HAND OF FATE

By Maril
maril.swan@sympatico.ca

DISCLAIMERS: The characters from the Queen of Swords television series are copyright to Fireworks Productions and Paramount; the other characters are copyright to the author, Maril Swan. No infringement of copyrights or revenue is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For a more complete understanding of this story, please read my story "Gitano" as there are references here to those events which helped shape Tessa's life.

~~~~~

MADRID AUGUST 1812

"Wait until you see the hacienda, Marta. It is huge, set on the shoreline of the Pacific, with high rocky cliffs, and white sandy beaches. Then as you go further inland toward the villa, there is a wide mesa with many beautiful, exotic plants. You will have your work cut out for you to learn all the new plants and their healing properties." Tessa turned just as Marta was about to secure a lock of her hair with a large pin. She chuckled at the Gypsy woman's hiss of impatience.

"If you don't stay still, Tessa, I will have to start all over getting your hair done for this party."

Tessa made a wry face at her reflection and caught Marta's eye in the mirror. "Why do I have to attend this function anyway, Marta? It's just a lot of old people that Papa knows. I would rather read than spend a whole evening among those stuffy businessmen."

"You already spend too much time with your nose buried in those romance novels. Swordfighting and duels of honour, righting the wrongs of the world. A waste of time, filling your mind with such stuff." Marta shook her head in exasperation. "Since Antonio left for the war, you have become a hermit." She stood back and surveyed her handiwork, nodding in satisfaction. "You look like a queen," she said with a proud smile. "Your Papa will soon be here to bring you down to meet the guests. You must be the hostess for him tonight. This party is his farewell to his friends for a long time."

"Oh, I know what this party is really about, Marta. Most of the guests have sons of marriageable age." Tessa fixed her companion with an impish grin. "I'm to be paraded around like a mare at an auction, hoping for the highest bidder."

"Tessa!" Marta gasped and turned abruptly but Tessa could see her shoulders shaking in uncontrolled laughter. Encouraged by Marta's reaction, she began to giggle herself.

"Maybe one of the young men will want to examine my teeth, or check my hoofs," Tessa added as she watched her friend collapse onto a chair, laughing so hard tears streamed from her eyes. Marta didn't laugh often and it was good to see.

Marta wiped her eyes, and tried to look serious. "Your Papa is only trying to make sure you marry well. But tonight, in the absence of your mother, you must take her place. He is very proud of you and wants to show you off. There will be young men in California too. As soon as they see you, there will be no end of offers."

With a swish of satin, Tessa stood up and began to pace the room excitedly. "Finally, I am going back to California! How long I have waited for this." Her eyes shone with happiness. "Marta, you will love Alta California. It is a new world with lots of new sights and experiences, so big and beautiful. I can hardly wait." Her face clouded for a moment as she recalled that Marta had a family in Andalusia whom she would miss. "Of course, if you would rather stay in Spain, Marta, I would understand. This is the land of your people."

Marta made a derisive sound. "My people have no country. We are just living here until the next expulsion," she said bitterly. She waved at the chair and said, "Sit down and let me finish. I must set the comb in your hair and then attach your mantilla."

It was with an ill-grace that Tessa plumped back down in the chair to allow Marta to complete her ensemble. Staring at her image in the mirror, Tessa had to admit she did look very elegant with her black hair coiffed neatly behind her neck, and the deep blue satin gown that hung so smoothly on her slim body. She seemed older than her seventeen years. She thought, I look like the portrait of my mother that hangs downstairs in Papa's study. She was only ten years older than me when she died. That sad recollection was soon banished as Tessa contemplated the sea voyage only a few days away. Her excitement knew no bounds and she fidgeted in her chair while Marta tried to finish getting her ready for the party.

Marta set the comb in Tessa's hair and was about to attach the black lace mantilla when a rap sounded on the bedroom door. She crossed quickly and opened it to one of the servants. "Don Alvarado wishes to see you right away, Marta," the young girl said then hurried away down the staircase. Marta paused for a moment, glancing toward Tessa who was regarding her with a quizzical expression.

"What does my father want of you, Marta?" she asked.

"There is only one way to find out," Marta replied as she went out and closed the door behind her. She was back in a few minutes, her face set in a worried line. "Tessa, we must hurry and get you finished so when your Papa comes, he can escort you down." She stepped behind Tessa and lifted the mantilla, preparing to lay it carefully over the comb.

"What did Papa want?" Tessa watched her guardian's face in the mirror, noting her uneasiness since returning from Don Alvarado's presence. "Was it something to do with the party?" Marta shook her head and the younger woman persisted. "About our ocean voyage?" She saw Marta avert her eyes quickly, almost guiltily, then recover. Tessa stiffened. "What did he say about the trip, Marta?" she demanded.

"Your father will discuss it with you later," Marta said quietly. "He will be here in a minute."

Suddenly Tessa bolted from the chair, tearing the comb from her hair, and flinging it across the room. It bounced off some porcelain figurines lined up on a shelf on the wall. "No!" she shouted. "Not again! He will not leave me behind again. I'm going with him this time. I'm seventeen. I've had enough education, enough of this horrible city. I hate Madrid!"

The anguished dark eyes pierced Marta's loyal soul, but she remained silent. A quick rap on the door made her start and she opened it to admit Don Alvarado.

"Is she ready?" he asked with a warm smile.

"She is ready for something," Marta said wryly as she exited quickly, closing the door behind her.

Tessa whirled to face her father. "Why won't you take me to California?"

Don Alvarado's face darkened, and he growled, "Marta wasn't supposed to tell you. I was going to break it to you after the party."

Tessa fumed, "She didn't tell me -- I guessed!" She moved closer to her father, tears welling in her eyes. "You can't leave me again, Papa. I want to go back to California, back home. Please take me with you."

Her father felt his own heart breaking as he watched a tear trickle down his daughter's cheek. He compressed his lips, and tried to draw a breath against the heaviness in his chest. "I just received a despatch from Santa Helena. There are some problems, disputes, violence. I can't take you into that. It's too dangerous right now. In a year or so..." his voice trailed off as she turned away and strode across the room.

"How can it be more dangerous than here? There's a war going on in Spain, in case you haven't noticed!" Tessa inhaled quickly, biting her lip as she realized her impetuous tongue was making things worse. Her father's face flushed with sudden anger. She amended her tone, moving to embrace him, and added, "Whatever the danger, I want to be with you, Papa." She could see his resolve wavering and felt the lift of hope in her heart.

Her hopes were dashed in the next second as her father said sadly, "Tessa, there are things going on in the territory that make it too dangerous for you. I have enemies, and you could be used against me. I would live in constant fear for your life. No, you will be safer here, now that the British have control of the city. I want you to continue your education and learn to be a proper Spanish gentlewoman."

"What good is it to learn to be a lady in a rough territory like California? While I was with the gitano, I learned skills that I really need to know, not philosophy or literature, but real life things." Tessa paused and swallowed hard when she realized what she had said. Her father's eyes hardened. Her heart started to race in fear; her face coloured hotly. She tried to speak but her voice failed as she searched for a way to undo the damage, to recall the confession she had blurted out in anger.

He gripped her arm tightly. "What time spent with the gitano? What are you saying, Tessa?" She tried to shrink away from his inflexible gaze, but he trapped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "You will tell me what you meant. When were you with the gitano?" His voice was a low growl. She had never seen him so furious, and it frightened her.

Tessa swallowed and tried to moisten her dry throat. His eyes bored into her, waiting for her explanation. What have I done, she thought in horror. How can I get out of this, and what about Marta? She licked her dry lips; her voice trembled, as barely audibly, she said, "Before you returned, I spent nearly a year with a gitano band."

Don Alvarado pushed her away abruptly, making her stumble. He rubbed his hand over his face, and across his eyes, studying her as if she was a stranger. His voice faltered as he tried to speak; he shook his head as if to clear it. "You dare tell me this!" he rasped out finally. "All this time, when you were sending me letters about your studies in Madrid, you were not here?" He flung his hand out in an angry gesture. "You were with a band of vagabonds and thieves, roaming around the countryside? In the middle of a war?" His voice rose and he stepped toward her as if ready to strike. His face was suffused with blood, a vein stood out starkly in his temple, its pulse beating rapidly, like her own heart.

But she stood her ground, lifting her chin and defying him with her eyes. "They're not vagabonds and thieves, anymore than Marta is. They're poor but they share everything they have, even with a stranger like me." Breathlessly, she continued, "It is the closest I have ever had to a real family. They accepted me and loved me." The memory evoked a sudden rush of tears, and Tessa turned away so her father would not see the emotions she could not contain.

He grabbed her arm and spun her back to face him. "I trusted Marta and this is how she repays me? Letting my daughter run wild with a band of Gypsies? Well, no more. She will be dismissed. Tonight. I will not have her under my roof for another day." He turned to go, but Tessa grasped his coat sleeve.

"It was not Marta's fault, but mine. I ran away and found her people. She came to get me and I convinced her to let me stay with them. Punish me, but forgive Marta. She is not to blame."

Don Alvarado glared at her coldly. "Marta is a grown woman, you are a child. She should have known better. She betrayed my trust. I cannot forgive that."

"I am not a child! You treat me like one of those porcelain dolls on that shelf." Tessa grasped one of the elegantly dressed dolls and shook it. "Pretty to look at, an ornament - but an empty thing." She hurled the doll against the wall, glaring at her father defiantly. "If you send Marta away, I will hate you for it."

A look of shock crossed her father's face as the smashing of the china doll and her harsh words seemed to reverberate through the room. Abruptly, he turned and strode toward the door. "Get ready and come down to the party. My guests will be here soon. We will talk more of this later."

Tessa remained paralysed, staring at the door, trying to think clearly, trying to calm herself. A heavy dread lodged itself in her heart as she waited to face Marta again. I have betrayed her, and let the blame fall on her. What can I do? Papa is so unreasonable when he's angry.

A few minutes later, Marta returned. Tessa could see by her paleness and the tight look of dismay on her face, that Don Alvarado had already spoken to her. She crossed quickly and embraced Marta, but the woman was rigid, trembling with emotion. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she looked at Tessa with stricken eyes.

"Marta, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say anything. It just came out." Tessa hugged her more fiercely. "If I could call back those words, I would. I told Papa it was not your fault..."

Marta moved away with a sharp intake of breath. "What's done is done. There is no calling it back." She gave Tessa a weak smile. "Perhaps it is for the best. I have felt guilty every time he asks me about your studies in Madrid. To lie and then to keep lying, adding deception to deception. It is a relief that it is over." She seemed to shake herself. In a dry whisper, she said, "Now let us finish getting you ready. You must go down to the party."

"I can't," Tessa murmured almost inaudibly. "After this, how can I face those guests and pretend to be happy?" She moved across the room and sat down heavily on the brocade coverlet of her bed.

"Querida," Marta said as she crossed to Tessa and sat next to her. "That is part of being a noble lady. You must face whatever comes with your head held high, and your emotions under control." She put her arm around Tessa's shoulder. "Be brave. You can do this. Make me proud of you." She kissed the younger woman's cheek and felt the moisture of tears on her lips. Her own heart was breaking as she thought, I have to be brave too, for her sake.

Tessa sighed resignedly. "So now, you will go back to your people, Marta?" When the Gypsy woman nodded, she said sombrely, "I will never see you again, will I?"

Marta swallowed several times, and drew in a deep breath. With false brightness she said, "Of course you will. And we will write to each other. All the time." She stood and retrieved the comb, setting it into Tessa's hair, allowing her hand to rest affectionately on the dark head for a second. Then she picked up the mantilla and attached it, carefully draping it over Tessa's shoulders. She drew Tessa to her feet; the girl seemed to move leadenly, as if in a trance.

"Do your duty, Tessa, and do it with courage." With a warm kiss on the cheek, Marta led Tessa to the door, and accompanied her out into the corridor. From the balustrade, she could see the elegant salon below, brightly decorated for the party. The crystal chandeliers shimmered a warm light over the long table, set with gleaming plates and silver cutlery. Liveried servants moved among the early guests offering wine and hors d'oeuvres. She glimpsed Don Alvarado in his elegant dark suit, talking with an older couple. His face was grave, sorrowful and her heart went out to him. It is better that I leave. I have come between the father and daughter. Without me, perhaps they can reconcile. He loves Tessa, and is hurt by her deception. But Fate has a way of working things out.

Marta gently nudged Tessa toward the staircase, giving her arm an encouraging squeeze. She noted the girl's wan face and the melancholy expression in her eyes. The young men will be drawn to her; she looks especially beautiful tonight with her air of wistful sadness. Aloud she said, "Sometimes things happen and we don't know why until much later. This is for the best. Now, go to your father and be the daughter he loves so much." She turned quickly and went down the corridor to her own room, not trusting herself to keep up the brave front for much longer.

~~~~~

The lid of the small steamer trunk latched with a click. Marta stood back and glanced around her room. In the grey light of early dawn, it had an empty, bleak feeling, as if its occupant was already gone. All the personal touches that made this room her home were taken down and packed. Ten years, she thought as she looked at the furnishings that had become so familiar, the pictures on the walls, the dark bedstead with its fringed canopy, the big armoire that had contained all her possessions.

Now all those possessions were pressed into the trunk that she had packed to cross the ocean with her. Instead, it would be carried in the wagon that Don Alvarado had arranged for this morning -- the wagon that would carry her also, back to her people.

Marta placed her few remaining personal things into a bag, then sat on the neatly made bed. For ten years, this was my home. And now it is not. She shook her head wonderingly at the speed with which life can change. A dull ache behind her eyes reminded her of the sleepless night behind her and the long dreary ride ahead of her. Somehow, I will get through this day, she promised herself. She closed her eyes as the room brightened with the sun; its radiance did not warm her. In her mind, she could hear the sound of a little girl's laughter ringing through the villa, the sound of childish feet pounding down the halls. I could never get her to slow down. Marta smiled wistfully to herself. Always in such a hurry.

A hard rap at the door broke into her reverie. Heavily, she arose and went to open it, thinking, It must be Tessa. It is too early yet for the wagon. Another rap sounded just as Marta reached for the door. She pulled the door open quickly and found Don Alvarado standing there in his dressing gown. He shouldered his way past her and looked around her room. His face was set in a scowl and he snapped, "Where is she?"

At her confused look, he said gruffly, "She left this note." With that, he thrust a crumpled piece of paper at her.

Marta read it aloud after scanning the brief line several times. "I am going where I am loved." She felt her scalp prickle for a moment as the meaning sank in. "Madre de dios!" she exclaimed with a frightened glance at Don Alvarado.

"What does she mean...?" Don Alvarado demanded. "Going where she is loved? She is loved here. I love her." He brushed his hand over his face; his voice was rough with anguish. "I was going to speak with her this morning, to try to reason with her. I tapped on her door. She did not answer when I knocked several times, so I went in. Her bed had not been slept in and this note lay on the pillow." He watched Marta for a long time, then asked more quietly, "Where is she? Where has she gone?"

"I think ...where she went before when she ran away ...to the gitano camp. I am sure that is where she would have gone." The dull ache in her head became a throbbing pain as she thought of Tessa alone on those dangerous roads. The war still raged in Spain but the French had been pushed back to beyond the Ebro. Still there were many guerillas roaming the countryside as well as the English. They were as bad as the French. Marta shivered with sudden dread. "We must leave right away. She has had a long headstart, but was riding in the dark. We may overtake her if we hurry."

Don Alvarado hesitated for a moment as if considering her suggestion. "You know the way to the camp?" Marta nodded and he asked, "And can you ride a horse, Marta?"

She smiled wryly at this. "Don Alvarado, I am gitano. I was practically born on a horse," she said as she ushered him to the door. "Let me dress and pack some provisions for us. I will meet you at the stables."

Less than a half hour later, Marta hurried out into the stableyard, with a couple of packs slung over her shoulders. She stopped in surprise as she noted the two other men with Don Alvarado, waiting by the saddled horses. Even more startling were the weapons carried by all the men - pistoles, rifles and swords.

Don Alvarado observed her uncertainty and said, "For our protection. We do not know what may be lurking out there on the highways during these dangerous times."

Marta shrugged and lifted the packs onto the horse, then swung up into the saddle. The small party cantered out of the gate, the horses' hoofs striking sparks off the cobblestones as they clattered down the empty streets of Madrid heading for the open road.

~~~~~

Around mid-day, the small search party came to a wide stream. It sparkled in the mid-morning sun, its grassy embankment lush and green. An ancient Roman bridge arched over the water. Lichen and moss covered the old stones underpinning the bridge and a variety of flowers grew around each end. Marta reined her horse to the side of the stream and slid off, heaving a sigh of relief. It had been quite a while since she had ridden for so many hours on a horse. Her legs felt weak and she held onto her horse for support.

Don Alvarado frowned down at her. "Why are you stopping? How much further is it to the camp?"

"Señor, the horses need rest and so do we. For just half an hour. We will eat the food I brought. Unsaddle the horses."

The don leapt from his horse and strode to her. "We're going on. We can eat while we ride."

"Don Alvarado, a horse isn't just an animal. It has a spirit. If you treat it with love and kindness, it will break its great heart for you. Or you can treat it with harshness and cruelty, and you may get what you want from it. Horses are like people that way." Marta turned away and uncinched the saddle, sliding it off and dropping it onto the ground. The horse huffed a great sigh as she led it to the stream. It slurped the water noisily. She wandered upstream from the horse to refill her canteen and wash. The cool water was bracing, invigorating. It cleared her head a little, but the ache still tormented her. I should have taken something, she thought, but there wasn't time. A movement downstream attracted her attention. She saw Don Alvarado pacing anxiously along the bank, his face taut with distress. Marta considered going to him, to comfort him, but his coolness toward her made her decide to leave him alone for now.

Returning to the other men, she noted they were now lounging on the ground near their saddles. Marta went to the packs she had brought and opened them. Inside were loaves of bread, some cheese and sausage. The men took portions and ate hungrily.

Marta ate lightly, then laid down on the soft grass. The soft summer breeze stirring the leaves and the murmuring of the stream lulled her tired mind. Almost instantly, she was asleep, having slept little the night before. A dream invaded her rest; a sense of dread pervaded her as something large and terrifying came inexorably closer. She couldn't seem to move her limbs; they were like lead. Suddenly, it held her in its grasp. She woke with a start, staring into Don Alvarado's eyes, his hand shaking her arm. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she struggled to get up.

"You seemed to be having a nightmare, Marta," he said gently. "And it is time to move on." He moved away to his horse and tightened the cinch.

Marta noted her own horse was already saddled. At least my headache is gone, she thought with relief. Her head felt a little fuzzy but the rest seemed to have invigorated her. She checked the cinch, then swung up into the saddle, and kneed the horse into line behind Don Alvarado's mount.

A few hours later, Marta thought she detected the smell of smoke. Not our camp, she decided, too close. Might be soldiers or guerillas, she thought worriedly. A mile further on, they passed the remains of a campfire by the roadside, still smouldering slightly. Marta reined her horse and jumped down. A quick survey of the area told her there had been at least three people here, with horses. The piles of horse dung were still fresh. If Tessa passed here while they were still in their camp, what might have happened. She closed her eyes, searching for the Sight, but it would not come. She was too anxious, her mind too distraught to concentrate. With an exasperated sigh, she gave up. She kicked dirt over the embers of the fire, and remounted her horse.

"Someone was here recently, Don Alvarado. It seems they left in a hurry without burying their fire. Or they are very careless of forest fires." She could see the same thought in his agonized eyes as had entered her own mind. Keeping her voice carefully level, she said, "Our camp is about an hour ahead. Before we jump to any conclusions, let us go there first."

Marta urged her horse ahead of Don Alvarado's and kneed it into a canter. She almost dreaded arriving at the camp to discover what she already suspected. The miles seemed to crawl under the horse's hoofs though it kept up a good pace.

At length, they rode into a wide clearing around which was ringed a dozen colourful wagons. Their sudden arrival caused all activity in the camp to stop. Marta leapt from her horse and ran to Uncle Tonio. He arose from his workbench, and set down the leather-working tool. The pleasure on his face at seeing her turned to worry as he noted the distress in her eyes.

"Uncle Tonio," she asked anxiously, "Is Tessa here?" Before he could answer, Marta knew. Behind her, she heard Don Alvarado groan in despair.

"Why would she be here?" Uncle Tonio asked. "Are you not going to California soon?" His warm eyes showed deep concern and he embraced Marta who leaned against him, seeming to draw on his strength. "Who are these others?" he asked, gesturing to the mounted men.

Don Alvarado dismounted and strode to them. "I am Tessa's father." With a slight hesitation, he gripped Uncle Tonio's proffered hand. "We passed a campfire back on the trail. Perhaps, if they are guerillas or worse, they have taken my daughter." The don's eyes were haunted by agonized thoughts of his daughter in the hands of savage, brutal men. He staggered under the impact of those images.

Uncle Tonio put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He turned to the gitano band and said, "Everyone who can ride, saddle a horse. We are searching for Tessa." With a grim smile, he assured Don Alvarado, "We will find her."

~~~~~

Tessa wrinkled her nose at the faint scent of smoke. She slowed the horse to a walk as the smell grew stronger. A campsite ahead, she thought with a clutch of fear. Perhaps I can find a way around it, just in case. Even as she was considering another route, two men stepped out from behind some trees beside the trail. Their sudden appearance made her horse prance nervously. A glance passed between the two coarse-looking men; their hungry eyes seemed to take in her expensive clothing and splendid mount. She reined her horse hard to the right and nudged it urgently into a canter, leaving the trail. Shouts followed her as the men tried to pursue her for a short distance on foot.

The sound of other hoofbeats behind her alerted Tessa to another rider closing fast. She urged the horse into a gallop, keeping her head down to avoid the low hanging branches while guiding the horse through the forest. Branches whipped past her, scratching her cheeks, tearing her blouse but she kept on. Trees blurred by in her headlong rush but still her pursuer followed. Her tired horse was panting hard; its laboured breathing was loud in her ears as Tessa searched for a way to escape.

A short distance ahead, she saw a branch stretching across her path. It was too high to reach but if she stood on the horse, she might catch it. Perhaps, she hoped, her pursuer would not see her leap off the horse and climb into the tree. She checked his distance from her as she prepared to stand up. Marta's brother, Rafael, had shown her this bit of trick-riding but she had not practised it in months, and never at this speed. With her heart in her throat, Tessa pulled herself up to kneel on the saddle, balancing precariously. As the branch came within distance, she stood and reached for it -- and grasped it. For a perilous few seconds, she dangled over the ground. Recalling the technique the gitano acrobat had shown her, Tessa swung a few times on the branch, then hauled herself up onto the limb. She began to climb up into the denser foliage. Rasping breaths seared her dry throat as she clung to the tree trunk while settling on a stout limb. That was a close one, she thought, as the blood still sang in her ears from her near escape.

The other rider sped by underneath, making Tessa chuckle with relief. Her trick had worked. But her horse was gone, and she had no idea where she was now. And there were still two other men lurking about somewhere back where she had come from.

While she was thinking of a plan, she heard the measured clip-clop of horses coming back toward her. The pursuer was returning, leading her horse by the reins. She watched in trepidation as he glanced all about, slowly looking for her on the ground. So far, he had not thought of looking up in the trees. She hoped she was well concealed.

From her vantage above, she had a good view of him as he passed underneath again. His face was lined and deeply tanned. A jagged white scar parted the dark hair on his skull. His clothing, though filthy and tattered, seemed to be the remnants of several uniforms from different armies. A guerilla, Tessa thought with a jolt of fear. Most guerillas fought against the French, but some were ruthless brigands who used the guerilla army as a cover for pillaging and murder. I only saw three, but are there more?

The two horses whickered nervously and the rider stopped. Tessa held her breath as the guerilla seemed to be listening while looking intently around. Finally, he raised his eyes to the trees, and spotted her in her white blouse and black trousers. A wide, nearly toothless grin accompanied his discovery.

"Señorita!" he lisped. "Come down. We won't hurt you." A harsh laugh followed. It sounded more like a wheeze.

"You'd better move on," Tessa called down. "I passed a troop of soldiers coming in this direction."

Another wheezy chuckle gasped out of the guerilla, as he slapped his knee in mirth. "Soldiers! There aren't any soldiers on this god-forsaken trail. Only foolish señoritas travelling alone." His bloodshot eyes looked up at her avidly, taking in the torn blouse that exposed her honey-coloured skin. He licked his lips. "You better come down, or I'll come up and get you."

"You can try," Tessa retorted.

With a surprising agility, the man began to climb into the tree, carefully selecting branches for hand and foot holds. Tessa watched anxiously, and as he got closer, she drew her sword. She had never felt so frightened in her life.

Finally, he was close enough that she could hear the breath wheezing from his lungs. He reached out to grab her ankle and she slashed at his hand with the sword, intending to scare him, but not cut him. Before he let go, he jerked her leg sharply, almost unseating her from her precarious perch. She dropped the sword in an effort to hang onto the trunk. With a sinking feeling, she saw the sword lodge itself into the tree roots below. He grinned at her with a lascivious leer.

"Come on, señorita. I only want to have a little fun with you. You might even like it." He was so close now she could smell the rankness of his unwashed body.

In a sudden fury, she swung her boot at his head, and he lost his grip, falling through the tree to the ground. He hit with a loud grunt of pain, then sat up and shook his fist at her. A trickle of blood ran from his temple down his cheek.

The guerilla snarled. "Sooner or later, you'll have to come out of that tree. I have all the time in the world." With that, he tied the horses to some shrubs and sat down. A few minutes later, he looked up as his companions arrived on their horses. "I have her caught like a treed squirrel," the man crowed, pointing upwards into the branches.

"Hector," one of the men said, "Why are we wasting our time on this girl? We have her horse and her sword. Let's move on." His gaunt whiskered face had a solemn look, as if he was perpetually mourning. Blue eyes shone out of the grime of his face. He twitched and scratched in his filthy clothing. Tessa shuddered, watching him, and thinking, He has lice. Madre mio, don't let him get near me.

Hector grimaced at his companion. "Look what she did to my face. We don't leave until I even the score." He leered and added, "And besides, Ernesto, how long since you had a woman? Go up and bring her down here."

Ernesto stared at the large bump on the side of Hector's face, then up at Tessa. He shook his head. "I'm not going up there. You want her so much, you get her. As for me, I'm going to catch something for our lunch." With that, he turned his horse and rode away through the trees.

The third man slid off his horse and stood uncertainly, glancing between Hector, sitting contentedly on the ground, and Tessa, perched on a branch over twenty feet up. His coarse features were slack and he seemed dazed, unable to focus. He staggered to his friend and dropped onto the ground, reeling and nearly falling over.

"Julio," Hector laughed, "drunk already? It's not even noon yet." He slapped the other man heartily on the back, toppling him onto the grass. Julio grinned fatuously, showing a mouthful of blackened and broken teeth as he righted himself.

"Not drunk, just getting there," he chortled. "Any wine left, Hector? Mine's gone." He made a sorrowful face at Hector which sent his companion into gales of laughter.

"Go up and get the girl, and I'll give you some," Hector said, giving Julio a slight push to get him moving. When he hesitated, Hector added, "I have a whole wineskin over there, just for you. Go on."

Julio dragged himself to his feet, and held out his hands like an acrobat trying to balance on a tightrope. He raised his eyes to Tessa, and went over backwards, landing on his back. "I can't climb up there, Hector," he whined. "S'too far. I'll fall." He remained prone, staring up at the girl, grinning drunkenly.

Tessa began to consider her circumstances. Only one of the men was a real threat. Hector. The other man, Julio, was too drunk to know what he was doing. If I can somehow get away from Hector, I could escape. The third man, Ernesto, doesn't seem to want anything to do with me. And for now, he is gone.

~~~~~

Twenty riders formed around Tonio and Don Alvarado. Tonio gazed gravely around the group, and said, "We will spread out in a wide line on both sides of the trail. Everyone will stay in sight of the next rider. If you see or hear anything, call out." He seemed satisfied by the nods he received and nudged his horse forward. "It is only just past noon. We still have many hours of daylight to find her. So let us get started."

Marta rode near the far end of the line. Somehow she sensed Tessa had gone off the trail for some reason. And she is in danger. I can feel it. She looked along the line of riders, men and women, and saw Don Alvarado. His shoulders sagged and he look haggard. She shared his anguish, and wished she could reassure him somehow. What can I tell him? That I know Tessa is all right for now. That would be a small comfort. As they entered the trail, the search party fanned out a long distance on both sides. Marta hoped the sweep was wide enough.

~~~~~

She rehearsed her plan over and over in her mind, while summoning up the courage to put it into action. As soon as she moved, she knew Hector would hear her. The other man, Julio, had fallen asleep, his stentorian snores almost comical in their loudness. Even Julio's racket would not cover the sound of her trying to cross from her tree to another standing nearby. She hoped to scramble across the intersecting branches and gradually get far enough away to jump to the ground and run for it. I'm younger and stronger than that foul dog, Hector, she thought. Señor Torres taught me some moves to use when you have lost your sword. Fighting techniques. She smiled grimly to herself. I'll bet he never thought I would ever need to use them. She nearly laughed aloud in her nervousness. Nor did I.

Below, Hector sat with his back propped against the tree, now and then swilling some wine from the wineskin he had taken from his saddlebag. Occasionally, he looked up to see that she was still there, and chuckled and resumed drinking.

Maybe he will drink himself into a stupor like his friend, Tessa thought hopefully as she watched. She wondered how long she had been trapped in the tree. At least an hour, she decided. The sun was almost directly overhead so that meant it was just around one o'clock. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. The meagre provisions she had packed from the villa's kitchen were still in her saddlebag, out of reach. The heat in the tree was oppressive, and Tessa watched thirstily while Hector nonchalantly drank his wine. Even some wine would be welcome right now, she thought.

Rage started to burn somewhere in her midsection as her discomfort became more acute. You're being a coward, Tessa, she scolded herself. Letting that perro keep you trapped in a tree. Boldness was needed to face her enemy. Did she have it, she wondered as she saw him get up and go into the trees, probably to relieve himself. Now is the only chance I have. I must take it.

Carefully, she took a firm grip on an upper branch and slid off the limb she had been sitting on. With quick glances at the ground, Tessa gradually descended the tree. Her sword was still stuck in the earth near the tree trunk, among the snarled roots of this ancient oak. If I can get it before he returns, I can keep him at bay, and take their horses so they can't follow me. Every sound she made sent her heart racing; her body shook so much she could scarcely hang on to the handholds.

As her foot touched the ground, a rough hand on her shoulder spun her around. Hector's leering face was only inches from hers. He wheezed a foul breath as he laughed, nearly choking her with its stench. "I knew you' d come down as soon as I was out of sight," he chortled, tightening his grip painfully. "Now I've got you."

For a second, Tessa was paralysed with terror. All the defence techniques she knew flew from her horrorstruck mind; the only thing she understood was the look in Hector's bloodshot eyes, and the triumphant grin on his face as he tried to pull her closer. He was surprisingly strong for a small, slight man. His wiry arms began to entwine her and at first, she was too frightened to struggle. Then, as his mouth moved toward hers, she seemed to awaken from her trance of fear. She brought her knee into his groin and with a loud groan, he let her go. She made a grab for the sword, but it was stuck fast in the tree root. While she tried to pull it loose, Hector limped toward her quickly, a string of foul oaths issuing from his mouth as he flung her away from the sword. She stumbled over some roots, nearly falling. His malicious eyes bored into her. Tessa's stomach curdled at the evil intention she saw there; he meant to hurt her, maybe kill her. She had to get away!

Hector wrenched the sword from the root and with a nasty grin, moved toward her. She backed away, intending to turn and run. She bumped into something soft, human. Julio's arms suddenly coiled around her, his laugh barked into her ear.

"I got her for you, Hector," he chortled.

Hector was only a few paces away, holding the sword a foot from her chest. "You're quite a wild cat. I like some spirit in my women. But now it's time to even the score."

Even as Julio held her, Tessa could feel his balance was still precarious. With a quick move, she drove her elbow into his stomach, and pushed him into Hector. He stumbled, impaling himself on the sword. For a long moment, time seemed to stop; Julio stood with his mouth agape, a frozen expression of surprise on his face. Hector didn't move as he stared at the blade driven into his friend's body. Tessa remained immobilized, until Julio's long scream of agony seemed to release her. At the same instant, Hector also came to himself, realizing what had happened.

He pulled the blade back, and advanced on Tessa with it, the gore so impossibly red, she was almost fascinated by it. His eyes narrowed to slits, a rictus snarl drew back his lips.

"I was only going to have a little fun with you," he growled, "but you killed my friend. Now I'm going to kill you ...slowly."

She shook herself as she backed away. Her mind was suddenly startlingly clear. It's him or me, she thought, and he has the sword. She watched in horror as the bloodlust suffused his face with crimson. Like a cobra, he moved forward slowly, waving the sword in small arcs as he closed the distance. Tessa continued to back up, afraid to make a sudden move, keeping her eyes fixed on his. Her blood rushed through her veins like a raging river, her pulse so loud in her ears it was nearly deafening. Yet she felt a strange thrill, an excitement, an aliveness that was almost surreal, a sense of her own strength that made her feel invincible. All her senses were alert; she backed and waited, looking for a chance of escape. Her foot touched something on the ground that moved as she stepped on it. A broken branch. With a quick scoop, she picked it up and swung it toward him, knocking the sword away. He recovered and thrust at her. She clubbed his arm as she jumped out of the way. He yelped and almost dropped the sword, stumbling a little. She lifted the heavy limb and arced it toward his head; he parried with the sword, sending her off-balance as she missed. She tripped over a tree root and fell on her stomach. For an instant, he had a clear target -- her undefended back. With a snarl of malice, he rushed on her.

Tessa stiffened, expecting the searing pain of the sword to end her life. Instead, she heard a sudden explosion, then a howl of anguish. Rolling over, she looked up as Hector fell a few feet from her, a patch of red darkening his shabby tunic. Turning her gaze quickly, she saw the third man, Ernesto, sitting on his horse, the gun still smoking in his hand. Her mouth opened in surprise, but no words came out. He had saved her life, but why? To have her for himself? She glanced surreptitiously at the sword stilled clutched in Hector's hand, estimating how much time it would take to grab it.

"I won't harm you," Ernesto said calmly. "I only wanted your gold." He lifted another pistole and aimed it at her head. "Don't try anything, and you won't get hurt." With a cold glance at Hector's body, he nudged his horse forward. "Pick up the sword, clean it off and put it back into your scabbard on your horse. Then hand the reins to me."

Trembling in every limb, Tessa got up. The reaction to her mortal danger had set in. Though she tried to control it, her hands shook as she broke Hector's grip on her sword. There was no doubt he was dead; his eyes stared fixedly in horror at her. She cleaned the blade against his pant leg, then sheathed the sword in the scabbard. Leadenly, she took the reins and gave them to the man.

"Do you have any gold?" Ernesto asked. He suddenly stiffened and turned in his saddle toward a noise.

Tessa heard it too. The sound of many horses crashing through the forest, coming toward them. They must have heard the gunshot. Ernesto kicked his horse suddenly in the flanks, sending it forward and nearly trampling Tessa as he surged by leading her horse. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving her with two dead men, and their horses. And the approaching riders. Who were they? Soldiers? More guerillas?

She ran to one of the horses, and leapt into the saddle. The riders were nearly upon her and she turned to see who they were. A broad smile broke over her face as she recognized the colourful clothing and dark faces of the gitano. She waited while the troop drew up and surrounded her. With a start, she saw Marta in the group, then her father. He dismounted and rushed to her. Tessa jumped from her horse and met him with a fervent embrace.

He clasped her tightly to his chest; she could hear the rapid, strong beat of his heart against her ear. His strength seemed to bear her up; the last few hours had taken their toll of her own strength. She just let herself be held, without words, until she felt able to let go. At length, he loosened his hold, and looked at her. She knew she must be a distressing sight with her many scratches and torn, dirty clothing.

He pressed her against him again, more gently. "My angel," he murmured into her ear. "I thought I had lost you." As if becoming aware of the others, Don Alvarado slowly released her. His face lost its colour as he suddenly noticed at the two dead men lying nearby. "Madre de dios! Did you do this?" he gasped.

Tessa shook her head quickly in denial. "No, Papa. Their partner killed them, and ran off with my horse. But he saved my life." She felt a twinge of guilt at the half-truth, but was afraid the group might go after Ernesto. He was a thief, not a murderer. Let him go.

~~~~~

Marta waited on her horse. A warm smile crept across her face, and she felt the tension release from her heart. The danger was past; Tessa had survived. That was the most important thing. And now the time of parting was at hand. Soon, Tessa and Don Alvarado would return to Madrid; she would remain here. She kept her face impassive as she watched the father and daughter together. They have much to talk about, but now I think they can reconcile.

She noticed Uncle Tonio ride forward and dismount. He strode to Tessa and embraced her warmly, then turned to Don Alvarado. "This has been a very hard day for everyone. Come back to our camp and stay the night, señor. Get a good night's rest before starting back to Madrid."

The don seemed about to refuse, but Tessa gripped his arm and smiled at him. "Papa, please, let us spend the night with the gitano. I am too tired to ride much further." The plea in her eyes seemed to melt his resistance, and he nodded.

~~~~~

Don Alvarado sat comfortably replete, his back to Luisa's wagon, and contemplated the scene before him. After their arrival at the camp, with Tessa safely in their midst, a large celebration had been prepared. The supper had been exotic and delicious, with many foods he had never tasted before. He smiled at the remembrance of Marta's uncle, Tonio, bringing him a full mug of red wine before the meal.

"Tessa told us you make wines, Don Alvarado. So do I. Try this." Tonio handed him the mug and watched anxiously as he sipped the wine. It was harsh and dry, but the don rolled it around his mouth appreciatively, then swallowed.

"Excellent!" he pronounced, and took another long swallow. The second taste seemed better, and the third better yet. An acquired taste, he decided. "You are a fine vintner, Señor Tonio," Don Alvarado said heartily. And this wine goes to the head very quickly, he added to himself as he took another sip.

"Just call me 'Tonio," his companion replied as he refilled the don's mug from a pitcher he carried in his hand. "And gracias, Don Alvarado. I am very proud of my wines." Tonio's dark eyes glittered in the light of the campfire, his face creased widely in a big grin and he laughed suddenly in his strange bark. The don was infected by his good humour and laughed too, without knowing why.

Now, the meal over, the don relaxed on the periphery of the camp, enjoying the sensations of colour and scent and sounds all around him. He observed Marta with a small group of women, laughing and talking animatedly in her own tongue, the sound of their language like music to his ears. He shifted his gaze to Tessa, surrounded by the younger people of the band, and watched their excited expressions as Tessa must have been recounting her adventure to them.

He shook his head, noting how it swam a bit. How did she ever get away with her life, he wondered. A fervent prayer leapt to his lips for her safe delivery. Three rogue guerillas, and she escaped from them. It was truly a miracle. What was it Marta always seemed to say about such things - ah yes, 'We are all in the hands of Fate. He didn't know if it was blasphemous to believe in Fate or not, but it was definitely not Tessa's time to die. Perhaps Fate did take a hand.

Movement on the other side of the campfire caught his eye. Tonio was walking toward Marta with something in his hand. It was too dark at first to make it out, then Don Alvarado could see it was a violin. Tonio lifted the instrument to Marta. The don could see her shaking her head, but the group around her seemed to be encouraging her to take it. Finally she did. She glanced around the area, as if looking for someone. Probably me, thought the don. My presence is making her awkward with her own people. As Marta's glance found him, he smiled. With a tentative curl of her own lips, she lifted the bow and stroked the strings a few times, then began a quiet melody that seemed to reach into his soul. For a long time, he felt suspended by the music and the scene before his eyes -- the bright costumes of the people, their colourful wagons, and the flickering light of the campfire. He entered into their complete absorption with the moment. The tune ended and he almost felt their collective sigh. He joined enthusiastically in the applause. I never knew she played the violin, he thought. So many things I did not know about her.

The wagon he was leaning against rocked as Luisa stepped out and came over to him. He stood immediately, at a loss at first how to greet this woman. He reached for her hand and bent to kiss it. "Señora, I am Tessa's father, Rafael Alvarado," he said, looking into her fathomless eyes. Her hair had traces of silver among the black strands, which were neatly tucked behind her head. Her face was almost unlined, making the don wonder how old she was. Her eyes seemed ancient, but her slim body, though small, was well-formed and spry. The resemblance to Marta was unmistakable -- the same fine planes of her face, the same direct gaze, the same quickness of gesture.

She chuckled in delight. No one had ever kissed her hand before. "Call me Luisa. I am Marta's mother. My son is also named Rafael. It is a good strong name," she added with just a hint of flirtation. She looked him over appraisingly, her curiosity about this man piqued by Tessa's stories about her father. He was taller than most of her people, and though middle-aged, seemed fit and strong. His dark hair was speckled with grey, as was the neatly trimmed beard that covered his proud chin. She felt herself warm to this man who loved his daughter so much. There was a goodness about him that she sensed when he touched her. "Let us sit down and enjoy the music and dancing, Don Alvarado."

He quickly searched for something for her to sit on, picking up a three-legged stool from under the wagon. With his handkerchief, he dusted it off, and set it down for her. "Please call me Rafael, señora."

"Gracias, Don Rafael." She sat on the stool, and the don resumed his seat on his saddle blanket.

Across the campfire, a group was ushering Tessa toward Marta. A woman handed Tessa a guitar. Don Alvarado could hear laughter and giggles as they seemed to be planning something. A moment later, Marta began a lively tune, then Tessa joined in, strumming the guitar. The other woman began to sing in her own language, something lively and humourous. The rest of the gitano joined in with the chorus amid much laughter as they clapped with the beat.

Luisa sneaked a peek at the don, enjoying his amazement that his daughter not only played the guitar, but also seemed to know the Rom words to the song. His mouth hung open, and Luisa was tempted to push his jaw up to close it. His eyes were rivetted on the pair, as if he could not believe what he was seeing and hearing. He looked away, seemingly confused. Luisa could see by the pensive set of his face that he was trying to determine what to think of it all.

Don Alvarado stared at this young woman, his daughter, nearly a stranger, wearing the colourful costume she had borrowed to replace her own ruined clothes. She seemed to belong here with these people. If her skin were darker, she would be taken for a gitana. He shook his head. The thought troubled him. She was a Spaniard, a noblewoman. What was she doing here with these people?

He fixed his gaze on Marta, astonished at the difference in her among her own folk. She seemed carefree, joyous. How she must have chafed under the restrictions of Madrid society compared to her own world. He was doing her a favour, releasing her from her promise to protect and guide Tessa. And yet, as he watched them together, he knew both would suffer from the separation, Tessa possibly most. With no mother, she had no one to talk to, depend on, look to for guidance. I've been a miserable failure of a father, he thought morosely. Never here, always away in California. The last time I was in Spain, Tessa was thirteen, still a child. Now, she is a young woman that I hardly know. But I cannot take her to California yet. My life is in constant danger. What can I do?

He settled his back against the wagon wheel, his melancholy thoughts weighing him down. The lively song ended and Tonio accepted his violin from Marta. Tessa returned the guitar to its owner.

"That's Estrellita," said Luisa, breaking into his thoughts, pointing to the woman with the guitar. "She plays and sings so beautifully. She taught your daughter to play the guitar." Luisa leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "But, if you will excuse my saying so, Tessa has only a passably good voice, like Marta." She settled back and laughed quietly. She gestured toward a youngish-looking man, standing across the camp, sharing a glass of wine with Tonio. "That's Rafael, my son. What Marta knows about healing people, Rafael knows about healing horses. He has taught Tessa many things about horses, and helped her become a better horsewoman. Since Marta has no daughter of her own, she has passed on her healing knowledge to Tessa." Luisa decided not to mention the bullwhip lessons with Tonio, or the knife-throwing Tessa learned from Lorenzo. How little he knows about his own daughter, she mused at his look of surprise.

He merely nodded and went back to contemplating the fire. His eyes suddenly lifted to Estrellita as she raised her voice in a long high note, then began to sing, accompanying herself on the guitar. The beat was slow at first, and the gitano clapped along. As the tempo increased so did the clapping. Soon, a man and woman got up to dance, then others joined in. At length, the camp echoed with shouts and clapping, and the wild stamping of feet. Don Alvarado's wide eyes took it all in, the sights, the sounds, the music and the dance. It filled his senses and he thought with surprise, I have never felt so alive as now. As he watched, a young man approached Tessa and drew her into the dance. The don's chest swelled with pride as he watched her dance with skill and grace, her face alight with joy. He grimaced slightly at the recollection of the money he had spent on her dancing tutor. He saw Marta turn as an intense dark man held out his hands for her and she joined him in the flamenco.

Don Alvarado marvelled at the gitano's joy of life. They have so little, but they still know how to enjoy themselves. No wonder Tessa wanted to stay among them, he thought with a heavy sigh. No wonder Marta allowed her to stay. Tessa has learned much from them. So have I. In only a day, I have learned more about my daughter than in the whole three months that I've been in Spain. The angry words Tessa spoke to him the previous night came back to haunt him. ...a porcelain doll ...an empty thing. It was true; he had hardly thought about the girl growing up while he ran his hacienda in California. His few visits back had been taken up mainly with his winery business. He saw the changes in her outward appearance, but did not know what changes were occurring to her mind, her self. Her letters revealed very little except for mentions of people they both knew, parties she attended. His real daughter remained elusive, unknown to him. Until now. In this different context, he saw a young woman in exuberant good health with a lively sense of humour, surrounded by people who accepted her and loved her. He had kept aloof from her, set her on a shelf like a porcelain figurine, without trying to understand what lay beneath the surface, in her heart and mind. Only Marta knew those things. He sighed again. She was closer to Marta than to anyone else. Much of what Tessa is, is Marta's doing, he admitted to himself. She has done much better by my daughter than I have.

He turned to Luisa, and said feelingly, "Your daughter is a very wise woman."

Luisa smiled at him kindly. "So is your daughter. She did not run away. She led you here to help you understand her better." She chuckled at his look of consternation.

The dance ended and Tessa strolled over to her father and Luisa, acknowledging Luisa with a warm kiss on the cheek. She was breathless and excited, her eyes were bright with pleasure. She dropped down beside the don and put her arm around his waist. Luisa got up and wandered toward her brother Tonio, leaving the father and daughter alone.

Tessa's smile vanished as she thought about the morning when they would leave ...without Marta. She knew better than to try to change her father's mind. The more she challenged him, the more he would dig in his heels. He was stubborn to a fault.

"Bring Marta to me, Tessa," Don Alvarado said quietly. He watched as she obeyed, taking Marta's arm and leading her across the camp to him. The look on Marta's face was sad, resigned. It twisted his heart as he thought, I have wounded her deeply.

When they were both standing before him, the don arose. He was not sure how to say what was in his heart; it was too full. The experiences of the day and the night left him without words. He laid his hand on Marta's shoulder and took a deep, steadying breath. "Please stay with Tessa. I was wrong to think you would do anything that might harm her. My daughter has learned things among your people she would never have learned among the her own kind in Madrid." He smiled at the radiance on Marta's face, reflected by the radiance on his daughter's. "I could not have found a better person to raise my daughter than you, Marta." He stopped, not trusting his voice, as Tessa flung her arms around in an excess of joy.

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered fervently against his cheek. She grinned impishly and added, "Now about California..."

"No," he said firmly. Then with a wink at Marta, he continued, "But you may spend as much time as you like with Marta's people."

Later in Luisa's wagon, the three women had settled for the night. The camp sounds quietened. But Tessa could not rest; her mind was active from all the excitements of the day. "Marta," she whispered, "Are you awake?"

"I am now," the other woman whispered back. "Go to sleep. You will wake my mother."

"You know, Marta," Tessa said quietly, ruminatively, "I think there is a reason why we are together. I don't know what it is yet, but I am sure of it. Papa doesn't usually change his mind or admit to being wrong. I was very surprised. As you have often said, the hand of Fate works in mysterious ways."

"I've never said that," Marta said tartly. "I have said, 'we are in the hands of Fate'. Not the same thing," she said sleepily. Tessa heard her yawn, and turn over to a more comfortable position.

"I'm glad Papa knows everything now." Tessa was quiet for a few minutes, then added with a throaty chuckle, "Except for the fencing lessons. I'm not sure he's ready for that."

THE END