isn't it?"
"Am I meant to be riled by any of this?"
"I can already tell you are. You're not answering my questions, you're merely evading them. And you're doing all this to us, after all this time…because you're just like the rest of the sad, pathetic losers out there. Weak, scared bully. And in Montoya's eyes…nothing more than expendable."
The outlaw scowled, took his knife out, grabbed Maria's throat and pressed the blade on her cheek, right under her eye. Lionel's wife struggled to breathe, bear the pain of Malcolm's strength squeezing her neck so tightly. Yet she bravely looked her brother-in-law right in the eye and dared, "Do it."
Now it was Malcolm's turn to simply stare. After a few seconds, his maniacal grin returned.
"I knew my love for you was legitimate," he replied, breathing down the side of Maria's face, like he wanted to lick her cheek. "Disturbed, evil and up for mind games. Just like me…my worthy bride."
Maria's face betrayed absolutely nothing. Deep down though, she remembered when Malcolm had held her hostage on her wedding day. The day when all the horrible truths came out. She'd become scared, angry over the betrayal…and without thinking, she'd taken his eye out in a bid to get free.
Maria never forgot Malcolm's screams, the blood, the horrible scar she'd inflicted…and the fact she had tainted her innocence by committing such a heinous act.
Is he right? She asked herself. Am I just like him? After what I did? Those lives that I took?
The knife's point became close to cutting her skin, making Maria grimace and struggle to get free, but Malcolm laughed and shoved her chair over, making Maria's head bang hard on the floor as she fell. Kneeling down, Malcolm then grabbed Maria's head and pinned it down, stopping her from wriggling as he put his knife back on her face.
"Don't worry, Elizabeth," shushed Malcolm as she seethed and grunted. "I'm not a reckless amateur like you. I'm an artist. Gently at first, then become more forceful when I'm ready to sculpt. I'll have painted a masterpiece. And then we'll both be the marked lovers again…and this time, our union will go undisturbed. Because there's no one to save you now."
Theresa…Lionel…grimaced Maria as she could feel the blade about to pierce her skin again. I'm sorry…
"Burn the evidence," ordered Malcolm to his men. "Then the house."
No, not again! Mrs Williams felt like crying out in despair at first.
Until her thoughts turned to those of dark realisation.
"It was you!" she shouted angrily. "You sent those men to burn my home! You killed my father!"
"Guilty as charged," admitted Malcolm with zero remorse. "Just like everyone else."
The knife landed deep in the outlaw's right shoulder blade. Screaming as his wracked body made him stand up to his feet, Malcolm dropped the knife and turned round like a foaming, rabid dog that had just been whipped. The man who was about to burn the portfolio dropped the unlit match, matchbook and file in alarm. Maria gulped and panted her fear then looked to where the knife had come from.
The relief fuelled such an ecstatic smile.
The Queen of Swords emerged from the kitchen doorway, walking over the bandit she'd taken care of upon entering the house. Uncoiling her whip, the vigilante lashed out, the stinging leather venomously touching the other killers' hands and painfully making them drop their weapons.
The Queen then cracked the whip again, this time striking out right across Conrad's face, on the scar no less. He cursed and fell to the floor, as the others rushed to the Avenging Angel.
The masked Tessa dropped her weapon, backed away into the kitchen, then jumped up to grab the top boarder of the doorway's frame. With a sufficient hold, she swung into the living room, feet-first into the nearest attacker's face. The killer felt the Queen's boots nearly break his nose, then his head crack on the table as he fell. The Avenging Angel landed, got her arms up to block the knife that was coming down, then planted the boot in the outlaw's midsection, rolling onto her spine and throwing him right into the kitchen.
Malcolm tried to get up, only for the Queen to kick him hard in the face for his efforts. Sure that he would be down long enough, the Avenging Angel gave Conrad a mocking smile before darting over to the still-captive Maria.
"I cannot describe just how thrilled, lucky and thankful I am to have you for my best friend!" smiled Mrs Williams, as the Queen used her friend's knife to cut her bonds.
"You and several dozen others," smiled the masked Tessa after she finished freeing the soldier's wife. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, thanks. Where's the portfolio?"
They both quickly surveyed the mess of the front room, remembering that the invaders wouldn't be out for long. Maria's eyes then spotted the dropped folder in the far corner of the room, right next to the fireplace. Its papery contents spilt over the floorboards.
"Gather it all up, quick!" yelled Maria as they both ran over to pick up the evidence that could clear her husband. In no time at all, the two friends had filed it all safely back in the binder.
"Come on, hurry!" implored the Queen, grabbing Maria's arm. "Chico's outside!"
"Hang on a second!" the American asked the vigilante, thrusting the file into her arms. Turning to the sofa, Maria grabbed her arsenal that Malcolm had left there to taunt her with. Quickly sheathing her sword and knife, holstering her pistol and finally grabbing her hat, Maria followed the Queen of Swords out the back door to escape.
She couldn't help but look back over her shoulder at the sight of Malcolm coming to.
The savage outlaw eventually rose with menace, his men still groaning over lingering hurts the Queen had given them as they rolled over on the ground.
Malcolm just stared at the back door through the kitchen, where his prey had fled through.
Should've remembered you don't come to Santa Helena and not expect to bump into the Queen of Swords, sneered the butcher, the knife still imbedded in his shoulder blade. Using his left hand, he screamed as he pulled the blade out, and yelled at his men to get up and get him a bandage. Then some needle and thread.
Oh, well, realised Conrad, another sadistic smirk starting to form. More points for me. Elizabeth's on the run, as much a fugitive as her darling husband. And once I've set Andrew up for murder…
Malcolm looked at the knife the Queen had thrown into his shoulder, stained with his own blood. The savage animal licked it with his tongue, then began to imagine what the Avenging Angel's blood would taste like.
"Cold revenge, my favourite," the butchering outlaw grinned, looking up in the direction of where the women had ran.
Elsewhere, Doctor Robert Helm could only glare at the runaway soldier who had now led them approximately three miles out of town without stopping. The surgeon's swollen lip still throbbed uncomfortably where the American had hit him. Robert should've been remembering the circumstances, the fact that it hadn't been the time or place for Robert to go off into a tirade against the soldier.
The fact that he'd probably asked for a punch to the face.
But all he could think about was contempt for the sergeant. And so many questions.
Lionel looked over his shoulder and when there was no one behind him, he exhaled his temporary relief and stopped, making his reluctant ally and 'friend' stop also. They'd lost their pursuers.
Very small consolation, Williams thought bitterly. The governor of the state, my darkest reflection, the ambassador of Spain and God knows how many more murderers are after me. And they'll kill everyone affiliated with me to further make me look like the bad guy.
The Golden Sergeant - battered, bruised and close to beaten - then turned to face the silent and angry glare of the Englishman. Lionel's mind was utterly consumed by all that happened. How one subtle move by Montoya - and a ghost foolishly believed to be dead – had succeeded in turning his life completely upside down.
Again.
And he knew that Malcolm's men had targeted Helm because Montoya and Grisham knew that neither soldier or doctor liked each other. Murdering both of them and pinning it on Williams would be misinterpreted as 'proof' of the Golden Sergeant's implied corruption.
Williams couldn't dare think of what they would be doing to his family right now.
"Doctor…" began the American, in a voice laced with regret and torment, "I…"
"The only thing," cut off Robert icily, "I want to hear from you…is what I deserve. Who the hell are you?"
The wind began to blow, sending a chill down the soldier's spine. He breathed in deep, letting the silence rattle him so much more.
"I'm waiting," demanded the Doctor impatiently.
"My name…" began the fugitive anxiously, wondering how and why this had all happened to him before eventually coming out with the truth.
"My real name…isn't Lionel Williams. It's Andrew Conrad. And the man who's trying to destroy my life…is my own brother Malcolm…who I arrested and had hanged for corruption back in America eleven years ago."