PROLOGUE

By Rodlox
Rodlox@hotmail.com

sequel to: `Judas Pillow'

CORE and my property.

~~~

The sun beat down on the desert ground without mercy.

Tessa stood next to her horse, waiting patiently in the little shade afforded by the dry creekbed.

"Now," she heard Zeit say. And there, standing over the creekbed - literally in the air - was Zeit.

"Where were you?" Tessa asked.

"Right here," Zeit answered.

"That's impossible! I was waiting right here for -"

"And I was waiting in that particular instant," Zeit said good-naturedly. "So, have you made up your mind?"

It had taken Tessa a great many hours alone, just her and her horse, to try to find a good answer. Vera and Grisham had long since returned to the pueblo, leaving their presence at the Alvarado Hacienda with just as many mysteries as when they'd arrived, if not more.

"I have," she told him/it. "I'll go - but first, I want to see why Vera and the Capitan have been acting this way?"

"And which acting is that?" Zeit wondered. "The act of pretending they are something or -one they aren't, or do you mean something else?"

And they were abruptly *elsewhere* in time...

~~~

LONDON:

"What are we doing here?" Tessa asked.

"I can't enter houses, Maria," Zeit told her. "But, based on what I've seen, you've perfected spying to a fine art. It's the first window on the corner ahead of us."

Tessa glared at him, but went to the window he'd - it'd - mentioned, of for no other reason than to see just why they were here.

"You don't even need to ask, sir," she heard Grisham told the man behind the desk. "I'd live and die in his Majesty's service."

"Good, because you're going to be doing this with someone from his Orthodox Majesty's service as well."

"What? Who, sir?"

"You're going down there with your wife, kid," the government agent behind the desk told - Tessa blinked to make sure she was really seeing this - told Marcus Grisham. Tessa started to wonder if that was his real name. "Although I'd suggest greater discretion than you used in Spain."

Grisham nodded sagely. "What're the goals this trip, sir? Just gain the land for the Crown?"

A half nod. "If possible, get it without too much political blood shed. There's enough of that in our African and Asian possessions."

"Understood," Grisham answered. "Can I be expecting any backup?"

"Almost none, Mark. That's why this's a joint venture - both of our governments are rather strapped for manpower." Muttering, "No thanks to that dammed war."

Mark Grisham nodded whole-heartedly. An idea was already forming in his mind.

~~~

EVEN EARLIER....NAPOLEONIC SPAIN:

"Well well well, boys," Julio said, "look what we've got here," as the patrol brought in a half-dozen men who looked, if there clothes were a hint, fairly well off - though not wealthy.

"That looks almost like don Hidalgo," Tessa remarked quietly from where she lay on a hilltop, out of sight, and observing everything below. Though, she noted, it was a much more slender don.

Gaspar Hidalgo recognized a Spanish accent, even if it was polluted by parrotting French. "You are a traitor!" he spat at Julio.

"'Traitor'?" Julio asked, spreading his arms wide. "I'm no traitor for recognizing that the French are the Future, they are unstoppable." Then, crouching in front of Gaspar - who, like all the patrol-caught men, were hand-tied - Julio added, "And it's people like you who only prolong the inevitable."

"Bonaparte is a tyrrant!" one of Gaspar's fellow captives bellowed from his large chest. A patrolman shoved a knife in the fatman's back to shut him up.

A chuckle from behind Julio. "Given that that's an old Greek word," one of the French soldiers replied, "it's entirely accurate. It means a man who deserves to rule, who has earned the right to rule."

"You tell'im, Marlon!" several of the other French soldiers hollered. Marlon just shrugged and smiled.

"You will have to kill me now then," Gaspar declared. "For I shall never submit to his dominion!"

Julio shrugged. "You insist," stood up, pulled out his gun, and -

And was shot in the back before he could pull the hammer back. The other French soldiers were next to die. All but Marlon, who was doing the firing.

In a few minutes, the camp was empty of French life.

"He killed them all," Tessa stated. "He didn't even see if there was another way to save their lives."

"Was there really any time?" Zeit asked. "Besides, whose actions is that like?"

Tessa shut up.

Meanwhiles, back in the now-silent camp, "Thank you," Gaspar said, then realized he hadn't caught a name. "Who are you?"

"Call me `Grisham'," Mark answered. "And you're welcome... although you didn't really leave me much of a choice there, pal."

"Well, I thank you anyway," Gaspar said. "My life is in your hands."

Mark very nearly said `literally.' "Let's just have you owe me, okay?" Gaspar nodded enthusiastically. "Good," and started to jog away.

"Where are you going?" Gaspar asked.

Grisham's face was resolute. "To keep a secret."

Once Grisham was out of sight over the hills, Zeit remarked, "And tonight, there'll be three French garrisons burnt to the ground. No survivors."

Seeing that Tessa was almost done digesting all this, Zeit asked, "Are you ready to go now?"

Tessa thought it over, trying to ignore the stink of French gunpowder. Then, slowly, she nodded.

They vanished to -

The sun beat down on the desert ground without mercy.

~~~~

end?