"Is he all right?" Tessa asked as Josephine rode up, so anxious that she reined in Chico until he pranced in irritation. Churi came up beside her.

Josephine shook her head. "Well...no. Not really. I couldn't get him on my horse. He kept falling asleep on me. I think he's had a bad fall. We are going to need a cart to carry him home, I think."

"I'm sure that Gaspar will be happy to oblige with that," Tessa assured her. "Did you find out how he got into the cave?"

"I don't know. He was very confused. He kept muttering about someone named 'Jimenez'. I think that's the man the Chumash saw him riding with in the hills."

"Jimenez?" Tessa repeated the word, confused. "I don't recognize the name. Roberto must have met him in Monterey. But how did they get all the way out here?" Josephine shrugged. "Did Roberto say what happened to this man?"

"From what I gather, he died when they both fell through a hole in the ground. Maybe that is where the smoke that we saw was coming from. Roberto must have lit a fire. As for what they were doing out here.... Tessa, Roberto's pockets are stuffed with gold coins. Look." She pulled a coin out of her corset and handed it over. Tessa stared at it in astonishment.

"Josephine, these are older than any reales I have ever seen!"

"They are pieces of eight," Josephine grinned, "just like the ones that the Englishman Francis Drake plundered over two hundred years ago. Believe me, I know my pirates! Looks as though poor Roberto stumbled over a genuine buried treasure."

"We'll have to hide them. If Montoya ever finds out what Roberto found, he would hang him tomorrow and take them all for himself. These are very valuable."

"We can hide him in our village, like his friend, the Moor," Churi suggested. "Mohammed would be happy to share quarters with him."

Tessa shook her head. "No, Churi. Dr. Helm cannot afford to become a fugitive. And anyway, Gaspar has offered to carry him home. We will carry him back to my hacienda and take care of him there." She looked at Josephine. "Can you take me back to where Roberto is?" Josephine nodded. "Good. I'll stay with him while you go get Gaspar. Then, when he is well on the trail, you can disappear and I will deal with him from there."

Tessa turned to Churi. "I think you should stay out of sight for now. I don't want your people to get into any fights with Don Hidalgo's rancheros. But please come to the hacienda later tonight. I think that Dr. Helm will have need of Chumash medicine." Churi nodded. He and the other Chumash faded back into the bushes. Tessa turned back to Josephine.

"Let's go get him," she said, and spurred Chico forward.

Act Four

Helm woke slowly to a warm, sunny room. Recent memory was a fevered confusion of voices and faces, Gaspar's shouted commands, a jolting ride in a cart, Tessa's gently cajoling him to drink just a little more water and the sonorous chants of the Chumash. When he opened his eyes this time, he was alone. The bed felt familiarly soft and when he looked up at the ceiling, he recognized it. He was in the main guest bedroom at the Alvarado hacienda.

At this rate, I'll die of old age in this bloody room. He tried to sit up and eased back, groaning in pain. Try making it to old age first, Robbie. The dizziness, at least, had receded. His head felt better, though it still ached, but he could scarcely move his knee and his shoulder was so stiff that his arm seemed frozen to his side. Just as you predicted, he told himself sourly.

There was a tin cup of water on the nightstand nearby, within reach of his good arm. He put out his hand, wincing, and pulled the cup over to him. It didn't cure his thirst, but it took the worst of the edge off of it. He dropped the cup as he tried to put it back on the stand and cursed in English when it clattered on the floor. A moment later, footsteps came down the hallway to the door. Marta came in.

"Buenos Dias, Doctor," she said. "You are awake finally? I must confess myself very relieved, even though my readings of your Tarot boded well. How do you feel?"

"Better," he said, as she clicked her tongue and knelt down to pick up the cup. "Sorry."

She stood up. "Don't be silly. Why do you think I left you a tin cup? Would you like some more water?" He nodded wearily, closing his eyes. "I am not surprised. You must be very thirsty." She felt his forehead and pushed him back onto the bed. "We do not want your fever to come back. It only broke last night."

"Tessa..." He opened his eyes, remembering. "Oh, God," he said in English. "The treasure."

"Don't worry," Marta reassured him in Spanish. "Tessa is out riding and will be back soon. The treasure is safe. We hid the coins and told no one. You don't think that we would want you to hang, do you?"

He smiled wryly, closing his eyes again as he relaxed into the pillows. "No. Of course not."

"Would you like something to eat?" He made a face, feeling nauseous again. "Some soup, perhaps?" she suggested gently. "You must eat if you are to regain your strength."

He nodded. She was right. He heard her go out the door and down the hallway. By the time she got back, he had fallen asleep again, but she woke him up and insisted on feeding him. Despite his grumbling, he had to admit that he felt better afterwards. "I will tell Tessa when she comes back that you are awake," she said, and then let him be.

When he woke again, it was dark outside. There was a candle on the nightstand and Tessa sat on the bed beside him, holding his good hand.

"I was afraid you would never wake up," she admitted.

"Oh, love, I am much too pigheaded to die." He chuckled, but the humor tired him out. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Not long." He knew she was lying.

"Jimenez?" he asked, suddenly remembering.

"Buried in the churchyard at Mission San Luis Obispo. We thought it best not to involve Coronel Montoya in his death."

"Good idea." He swallowed down nausea at the memory of his failure and that dead mule's musty reek. "The--the treasure? El tesoro?"

She nodded. "We have it hidden. We counted it, you know. Five hundred pieces-of-eight, can you believe it? That is a small fortune!"

"It's for you, you know." He didn't want her to think that he had gone through all this for money.

She leaned over and stroked his hair. "Oh, Roberto, you did not have to go to all that trouble. I don't care that you're poor. We could have found another way to marry."

He opened his mouth to tell her than he wasn't that stupid--not usually, anyway. Then, he stopped to think. What would he say, that he had failed her again? That he knew who the murderer of her father was and could not prove it, could not even tell her with any certainty how he had died? That made his head ache all over again.

"Will you marry me now?" he said, and tried to ignore the memory of Pirenne asking him how he intended to base his new life on old lies. Fortunately, his old enemy was dead.

Gaspar's cheerful bellow rang through the house, as Helm sat in the kitchen drinking coffee--Marta's not Tessa's, thank God. He loved that girl, but that didn't make her cooking any more edible. After nearly two weeks of recuperating, he was only now appreciating that it was a new year and he was the one man left in a house full of Queens. Remembered his previous conversation with Gaspar, he winced as the man stomped through the house. Before Helm could make his escape back into the guest room, Maria the maid had let Gaspar into the kitchen.

"Buenos dias, Don Hidalgo. Coffee?" Helm said, cringing as Gaspar came forward to shake his hand and slap him on the back. Helm felt like a rat in a terrier's jaws.

"How are you feeling today, Doctor?" Gaspar boomed.

"Much better, gracias, Don Hidalgo," Helm said, stifling a cough. "I understand that you were the one who brought me back here in your wagon. I'm afraid that I don't remember very much about the trip."

"Call me Gaspar, please." Gaspar sat down as Maria hurried up with the coffee pot and a cup. "I am not surprised that you do not remember it. I thought you would certainly be carried off to Heaven this time. Completely off your head you were, muttering in English the whole trip." Helm thought that Gaspar must be grossly misinformed if he thought that Heaven would have been Helm's final destination. Thank God his old instincts had held true and he had raved only in a language that no one around him understood.

"It almost makes one wonder why you went to Monterey in the first place," Gaspar added.

"As I told you before, Don Hidalgo, I went for medical supplies." Helm concentrated on drinking his coffee. "Unfortunately, the man who runs the shop I generally use had decided to take a long Christmas vacation."

"So, what were you doing all the way out by Mission San Luis Obispo?" Gaspar asked curiously.

Helm weighed his options. What would Gaspar most want to hear? "I met a man who had information that I needed, and some mad idea of hunting for buried treasure. So, I indulged him to get what I wanted."

"And did he have what you needed?" Gaspar leaned forward. Helm saw the eagerness. The name 'Grisham' hung between them.

"Not exactly. Not enough. I might have got more from him, but we fell into a sinkhole before I got the rest of it." Helm deliberately left out any mention of the treasure, wondering just how much Gaspar knew.

"Might this information have involved our Capitan Grisham?" Ahh. This had nothing to do with Don Rafael, and everything to do with Vera, then. Good.

"It might," Helm admitted. "I don't suppose it's any secret that Grisham and I don't get on."

Gaspar laughed. "Oh, Doctor, please be honest. You hate him as much as I do, perhaps more, if that is possible." He leaned across the table, pushing his coffee cup aside. "And there have been rumors around Santa Elena that you were in the War, and know a few skills that no doctor should."

Helm cocked his head to one side, ignoring the hint. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind, Don Hidalgo?"

"I am merely suggesting that you continue with your investigations and tell me what you find out about the good Capitan." Gaspar smiled. "I would be most grateful."

"Really." Helm sipped his coffee. Careful, Robbie. Don't get yourself tangled up in some other man's plots. "How grateful would that be?"

"Did you have a specific reward in mind, Doctor?" Gaspar waggled his eyebrows at Helm, obviously prepared to be indulgent.

Helm sipped his coffee, considering his best response, letting Gaspar squirm. "What if I said that I wanted to marry above my station?"

Gaspar looked amused, fortunately. "You want to marry Tessa Alvarado? Is she willing?"

Helm hesitated over his next words. "She has indicated her interest, yes. But she is troubled by the difference in our stations. She thinks that it might cause concern among her neighbours, if you know what I mean."

Gaspar nodded. "I understand. It does occur to me, Doctor, that if you were to marry Seņorita Alvarado, you would be a more compelling witness than if you were just a doctor." They smiled at each other across the table. Yes, Helm thought, they understood each other perfectly.

Tessa came in through her guestroom window, as she had so many times before, dressed as the Queen. Helm was sitting on top of the bed, waiting for her. He got up as she crossed the room and met her halfway. She startled him by coming into his arms and kissing him with no preamble.

"You're still dressed," she protested, when she pulled back.

"We need to talk," Helm said. "Gaspar came by today."

She laid her head against his shoulder. "I know. Maria told me. He was asking about you in town last week. What did he want?"

"He wants me to help him with a little investigation. He wants me to use some old skills...that I might have."

"From the War."

"From the War. Yes."

"He wants Grisham." She sighed. Even with the man stuck out on a cattle drive, he could still cause trouble.

"Yes. Grisham. He's been on Gaspar's mind a lot lately. You have to admit, Gaspar has good reason to hate him." As would you, if you knew.

"As do you." He nodded. "And did you agree?"

Ah, this was so delicate. And it's not really lying if you don't have anything concrete to tell her, is it? After all, she lied to you for two straight years. "I told him that I would see what I could find, if he agreed to back us up with the other dons, should we decide to marry."

She was silent. He tightened his arms around her, hearing her breathing in the dark room. "Did he say 'yes'?" She asked finally.

"He did. In fact, he seemed happy to help. He might have agreed to do it anyway."

She chuckled. "Good. Of course, he's not my uncle."

"No," Helm agreed. "He's not."

"Or Coronel Montoya."

"Nor him, either."

"But with Gaspar and Vera on our side...the other dons would listen to Gaspar. It would be hard for the first few years but I think we could pull this off. Mary Rose did." She reached up and stroked his face. Her eyes glinted through her mask in the dim light. "I suppose that leaves the one, big question--do you want to marry me?"

He gaped at her. "Of course!" Say 'yes', you idiot! Don't you choke now! "I was serious when I asked you the other night. Don't you...do you want to marry me?"

To his surprise, she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. "Yes," she growled. As she began to unbutton his shirt, he realised that however this night would end, it would not be in frustration as their nights together usually did. His breath quickened as she moved against him. The air was filled with the scent of the flowers she sometimes wore in her hair.

"Wait," he gasped, before he lost all conscious control. She pulled back, looking hurt. He would have to keep in mind that she was still a virgin, frightened and unsure of herself. Gently, he reached behind her head, untied the lace over her eyes and pulled it away. She looked shocked.

"No more masks," he said, then pulled her down for a kiss. Hesitant at first, she responded with far more enthusiasm once he pulled her fully onto the bed. As she got his vest off and went to work again on his shirt, the practical spy in him went to work on the problem of that damned corset of hers. Once they got that off, it would not be a frustrating night for either of them.

Epilogue

Pedro wrinkled his nose. Havana, Cuba was a cesspit, especially near the harbor. He would have preferred to be anywhere else, but the man he was looking for was here, in this filthy bodega. Or so his sources had told him.

The man in the old, blue coat sat in a corner, smoking his pipe. His black hat was pulled down over his face, yet when Pedro approached, he felt sure that the man was watching everyone in the bodega, including Pedro. Pedro stopped in front of the table.

"I am looking for the Frenchman Roger Pirenne," he said loudly in Spanish. "Are you him?"

Neither hat nor pipe moved. "Who are you?" the man replied.

Pedro set his jaw. "I will speak only to Roger Pirenne."

A sigh issued from under the hat. "Sit down, young man. Tell me what you want from me."

Pedro sat. The man lifted his head enough to show a weathered face with a graying beard and brown eyes. "I ask you again--who are you?"

Pedro raised his chin, his head high. "I am Pedro Malsano, younger son of the Conde Malsano. I am looking for a man and I have been told that you know him. From the War."

"I know many men from the War. Some are dead and some still living. Which of them are you talking about?"

"He is an Englishman by the name of Robert Helm. I have heard that he was a spy for the British Army during the War."

Pirenne puffed on his pipe. "I knew him, but I cannot help you. Robert Helm died years ago."

"No, he is alive. He is in Alta California, practicing as a doctor for the poor souls there, God help them. I take the next ship around the Tierra del Fuego in two days, but I need a man who can identify him for me. I've never seen him before."

"I see." Pirenne took his pipe out of his mouth. "And what do you intend to do with this Helm when you do see him?"

Pedro smiled coldly. "Why, Seņor, I intend to kill him."

Watch for the next exciting adventure in the New Year, La Espada Negra - Episode #311, starting on February 2, 2003.

If you have missed any episodes, you will find them in the Season Three Archives section.