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 3: Trials
Journal of Sergeant Lionel Williams, entry 3,000.
July 3rd 1818.
Never thought I'd get a chance to write again.
It's been a hard month. What with trying to do my job and uncover the truth about the Queen of Swords. Dealing with pressure from Montoya and the Dons. Fighting off would-be soldiers and brawling with the Captain of the Guard…
Keeping all my struggles locked inside me for so long.
My father gave me my first journal. Just to write, so I could discover for myself who I was. When he was gone…I really started to learn.
It's become a big part of who I am. My ability to put ink to paper, to transfer my feelings from inside to outside. Maria helps obviously, but sometimes, one needs something more to express. And cope.
So now, here I am. About to share my experiences with my beloved journal, about a war I'm preparing myself for. And a woman whose existence and revelations have rocked me to the core.
Let me start with my conversation with Doctor Robert Helm. And how I asked him to tell me about the first time he met her.
He proceeded to explain to me that it was shortly after he first arrived in Santa Helena. He'd been requested to treat injured soldiers and sick people by Colonel Montoya, who fawned to him and asked if there was any possible medicine he could give to certain people, without actually telling the doctor WHY they were so sick.
Helm said that he soon learnt what was going on, when he was ordered to go to a mine several miles out of town to evaluate the condition of 'voluntary workers', who were unearthing gold for the greedy colonel. The conditions of the mine were most hazardous. Toxic, suffocating, constant danger of landslides, the list was endless. It obviously sounded to me that these 'workers' were people enslaved against their will, given the number of deaths and the fact that they were overworked at TWELVE hours a day.
Montoya apparently justified all this by saying that the mine 'officially' never existed, neither did the workers. Helm then explained that Sergeant Alonzo - Alonzo, a man I've come to despise as a glorified bully - threatened the lives of six men just to get the Queen to surrender. Rather than risk innocent lives to murdering scum, she allowed herself to be captured.
Helm's whole story reminded me of me and what happened on the Garcia farm. I saw the emotion in the Queen's eyes. The horror and disgust over these pigs threatening innocent people just to make themselves feel big.
Helm didn't exaggerate telling his stories. He spoke to me honestly and professionally over his encounters with the vigilante. He cut to the chase also where it mattered. Their first meeting had ended when he convinced Alonzo to clear all the men out of the mine for water, air and treatment, tended to a gunshot wound the Queen had sustained earlier, then secretly helped her escape. She subsequently made Alonzo cry like a baby and then blew up the mine, ruining Montoya's chance for a fortune, and saving the slaves from further subjection.
Given the circumstances, I completely understand why Helm did what he did.
Helm gave me more anecdotes, like how the Queen saved Santa Helena from a great fever by thwarting Grisham, who had set fire to the doctor's office, so he couldn't save people or a critically-ill Montoya, just to become governor. It became increasingly difficult not to storm out of the room and kill them both with my bare hands upon hearing all this.
As the doctor told me more of times when they'd been forced to work together in life-and-death situations, I could tell that Helm had genuine feelings for her, but I kept that observation to myself. Helm's cooperation and attitude overall had been exemplary, and he was doing me a huge favour. Even though we hated each other, I couldn't fault his professionalism, so the least I could do was return that professionalism whilst interviewing him.
We talked for an hour and a half overall. He told me only what I needed to know, which is what I asked for. When I asked him if the Queen had ever killed anyone, Helm gave me a cold look and asked me what I was implying.
"I'm not implying anything," was my response. "I'm merely asking."
"She's killed to save lives," admitted Helm. "Mine, hers, others more…but only when she HAS to. When there's no other option. She's not callous or evil. She saves much more than she kills. She fights for the people."
Killing had obviously been a touchy subject with the doctor. I could tell just by looking into his eyes, observing his slight, painful sighs, his size and build. I guessed he was much tougher than he let on. Just wish he'd do something about that personality of his.
Helm's ultimate verdict was that she was a frankly amazing woman. A true heroine. Again, he wasn't exaggerating in his tone. I just hope I can realise the truth for myself. I thanked Helm for his help and told him that I wouldn't bother him again outside his hours. He said I was welcome and then showed me the way out.
The last few weeks have been a blur, what with doing my job and trying to get to the bottom of this mess. Obviously don't want to make Montoya or Grisham suspicious of what I'm doing, so I just did my job, not giving them anything to complain about. No more insolent backtalk, just fulfilling orders. And they seem to have left me alone, at least for now.
Eavesdropping on gossip regarding the Queen has further helped clarify things. Peasants continue to proudly say how their sons were saved by the vigilante from hanging, or that they were saved from fever thanks to her and Doctor Helm. Or that they became richer and less hungry due to her giving gold to them. Or that they would've suffered at the hands of an egotistical Spanish Ambassador if not for her intervention.
Members of the aristocracy also seem to have acknowledged the Queen positively, whether it be saving their lives, helping them from Montoya or returning stolen possessions. Notions that some of the rich fear, mistrust and despise the Queen - viewing her to be a mere thief and bandit - surely must have existed at one time, given how she hides behind a dubious mask. It is a natural reaction in some people. But whatever negativity may have existed seems to have long been quelled by her intent and deeds.
I first thought about how absurd that sounds. Then I reminded myself that she has been around for OVER A YEAR. A lot has clearly happened which I haven't known about.
Maria's remarks about how I should pay more attention to news stories embarrass me. Just a little.
Anyway, it's safe to say that the people idolize her as a symbol of hope. A champion, no less. Having now read Theresa's collection of Queen stories (I can see why Maria refers to the writer as 'that damn Edward Wellesley'), listening to tales and gossip, I can also see why the vigilante is such a popular subject.
But I needed more first-hand accounts from people who I could trust to keep interviews confidential. That meant more secret visits to people who were reliable and/or couldn't stand Montoya. After going over more reports, I decided to question a few more subjects, being ever careful not to let the colonel catch on.
Father Quintera, the padre of the local church, was an ideal character-witness. How can you doubt a man of God? It fitted in perfectly with what Montoya wanted me to do one day, go over and make sure everything was in order for the upcoming fiesta, that it all 'corresponded with the law'. The colonel's obviously bitter that he's not going to profit in any way from this fundraiser.
Maria said that Quintera was a wonderful man. She was obviously telling the truth. It was a rarity to meet such an honest, kind-hearted Samaritan like him. We quickly got the progress of the fiesta out of the way to keep the colonel satisfied, and then I asked if I could have his opinion on a few things, which he agreed to without question.
I'd turned to the statue of Our Lord and asked the father if He was disappointed in what His children had done to His wonderful creation, with our childish infighting and defying the Ten Commandments. Quintera put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and said, "Unfortunately, there are forces of evil at work, Sergeant. They cloud the mind and heart of good men and women. That is why God blesses us with the gifts of confession and forgiveness. And that is why he gives us miracles like the Queen of Swords. And you. Both of whom we can count on to right wrongs."
That part really touched me. As did the father's statement that, "God also continually blesses us with beautiful children. Like Theresa. Such a bright, wonderful girl."
The father was a well-known supporter of the Queen, having seen her do everything to help the people and protect them from murderers. He told of me of an incident that happened several weeks ago before I came to California. During preparations for the fiesta, armed robbers had stormed the church, taking hostages and attempting to make off with the charity fund. The Queen had arrived in time to save Quintera from having a bullet in his head, fought off all the masked bandits and saved the fund and the lives of everyone present.
Quintera told me of more occasions where the Queen had helped him out personally, and it was at this point where I asked him if it was true that the Queen had actually once assaulted him and robbed the church of a fund which has long been used to build the local school.
"Oh, no, sergeant!" the padre dismissed vehemently. "That was a blasphemous impostor who dared to sully the Queen's good name. The real Queen actually returned the school fund and the impostor was later exposed and executed by the colonel."
Official reports did indeed verify this to be true. Which struck me as contradictory of Montoya's nature. If the Queen's reputation was being sullied, surely he'd allow it go on. Even more likely he was actually behind the ruse. So why would he allow the truth to come out? Maybe he was actually trying to atone for something here. But then I thought how ridiculous that sounded. We're talking about Montoya here.
Quintera's final statement that the Queen was, "A miracle. A true miracle of God," made his feelings perfectly clear. I thanked the padre for his invaluable help, and said that if there was ever anything I could do for him, he needed only to ask.
Following Maria's advice, I decided to speak next with Tessa Alvarado and her servant Marta. Both were honest and trustworthy in Maria's eyes, and that was good enough for me.
Journeying on to the Alvarado land…made me feel better after my bad experiences in Santa Helena so far. What a positive feeling to ride there. The trees, the beautiful gardens, the farmlands, the hacienda itself; the sun's radiance making it Heaven on Earth…
Then I saw all the workers, dozens of them. Smiling, happy faces proud to have purpose and to work for such a kind-hearted girl. As soon as I dismounted, a worker came up to me, who kindly took my horse away to the stables to be cleaned and fed. I smiled my gratitude and then looked to see Senorita Alvarado talking with her servant, waving to happy workers as they passed by.
The noblewoman approached me with, "Sergeant Williams! What a lovely surprise!" She is indeed such a welcoming, genuine person.
"Sorry to intrude, Senorita," I explained to her, "but I need your help. BOTH your help."
"Certainly! Do come inside. Marta, bring some lemonade for our guest."
When I explained it was about the Queen of Swords, she laughed modestly, saying she didn't know much, but she and Marta would be happy to cooperate. I couldn't help feeling though that when my back was turned, the young Alvarado was giving me a suspicious look.
The Queen was rumoured to have been a personal friend of Tessa Alvarado, given the number of times she rescued Marta, and how the senorita gossiped about her saving lives, fighting soldiers and giving gold to the people. More anecdotes about a trial witness, Marta's old love from Spain, the deceased Ambassador Ramirez - a man who I'd known only by reputation for being a bastard - more accounts of the dreaded fever, reinforced popular opinion.
When I asked about the Queen once breaking into her home and tying them both up, the senorita dismissed that. "Oh, that was all a silly misunderstanding! I thought a shaman was a notorious criminal and aided in his arrest. The Queen accused me of being callous and deserved to be punished! Everything was all sorted out in the end."
I simply stared at her. It sounded very flimsy, but I suppose it's not really worth delving deeper into, which is why I just let it lie.
"Do you personally consider the Queen to be your friend?" I asked the senorita.
"I would say she's a friend to everyone, Sergeant," she shrugged innocently.
"Except Montoya, of course," remarked Marta, smiling slightly.
"Marta! I won't have you speaking like that about our esteemed governor!" she gasped suddenly, pretending to be appalled. The girl was obviously pretending not to agree with her servant, I could see that in her eyes. She was a very good actress. Maybe she was actually the Queen herself, given her father's unsolved murder. That would be reason enough to make her put on a mask, wield swords and ride horses. And she would have to go far to protect her secrets. But I kept my suspicions to myself. Because they were just that: suspicions.
Marta was very cooperative. I felt I could trust her. Her lemonade certainly surprised me. I wasn't expecting to enjoy it enough to ask for a second glass. Like her mistress, friendly and kind.
She said to me, "You should know, Sergeant, that the Queen ISN'T evil."
"I hope to find out for myself, Marta," I replied. "Thank you for your time. And the same to you, Senorita Alvarado."
"Oh, Sergeant," she smiled, stopping me from leaving. "Would you and Maria like to join us for dinner sometime?"
I paused for a moment to consider carefully my reply. I chose to respect her privacy regarding her father, and what happened with Esperanza Garcia., and then said, "My wife speaks very highly of you, Tessa. Having seen what you've done for all these workers, your contributions to the fiesta and so on…I can see why she liked you instantly."
"And do you feel the same way?" she asked me.
"If my experiences have taught me anything, Senorita…it's that there's so much more to people then they let on."
I told her that we'd be delighted to accept the invitation and thanked her again. I wonder if the noblewoman viewed me differently after hearing what I said.
Finally, I'd spoken to Don Gaspar Hidalgo and his wife Vera. When I'd been introduced to the Dons shortly after my arrival, Hidalgo wasn't someone I particularly cared for. His protests and criticisms of Montoya were understandable, but I got the impression that he only spoke against something when he had the spine to do so, and that he cared too much about being in his own happy little world. Nevertheless, his wife had had infamous encounters with the Queen. So it seemed logical to question her. The fact that I now know she's having an affair with Grisham seemed to make her fearful of me. Which meant her cooperation was assured, even though I didn't want it to be like that.
Gaspar seemed to be cooperative by default.
I asked about the Queen contributing a fortune to the people, rumoured to have belonged to the deceased Don Horatio, which she'd kept out of the state's hands. Hidalgo conceded that the Queen was indeed charitable, and acknowledged that she'd saved Vera's life, helped the rich as well as the poor, such as Don Andres six months ago, who had been framed for forging deeds to land, but there was a lot Hidalgo was keeping tight-lipped about. Merely giving credit where credit was due. Obviously he wasn't going to do anything to compromise himself or Vera, which I respected. For a moment.
When I asked Vera about when she was kidnapped by a man called Barnardo, Gaspar seethed and then smiled condescendingly, "Sergeant, must you really persist in bothering me and my petal over long-forgotten and irrelevant matters?"
"I don't mean to invade your privacy, Don Hidalgo…but there is a lot going on in this town that I don't know about. And in order to fulfil my duty, I need to know details so I can protect and serve the people efficiently and completely."
"You need not concern yourself with incessant investigation. Merely worry about what you are supposed to be doing and knowing your place."
I didn't take Hidalgo's patronising as well as I should have.
"Don Hidalgo, I have been fighting horrific wars and the worst kind of scum for twenty years, and most of the time, the only reward I crave is the knowledge that people will see tomorrow. But in order for that to happen, there are times when I need help. Is cooperation from people REALLY that much to ask for?"
"From where I come from, the less people know, the safer they are," he smiled at me. "Ignorance is bliss, after all."
Any respect I had for the Don vanished altogether at that point.
"Well, the problem I have, sir…is that I cannot afford the luxury of comfy chairs and worrying about much longer I have to wait until the next goblet of wine and helping of trifle. There are actually people who have to work in order to keep the innocent alive outside of your little abode."
It was worth watching Gaspar's fat face redden. Maybe I crossed the line, but as we Americans like to say, "Don't dish it out, if you can't take it." Vera stepped in at that point, comforting her husband, "Darling, the sergeant has come all the way from Spain to do us all a great service. The very least we can do to show our appreciation is aid him in his quest. I know it upsets you talking about such things, but I am perfectly alright. Why don't you have a lie down? The servants will wake you before dinner."
Hidalgo smiled gently, "I think I will, my petal. You help the good sergeant with what he needs. If you are sure?"
Vera nodded and the Don left, giving me a quick glare before leaving. I apologised to Vera and she dismissed it, saying he's very sensitive. An uneasy silence fell over us, which I broke by calling her husband 'a good man' just to make conversation. She nodded painfully, agreeing that he was better then she deserved.
Talking to Vera, I immediately realised she was one very complicated person. It was evident she loved her husband, yet she loved Grisham just as much. It made me think if the captain actually loved her, or just saw her as a toy. That would make more sense. I also felt that Vera would do anything for him, including acting as a spy for the captain, and Montoya.
When I asked her about the Queen saving her life, all the things she did for the people, Vera said it was so exciting to be saved by the Queen and she'd boasted about it to all her friends. She then told me of when Santa Helena had been taken over by the mysterious 'Hanged Man', the Queen had actually rallied the Don's wives to save their husbands. Vera had quelled protests from certain mistrusting ladies, and actually vouched for the vigilante, deciding to trust her. In the end, the Dons were saved and the 'Hanged Man' called Krane was captured by the Queen. Grisham actually saved the town and Montoya from a gunpowder trap set to go off and was credited as being a real hero.
That I took with a pinch of salt.
The stories that the Queen had actually attacked Vera and put her into a coma were dismissed as being completely false. Vera told me it was merely an accident, and the story simply got out of hand resulting in a wrongful marshal law which was later repealed. Again, it sounded of a Montoya/Grisham set-up, but Senora Hidalgo didn't say anything more.
Nowadays, the Queen is a favourite gossip piece amongst the 'girls'. They like to chat about what dashing deeds she has performed, how they'd like to be saved by her, recount experiences of how she saved their lives or husbands' lives, the recent church incident again etc. I asked if anyone feared and mistrusted the Queen now, and Vera dismissed, "A few people are still jealous of her, but that's all really. She's long been accepted."
Senora Hidalgo said she respected and admired the Queen of Swords, and knew she could count on her to do the right thing. I gave my thanks and asked her to pass my apologies along to her husband. I turned to leave and then she stopped me.
"Sergeant Williams?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"About…what you saw that time…" Obviously she was referring to me walking in on her and Grisham, "there is a perfectly rational…"
"Vera," I interrupted, "I am not stupid. And neither are you. And as I also said, I am no rat."
She looked at me warily, still not convinced that I was trustworthy. I could easily expose her if I wanted to. But I didn't want to, because I knew what it would mean for her if I said anything.
"Your secret is perfectly safe with me," I smiled genuinely, saluting her. "At your service, ma'am."
Vera smiled back in relief, and then I left. We haven't said anymore about it since. Maria figured it all out for herself last week without me or anyone else having to tell her. And she's keeping the secret, too. I think it's commonplace that everyone knows about Vera's affair except her stupid husband.
So that's more or less everything I was able to find out about the Queen of Swords. Everything from news stories, to reports, to gossip to character-witnesses. She's clearly not a bandit or a thief. She's a vigilante, fighting a corrupt governor and his private army, all for the people.
She's certainly not like any other vigilante I've encountered before. This one knows what she's doing. And she actually cares.
Bullets and masks ring through my mind again. Bad experiences are still haunting me. And even though I now know what the Queen of Swords is, that still doesn't make everything all right. What kind of a community is this when the people depend on a woman in a mask and fear soldiers that murder and pillage? A horrible, depressing one, that's what kind it is.
And I've got to do something about it.
As well as the corruption in this army.
I knew all the upstaging the other sergeants, disciplining lazy troops, serving the people and mouthing off to Montoya and Grisham would get me into trouble one day. I'm an enemy in everyone's eyes now. Except my friends and comrades from Spain, who I saw for the first time earlier today. After a month.
It was good to see them. Even more so after what happened.
It was in the afternoon when this little punch-up started. Outside the jailhouse, in the grounds of the fort no less, where soldiers like to train and work out. Be it duelling with swords, bare fist fighting, initiation, humiliating others or simple exercise.
It started out as simple exercise. Me doing press-ups and weight lifts, then hammering away at a punching bag. When I heard chuckles behind me.
"Hey, Williams!" mocked Alonzo with his sniggering platoon. "Only REAL men are allowed here!"
"Go back to beating up your own mother, Alonzo," I retorted, still punching away. "Or whatever helps you pretend you're tougher than you actually are."
Some of his men smirked at that. The 'fearless' sergeant silenced them with eyes as intimidating as a rabbit's. Trying his hardest not to cry, Alonzo walked up to me and said, "Words is all you are, Golden Boy! Action is what I am! Bet your woman would like to see some of that."
"This coming from a man who hasn't a hope in hell of scoring," I laughed back, not ceasing my exercise. "Except maybe with his own sister."
The soldiers behind us all gasped and laughed. I could tell Alonzo was boiling and trying to keep his moustache on. He let the humiliation sink in, then gave me his best cheap shot.
"I could take you in an instant! Then I'd take your whores for my own!"
I put my fist through the punching bag and then turned round so that everyone could see what I was capable of. Sand poured out of the bag profusely. I could see on all their expressions that none of these pansies were as capable as I. They slowly backed away from me, letting them see my expression.
Alonzo's knees started to turn to jelly. He couldn't even pretend to act tough now as I got in his face. He was just about to blubber when I grinned at him to, "Give me your best shot."
It took a full five seconds for the thug to smile evilly back. He cracking his knuckles, then began weaving from side-to-side, ready to wind up and give me a punch.
I couldn't be bothered waiting, so without even looking I casually hit my fellow sergeant in the nuts and then floored him with a wild upwards swing. The jab to his balls was just to show him how easy it was to embarrass him. The uppercut was to show that I could knock him and his teeth out with no effort at all. As well as break his jaw. Shutting Alonzo up for a while might actually do everyone a world of good.
Everyone else had stopped playing to see what I'd just done. Alonzo's men had all backed off completely. The other soldiers looked as though they were going to rush me all at once. I thought that I might have a problem on my hands when Grisham's voice shouted, "Anytime, anyplace…is here and now, Williams. Think you can back up your words? In front of your own boys?"
I let my face widen with surprise as all of my men followed Grisham onto the ground, as per his orders. They obviously looked miserable, and hadn't taken to being scattered throughout Montoya's ranks that well. They'd been misused and mistreated, I didn't need details. Everything was written on their faces.
The moment they all saw me, they smiled. Then the captain ordered everyone to form a circle…and enjoy the show.
Two hands behind shoved me towards Grisham. A boot tripped me over, making me look a bit of a fool. The entire garrison must have been assembled for this. Fifty soldiers, all in Montoya's pocket and solidly behind Grisham. With the twelve soldiers I brought with me from Spain, cheering me on.
It was doubtless Grisham's way of teaching me some respect. By humiliating me in front of my own men, to the delight of all the other corrupt scum.
My mouth's still swollen. Hurts just to think about how hard Grisham kicked me whilst I was trying to pick myself up off the ground. He took his shirt off, laughed and then kicked me hard in the ribs. His men laughed and cheered. I don't recall my men ever being more supportive of me like this afternoon.
I got myself up to one foot, and looked up to be greeted by a hard and fast left-right combination which left me eating dirt once again. I looked up again to see Grisham, hands on hips, just shake his head at me in pity. Then he laughed again, his monkeys chanting his name.
I wondered what Montoya must have been thinking. He was obviously watching. And even though I didn't see it at the start, I knew he would be grinning in smug delight, shaking his head over Grisham's behaviour or studying the whole affair with interest.
"Look's like the Golden Boy's one of the fool's variety," remarked Grisham. "Talk about overrated."
Contemptuous of me, he let me get to my feet, still sporting that stupid grin. I studied him, noting his size and build. Being a disgusting animal makes him dangerous. The fact that he exercises and practices so strictly every day says a lot about his skill and fighting ability. And he's in his very early thirties, about a decade younger than me, which means he's faster. Hungrier.
But I'm not an animal. I'm a tamer.
"That all you got, punk?" I dared, after spitting a wad of blood at his feet. He just shook his head, laughed and threw a fast, concentrated strike for my face. I blocked it with my left forearm, and swung with a hard right of my own, connecting with his face. I followed it with a left, a punch to the gut and then a boot to his jaw.
I didn't break his jaw, his ribs, knock his teeth out or rupture any arteries. I just made sure he felt the pain, and let him know I could do some serious damage to him if he asked for it. My men were alive at this point, shouting, "Go, Lionel!", "That's our sergeant!" "Power to the Golden Boy!". Grisham's men jeered and booed as the captain clutched his side and nursed his jaw.
I was weaving and smiling. My turn to mock him. "Some captain," I scoffed. "No wonder the Queen's whipped your overrated ass so many times."
"This coming from the man who claims he took down Napoleon!" Grisham snapped, evidently surprised and ticked off. "Got humiliated by her on his first day and then spent the rest of his first week crying over some dead peasant!"
"That all you got, punk?" I asked him again.
"As if, Sergeant!" he yelled before coming at me again. This time he went for a tackle. His speed surprised me as he took me down to the ground hard, really keen to damage my ribs.
It all became a blur at that point, as we wrestled along the ground, exchanging hard, brutal blows during the rumble. I can remember my men realising that I was on top at one point, laying into Grisham. Their shouts were actually drowning the much larger body of men that were under Montoya. Speaking of which, I still didn't catch sight of him. Obviously because I was too busy giving my captain what he deserved. On reflection, I suppose the colonel may have been admiring the fact I was no pushover even more. Given how he looked at me afterwards.
Grisham's supporters were starting to grow concerned at one point. He'd just given me a black eye, when I kicked him off me and then asked if he liked injured ribs so much. We were now both back on our feet when he attempted to break my nose. I thanked him for the opening, when I caught his arm, twisted it behind his back and then tripped him up. He landed awkwardly and I still held onto his arm, slamming it over my knee as he came down.
The screams the move caused were intentional. I didn't intend to break his arm, just wrench it out of the shoulder joint. Doctor Helm was able to pop it back into place and it'll be fully healthy again soon. Still, it sent Grisham a clear message about what I can do if provoked.
All his supporters fell silent, mesmerized by what had transpired. Grisham continued to cry in agony and I let him go. He slowly got up to his feet, dislocated shoulder, limp arm, and bruises now his new companions. And he looked at me with fire in his eyes. I asked him casually if he'd had enough. He screamed, "Only your heart will be enough, Williams!"
I'd noticed the knife in his boot earlier on. He'd hidden it well, but during the tumble, I caught a glisten of something strapped to his leg that nearly blinded me. Had it not been for the sun and his pant leg rolling up for a moment, I think the crafty bastard would've gutted me for sure.
Montoya's angry shout at Grisham went unheard. The animal became possessed and his speed nearly planted the blade into my stomach. I caught his wrist, grabbed his throat and then started choking him, which brought Grisham to his knees. I casually took the knife out of his hand and raised it to the crowd like I wanted to take his eyes out. I could tell Grisham's supporters were about to draw their weapons and open fire on me. My men were ready to do the same to them. Montoya was about to put a stop to this when I just smiled and dropped the blade to the approval of my men.
I made the captain stand on his feet, let go of his neck, gave him a right and a left to stagger him. And then finished things with my specialty. A head butt to knock him out cold.
All of Montoya's men just stood slack jawed at my victory. All my men rushed over to congratulate and laud me. I shook everyone's hands and patted my friends' shoulders; the weary, battered and thankful victor. I then snapped my head to the other soldiers. All fifty of them were now clearly scared. They'll think twice before messing with me again. And they'll all stay from Maria and Theresa now.
Especially Grisham.
"Play time's over, children!" I shouted at them. "Time to go to work!"
They all quickly moved out, suddenly remembering that they had jobs to do. I turned to Corporal Marco, one of mine, and nodded towards the unconscious Grisham, "Get the captain to Doctor Helm's office. Don't worry too much about being gentle."
An enthusiastic Marco grinned and obliged. I walked away, in serious need of cleaning myself up. As I left the grounds, I bumped into Colonel Montoya, standing arms folded and fire in his eyes.
"Am I dismissed, sir?" I panted, raising an innocent smirk.
"I think it's transparently obvious, don't you, Williams?" he snapped, and then stormed off. I snapped him a salute and chuckled. Obviously Montoya's thinking about everything now. He wanted me to kill the Queen and improve the reputation of his army. He can't punish me in any way over what's happened, because I'm too valuable. And he knows my spirit can't be broken, so humiliation and demoralisation are useless. And whilst he's angry, he knows he should be pleased, because I've actually brought his grunts into line, which is what he needs.
After a hot bath and dinner, facts and victories, I'm starting to feel a little better about things in Santa Helena. Black eye's still sore, ribs still hurt, mouth stings every time I put food to my lips but I can deal with it. All the bruises and aches…the scars…
I've got no choice but to deal with it.
But what do I do now? That's the ultimate question.
Maria asked me earlier tonight, after hearing me pour my heart out, listening to me moan about my investigations, the constant put downs by Montoya and humiliations from Grisham's men. The injustices that are still going on after all this time, in spite of the Queen's presence, in spite of my ongoing assignment.
Maria asked me, "What are YOU going to do about it all?"
I paused for a moment, then looked into those eyes, which always deserve an answer.
And I told her truthfully, "I'm going to do the one thing I thought I'd never do. The only thing I can."
And that's what I will do. The ONLY thing I can.
End of log.