IZA'S VISIT

By Rodlox
rodlox@hotmail.com

While there are elements from the Ninth Challenge in here, I started thinking about this a day or so before then. A line from 'Good Morning Vietnam' is in here.

WARNING: mature language and a bit of adult material in here!

~~~

It was mid of the morning, and Yvonne Isabelle Mueller, known as Iza to her few stalwart friends, finished heaving her breakfast over the galleon's railing. Once the digested pap was out of her system, she lifted her head slightly, bleary eyes looking out at the distant horizon. Well, well, well, land ho and all that rubbish, seeing the rise in elevation.

Once she was sure that no further repeats were in store, Iza bade her servant to, "Come, Patty, back to routine." A routine she'd done every day aboard this ship, to keep her legs fit; walking the length and breadth of the galleon.

Patricia followed obediently, carrying Iza's baby upon her breast. Patty was a good servant, if a bit of an irony.

It did not escape Yvonne's mind that Patty's faith was exactly what Iza'd left. Then again, there'd been a man...

"Do ya think maybe Docta Helm'll be expectin' us, missus?"

Not all had emigrated to America; Patty herself was a half-Indian who'd tried to get by in London. Doctor, Yvonne mused. "No, not that I know; he should be unawares of our arrival." He always did love surprises - how unlike most Helms.

Coming down the stairs and looking to one side, she noticed a bottle left out, doubtlessly by one or more of the Spanish sailors. Just a bottle. And the savages don't even bother with a glass! First looking to see if anyone was watching her, she then peered at the label. Ugh, and not even a decent vintage. Have these Spaniards no shame?

It was a good two feedings of little Neil - her infant son - before the captain of this galleon decided to finally put into port, lowering the gangplank. Yvonne made sure that she was one of the first off the bloody ship, with Patty and Neil alongside her.

As she was walking down the corrugated length of wood, she saw someone she was extremely familiar with, almost intimately.

"Robert?" she asked, stepping down from the gangplank. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask," giving her a hand down, and then helping Patty, "the same thing. My excuse is waiting for more medical supplies. You?"

"Come to bring you back to London," she said flatly.

Robert Helm chuckled. "You never change, do you?" To Patty, "Your babe is as lovely as you are," earning a blush from the servant.

"Robb," Iza said, "that's my child. You do remember getting the invitation to my wedding, do you not?"

Arriving in time to keep the doctor from stuttering or sputtering, Colonel Montoya arrived at the knot of people. "Good day, ladies," Montoya said in accented English. "I am Colonel Luis Montoya. Doctor, are you or are you not going to introduce me to your friends?"

The doctor wasn't sure to smile or make a face. "This is Yvonne - you got married?"

Emitting a slightly disgusted sigh, Yvonne finished the intros: "Yvonne Mueller. And this is Patricia Washington, and Neil," referring to the infant.

Montoya looked over both ladies. Lovely and noble, with only the face left uncovered; the servant woman was wearing a slightly lighter shade of the mourning cloth that Senora Mueller had on.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Montoya said, "I fear I must excuse myself; like the good doctor, I too have a shipment on board, and I require a word with the captain." To Helm, "Doctor, I will ensure that yours arrives safely at your office." He bowed grandly, and took his leave, heading up the gangplank.

"If you don't mind my asking," Helm said, once they were all safely in one of the several carriages that'd been waiting at the docks, "what happened to your husband?"

Yvonne looked away, out the carriage's door window. "He died in childbirth."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry for your loss," was all he said, and he said it truthfully.

Patricia looked from one to the other, afraid to say anything.

"So, Robb," Iza asked, "are the rumors true? Are you a spy for the British Crown?" Robert Helm closed his eyes as he shook his head no. "So then the rumors are true - you've become a rogue."

"What??" doc Helm couldn't help but blurt out.

~~

PROLOGUE

Marta was turning the corner around one building, trying to find where Tessa had wandered off to this time, and stopped dead in her tracks. She was seeing something that would tear at her Tessa's heart: doctor Helm was holding a baby in his arms as only a father could.

Marta turned tail and went back to looking for her ward; to protect her from the sight.

The last thing Marta saw from the corner of her eye when she was leaving was the Captain approaching the carriage. "Friends of yours, doc?" Grisham asked as he extended a hand to help the lovely ladies out of the transportation.

Do you and the Colonel practice? Robert had to wonder. "Somewhat," he replied in the same language he'd been asked in - English; and then repeated the introductions. It was somewhat amusing for him to see Captain Grisham bowing to anybody, however theatrically...and then something hit him -- something he had to wait until he was alone with the man.

"Yvonne," Robert asked, "Could I suggest that you and your party would be best served at the local diner?" and turned her in the right direction. "I'll be right there."

Once the ladies and infant were out of earshot, "Put your eyes back in your head, Captain," Doctor Helm advised the former American. "Not once during her stay here will she be clad in only a Spanish flag," and walked off. Or at least not if I have anything to say about it.

Grisham chuckled. "Thanks for the lovely image," he mumbled. He'd seen the doc fight - and the guy wasn't bad at it! It's a pity she's in mourning, Marcus mused, then headed off so he wouldn't be late for Vera; I'd consider courting her.

Robert Helm found Isabelle and the babe Neil sitting at one of the tables. "Your servant run off?" he asked innocently. That seems to happen in this town a lot lately.

"She went to tidy herself up," using a euphemism. Changing the subject, "So, where is the local church for this Sunday?"

Robert shook his head. "The only one in this pueblo is a Catholic Church." Which makes sense, as it's the Spanish national church, pretty much.

"How comforting for the atheist soldier, eh?" she asked him.

"Good God, Robb, and you willingly stay in this nest of Papists?" saying it like most would say 'vipers.'

"The people needed a doctor," Robert replied, "and I am a doctor."

A delicate raised eyebrow. "You? You overfed Rufus before you got your commission into the Army," referring to the horse that Robb'd taken care of when the yardsman was out on holiday.

"That was the past," he replied, a headache threatening to form. "Now, why are you here?"

Iza swirled her water. "Has any news made it out here yet?"

"What sort of news? Did the Queen throw another shoe?" with a smile.

She shook her head. "An assassination attempt on King Henry." Yvonne paused, a weight in her eyes. "Robb, the family's been deposed. I was lucky enough to have gotten married beforehand -- not that you bothered to attend."

"I'm sorry, I've been wandering a bit," he apologized. "Though I find it hard to believe that the King's been thrown from the throne."

"No no, no the Royal Family; twas our family who've been booted from our ancestral lands."

"That's insanity!" Robert declared. "Why would His Majesty do something like that - it was him, wasn't it?" A slow nod. "Well?"

"The Helms were among the principle suspects, the main financiers - so some believe - for the assassin. You're one of the prime suspects."

Both of Robert's eyebrows went up. "What? How?"

"Remember Hrothgar Helm?"

He nodded. "Great-great-great grandfather's grandfather. Why?"

"You recall his old saying?" which got another nod. "'A soldier if not dead, is a soldier still or a mercenary.'"

"Oh for crying out loud," Robert muttered. "I'm suspect because I'm not still in His Majesty's Service?" Or in the family plot. Seeing someone approaching, a someone he normally tried not to converse with...but now - "Good afternoon, Senorita."

Tessa blinked, making a slight detour on her way to catch up with Marta. If Doctor Helm wishes to talk with me, who am I to argue? she reasoned. "Good day, doctor, isn't it?"

"It could be better," he replied truthfully. "Senorita Maria Alvarado, may I introduce Lady Yvonne Mueller."

"Hello," Tessa said, extending her hand for a handshake. Yvonne looked at the offered hand like a poisonous snake, leading Tessa to draw her hand back to her side. "Are you enjoying your stay in Santa Elena?"

"It is a desert," the Lady Mueller replied in English. Seeing Tessa's confused look, she sighed and tried again in German; still confusion.

Robert tried translating into Spanish, removing the bite from it. It was then that Tessa nodded. "Of course it is. But I think there is a certain charm, don't you? I mean, just look at the -"

"Of no interest to me," Mueller replied in Latin. "I have come for one thing," with a look at Robert Helm. "After that, there is nothing here to hold me."

"Senorita," Robert said to Tessa, "be so kind as to hold him while we talk?" lifting Neil from Yvonne's arms, handing him to Tessa, who accepted the responsibility; "If you'll excuse us," and led Yvonne away. Once they were out of sight, Robert pinned her to the wall.

"What was that all about?" Robert demanded to know. "Your grasp of Spanish is just as good as mine, if not better!"

Iza cocked her head. "Please don't tell me that that's your reason for staying here, Robb. A little Spanish -"

"Duenna Maria Theresa Alvarado," Robert ground out; "only heir to one of the richest haciendas in Alta California." Iza chuckled. "Now what?"

"My dear Robb, you're reduced to chasing purses? Wasn't that the Artful Dodger's pursuit?"

Robert Helm narrowed his eyes to slits. 'I'm as much a money loving mongrel as you are a Papist."

Yvonne glared at his hands; he let her go. Walking around him, "Very well, your point is made. But you still haven't answered if you're going to return to London to face those accusations."

"Yes I have. I said that I would think on it, and I intend to."

~~

THAT NIGHT:

Yvonne awoke to the feel of something cold, flat, and edged on her throat. Not a gun, wrong shape. Slowly, she opened her eyes, seeing a masked - what sort of a woman was this? particularly in that sort of a getup - standing next to her bed.

"All of my money is in London," Yvonne told the masked woman. With more in Amsterdam. The masked one waited. "Are you going to kill me or imitate a statue? If you are, do so outside."

"My friends were right," the masked woman replied. "You are rude - but speak excellent Spanish." A pause. "Now, what are your intentions about our Doctor?"

An unladylike snort. "You mean Sir Robert Helm who stands accused of attempted murder of royalty? Are you going to kill to protect him?"

If I have to, part of the Queen felt like saying...but couldn't bring herself to. Royalty? "I have a duty to the people of this pueblo to -"

"To what?" she mocked. "Wear a mask and invade women's rooms in the dead of night?" Downright nastier, "Is this the sort of thing young Catholic girls are taught in Sunday school?"

Impulsively, the Queen pressed her blade down on Yvonne's throat. It would be so easy, almost accidental...

But no. She lifted her sword off of Yvonne. "You clearly aren't in any mood to listen to reason, so I'll go," and went back out the window.

Looking around her room, specifically on the area around the window, Yvonne muttered, "The Americans were right after all -- should have used bear traps to prevent incursions."

~~

IN THE MORNING:

The roses were in bloom by day, a fitting counterpoint to the desert blooms of the night before. The aromas of rose and ladies carried easily on the gentle breeze...a breeze that crept in through the barely-open balcony door into one man's office.

Colonel Montoya looked up from the paper that the man before him had just submitted a minute ago. "I must say, doctor, this is a most unexpected development. Had you given me some advance notice, I could have seen about procuring the services of another doctor. But now..."

Robert Helm got the message. "And I apologize for that, Colonel; but something truly has come up."

"A something of the utmost urgency, I trust?" which got a solemn nod in answer. "Has this anything to do with the arrival yesterday of Senorita Mueller?" Another nod. "Really, doctor Helm, silence is not golden in such an instance as now; I could refuse your request, and remain on the right of the law.

"Do you not agree?"

Robert grit his teeth, then relaxed his jaws. "Yes, Colonel, you would be legally right. But the Lady Mueller," or would it be Mevrouw? "has kindly brought to my attention matters pertaining to my family." Straightening himself out as much as possible, as military stiff as he could be, "Colonel Montoya, I humbly request leave to sort out some affairs of the family sort."

Montoya considered this.

At last a nod came from the Colonel's head. "Very well, doctor. I cannot refuse a man who wishes to spend time with his family. Take as much as you need -- though for the sake of your patients here, I would request that you do return at some point."

"Of course I will, Colonel," Helm nodded. Provided I'm not dead-on-arrival.

Montoya opened one of his side drawers, and leafed through the myriad documents in it. "Ahh, here it is," pulling out one paper and placing it on the desk atop Helm's request. "Simply sign, and you may go."

Robert Helm leaned over to look at whatever fine print might exist on the document - and found none. Oh well, not like I own much...here. He signed it with his full name, stood up, gave a formal bow, then turned and left.

Maria Theresa Alvarado walked on her way to the market, to see what she could see. Last evening, when they'd discussed events in town, Marta had been suspiciously close-mouthed about that Mueller woman. Tessa doubted that the bribe yet existed that could tempt Marta, so it had to be something else...

Just then, she saw the doctor.

He was stepping down the grand bank of stairs, then on the dirt road. Tessa adjusted her path so she'd have a little run-in with him.

When they did bump into each other - him deep in thought - Tessa apologized, "I'm so sorry, doctor, I guess I wasn't watching where I was going..."

"Quite all right, senorita," Helm said. "I suppose I'm guilty as well. By the way, have you seen either of the Muellers lately?"

Their serving girl was chatting with Marta earlier, if that helps. "No, I'm sorry to say that I haven't." In a sow's purse.

"Then thank you and good day," made a motion that would have tipped his hat - had he been wearing one - and started walking away. Tessa quickly caught up to him.

"Doctor Helm?"

"Yes?" Now what?

"Is everyone in England like her, doctor?"

Helm chuckled. "Oh Heavens no - some are worse," and watched her shocked face. "Like me."

Tessa made an amused face and mock-swatted at him, hitting only air on purpose. "You are joking with me, yes?" No verbal response. "Though I'm sure that someone like yourself, doctor, could do much better than her," Tessa said.

"Are you volunteering, senorita?" Robert asked. "Though if Yvonne were any closer to me, she'd be my sister rather than my cousin."

Tessa genuinely felt faint. "Oh," she said at last. "I didn't know."

A bit of impatience flickered across his face. "Nobody asked," and walked a fair bit faster than before. Tessa decided to let him go.

~~

Robert Helm waved to everyone as the anchor was raised and his ship pulled out to sea. "I promise I'll write," he hollered. The Hidalgos seemed anxious to get letters from England. If - when - I get back, I'll have to remember to ask them about their collection.

Grisham'd given him a slap on the back and a pair of boots, reasonably new. Considering this is the hinterlands, the desert, that's better than most could hope for.

Montoya had given him some pruned-back rosebushes for both men's mothers, and the Queen if he had a chance to see her; the Colonel had also handed Robert Helm a sealed envelope for Ambassador Montoya. I promised I'd get it to him, and I will...it'll be nice to see him again; thank him for getting me that nice, quiet hinterlands job I asked for.

~~

Tessa watched in silence as the distance between ship and shore grew ever-greater. "Goodbye," she whispered softly, hoping that nobody'd seen it.

She hadn't said a word about any of this, not even her feelings, not even to Marta.

~~

It was night out, and Robert Helm figured that he may as well exercise his legs while he still could. There were a few men out on the lanyards and helm of the galleon, but none over on the part he was at, between the railing and one of the masts - though a little closer to the rails.

"A bit o' a swill there was," one sailor's voice said, less Spanish accent in the English than Montoya had, "by te time anyone got ta help, he was already gone...weren't you?" and put up his arms to either pin Robert's arms or to throttle him.

So, they decided to get rid of me before I can even show up for a fair trial?? Robert thought as his killer approached.

Out of nowhere, a sandbag descended from the sky, landing a knock-out blow to the attacker's skull, rendering him unconscious well by the time he hit the deck. Robert Helm's bad feeling was starting to get worse.

"You're welcome," came the Queen's voice.

Yes, I really need to talk to the Ambassador about the 'nice, quiet job.'

~~

END