"Is it me you love?" Tessa pressed, this time meeting his gaze straight on. "Or is it the *idea* of me that you love?"

The following piece was inspired by Dea's "I Drink Alone". Those thought-provoking lines struck a chord with me and this little vignette developed.

Behind the Mask

The hidden room was quiet. It suited her mood; she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. The lamp flickered over her intense young face as she sat staring at the black lace in her hands. How can a tiny scrap of lace make such a difference? I once told Marta that I stand aside and watch what the Queen does, how confident she is. That's not me. Or is it? I learned to fence to prove I could do it. And then, I beat the best of them at the Academy, while posing as a boy. I hid then too, behind a mask, the fencing mask. Is it the mask that lets us be our true selves? Is the Queen my true self — or Tessa — or Maria Theresa? Who am I when I'm with Dr. Helm?

When I have on the mask, I forget who I am. Tessa and Maria Theresa are gone, and there is only the Queen guiding my actions. She knows exactly what to do, and isn't afraid to strike in self-defence. But, as Tessa, I killed Raoul when he tried to kill me. And also Mary Rose's foreman when he came at me with a dagger. Those actions came from the Queen too. Didn't they?

When I was in Spain, I could never have seen myself doing any of these things. I was just another young señorita at the glamourous Court, mixing with the aristocrats. My expectation was that I would marry Antonio and live in Madrid the rest of my life. How Papa's death changed everything! Papa said 'Don't be afraid', but I live in constant dread, not only for myself but for Marta also. If I am discovered, it will mean her death too, as my accomplice.

Tessa moved restlessly, then arose and went to stand at the mirror. She stared at her reflection for a long time, at the dark eyes that seemed at once innocent, and then wrathful and hard. She shuddered at the mirror's image of herself. Have I become hardened to death, having killed so many? What did Dr. Helm say — he remembered the first forty he had killed, then they became a blur. Will that happen to me too?

She lifted the mask into place and continued to study her face. It did look different. Maybe that's why no one knows who I am. They don't expect to see Tessa or Maria Theresa, especially when facing a sword or a gun. They only see a dangerous woman who could kill them. A strong woman who isn't afraid of anything or anyone. Yes, Tessa thought, as the woman in the mask smiled grimly back at her — the mask changes everything.

– Maril

The Joker

He turned quickly feeling the point of a sword in his back, facing a masked, black-clad woman.

"Who are you?" she whispered harshly, "and what are you doing in Montoya's office?"

"I was here first so I ask the questions. Who and what are you?" he retorted, looking her up and down in a most insolent manner.

"But I'm the one with the sword," she answered with a low chuckle, lightly pressing it into his chest.

"You make a good point," he said, his laughter muffled by the kerchief tied around the lower part of his face. "I'm looking for a document. A deed to my land. I'm sure Montoya has it hidden somewhere in here."

"I have an idea where it might be. Come on." The Queen of Swords warily backed off and gestured toward a book case, meeting a blank look from the masked man. "Go over to the bookcase and pull back the Napoleon volume." He obeyed and was rewarded with a creaking sound as the bookcase moved open slightly. "Open it and go in." Seeing him hesitate, she prodded him encouragingly with the sword. He obviously doesn't trust me, she thought with a rueful smile. Why should he? He doesn't seem to know who I am. A stranger, and an Englishman, judging by his accent.

Tessa followed, then struck a match and touched it to a candle, lighting up the display of wealth gathered by Montoya during his reign as military governor. She watched, amused, as the stranger's eyes widened, looking at the gold and silver ornaments, the piles of papers and documents in the large vault. "Well, I'll be damned," he breathed in a loud sigh, the English words conveyed by his tone. "That Montoya is a crafty devil, I'll say that much for him." In Spanish, he said quietly, "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

"They call me the Queen of Swords, and I help anyone who has been wronged by Montoya. As you can see," she said, gesturing to the hoard of ill-gotten wealth, "he has a lot to answer for. All of these things are stolen---from peasants, from the dons, from the church. " Her tone became more business-like as she nodded toward the pile of documents. "Perhaps your deed is among those papers. How did Montoya get it in the first place."

He turned back from rummaging through the documents. "Maybe we can discuss it later. All I want is to get my deed and get out of here in one piece. Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed, picking up a string-bound wad of papers and slipping it into the pocket of his long coat. He suddenly pulled down his mask, and gave Tessa a quick but ardent kiss on the lips. Stepping back with a pleased smile, he said, "Let's go!"

Tessa doused the candle, and quietly exited the hidden vault, warily listening for any sign of discovery. "It's clear," she whispered and they stole out of Montoya's office and into the night. As the Queen and her companion mounted their horses, a solitary figure pushed his window curtain back, and chuckled, highly amused at how well his trap had worked.

"So, tell me, how did Montoya get your deed?" Tessa turned to her companion as they rode away from the pueblo. This was too easy, she thought anxiously, watching the other rider carefully.

"I went to him with it to claim my land. My father had done some special services for the King of Spain, and was rewarded with a large land grant in Alta California. What I didn't know was that Montoya had already claimed that land for himself. He wanted me to give him the deed to look over, and like a fool, I did. When I went back to arrange to register the deed, he asked me 'What deed? There is no deed to that land, except mine.' I nearly went for his throat, but decided instead I would steal the document back and go to Monterrey with it."

"Well, you'd better get going right away, señor. Montoya will be after you when he finds the deed gone. You may have enough time to get to Monterrey before he discovers it's missing. Adios, y buena suerte," she said, angling Chico in a direction away from the stranger.

A sense of imminent danger continued to dog Tessa as she rode, but when she looked back, the stranger was already heading in a direction that would take him to Monterrey. Maybe I'm just getting too suspicious of everyone, she thought, trying to quell her anxiety. Almost like Marta, and her premonitions, she laughed to herself. At least I got what I came for, my dagger that I dropped during one of our last encounters. Montoya could not connect it to Tessa Alvarado, but just thinking about him having it in his possession was driving me crazy.

--Two days later in the pueblo.

Marta reined the wagon, then turned suddenly as Tessa cried aloud. "No! Oh, Marta, look!" Following Tessa's hand, Marta saw a figure swinging from the gallows. Anxiously, she glanced at Tessa's pale face, her look of shock as she slowly climbed from the wagon, and began to walk toward the scaffold.

Swiftly, she joined the younger woman, restraining her from getting closer. "Why is this troubling you, Tessa? You have seen many such before."

"It's him, Marta. The man I told you about. I can't believe it," she said faintly.

"Tessa, be careful. Montoya has seen us and is coming over." But Tessa was gazing the blood-engorged face of the stranger she had helped, and Marta could see her visibly trembling with outrage. "Calm yourself. This could be a trap. Tessa!" Tessa turned away abruptly as Montoya approached.

"Ah, Senorita Alvarado." The Colonel's pleasant voice reached her, and she turned to face him. "I am sorry you must be confronted by such an ugly scene. Sometimes it is necessary to remind some people of the consequences of crime. This man," he said, gesturing to the figure swinging lightly in the warm breeze, "stole something that belonged to me. He paid the price." Montoya fixed her with his pale stare, noting her wan face, weighing her reaction. "You seem unduly upset by this, I must say."

"Not everyone finds as much exaltation in death as you do, Colonel," Marta said coldly.

"For a servant, you have a lively tongue, Marta. You might remember your place." Montoya turned his attention to the gitana woman, duelling silently with his eyes to force her to lower hers. She did, finally, and he expelled a pleased breath. He bowed curtly to Tessa, and said, "I wish you a good day, señorita."

Tessa watched as he went back to his office, her eyes blazing with hatred. "He will pay for this," she said in a harsh whisper. "You may count on it, Marta. He will pay!"

"Don't do anything rash, Tessa. I think he knows who you are and is setting these little traps to prove it. Do nothing for now. Wait and seek your vengeance when you have a cooler head." Marta had the feeling Montoya was watching from his office window, waiting for Tessa to betray herself. She took Tessa's arm and led her toward the market square, and the small shops nearby.

Almost automatically, the younger woman allowed herself to be led, casting a last look at the hanged man. Whatever warm feelings Tessa had felt for Montoya had frozen to ice in the coldness of her heart. Marta wanted a cool head, well, she was chilled to her bones at his ruthlessness. Never again, would she see him as anything but the enemy.

THE END

More vignettes continued in Vignettes2

Please send your comments on these stories to the author, Maril Swan