Disclaimers: The characters from the Queen of Swords series are copyright to Fireworks and Paramount. No infringement is intended nor revenue expected from their use. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author, Maril.

VS Episode #219

Birthright
by Maril

Part Three of Three

Act Two - Scene 3

An impressive sight opened before them as Tessa and Marta drew near the Santos villa. The road they were on wound past large barns and small huts and between fenced paddocks filled with remudas of fine horses whose dark coats glistened in the sun. Everywhere there was the sight and sound of activity as an army of workers toiled in the heat, tending gardens, working with the horses, mending and building. The lowing of cattle carried on the wind from the distant pastures, as did their strong scents. Tessa was affected, not only by the number of outlying structures, but by the sheer size of the villa as they approached it.

Shining in the sun like a golden jewel, the two-storey adobe building stretched to both sides of a wide courtyard. Its red-tiled roof shimmered in the heat. The villa's entrance looked cool and inviting, its shaded verandah covered by a leafy canopy. Green potted plants stood to both sides of the steps leading to the front door. The whole effect was verdant and lovely, quietly elegant. It bespoke wealth and comfort.

Marta expertly manoeuvred the wagon into the courtyard where a worker came out immediately from the stable to take hold of the horses. Tessa and Marta stepped down and moved toward the front entrance. So far, no one had seen them. Tessa was just as glad. She was not quite ready for this confrontation.

She took Marta's arm for reassurance and together they advanced to the front door. A few quick raps on the panel brought a tall elegantly-dressed older man — the valet most likely, Tessa decided. He raised his white eyebrows inquisitively as he held the door slightly ajar.

"How may I help you, señoritas?" he enquired in a deep, well-modulated voice.

Tessa found his austere presence a bit daunting, but drew herself up and answered, "I am Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado. I am here to see Señor and Señora Santos."

With a courtly bow, the valet opened the door fully and allowed them to pass through. "If you will follow me to the salon, I will tell my master you are here, Señorita Alvarado." He preceded the two women down a wide marble-floored hall, then stopped and opened a pair of double doors into a lavishly appointed salon.

Looking around at the expensive furnishings, Tessa suddenly felt as if she were back in Spain. The salon was similar to many in which she had been entertained in Madrid. What she had seen so far of the house showed that the Santos must have brought their entire household of belongings with them to the new world. The place was full of antique furniture, ancient tapestries and paintings. The tile floors were covered with old Persian carpets.

Tessa smiled at Marta's expression of wonder. Compared to their home, this dwelling was cluttered with the artifacts of another time. The Santos villa seemed almost out of place in this wild land. The effect of all the ornately carved wood furniture and dark draperies at the tall windows made it seem gloomy. Tessa thought of her own bright, sparsely-decorated rooms, full of colour and light. 'I could never live in a place like this,' she thought. 'It would be so depressing.'

Her attention was drawn to the door and Señor Santos strode through, a wide welcoming smile on his face as he held his arms open for her. He had always seemed like such a father-figure to her, a solidly built, though somewhat portly man with a quick laugh and twinkling eyes. Tessa felt her heart drop into her stomach. This was going to be very hard.

He clasped her shoulders and drew her toward him. "Tessa!" he said heartily, kissing both her cheeks. "I am so glad you have come. I was going to call on you tomorrow with Fernando. My wife will join us in a few minutes. Let me offer you some refreshments. " Santos gestured toward his valet and the man came forward, waiting to be commanded. "Bring us my best wine and something nice to eat." The valet bowed and noiselessly left the room.

Santos draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her an affectionate hug. His warmth and good humour were irresistible. Happiness seemed to radiate from his mild brown eyes, and he grinned at her with joy illuminating his face. Tessa had always liked Señor Santos. Her cheeks felt hot as she thought of the bad news she must convey to him. How could she tell him what she had come to say? It would break his heart. Yet she must.

Marta had moved a distance away, across the room to give her some privacy, Tessa supposed, but she felt slightly off balance without that stalwart presence nearby. Tessa swallowed carefully and took a deep breath.

"Señor Santos, I must tell you something about this engagement..."

Santos laughed jovially and winked at her. "When your cousin came to speak for you, I could not believe my ears. Nor could Fernando. His head has been in the clouds ever since."

With another steadying breath, she began again. "My cousin was not speaking for me, Señor. I had no knowledge of this arrangement until I heard about it in town today." In dismay, Tessa watched the smile fade from Santos' face. His bushy grey brows drew down over his narrowed eyes.

"Are you saying that Don Enrique was not sent by you to make this arrangement?" He held his hands to his head and moved away from Tessa. "How will I tell Fernando? He has harboured an affection for you for a long time and thought that you returned it, that you were making a formal offer through your cousin. He will be devastated, my poor boy. How can I tell him?"

"No one has to tell me, Papa," a soft male voice said from the door. Fernando stood in the doorway, a stricken look on his face. "I heard everything." Moving slowly like one in a trance, he came into the room and stood beside his father. Tessa could see the resemblance between the men. Fernando would look like his father in his later years, still handsome though probably a little overweight.

"I am so sorry, Fernando," Tessa said, taking his hand. "I could not think what else to do but tell the truth. Enrique wants me to marry and someday I will. But I will choose my own husband." She smiled as she squeezed his hand warmly. "He had no right to come here with this offer of marriage. He has wronged us both."

Fernando tore his hand away and stepped back. His face darkened with blood. "You are right, Tessa. He has made us look like fools. But he won't get away with this!" Suddenly, Fernando whirled and ran through the door.

"Wait, Fernando!" Tessa called after him. Turning to Señor Santos, she pleaded, "You must stop him before he does something rash."

Santos shrugged sadly. "He will do what he must, Tessa. I cannot stop him, nor would I try."

Unable to think of anything else she could say or do, Tessa said, "I should go now, Señor Santos. I apologize again for the trouble my cousin has caused your family." Tessa held out her hand and Santos kissed it tenderly.

"It is not your fault, Tessa. No one blames you. Vaya con dios."

Marta joined her as she exited the villa and hurried toward their wagon. Santos' groom held the team while they ascended to the wagon bench. Marta picked up the reins and started the horses back down the lane and onto the main road.

"Where should we go now, Tessa? Town or home?" Marta stopped at the crossroads and waited for an answer.

"No point in going to town, Marta. We'll never get there in time to stop Fernando from doing whatever he has in mind. Let's go home," Tessa said with a world-weary sigh.

Act Two - Scene 4

Montoya intercepted Enrique's hand as he reached for the wine bottle once more. "Don Enrique, you must learn to control your appetites if you are to be respected among your peers. Too much drinking, gambling and whoring makes you seem common, vulgar. When you are a don, you will want to stand among them as their equal, marry one of their daughters."

The colonel replaced the cork in the bottle and sat back on his chair. Even under the shade in the Rose Courtyard, he was still very warm though he knew his face was not as flushed as young Alvarado's. His companion was perspiring freely, his eyes bloodshot and bleary-looking. 'A dissolute and a wastrel,' Montoya thought in disdain as he scanned those darkly handsome features. 'The resemblance to Tessa is remarkable, and yet what a difference in character!'

He chuckled softly and patted Enrique's hand. "Your cousin did not seem overly pleased by the marriage arrangements you have made for her. What do you think she will do?" Montoya noticed how the mention of Tessa galvanized the young man. He really did seem to hate her with a passion. Montoya wondered idly what she had done to create such animosity in him. She seemed so mild, malleable, even somewhat empty-headed at times. Yet there were other times...

Enrique sat up straighter and focussed on the colonel more closely. "She will marry Fernando Santos. Honour demands that she go through with it. In Spain, she would be forced to do what her family wished."

"I should remind you, Don Enrique, that you are not in Spain. Things are different here. Your cousin is a woman of means. I doubt that she will marry Santos. In fact, I think she will send you packing for making this arrangement without her consent."

"Por dios, she will not!" Enrique snarled as he pounded his fist on the table. The wine bottle and glasses jiggled dangerously. "I will kill her if she tries to throw me out."

Montoya smiled, striving for a paternal tone as he said, "Settle down, young señor. That is the wine talking. You would never harm your cousin. We both know that. You were only trying to do what is best for her. But is she grateful? Somehow I doubt it." He watched the emotions chasing across the younger man's face with a satisfied sigh. 'Putting the cat among the pigeons,' he thought in amusement. 'Let us see if this particular bird won't have her wings clipped.'

"Enrique Alvarado!" someone shouted out in the village square. "Enrique Alvarado!" the loud male voice called again.

Enrique stood up a little unsteadily, a fatuous grin on his face. "That sounds like Fernando Santos. He probably wants to thank me for giving my cousin to him."

"He obviously doesn't know Maria Teresa very well, " Montoya remarked with a wry smile. "You had better see what he wants before he shouts the walls down." The colonel got up and opened the wrought iron gate, allowing Enrique to pass through, then followed.

The moment Enrique appeared on the street, Fernando leapt from his horse and dashed at him. With a guttural snarl, he swung his fist at Enrique, connecting with his jaw. Enrique stumbled back, raising his hands to defend himself when Fernando came at him again. Another blow sent Enrique to the ground and Fernando leapt upon him, pummelling his face and body. Enrique held his hands before his face, trying to ward off the blows.

Grisham raced up with three soldiers and stopped, looking questioningly at Montoya. The colonel nodded though he tried to hide his delight. "You had better stop them before someone gets hurt, Grisham," Montoya said, edging his voice with authority.

Two of the soldiers grasped Fernando's arms and pulled the boy to his feet while he struggled fiercely, uttering a string of obscene oaths at Enrique. The other soldier helped Enrique up and supported him as he wavered unsteadily. Blood ran from Enrique's nose and from the corner of his eyebrow. A bruise was already darkening on his chin.

"I demand satisfaction!" Fernando shouted as he lunged toward Enrique. The soldiers held him back. "You have stained the honour of my family and your cousin. I demand satisfaction!" he cried again.

Enrique finally seemed to gain his feet. He laughed at the blood-infused face of his adversary. "If you insist, Santos. But you are throwing your life away for nothing. So Tessa won't marry you. It isn't my fault. Blame her, not me. She should do as she is told, like any woman. I've already done my part. It is up to you to convince her."

Fernando broke from his captors and pulled off his leather glove. He slapped it smartly across Enrique's cheek, then dropped the glove at his feet.

"All right, Santos. Have it your way." Enrique picked up the glove and tossed it back. "Whenever you are ready. I will fetch my sword."

Montoya stepped between the two men. "There is an ordinance against duelling within the town walls. A committee of dons drew up this law years ago and I must abide by it. Therefore, if you insist on duelling, you must do it elsewhere. Outside the town gates, for instance." He looked up at the darkening sky. "Also, there is not enough light for swordfighting now."

"Tomorrow, at dawn then, Alvarado. I will meet you outside the town gates." Without a backward glance, Fernando turned and swung back into his saddle. In a few seconds, only the dust kicked up by his horse remained visible.

The crowd that had collected around the scene began to disperse, murmuring excitedly among themselves.

Act Two - Scene 5

Tessa paced worriedly in her room, trying to decide what to do. Enrique had returned after dark in a foul mood, his face battered and his clothing dirty and bloodstained. Truculently, he had told her what happened in town, blaming her for the incident. When he disclosed the part about the duel, she had reacted with shock and anger. The resulting argument had not helped matters as each accused the other of creating the situation.

Marta had finally interceded and led Enrique away to clean up his face. 'I hope Marta uses that stinging ointment on his cuts, the one she uses on mine,' Tessa thought spitefully. A rueful smile tugged at her lips.

As she treaded the confines of her bedroom, her mind churned with various ways to stop the duel. Nothing she thought of seemed workable. The duel must be fought. Fernando's honour demanded it. But Enrique was an excellent fencer and would likely win. He had won medals in Cadiz and Salamanca at fencing competitions. Her own maestro, Señor Torres, spoke very highly of her cousins' fencing master. It seemed that tomorrow morning, Fernando might lose his life in a duel of honour unless she could find a way to change things.

Finally, Tessa found the solution. She sat down on her bed, and grinned to herself. 'Of course, I should have thought of this first.'

Act Three - Scene 1

A faint line of silver streaked the eastern sky as a lone horseman rode down a well-marked trail. The road wound around groves of trees and through deep arroyos, past high rocky cliffs. As he rounded a curve in the path, something dark rushed out at him, frightening his horse. The animal reared in terror and Enrique fell to the ground with a hard bump. Slightly dazed, he shook himself and began to rise.

Something sharp pressed against his chest as he struggled to sit up. Following the line of the silver blade, he looked up into the masked face of a woman dressed entirely in black. A vivid red sash around her waist accentuated her trim, womanly curves. He allowed his eyes to travel over her with keen pleasure. 'This must be the Queen of Swords that Montoya was telling me about. Madre mio, she is a beauty!'

"What do you want, mi reina?" Enrique asked. He risked a smile and was rewarded when it was returned, albeit a bit wryly.

"I want you to get your sword," the masked woman said. Her voice had a delicious husky timbre that seemed to thrum through his veins.

"I would be glad to take out my sword for you," he replied, glancing significantly at the front of his trousers. He was disappointed by the grimace of distaste on her lips.

"Just get up and get your sword!" she growled. "Don't say anything else or I might just have to kill you to shut you up." The warm tone of her voice had turned cold, harsh. Enrique suddenly felt the first qualms of fear. She *would* kill him; he could see it in her hard, dark eyes.

He staggered to his feet and going to his horse, pulled the sword from its sheath. With the hilt firmly in his hand, he began to feel less vulnerable, more in control. So far, she had not drawn the blade scabbarded by her side.

"Why do you want to fight me? I have no quarrel with you." Enrique could see her more clearly now as the sky lightened. She was tall and lithe, and moved gracefully as she stepped toward him. As much as he admired her, he had to finish this so he could meet Fernando at the pueblo gates.

"You have harmed my friend and I demand satisfaction. First blood," she said as she drew her sword.

"Who is your friend? Should she not be here as the injured party?" His voice sounded high, nervous to his ears. What was he worrying about? 'She is only a woman. I will finish her and get the reward from Montoya.' But there was something in that confident stance as she lifted her sword that made his stomach clench. He felt the tingle of perspiration starting to trickle under his armpits as his heart began to pound. Swallowing hard, Enrique moved into the en garde position, his sword level with his shoulder.

Warily, they circled, watching, waiting for that cue that signalled the opening lunge or thrust. Enrique feinted to her lower quarter then quickly drove at her chest only to find her sword already there, anticipating his move. He clashed hard against her blade, over and over, hoping his strength would wear her down. After several minutes, he was tiring, his arm ached from the speed she kept up, volley after hard volley. Nowhere could he find a way through her defence. She danced away from his lunges, and parried all his thrusts. It was almost as if she was playing with him. His confidence began to waver, and for the first time since they began, he worried that he might lose. 'First blood, she said,' he recalled. He had intended that the first blood would be fatal ...for her. Now he was not so sure.

Enrique's throat burned and his chest heaved from the exertion of keeping up with her. She was labouring for breath too, but seemed to have plenty of energy left. Finally, in a quick manoeuvre, she circled his sword with her blade and disarmed him neatly. His sword clanged against some rocks, too far away to retrieve. Her sword tip touched his neck. Trembling from exhaustion, he forced himself to await the stroke. There was no escape.

"If you want to live, this is what will happen at the duel today." In a few brief words, the Queen told him what she wanted him to do. "If you fail me, I will see you again and the next time, I will not be so merciful." With a quick slice, she cut off three buttons from his shirt without touching his skin.

He gasped and staggered back. She laughed scornfully, then sheathed her sword and strode back to her big bay horse. Remounting, she gave a terse salute and soon disappeared around a bend in the trail.

Enrique drew in several deep breaths, trying to steady himself. His shirt was drenched in sweat and his sword arm so tired he could hardly lift it. As his breathing slowed to normal, a sense of outrage began to grow. Defeated by a woman! How was that possible? Who was she? Something niggled around the back of his mind, something about her seemed familiar. And that last move. He was sure he had seen it before but where? Probably in a fencing contest, but those competitions were open only to men. Weren't they?

He moved slowly to his horse, sheathing his sword, his mind preoccupied by the notion that he knew her from somewhere. Her scornful laugh rang in his head, echoing and reminding him of someone. Mounting once more, Enrique turned the horse toward the pueblo de Santa Elena and the duel that awaited him this morning. He spurred the horse into a gallop, realizing that the sun had nearly risen. He was already late.

End of Episode #219 - Birthright

Next week, the exciting conclusion in Episode #220 "Birthright"

©Birthright - Maril - February 2002

Please send your comments on this story to the author, Maril