With the blanket still tightly wrapped around her, Tessa felt around with her gloved hand and finally found what she was searching for...a loose rock. Clutching the rock, she began to slowly push herself into a sitting position, very aware of the sabre hovering near her throat.

"You know what they say, Capitan. Variety is the spice of life." The Queen yawned and pulled herself upright, keeping the blanket covering her.

Grisham leered, his bright eyes intent upon her and the blanket. "I offered to spice up your life with some variety." Tessa looked at him blankly, and in an irritated tone, he added, "In the cave-in, when we were trapped together."

"Oh, right. Well, there is spice...and then there is poison," she drawled. With a little glow of satisfaction, she noted his eyes harden and his lips draw back slightly in a snarl.

"Stand up!" Grisham ordered harshly. "Slowly. One false move and you're an ex-Queen. It would give me the greatest pleasure to finish you right now, but I really want to see you sweat while you wait for a firing squad back in Santa Elena."

Tessa rose warily, her eyes never leaving Grisham's face. The blanket dropped as she stood, and she could see the look of disappointment and then confusion on his face at her fully-clothed form. From the corner of her eye, she watched one of the soldiers lower his musket and bend to look at the pile of things across the cave. Grisham was too intent on her to notice.

"Capitan," the soldier called out.

"Yeah," Grisham replied, never taking his eyes off her. "What is it?"

"Her sword and dagger are over here among these clothes and," the soldier hesitated, then continued, "there is also a big package wrapped up and tied with a rope."

Grisham smirked, then moved the sword point closer to her neck, its tip pricking her skin. The Queen forced herself not to back away, though the temptation was nearly overpowering. "What's in the package?" he growled, obviously enjoying the sensation of having her in his power at last.

Tessa swallowed, keeping her chin high and answered loftily, "Why don't you open it and find out?" Her eyes dared him with their contempt, but for a moment, she thought he might be immune to it.

Keeping his eyes on her, Grisham barked, "Bring it here!"

The soldier bent to pick up the package. Suddenly, de Beauville bellowed like a wounded animal, and, picking up the soldier guarding him, threw him against the other soldier, toppling both to the ground. He picked up a musket and struck the soldiers as they struggled to get up. Both lay unconscious on the pile of clothes. The Frenchman raised the musket, preparing to fire at the captain.

Grisham pulled the Queen in front, holding the sword at her throat. "If you shoot me, your girlfriend gets it first. Drop the gun, or I slit her throat." The captain laughed. "Even if you try to get out of here, I have three more men outside. So drop it. Now!"

De Beauville wavered, his fierce eyes sighted along the barrel on Grisham, then on Tessa. Indecision was written on his face as his finger twitched near the trigger of the musket. In that terrible moment, Tessa was sure he was going to fire.

She slammed the rock she had been gripping in her fist hard against Grisham's leg. He crumpled with a loud yell, dropping the sabre. Kicking the sword away, Tessa stepped over him and rushed to get her own weapons.

She turned, holding her sword and dagger, to see de Beauville rush at Grisham, who once again had his sword. The two men grappled and struggled, grunting and cursing as they rolled around on the cave floor. They were nearly evenly matched in height and strength, but the Frenchman's savage energy seemed to be winning out. He pinned Grisham's arms with his knees, straddling the captain's chest, then wrapped his fingers around Grisham's throat. The captain gagged and tore at de Beauville with flailing arms, but could not break that iron grip.

Tessa watched, partly willing the Frenchman to kill the captain, partly horrified that she would stand by and allow it. Finally, as Grisham's eyes rolled back, she hurried to de Beauville. "Let him go!" she said urgently. "You don't want another death on your conscience, do you, Marcel?"

Her fingers dug into de Beauville's clenched shoulders, trying to pull him away. At last, he loosened his hold and uttered a mournful sound. Pressing his hands to his eyes, he rolled off the captain and began to sob.

Touching a spot on Grisham's neck, Tessa was relieved to find a pulse. His breathing was raspy but he was alive. Probably he'll have sore throat for a few days, she thought with grim satisfaction. But at least he isn't dead. She wondered why that mattered so much. It wasn't as if she had any feelings but contempt and loathing for him. Pushing that quandary aside, she turned to de Beauville who was moaning as if in agony. She had to get him and herself out of the cave but he seemed oblivious to their danger, lost in his own world of pain.

"I have killed him," de Beauville groaned, writhing on the cave floor.

"No, he is alive, Marcel," Tessa said, touching his hand with compassion. More firmly, she added, "There are still three men outside. We have to get them in here and get their weapons. Do you understand, Marcel?" She turned him over and tried to pry his hands away from his face. His strength seemed to have deserted him. He would be of no use to her like this.

With a bitter smile, she thought, There is one sure way to get them in here. Steeling herself, she laughed seductively and said aloud, "Oh Capitan, you are such a man! You want to share me with your soldiers outside? But of course, if they are as macho as you." Taking a deep breath, she called out, "Oh boys, the capitan wants you to come in here."

Quickly, she moved to the cave entrance, flattening herself against the rocks.

De Beauville struggled to his feet and joined her, his eyes red and wild. "What are you doing?" he grunted.

"Stand behind me and be ready," the Queen whispered urgently, pushing him back. Her heart pounded and her mouth was suddenly dry. Exhilaration rushed through her veins. "They're coming!"

The crunch of boots on gravel heralded the arrival of three soldiers. They stood uncertainly at the cave mouth, blinking at the darkness inside. Taking a wary step in, the first soldier went down under a clout from the Queen's sword hilt. The other turned too late and met a fist in his jaw. He dropped beside his companion. The third soldier raised his musket, but Tessa moved quickly, getting over his guard. Her sword was at his throat, and she laughed in elation.

"Sorry, boys. The party's over already. Back to work. Drop your musket or you'll be as dead as your capitan," she said, gesturing with her head at Grisham's prostrate form.

The gun clattered to the ground as the soldier gazed in horror at his commanding officer, then at the other two soldiers near the mound of clothes.

"Get all the weapons, and stack them against the wall," she ordered de Beauville, hoping he would obey, if only through basic survival instinct.

For a few seconds, he hesitated, then picked up the musket and withdrew the sword from the soldier's belt. The Frenchman continued to gather the swords and guns, placing them far from the soldiers. Suddenly, he picked up one of the muskets. Tessa froze and the soldier whimpered in terror and crossed himself.

De Beauville swung the gun against the cave wall, smashing the barrel away from the stock. One by one he destroyed the muskets, then broke the swords. Panting with emotion and effort, he wiped his hand across his moist forehead and smiled. "These weapons will never bring death again," he rasped.

Tessa had to laugh at the thought of Grisham trying to explain how all the weapons were lost. It would likely cause a lot of trouble for the captain, and a lot of paperwork for Montoya. She wondered why she had never thought of this before. "Very good, señor," she chuckled. "Well done."

Even without weapons, the sheer number of soldiers was a threat. One of the soldiers that de Beauville had knocked out groaned and seemed to be coming around. The other two would also awaken soon, as would Grisham. There was no time to waste.

Keeping her sword and dagger raised threateningly, the Queen began to back out of the cave entrance. De Beauville seemed immobilized by his own audacity and she had to grab his arm to shake him out of it. "Come on!" she demanded, dragging him beside her. "We've got to get out of here!"

He burst away from her and rushed to the far end of the cave, returning with his precious parcel and his clothes. "I cannot leave this behind," he panted, gripping the thing tightly to his chest. "I must fulfil my mission."

"Fine!" Tessa said impatiently. "Let's go." She whistled for Chico and he followed her as they hurried out into the blinding brightness of morning. Tessa had wondered how Grisham had found her, but a quick glance at the ground revealed the deeply embedded hoof marks leading straight to the cave. The rain had not washed them away as she had hoped. Damn! she thought testily. I might as well have left marker signs for him to find me.

Turning to de Beauville, she said, "Take one of the horses, and scatter the rest. It's a long walk back to Santa Elena, and the exercise will be good for the capitan." She swung into the saddle and watched as the Frenchman also mounted and chased the calvary horses with a few slaps on the rump and some loud shouts.

The ground was still soft, so Tessa followed the edge of the cliff where the earth was rocky and left no tracks. It was a long way around to her destination but at least they couldn't easily be followed.

Act Four

Keeping to the rough terrain near the mountainside, they continued for nearly an hour. The Queen glanced over her shoulder occasionally, searching for that cloud of dust that would signal pursuit. So far there had been nothing. The close call had shaken her more than usual. She had been caught sleeping and could now be dead or, just as bad, in Montoya's hands. Casting a quick look at de Beauville, she envied his detachment, his apparent ignorance of all danger. He seemed to be staring vacantly at the landscape without any particular worry or interest.