Disclaimers: The characters from the Queen of Swords are copyrights of Fireworks Productions and Paramount. No infringement of copyright is intended or revenue expected from their use. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

Acknowledgment: Thanks to Jo for beta reading this story and helping to make it better.

Author's Note:This story was formerly titled "And the Truth Shall..."

Arsenic and Black Lace
A Maria Teresa Alvarado mystery
by Maril Swan

Part 3 of 3

"The Crown calls Marta as the next witness." Grisham strutted self-importantly back and forth as Marta arose to take the witness chair. She gave her oath and sat down. He turned suddenly and leaned close to her, evidently enjoying the role he was playing to the hilt. "You heard Dr. Helm testify that the medicines he sent for Señora Vicente were working and she was getting better. How do you explain her decline as soon as she was in your care?"

"I cannot explain it. Except that sometimes it is the mind that is diseased, troubled, not so much the body. She was very unhappy, very depressed."

"What else did you give the deceased besides what the doctor prescribed?"

"Only tonics to build up the blood. Made of herbs. Nothing that could kill anyone, only make them more healthy. I showed them to the doctor and he agreed that I could give them to the señora." Marta sat erect, rigid, her dark eyes boldly meeting the hostility directed at her from some members of the audience. She kept her eyes averted from Don Vicente whose stare seemed to burn her with his hatred.

"According to her husband, you entered Señora Vicente's room the night she died. He said you had something in your hand. This was after you were expressly forbidden to go near her. Tell us about that night."

"I had a premonition of danger and couldn't sleep. I got up to see if the señora was all right. I was bringing her some of the tonic I told you about. When I entered the room, I could hear Señor Vicente whispering to her 'I won't let you leave me.' He held a glass of something to her lips and was forcing her to drink it. He heard me, and turned on me in a wild rage. I barely escaped from the room. The next morning, Tessa and I awoke to horrible screams coming from the direction of the señora's room. Cristina had found her mother dead." Marta swallowed a few times to compose herself. "It was terrible to hear the poor child. When I entered the room with Tessa, the girl flew at me and shouted 'You killed her!', over and over. Then her father said he would see that I paid for my crime. The doctor and the soldiers came and I was taken back to Santa Elena in the same carriage as the señora's body."

"Señor Vicente says you tried to seduce him. What is your side of this story?" Grisham leered at Marta, obviously enjoying her embarrassment.

Her face flushed and she tightened her hands into fists. Taking several deep breaths, Marta said quietly, "At first, I thought Señor Vicente was directing his amorous attentions to Señorita Alvarado." Marta glanced at Tessa who was almost imperceptibly shaking her head, seemingly in warning. "I was disgusted that he should misuse her hospitality and make advances to my mistress. Then, he turned his unwanted attentions to me. I tried to stay out of his way, but one afternoon..." Marta looked up helplessly at Tessa then at Montoya. "Must I go on with this?" Montoya nodded and she continued, "One afternoon, he found me alone in the parlour. He offered me money for ... "

Suddenly, Vicente leapt up from his chair and rushed to the front with a dagger in his hand. Tessa tried to grab his arm as he passed, but he shoved her hard and she fell against the table, hitting her head. Marta was on her feet in an instant as he attacked with the knife. Before the soldiers could get hold of him, Marta kicked him in the stomach then with both hands, chopped down hard on the back of his neck. She grasped the dagger as he fell and threw it a distance away.

Without looking at the fallen man, she hurried to Tessa who lay unconscious on the floor. Dr. Helm was already tending her. Marta lifted Tessa's head and felt warm moisture in her hair. Her face paled as she pulled her hand away and saw the blood. "Madre de dios! Take her to your office, doctor."

Helm lifted the inert woman and moved down the courtyard toward the street entrance. Marta began to follow, but Grisham restrained her, saying, "You're a prisoner, lady. You can't just go traipsing off like that."

Marta tried to pull herself out of his grasp. "I must see that she's all right!"

Montoya nodded to Grisham. "Send two soldiers with her and tell them to stay close. Have her back here as soon as the señorita regains consciousness." As Marta left in the company of the soldiers, Montoya turned his attention to Vicente who was sitting up groggily rubbing the back of his neck.

"You are under arrest, Señor Vicente."

He struggled to his feet, and blustered, "How dare you arrest me? For what?"

"How about the attempted murder of the defendant, or perhaps assaulting Señorita Alvarado? Both are serious charges, Señor Vicente. And in front of a dozen witnesses. Tsk, tsk. So indiscrete of you. Not like the murder of your wife which was much more subtle."

"I did not kill my wife! The Gypsy witch killed her. She's the one on trial, not me."

"We can easily remedy that. Grisham, take this man to the cells and lock him up. Court is adjourned for today." Montoya hammered his gavel then arose and strode into his villa, a smile stretching across his face as he considered this new turn of events. What profit can be gleaned from this, he wondered, as he made his way to his office.

The world tilted and spun crazily as she opened her eyes. A soft voice near her ear made her think she was dreaming. His warm breath fanned her cheek as his hand caressed her brow. "So," he said gently, " you're back with the living. You've had a nasty crack on the skull, señorita. Lie still for a while." His other hand restrained her shoulder as she tried to sit up. She closed her eyes and drifted back to oblivion.

When she opened her eyes again, Marta's face swam into her view. Tessa whispered, "Is the trial over? Did we win?"

Marta took her hand and pressed it fondly. "The trial isn't over yet. Montoya is allowing me to stay with you until I am sure you will be all right. It was very kind of him." This last was said so begrudgingly, it made Tessa smile.

Her head began to clear and Tessa remembered Vicente attacking Marta with a knife. She sat up suddenly, holding onto Helm to steady herself. "He struck at you with a dagger, Marta. Were you hurt?"

Helm laughed. "It was Vicente who got the worst of it. I haven't seen moves like that since I was in the army. Marta took him down so fast, he didn't know what hit him." The doctor continued to chuckle as he got up and left the women alone.

Two soldiers were standing guard outside his door as he opened it to go out for some fresh air. "Lovely evening, isn't it? What a sunset!" he exclaimed as the last rays of the sun reddened the clouds on the horizon.

"Is the señorita all right, Doctor?" one of the soldier inquired. He looked to Helm as if he was anxious to be relieved of his duty, probably had a family to go home to, a meal waiting for him.

"Yes, she is conscious and will soon make a full recovery."

"Then we must take the prisoner back to the cells." The soldier went in and escorted Marta out and across the street to the prison building.

Helm sighed and went back inside to tend to his patient. He found Tessa already on her feet, albeit somewhat unsteadily, and preparing to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" he snapped impatiently.

"Home. I must be ready for the trial again tomorrow."

"If you insist on returning to your hacienda, I'll go with you. I'll tie my horse onto the back of your wagon so I can get back."

No one guarding the door, thank god, Tessa, dressed as the Queen, thought as she slipped along the hotel corridor. She now knew which room her quarry was in, having watched from the rooftop across the street. She had seen the figure move to close the hotel room curtains, then put out the light. Now, as she made her way toward the door, she halted and leaned against the wall for support. I shouldn't be doing this, she remonstrated with herself. The sharp throbbing pain in her head had only dulled slightly after she had taken the doctor's medicine earlier. I keep getting dizzy. I hope I don't faint. She laughed mirthlessly at the thought of how easy it would be to fall into Montoya's hands if she blacked out here in the hall.

She crept forward again, then stopped at the door, leaning her ear against it to listen for sounds of movement. All was quiet within as she twisted the door knob and pushed it open. Slipping inside quickly and closing the door, Tessa moved silently toward the figure on the bed. She clapped her hand over the mouth and heard a muffled scream. "Don't be afraid, Cristina," she whispered close to the girl's ear. "It's me. I need your help." Tessa moved her gloved hand away and stepped back to allow the girl to get out of the bed.

"La Reina!," the girl exclaimed in a hushed voice. "You came to ask for my help? What can I do?" Cristina leapt from the bed and picked up her shawl to cover her nightgown. Her eyes were bright with excitement.

"I may need your help to get someone out of prison," Tessa whispered as she stood next to the girl and laid her hand on Cristina's shoulder.

"Who?" Cristina asked breathlessly.

"A woman who is falsely accused of murder. She has committed no crime but that of being a Gypsy."

Cristina thrust Tessa away with a cry. "She killed my mother! She must pay!"

The sudden movement made Tessa light-headed for a second as blackness threatened to engulf her, but she grabbed the bedpost to steady herself. "Cristina. Listen to me. Did you ever see Marta do or say anything to your mother that would suggest she would harm her? Did she not tend her night and day trying to heal her? Think, Cristina. I know you have suffered a terrible loss. I know how that feels. My mother died too, when I was very young. It is normal to want to blame someone for your pain. But this is wrong."

Tessa moved to take the young girl in an embrace and Cristina did not resist. She sobbed against Tessa's shoulder as if her heart would break. She lifted the girl's chin to look into her eyes. "Cristina. You said you wanted to be like me. I fight for justice. To make someone pay for a crime she did not commit is not justice. In your heart, you know she never harmed your mother."

Cristina sniffed loudly and drew a deep breath. "If Marta didn't kill my mother, then who did?"

"Maybe no one. Perhaps your mother just died because it was her time. Sometimes people die no matter how hard we try to save them. Only God knows why." Tessa wiped the girl's tears tenderly and smiled. "Will you help me to save Marta?"

"What is she to you?"

"A friend."

"What must I do, La Reina?" Cristina rubbed her nightgown sleeve over her damp cheeks and smiled tremulously.

"Tell the whole truth tomorrow at the trial. If you do that, you will also have fought for justice."

"Just like you," the girl said with shining eyes. "I will tell what I saw. I hope it will be enough. But my father believes she is evil and should be punished. My testimony may make no difference."

"It will make a difference, Cristina. If only to yourself. You will know that what you did was right. Now I must go. Adios." Tessa gave the girl a quick kiss on the cheek and turned swiftly to the door.

"Vaya con dios," Cristina said to the retreating figure slipping out her hotel door.

In the dim moonlight filtering into her cell, Marta watched as a spider moved inexorably toward an insect caught in its web. One part of her wanted to free the insect and another said 'leave it to its fate'. She almost felt the helpless creature's terror as the spider marched down its springy web to kill its prey. At last, she got up on her cot and picked the little bug out of the web and set it on the window sill. Even as she did, she knew it was foolish, but she felt better.

She laid back down on the cot, hoping for sleep to claim her, but the occupant of the next cell was depriving her of rest. She could hear him pacing like a caged animal, sometimes muttering to himself. Finally, unable to stand it any longer she called out, "Señor Vicente!" The pacing stopped and she waited for him to answer. Marta got up from the cot and leaned against the bars at the front of the cell.

"What do you want?" he growled. "Haven't you harmed me enough?"

"You know I have never done anything to harm you. Whatever harm has been done, you have done it." She heard him come nearer to her side of the cell and knew he was only a foot away when he spoke again.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I saw you with the glass of medicine, forcing your wife to take it. You killed her." Marta listened keenly as she heard him curse, then he struck the bars of his cell, making her recoil in alarm.

"I did not kill her!" he said harshly. "I loved her. She was everything to me."

Marta frowned, recalling that scene in the bedroom. Was he forcing his wife to drink the medicine, or was he trying to stop her? What was it he had said 'I won't let you leave me'. What did he mean by that? Looked at from a different perspective, perhaps he did not kill her. Marta thought back to the thin scars on the señora's wrists. They had puzzled her, but now she thought they might be part of a larger picture - a picture of a sick, depressed woman wanting to end her life. Marta sagged against the wall, her heart lurching with sudden sympathy for the woman. In her deranged and terrifying world, Señora Vicente had travelled and finally escaped the only way she knew. Dios mio, the poor woman.

"Señor Vicente. Now I understand everything. You did not kill her. She took her own life." Marta paused and waited for him to answer. When he said nothing, she added, "Why did you accuse me of her death? You knew the truth." Complete silence greeted her question, and Marta wondered if he had gone back to his cot and was asleep. Soon, she heard him moving about his cell again as if greatly agitated.

After a long interval, he said, "If it was known she committed suicide, she could not be buried in consecrated ground. And the Church would allow her no Mass for the Dead. Suicides must go to a potter's field. I could not allow that to happen to my poor Juanita."

"But, señor, she is buried now. It is too late. The Church will leave her where she is. Now is the time for the truth to be told."

"What truth? That my wife had gone insane with syphilis and tried to kill herself several times in Spain? That she finally took her own life? I must protect my daughter from these truths. The family honour demands I keep silent."

"Eventually, the truth always comes out. How will your daughter feel if she learns an innocent woman died for a crime she did not commit? How will she feel about her father then?" Marta rested her forehead on the cold bars, wrestling with a sense of despair. He seemed impervious to any arguments she offered; he seemed determined to let his wife's secret die and take Marta with it.

"What do I care if one more worthless Gypsy dies or not? I will protect my family name," he snarled.

Marta heard him cross his cell and fall onto his cot. She returned to her own cot and sat with her back propped against the wall. This could be the last night of my life, she thought despondently. As the night wore on, she watched the barred pattern made by the moonlight through the cell window move across the opposite wall until it faded with the grey light of dawn.

Epilogue

"I do not think I will ever get the stink of that prison out of my skin," Marta complained as she scrubbed vigorously with a soapy sponge. She sank under the bubbles in the tub, then emerged and commenced to scrub some more.

Tessa crossed the room with a jar in her hand. "If you keep on like that, you won't have any skin left," she jibed. "Here let me pour this on your hair. It's a scented herbal mixture I made up."

"You made it? Will it make my hair fall out?" Marta laughed.

"I used your recipe," Tessa replied, slightly miffed. "Do you want it or not?"

"Go ahead." Marta submitted to the cold concoction being poured over her head and laughed again with the pure joy of being clean. "I never thought I would appreciate a bath so much. Or actually, ever again. I was sure my life was finished. If Cristina had not testified for me, I'm sure I would be dead now."

"Maybe not. Don't forget the Queen would never have let you die. And of course, once Cristina had testified in your behalf, Señor Vicente had to confess to bringing a false charge against you." Tessa paused thoughtfully, then said, "I don't know why you didn't press charges against him for attempted murder. After all he put you through, and was willing let happen to you, you let him get away with no punishment. You're sometimes a mystery to me, Marta."

"His daughter needs him, now more than ever. What purpose would have been served by putting him in jail? And also, I have spoiled Montoya's opportunity to extort more money from him. I think the fine Montoya levied for the false charge certainly made the colonel a lot richer. That was enough punishment for Señor Vicente."

Marta reached for the towelling and got out of the bath. She dried herself vigorously then slipped on her nightgown. "It will be so nice to sleep in a real bed after that horrible cot they had in the cell. It was as hard as a board. I think I am bruised all over from it." She opened the door of Tessa's room and started toward her own room.

"Wait, Marta." Tessa caught up and took her arm as she led her further down the hall. "I've had your things moved to the other bedroom. Since Señora Vicente died in your room, I thought you would prefer another. And I've had the bed and everything that touched her, burnt. I know you don't believe in marimé, but just in case..." Tessa grinned at her friend.

Marta laughed and touched Tessa's cheek affectionately. "And they call us superstitious! Thank you, Tessa. I will sleep much better in the other room." Marta turned and reached for the door of her new room. She halted and said, "And Tessa. I was right."

Tessa paused at her own door. "About what?"

"The truth did set us all free."

Tessa went into her room and closed the door. She leaned against it, pondering. Did the real truth come out at the trial, she wondered. Was justice done?

THE END

©And The Truth Shall... - Maril Swan - March 2001

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