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 #227

Devil Moon
by Maril

Part Two of Six (Parts 4-6 next week)

Act One, Scene 3

Marta kept a pensive silence handling the team of horses as they drove back to the hacienda that night. Tessa's conversational sallies fell flat as her companion mumbled a reply or simply remained mute.

At length, Marta seemed to rouse herself. She turned to Tessa with a fond look. "Are you warm enough, querida?" she asked. The evening had turned chilly, with a strong wind coming off the ocean. There was a scent of rain in the dry air. Marta pulled her own shawl more closely around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry you didn't enjoy the evening, Marta. Do you feel better after spending some time on the deck? I know you don't like being on a ship very much, but you were never seasick before." Tessa pressed Marta's hand warmly.

"I was not seasick. I went on deck to find the Haitian man and ask about the veiled woman and her companion. I sensed something strange about them the moment I saw them today. I felt a chill pass through me, a premonition of something... evil." Marta shivered slightly and Tessa put her arm around her friend.

"So you went to do some investigating of your own." Tessa laughed and hugged Marta affectionately. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What did you find out?"

"The Haitian man was terrified of them both. He was sure they had called up a voodoo curse on the ship. When I asked about the women, he could only tell me the black woman was from Hispaniola. She had spoken to him a few times in her native patois. About the other women, the one in the veil, he knew nothing, and seemed to want to keep it that way." Marta chuckled under her breath, then sobered. "He did say he heard them both speaking patois but not loud enough for him to know what they said. Apparently, the whole crew was not sorry to see them leave the ship. Sailors are very superstitious."

Tessa sat back against the wagon seat, and watched the road ahead as it wound along like a white ribbon in the moonlight. "They are from Hispaniola then, not Panama City. The captain suspected she had given a false name, though he didn't say why." Tessa grinned at Marta. "It seems we have a little mystery to solve. Tomorrow, we are going visiting."

Act Two, Scene 1

She pulled the bell rope for the second time, sending up a clamour of clanging that died away slowly, leaving only the soughing of the wind around the high walls of the villa and through the shrubbery of the unkempt garden. Tessa adjusted her shawl and glanced impatiently at Marta who was still seated on the wagon.

The hot morning sun glared on the adobe walls. The villa was enclosed all around like a small fortress though there were apertures here and there in the walls. Marta thought the original owners must have been afraid of attacks either from the Indios or perhaps bandits.

Marta shivered slightly from a strange feeling of dread. There was something about this place that disturbed her, an aura of danger, of evil that she sensed. The Rey hacienda seemed cursed by the wickedness of its previous inhabitants. The impostor Reys had been hanged by Montoya for their crimes, but the atmosphere of evil seemed to linger here. Marta had been reluctant to come to the hacienda to greet the newcomers, but Tessa had insisted. They had waited three days to allow the new tenants time to settle in and rest from their journey, then had piled several baskets of preserves, fruit and other gifts to bring along this day. So far their welcome had produced no results.

"Perhaps they are not at home," Marta said hopefully. She sagged against the wagon bench, recognising that determined look in Tessa's eyes, the resolute lift of chin that signalled her ward was not ready to give up.

Tessa pounded loudly on the gate when no one appeared. After a long interval, they could hear the grating sound of someone lifting the bar on the other side. Tessa turned and smiled excitedly at Marta.

The gate creaked open to reveal a tall black woman. She wore a long white robe tied at the waist with a colourful belt. Around her hair a bright bandana contrasted with the ebony smoothness of her skin. She looked regal with her high cheekbones and straight nose. Her black eyes flicked over Tessa with a hint of disdain, then came to rest on Marta. The woman stared for a moment at the Gypsy then returned to Tessa.

"Are you delivering the supplies?" the woman asked in an unusual lilting accent, gesturing at the basket in Tessa's hand. Marta nearly laughed aloud at the way Tessa bristled.

"We have come to welcome your mistress to our territory," Tessa replied, an edge of annoyance in her voice. "If you would please tell her that Doña Maria Teresa Alvarado and her friend, Marta, are here to see her."

"My mistress is indisposed ...from the journey. She is seeing no one." The servant took the basket from Tessa and moved back, her hand on the gate. Tessa forestalled her closing it by holding it back with her own hand.

"Tell her we are sorry to hear of her indisposition and ask her when it would be more convenient to call upon her."

"I do not mean to offend you, Señorita Alvarado, but my mistress does not wish to see anyone. She prefers to be left alone. I will convey these gifts to her. On her behalf, I thank you." With that, she removed Tessa's hand from the gate and closed it firmly.

Tessa whirled to face Marta, her hands on her hips and an angry pout on her lips. "Have you ever seen such rudeness?" she blurted.

Marta shrugged insouciantly. "Many times. You get used to it."

Tessa seemed at a loss for words, her anger heightened by Marta's tolerant attitude.

"Well, I have not!" Tessa said brusquely. "I wonder if her mistress knows she treats visitors so inhospitably. She wouldn't even let us come inside."

"I imagine her mistress has ordered her to turn away unwelcome company. As I have done for you many times." Marta had to smile at Tessa's shamefaced grin.

"They haven't seen the last of me, Marta. I will be back. I can't imagine a woman wanting to be left completely alone, without friends or visitors. I will win her over as a friend," Tessa added confidently as she climbed back onto the wagon seat.

"I have a feeling, Tessa, that you should stay away from this place. I get some very disturbing sensations from those women."

Tessa laughed and hugged her affectionately. "Marta, you are too sensitive. The Rey's deaths were a shock, and certainly it was not a happy place while those impostors lived here with Andreo, but it's just your imagination. There is nothing sinister about those women."

Marta turned the team around and headed toward the pueblo de Santa Elena. At least they could enjoy the rest of the morning in town, doing errands and meeting with acquaintances who were glad of their friendship.

Act Two, Scene 2

For the next two weeks, Tessa changed the route of her morning rides occasionally. Instead of following the road to the beach, she struck off across country to the path leading to the Rey hacienda. Each time, she would dismount at the gate, ring the bell and leave a note or small gift. Then, she would remount and ride off without waiting for a reply.

All her overtures of friendship came to nothing. There was never a note left with the empty gift baskets, nor any indication of gratitude or welcome. Discouraged, Tessa rode by one last time. For long minutes, she sat upon her palomino, Lindo, and watched the villa. Its utter quiet was unnerving. Not a living sound emanated from behind the walls, no singing, or sound of work being done. Just the melancholy sigh of the wind as it rattled the dead leaves on the dry bushes. Once it had been a beautiful garden. Even if Señora Rey had been a malicious woman, she had lavished attention on her gardens. The villa had bloomed inside and out with many types of flowers and lush green shrubs. Now everything was dead, dried up from neglect.

Tessa sighed and turned away. Marta was right. The mysterious veiled woman did not want friends or company. She had hidden her face for some reason and was now secluded behind these impenetrable walls. 'Well, at least I tried,' Tessa thought as she reined Lindo around to continue her ride. She had decided she would not come back.

Act Two, Scene 3

The warm baritone drifted out the door and Tessa halted, enraptured by its richness, and by the lilting tune flowing from the doctor's office. She stood on the threshold and watched him as he prepared something on his worktable. His back was to her as he sang and hummed while he worked. Shifting the basket on her arm, Tessa entered his office. The swish of her skirt must have alerted him to her presence as he turned quickly toward her.

She noted with a rush of exhilaration that his face did not betray the annoyance or long-suffering look that usually greeted her. He actually smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and creating a deep cleft in both lean cheeks. Since his convalescence at her hacienda, Dr. Helm had been much more friendly toward her, even seeming to enjoy her brief visits to his office.

"What were you singing, Doctor?" she asked. "It sounded a bit melancholy, though it is a lovely tune. And you have a wonderful voice," she added. Immediately, she wished she could have called back the compliment. It sounded too forward.

A spot of colour warmed his cheeks as he glanced down quickly like a child caught doing some mischief. "It's an old English folksong called 'Black is the Colour.' About great passion and unrequited love and tragedy."

"Aren't they all?" Tessa said a little sadly. 'Like your feelings for the Queen of Swords', she thought. Shaking off the gloom that threatened to depress her spirits, she said, "Here is the medicine that you asked Marta for." Setting the basket on the worktable, she asked, "What are you working on, Doctor?"

"It's a strong headache remedy. The strongest that I can make without killing someone. That's why I wanted the potion that Marta concocted. In case this one also fails to bring relief." Helm surveyed the vials and flasks on his table with a discouraged look. "So far, poor Señor Hernandez has had no sleep for days from that blinding headache."

Tessa clenched her jaw to prevent an exclamation of surprise. Only a week before, Señora Hernandez had sought out Marta when they were in town, asking to see her privately. Tessa had gone on to finish their errands and met Marta later. As they drove back to the hacienda, Marta had been enclosed in a morose silence. At length she had said to Tessa, "Do you know what she wanted me to give her?" Tessa had shaken her head. "A potion to make her husband less randy. She told me that for the last two weeks, he had been insatiable, wanting her anytime day or night, anywhere, even with the children around. When she protested, he would force her, slapping her if she would not submit. He even called her by a different name ...Ramona."

Tessa's face had burned with embarrassment. She did not want to hear such intimate details about her neighbours, though Marta seemed to accept it matter-of-factly. It was only being asked to prepare some concoction to control him that seemed to bother her. "As if I could do that," Marta had said, incensed. "As if I would know of such things." Tessa knew it was not the first time women of the area had sought her out, hoping for a love potion to create passion in the man of their choice, or to prevent or terminate a pregnancy. Some had even asked Marta to cast evil spells on someone they hated. Others wanted their fortunes told.

"I could make a good living if I had no conscience," Marta had often said after one of these unwanted encounters. "Telling the buena ventura, selling love potions or cures for all ills as some of my people do. But I am no beggar or fortune-teller. I am a healer."

Dr. Helm's voice broke into Tessa's thoughts. "How do I prepare this medication? Did Marta send some directions?"

Tessa searched her skirt pocket and pulled out a note. "Marta said to follow the instructions exactly. The medicine is based on an herb that is deadly in large doses. It's called Datura, but I think the locals call it Jimson Weed among other things. It doesn't grow around here but is easily obtainable from the Indios who use it in their rituals. The drug makes people or animals act crazy, and sometimes they suffer convulsions and die from it." She stopped suddenly as his expression changed to one of surprise. Had she betrayed more knowledge than she should have? Marta had taught her much of her own healing knowledge as she had said, 'Healing lore is passed from mother to daughter, and you are the daughter of my heart, the only daughter I will ever have. You must teach it to your daughter when you have one.'

The doctor did not have much time to ponder her unusual erudition in medicine. An alarm in the street outside drew their attention.

"Fire!" someone shouted. "Fire at the Hernandez hacienda. Please ...come help us!"

Tessa and Helm rushed out to see one of the Hernandez rancheros on his horse surrounded by a crowd. Many were running toward their wagons or donkeys. Others were tossing buckets into the wagons, as well as pitchforks and shovels.

"We'll take my wagon, Doctor," Tessa said as she hurried to untie the team of horses from the hitching post near his door. Without waiting for his reply, she swung onto the seat and released the brake. Helm dashed back into his office and came out a moment later with his medical bag. He tried to take the reins but Tessa held on and turned the team in a narrow arc toward the crowd.

"If you want to help with the fire, climb on the wagon," she called to the small gathering. Several men jumped into the back. The Hernandez ranchero had sped out of town with a group of riders. Tessa whipped the team and followed at a rapid pace.

Act Two , Scene 4

Long before they neared the hacienda, they could see a column of smoke rising blackly over the plain. As Tessa drove into the Hernandez courtyard, she could see it was the stable that was ablaze. Part of the roof had caved in and the whole area shimmered in the heat from the flames. Its hot breath blew in her face, choking her with ash and smoke. A small army of men swarmed near the burning stable. Several long lines of men passed buckets of water hand to hand to the last man who threw it on the fire. It was obvious to Tessa that the fire could not be controlled by such pitiful means.

Her heart froze as she could hear the screaming of the horses trapped inside, the pounding of their frantic hoofs on the stalls. "We've got to get them out!" she shouted as she leapt from the wagon and ran toward the stable. Helm grabbed her and held her back. She struggled in his grip, her eyes streaming from the smoke and from the sound of those poor animals.

"You can't save them, Tessa," Helm said gently. "You would die in that heat. It's not worth the risk."

She covered her ears and staggered away, hoping the end would come soon for them. Their pitiful cries soon ceased and Tessa tried to pull herself together. There was work to be done — burns and gashes to salve, water to be given to the fire fighters. She threw herself into the activity, trying to put the death of those horses from her mind.

She caught sight of Señor Hernandez wandering aimlessly in the crowd of workers. His hollow eyes found hers and she felt a moment of sympathy for him. He was not the florid-faced and menacing man she had met on several occasions. She had even duelled with him once as the Queen. Now, he was a wraith, sallow of cheek with a strained, painful expression on his face. Tessa remembered the headache medication. They had left it behind. He would need it now more than ever.

He lurched toward them and rested his ample weight against the wagon. He seemed dazed like one in a trance.

"How did the fire start, Señor Hernandez?" Helm asked while he bandaged a burn on one of the worker's arms.

Hernandez' soot-covered face grimaced as he glared at the stable, now almost levelled. Only a few blackened main timbers remained standing. Men were still throwing buckets of water on the burning building but it was beyond saving. Hernandez seemed to be trying to decipher Helm's words, then said finally, "One of my workers saw a person dressed in black running away from the stable just before the fire started. It could have been a woman, he told me, could have been the Queen of Swords. She probably did it," he growled harshly, striking the wagon. "She hates me and would do something like this."

Tessa was stunned by the accusation. She recalled how Hernandez had allowed his cattle to browse over some peasants' farms, destroying their meagre crops, then refusing to pay for the losses. The Queen had humiliated Hernandez, forcing him to ride to each farm and pay reparation to the farmers. She knew he had no love for the Queen but to accuse her of this heinous crime! Worst of all, she could not defend herself without causing suspicion.

In an conciliatory tone, Helm said, "I can't believe it was the Queen. It isn't her style. And why now? That incident with the cattle is over and done with. She wouldn't set fire to your stable for something that was settled long ago. You have another enemy, Señor Hernandez, and it isn't the Queen."

Helm's green eyes rested on the don's face as if searching for some sign of relenting but Hernandez merely groaned and held his head.

"If only this pain in my head would go away, I could think clearly. Did you bring the medicine, Doctor Helm?" Suddenly, Hernandez eyes cleared and he drew in a deep breath. "The pain is gone. Madre mio, what a relief!" He pulled himself erect and strode away, giving orders and bullying the workers.

A wry smile crossed Helm's face. He mimicked, "Thank you, Señorita Alvarado and Dr. Helm, for all your help." Shaking his head ruefully, he added, "Well, I guess Hernandez is back to his usual self. The great boor. Maybe if the headache comes back, I'll add a little extra of Marta's medicine..."

Tessa laughed. "Just enough to make him act a little crazy. It would be good for his character."

Act Three, Scene 1

Tessa closed the account book with an air of satisfaction. The hacienda was showing a profit at last. She had sold a prime bull and several breeding cows to a new ranchero. Many of her cattle were going to the auction in Monterrey and should fetch good prices. And her wine merchant in that city had contracts for all of her current wine produce. She had made arrangements with Captain Mary Rose to ship the wine by sea in casks. The wine would be bottled in Monterrey under the Alvarado label. The label was demanding respect and premium prices. No longer would she ship her wines to Spain and wait nearly a year for payment, or risk losing everything to the vagaries of the sea.

It occurred to Tessa that two years ago she would never have given a thought to how her father conducted the business that supported her. Even if she had married, it would have been her husband and father who concerned themselves with the running of the hacienda. She would never have been consulted, or she had to admit, interested in those financial aspects of her life. It was not a woman's place to interfere in men's business. What a difference that interval of time had made to her life! She was accountable for the efficient management of the hacienda and the livelihoods of nearly thirty workers. It was a big responsibility but one she felt she was sustaining as she learned. With a complacent smile, she thought, 'At last, things are beginning to go well. Even the Queen has not been needed for a few weeks.'

She thought with a hint of alarm what Marta would say about tempting fate with such presumptions. Marta was so superstitious, even if she tried to hide it. Tessa chuckled. A flood of warmth filled her thinking about Marta and her eccentricities. With a twinge of guilt, Tessa recalled how she had been embarrassed by Marta sometimes, comparing her to other children's mothers. Marta's darker skin, her penchant for colourful clothing and large earrings, the proud almost defiant look in her eyes – all those elements set her apart, made her seem exotic, alien. And Tessa, a stranger herself in Spain, had only wanted to fit in, to be like the other girls.

But Marta existed in a cosmos of her own, not a servant, not a parent, not even a relative. She was wise in the ways of the world and strict within her own moral code. Hardly anything surprised her when it came to human nature; she seemed to expect the worst. Only kindness seemed to penetrate that composure; she had met with it so seldom in her youth. Little pieces at a time were revealed of Marta's past, just enough to put together the puzzle that was Marta. There was still much that Tessa did not know about her. But that was all right too. 'There are many things about me that Marta does not know,' she thought with a quick smile.

Her reverie was interrupted by a tap on the door. Tessa arose and opened it to reveal Señor Casillas, her foreman. He remained on the threshold holding his sombrero in his dark hands.

"I have come to warn you, patrona. One of the Hernandez rancheros has told me that many of their cattle are dying. He said the cattle act crazy, running and jumping, then they fall down and die. I have inspected the herd and found our cattle are healthy. I will watch over them very carefully, but I thought you should know in case the sickness spreads."

"Thank you for your diligence, Señor Casillas. Are the bull and the cows ready to be moved to the new hacienda?" He nodded, evidently glad to have some good news to convey. "Very well, have some of the workers take them today. Just in case." As an afterthought, she said, "Have the rancheros ride our boundary lines to make sure none of Hernandez' cattle wander onto our lands. If his cattle are diseased, we don't want the sickness to infect our herd."

A wrinkle of worry creased her brow as the foreman bowed and left the office. Hernandez again. It almost seemed as if some ill luck or curse was pursuing him these days. Not that he didn't deserve it, she added a little spitefully to herself.

This week's episode concludes in Part Three of Three