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

INTERVIEW WITH A QUEEN
By Neil Burns

SUMMARY-Edward Wellesley returns for an interview with the Queen of Swords --sequel to QOS episode THE EMISSARY.

"Senor Wellesley," Colonel Montoya greeted the portly Englishman stepping off the rowboat. "How nice to see you again."

"Colonel Montoya," the amiable raspy voice tickled Montoya's ears as the two shook hands. "Long time no see, as the Americans say."

"I trust you had a pleasant journey."

"Not really. It'd be nice if it didn't take so bloody long to get from point A to point B."

Captain Grisham gestured for one of the soldiers to take the journalist's bags as he also shook hands with him.

"Nice to see you again, Ed," he beamed amiably.

"Thank you, Captain. Your son Rafael sends his best, Colonel."

"I like your explanation of Ramirez's death. 'The Emissary was shot accidentally while hunting with Colonel Montoya and a few of the Dons.' Very slick."

"Yes, lovely 'creative journalism', I believe, is the term."

"So, what brings you here?"

Both Montoya and Grisham knew that Wellesley's stories of his recent trip with the departed Ambassador Julio Ramirez had reached the Court's ears. As it was, Montoya was not liked back in Spain, save for his son and a few members with some influence. However, those with REAL stroke found Montoya, to use Wellesley's words, "an arrogant overreaching upstart" and wanted him removed. Some of them even had the suspicion that Montoya was responsible for not only the Ambassador's death, but also that of Viceroy Estaban Chavez from Monterrey.

"I am here to continue my tales of the Queen of Swords," Wellesley smiled.

"How delightful," Montoya replied dryly.

"Hopefully, I might get an interview with Her Highness."

"I would not get your hopes up, but you are free to try."

At that point, Tessa and Marta were strolling along the beach and saw the three men gathered at the shoreline. Beaming, the women headed over.

"Edward!" Tessa smiled as the journalist gallantly kissed her hand. "Bienvenido remontarse al Santa Helena."

"Thank you, madame," Wellesley replied. "It is nice to be back."

"You remember Marta."

"Welcome back, Senor Wellesley," Marta rasped amiably."

"My Gypsy Queen," the journalist winked playfully as he also graced her hand with a gentle kiss. "You look as fetching as ever."

"So what brings you here this time?" Tessa queried.

Montoya stepped forward and greeted the two ladies as Grisham merely nodded.

"Colonel Montoya," Tessa smiled. "I apologize for my rudeness."

"Not at all," Montoya purred with usual slimy charm. "The senor is here to interview the Queen of Swords."

"Oh! How delightful that would be!"

"Yes it would," Marta smiled blandly. "I am sure the people of Spain would be interested to," she turned to Grisham, "what is that expression you Americanos use, Captain? Something about a horse?"

"Hear it from the horse's mouth," the ex-patriate replied helpfully.

"Gracias. I am sure they would like to 'hear from the horse's mouth'." "What a strange expression," Montoya mused.

Wellesley was writing a few items in his journal as the four were talking. He returned it to his pack.

"England and America," he smiled. "Two countries separated by a common tongue."

"What does that mean?" Marta asked a bit confused.

"It means," Montoya purred, "even though the Capitan and Senor Wellesley speak the same language, they are unable to communicate because of lingo peculiar to each country."

Montoya bade farewell to the ladies and instructed Grisham to escort Wellesley to the hotel. Nodding, the ex-patriate led the journalist back to town along with a military escort. Tessa and Marta simply viewed this smiling conspiratorially at each other.

"So he wants an interview with the Queen," Marta mused.

"Let us see if that can not be arranged."

Colonel Montoya was taking target practice while Captain Grisham cleaned and made certain that his superior's guns were well-balanced. A thought crossed his mind as Montoya fired his tenth bulls-eye.

"Why would Wellesley want to interview the Queen of Swords?" He queried as he handed Montoya his gun for another round. "I mean he could just write some bullshit to make her look good."

"How very true, Captain," Montoya replied, showing off why he was the Academy's premiere marksman. "However, as Senorita Alvarado's Gypsy has said, the people back home wish to, as you might put it, 'hear it from the horse's mouth'."

"Sure. I'm certain she'll love to explain why she did nothing as you blew the ambassador's brains out."

Before Montoya could respond, a playful yet wicked smile crossed the ex-patriate's lips. I do not like that smile. It means another one of his inane ideas.

"I think his interviewing the Queen might help us," Grisham continued.

"And pray tell how can it?" Montoya replied impatiently.

"If she is spilling her guts out to that fat Brit, she can't mess things up for us."

"That is true. What do you propose?"

"Well, Mr. Royal Journalist is here for a week or so and we're due for more men, a bigger payroll, correct?"

"We are. Also, three cannon."

"Well, why don't we time the delivery to when her interview is. She likes prowling at night and I heard that Wellesley is somewhat of an insomniac."

"So, he will interview her to pass the evening hours away--" Montoya caught on.

"And we get our stuff without a certain pain-in-the-ass in black ruining everything."

Montoya fired another bulls-eye as he pondered Grisham's plan. An eyebrow arched skyward as an approving smile creased the handsome serpentine visage.

"Here I thought your brain's only purpose was to fill the space between your ears. I am very impressed, Grisham. There may be hope for you yet."

"I'm not just another pretty face, Colonel," Grisham replied, taking the backhanded compliment in stride. "I'm also your most loyal follower." A dry grin.

"Do not push your luck, Grisham."

It was late at night and Wellesley had been interviewing Dr. Helm about the Queen as he per usual found it too warm to sleep. Helm described her as a remarkable, yet annoying woman and, at times, he did not know whether to kiss her or punch her in the mouth. After a while, Helm bade goodnight and left his countryman to try and go to sleep. Wellesley could not sleep so he lay on his side and wrote in his journal to occupy his mind. He suddenly felt someone sitting on the edge of the bed and turned over. A young black-clad woman sat on the edge beaming genially, her features half-covered by a fine lace mask.

"Buenos tardes, Senor Wellesley," the Queen purred amiably. "I hear you wish to interview me."

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Wellesley rasped graciously. "Yes. I felt the people back in Spain might want to hear your story in your own words."

"I would be honored, Senor. Is it not a little late to start?"

"Course not. It's too bloody hot to sleep anyway."

A sound at the door got their attention. The Queen sauntered over and opened the door, yanking in Dr. Helm who greeting her with a per usual dry, condescending smirk.

"Dr. Helm," she smiled. "What brings you here?"

"I was being interviewed," Helm replied. "I hear you are also being interviewed."

"I am." A trace of pride entered the Queen's voice.

"I am sure Ferdinand will be amused."

"I doubt His Majesty reads Senor Wellesley's stories anyway."

Helm pulled up a chair and put his feet on the end of Wellesley's bed.

"Well, then," Helm grinned. "Don't let me stop you. I could use a good laugh."

"So, Your Majesty," Wellesley sat up in bed as he placed his journal on his lap. "Thank you for agreeing to be interviewed."

"It is my pleasure," the Queen replied. "I am honored to tell my story."

"The self-promotion doesn't hurt," Helm smirked dryly, ducking to avoid an incoming pillow to his face.

Wellesley cleared his throat and continued as Helm got up to pour himself a glass of brandy. He then sat back down.

"I suppose the first question people would ask," he rasped, "is who is the Queen of Swords? Is she somebody we know? A commoner? Noblewoman?"

The Queen merely arched her eyebrows under the lace mask.

"Of course, given that your activities obviously require anonymity, I will forego it."

"My name is Elena Isabela Teresa Trujillo," the Queen smirked. "My family is in cattle and armaments." Helm choked back a laugh and stared at her.

"Really. An unusual combination."

"Yes. My father was childhood friends with the Von Krupp family."

She continued on a brief "family history"-her father number one in the Academy and decorated soldier-turned cattle and arms baron. Her mother one of the most prominent socialites in Spanish society and a loving, doting mother. Her father was also doting when he was not in the New World overseeing his business.

"So does your father know Colonel Montoya?" Wellesley interjected.

"Sadly, my parents died two years ago of illness," the Queen replied. "We lived near San Diego so my father did not have the pleasure of the esteemed Colonel's acquaintance."

"I'm sure they didn't," Helm whispered acidly. The second flying pillow hit its target as it bounced of the doctor's head.

"I then met Maria Teresa Alvarado, one of the sweetest, most caring, compassionate, gentlest and most loving human beings who sadly lost her father to foul play."

"I see," Wellesley wrote down every word. "What foul play was that, Ms. Trujillo?"

"Supposedly, her father and Colonel Montoya had a disagreement over taxes or property rights. Allegedly, he then ordered Don Alvarado killed."

"I'm not surprised. The Court feels Montoya may have had something to do with the Emissary and Viceroy's deaths as well."

The Queen glanced at Helm and grinned wickedly. "I do not know why anyone would accuse dear Luis of such a thing," she purred, causing Helm to spit out the brandy he was drinking in disbelief.

"Yes, he is a bit harsh at times, but such a caring, loving father figure whose very being flows with the milk of human kindness would never stoop to such depths."

"Excuse me while I VOMIT!" Helm stormed out of the room.

The Queen shrugged and continued with how she and Tessa Alvarado became close friends, not knowing that they were being observed.

"Careful, idiots!" Grisham hissed as the soldiers tried to roll the cannon near the barracks quietly. "Don't wake the town up!"

"Si, Capitan!" The soldiers redoubled their efforts under the watchful eye of Grisham and Montoya, who observed with amusement.

"Well done, Grisham," Montoya smiled. "This was the biggest gold shipment in months. And such fine cannon. They are Krupp, no?"

"That's right," the ex-patriate smirked proudly. "Aloise Von Krupp himself made them. Best damn cannon ever assembled."

The new soldiers were silently led to the barracks as one came back, trying to make no noise as he reached them.

"How is the interview progressing?" Montoya asked.

"Very well, sir," the soldier replied. "She is telling her life story and even mentioned you as well."

"Really?" his eyebrows arched. "And what does our masked vigilante have to say about me? Probably something unladylike."

The solider relayed the Queen's description as the men fought to restrain from chuckling. Grisham unabashedly laughed out loud while Montoya merely smiled.

"How--flattering," he smirked. "I did not know she felt that way."

"C'mon, Colonel," Grisham guffawed. "No offense, but that is the biggest crock of bullshit I heard in my entire life. A rattlesnake has more human kindness than you do."

"Come, Grisham. I do have my moments."

"Very few."

"Besides, she may be trying to put me in a favorable light in the Court's eyes."

"If you say so," Grisham breezed dismissively as he left for his quarters.

The soldiers immediately fell out and hurried back to the barracks so they could laugh at the statement as well. They found Montoya a harsh disciplinarian who was overbearing at times, but they held their tongue knowing the punishment of incurring the Colonel's wrath.

"Senor Wellesley," the Queen asked solmemnly as the journalist offered her a seat and a glass of brandy. "Before we continue, might I ask you something?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Wellesley winked. "What is it?"

"You noticed that there is suddenly more men and three cannon in Santa Helena."

"I did, yes." The Brit noticed the masked woman's dark eyes staring questioningly at him. "You aren't saying I was somehow keeping you from your duties as a masked avengeress, are you?"

"The Holy Father says in the Eighth Commandment, 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor', Senor Wellesley. I certainly do not wish to do so. However, I find it a little difficult to believe that it was merely coincidence that Montoya was able to bring men and cannon into Santa Helena as I spoke to you last night."

Wellesley sipped his brandy in amusement.

"I am flattered you think that I'm some grand conspirator out to get you and in cahoots, as the Yanks say, with Montoya."

"Are you 'in cahoots'?"

"I assure you, my dear. Colonel Luis Montoya has never, nor will he, it's safe to say, ever confide in me his plans for you."

The Queen sipped hers contemplatively. I believe him. Why would such a noble man like Eduardo ally himself with that Diablo? A friendly smile creased those luscious lips or hers.

"I apologize," she purred sweetly. "I guess, after awhile, you learn who you can trust and who you can not."

"Understandable. Now where were we?"

"Colonel Luis Ramirez Montoya. Depsite his veneer of a benevolent, although strict, leader, he is a larcenous tyrant who taxes everyone into starvation, even the Dons. He imprisons and even executes those who would speak out against him. The people are oppressed and nobody will stand up for them."

"That's where you come in, I gather." Wellesley's pen was flowing across the page almost following every spoken word.

"Si. I am from a privileged background and thank El Padre Santo for it. However, I am saddened by the plight of those who are less fortunate, who men like Grisham and Montoya abuse while they struggle to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads."

"So you are sent by God to even the odds?"

"I would not put it so dramamtically, but si. If I can help them against Montoya and they view me as an angel, I will not complain. Actually, it was predestined."

"Really? By the Lord himself?"

"My father. I said he died with my mother of illness. Actually, he got into an arguement with Montoya while I was learning English back in Seville. Something about rights over cattle. He rode to Monterey to talk to the Viceroy, but was killed along the way."

"My condolences, Senorita."

Wellesley stopped writing for a moment to give the Queen's hand a consoling pat. She smiled appreciatively.

"I returned to California when I received the news, but Montoya had taken it by that time. Every night I would dream I am talking to Papa who would point to a black figure riding along the beach, saying 'that's my Avenging Angel. She will see justice is done'."

"That figure was you."

The Queen nodded. "I visited Tessa and her duena who read my fortune and comfirmed it."

"And since then, you have been righting wrongs and, essentially, being a royal pain in bloody backside for Montoya."

The Queen smiled solemnly, her eyes seeming to have a spark of pity in them.

"Strangely, I almost feel sorry for Montoya," she spoke so softly as to almost whisper. "It must be difficult trying to run a pueblo so far from home and I know he probably tries very hard to succeed."

"I thought you hated him."

"I do not hate anyone, Eduardo. And I certainly do not hate Luis Ramirez Montoya or Marcus Alexander Grisham."

"But they supposedly killed your father."

"I do not know if Grisham actually pulled the trigger, but I know that Montoya gave the order. I may kill while defending the downtrodden, but I pray for their souls every night asking their and the Holy Father's forgiveness."

"I used to be a soldier," Wellesley confided. "I know what it's like to see men's faces in your sleep that you kill."

"I try to avoid killing because they have families who they are supporting, but often times I do not have any choice. I am not like Grisham or Montoya who seem to revel in another man's death."

"I do get the sense they take perverse pleasure in it."

"People may feel that I want to kill Montoya and Grisham and, often times, I do feel like killing them. Just stab or shoot them and my worries would be over."

"So why don't you?"

"Because the Spanish Court and Monterrey may send someone like the previous Military Governor, crueller and more bloodthirsty. Montoya, at least, has discretion and knows not to invoke a rebellion with his actions."

"Where there might be another American Revolution with someone else in charge."

"Si. Also, I would be no better than Montoya or Grisham if I took their lives. I do not want them dead. I just want him to rule justly or step down for someone who will."

"You just said the Court may sent somebody more brutal to take Montoya's place."

"The Court may also send a kinder, more compassionate leader."

"So, in your opinion, Luis Montoya is a greedy, heartless bastard who is without redeeming values. He taxes everyone to death and imprisions and executes anyone he bloody well feels like."

"Yes, but he does show signs of actual humanity."

The Queen gave several examples of Montoya's occassional acts of mercy. Sharing a blanket and meal with her. Working with her to escape a cult of heretics. Letting her go when he had her within his sites and could have easily shot her dead.

"Colonel Montoya is an honorable man, albeit in a very perverse way. The other day I rescued he and Captain Grisham from El Cueva del Fuego and he let me ride back to Santa Helena in gratitude. Grisham tried to shoot me, but he stopped him saying, 'I gave her my word of honor, Grisham. Something you know nothing about.' "

Colonel Montoya listened as the soldier reported the interview to him. Grisham was sitting on the sofa, sipping cognac and chuckling softly. Montoya dismissed the man who saluted and left.

"Sounds like she has the hots for ya, Colonel," Grisham smirked.

"No," Montoya replied amused. "She realizes I am not the ogre others think I am."

"Yeah. Loathing. Contempt. Fear. Hate. I can list a number of emotions people here and back in Spain feel for you. Pity, though, is a new one."

"Indeed. She also admits she understands how difficult it is to run a pueblo." "Ain't that big of her," Grisham mused sarcastically. "Now, why doesn't she leave us the hell alone?"

"Because the gods have decreed that she curse us until the end of time." Montoya replied with mock seriousness. "But worry not, Marcus. If these cannon are as effective as you say, and Von Krupp is reputed to be an excellent gunsmith, then our masked vigilante will be but a footnote in this pueblo's history and Santa Helena will be a paradise once more."

"Yeah," Grisham snorted to himself. "A regular Shangri-la."

"Damn that Ingles!" Tessa snarled as she entered the hall where Marta and Helm were talking by the fireplace. Helm's eyebrow arched dryly.

"And which Englishman would that be?" that supercilious smile. "Certainly not me."

"Wellesley! He, how you say, sold me out to Montoya!"

"Must've gone pretty cheap!" A laughing Helm ducked the flying pillow. "Seriously, why would Wellesley want to help Montoya?"

"I saw him talking to Montoya yesterday and last night, he, Grisham and soldiers came in. Grisham even gave Wellesley a bad of gold."

Helm's eyebrows arched as the sarcastic smile broadened.

"Who steals my purse, steals trash. Tis something, twas nothing, tis the slave of thousands. But he who filches my good names steals that which does not enrich him, but indeed leaves me a poorer man."

"Who said that, Robert?" Tessa asked confused.

"Shakespeare. More specfically, Iago. OTHELLO. Act 3. Scene 1. He is talking about reputation."

"How appropriate."

"Yes, and like Othello, you're letting others paint a picture of Wellesley the way they want you to see it."

"Like Iago painted Desdemona as an adulterer." Marta put in.

"Very good, Marta. I didn't know Gypsies read Shakespeare."

"I would read it while I cleaned Don Alvarado's study back in Madrid."

Suddenly, a wide smile blossomed on Tessa's angelic face. Marta rolled her eyes. Another insane idea.

"Do you not think the Colonel has too many cannon?" she purred.

"It's a bit overboard, yes," Helm sighed. "Your point?"

"Why somebody could get their hands on one and indiscriminately do some damage."

It was a per usual Luis Montoya successful party. Roses smiling and blessing the revellers with their fragrant perfume. Sol was gracing the courtyard with its presence and gentle warmness. Suddenly, the festivities were interrupted by a thundering roar, frightening some of the guests.

"Grisham!" Montoya snapped, seeing the Captain talking to Vera Hildago per usual. "Did you tell the men to have cannon drills?"

"No, sir," Grisham replied confused. "Not til later."

"Then what idiot is firing the cannon off, frightening the guests?!"

"I'll look into it." Grisham saw a soldier approaching rather unnerved. "Montero! Who the hell is firing the cannon? The Colonel has a party going on!"

"Mi perdon, Capitan," the soldier saluted. "You and the Colonel might want to look outside."

The officers followed the soldier outside, the other guest also following suit, and stopped short. A few of the Donas gasped in shock. A particularly large cannon was aimed straight at the gate where the guests came out. Even more unnerving was sitting on the barrel was the Queen of Swords, a lit stick in her right hand and a broad devilish grin.

"Good afternoon, Colonel," she purred.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Montoya demanded.

"You really should not leave cannon unattended. You never know who might happen by."

"You dare fire cannon at my hacienda! Have you no conscience?"

"Yes, believe it or not. If I did not, I would simply fire on your hacienda, killing everyone inside."

A few soldiers tried to sneak up on the Queen from behind, but she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head.

"One more step and you will be minus one Colonel." The men stayed put. "Are all these cannon necessary? Are you that paranoid that you would make Santa Helena a fortress?"

"I have to defend my people, mi Reina," Montoya tried the smooth approach.

"One or two, I can accept. Even four. One for each direction. But, two dozen cannon? Do you trust the people so little?"

Wellesley happened to be witnessing this and writing it down in his journal. The Queen noticed him out of the corner of her eye.

"Senor Wellesley," she chirped amiably. The Brit merely waved, confused that she was now pleasant to him again. "My apologies for thinking ill of you."

Montoya took this little distraction to borrow Grisham's gun and point it at the Queen. However, the Queen sensed it and lowered the stick to the fuse. Montoya silently cursed as he lowered his gun.

"We seem to be, as the Americanos quaintly put it, at a 'Mexican standoff'."

"You are telling me I can not defend my town?"

"I never said that, Luis. You have more than enough men and arms. I am willing to allow two or three cannon to remain for defense purposes."

"And the others?" Montoya was surprised the Queen would allow any, giving that the cannon would almost be surely used against her.

"Send them to Monterrey or somewhere where they are needed more."

Montoya fumed. That Diabla will not get away with this! However, he realized that there were guests and that they probably would not appreciate being sacrificed so he could carry out his vendetta against the Queen.

"Very well," he smiled tightly. "It shall be as you ask."

"One more thing. I believe you owe one Edward Wellesley an apology."

"For what?"

"For using him to keep me from fighting injustice and corrupt rulers who would put their own ambition above the welfare of the people."

"Very well."

Nodding in satisfaction, the Queen rolled the cannon toward Grisham's quarters. The ex-patriate's mouth dropped in horror.

"Don't you even think about it!" the ex-patriate gasped.

The Queen's mouth curled into a Satanic grin as she lit the fuse. Suddenly, a portion of the wall vaporized in a thunderous explosion as part of the lodgings vanished. In its place was a gaping hole where people could look in. Fortunately, the furniture seemed to be reasonably undamaged.

"Oops." the Queen shrugged. "Guess you need a new wall."

"Why you--" A vile stream of the foulest oaths exploded from Grisham's mouth causing many of the ladies to gasp.

"Such language, Captain. There are ladies present."

Laughing, she dropped the Tarot card and vanished from sight onto Chico as the soldiers stood in dumbfound stupor as seeing their Captain's quarters damaged. Grisham was, to say the least, displeased.

"Don't stand there, IDIOTS! GET AFTER HER!"

The soldiers immediately complied as Montoya watched Grisham mount his own charger, smiling that the Gods again seemed to mock his "lapdog" almost as much as they mocked Montoya.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," he crooned to the guests. "Just a little entertainment I cooked up for your enjoyment. Come, it is almost time to dine."

The next day, Wellesley and Helm were sharing a drink in the office as he wrote down the Queen's bold actions the previous day and Helm's final thoughts. Wellesley walked back to his room in the hotel and entered. His journal was sitting on the bed open to where he left off from interviewing the Queen. He picked it up and saw that it was filled with a complete story of the Queen from her childhood to her donning the mask for the first time to her recent exploits. He turned and saw the Queen leaning against the window, beaming genially.

"Good afternoon, Eduardo," she cooed. "I am sorry for having doubted you. Please forgive me."

"Not at all," Wellesley replied. "No apology needed."

"I helped you a little with your interview."

"I can see that. Thank you for being most gracious."

"I thank you, Senor, for allowing me to tell my side of the story."

The Queen walked over and patted the journalist's cheek, kissing his forehead.

"Please come back anytime. I am sure Senorita Alvarado would welcome you."

"I'll be sure to do so. Thanks again and take care."

"Vaya con dios, Eduardo Wellesley."

The Queen left her Tarot card as she disappeared into the afternoon. Wellesley watched with satisfaction. Not only did he have a surefire follow-up to his tales about the Queen of Swords, but he was able to get an exclusive interview with the woman herself. This is definitely my best work yet. He checked his watch. His ship was not due to arrive for another three hours so he decided to take a nap while waiting. It was the best three hours of sleep he had the whole time he was in Santa Helena.

The End

©Interview with a Queen - Neil Burns - April 2001

Please send your comments on this story to the author - Neil Burns