The Measure of a Man

by Melitta

The measure of a man is what he does with power.

Pittacus, ?650 - 570 B.C.

Bernardo was loading supplies onto his master's wagon while Diego watched. He nudged Diego and pointed to the cloud of dust heralding the stagecoach entering the plaza.

Both men watched as the stagecoach halted. A middle-aged man in a plain suit emerged from the carriage, then turned back to assist another passenger.

The second passenger was a señorita, and a beautiful one. Her traveling suit was of much higher quality than the man's. Her hair was dark brown with golden highlights that gleamed in the Los Angeles sunlight. From his vantage point across the plaza, Diego could see the light of intelligence and humor in the woman's dark eyes.

Bernardo poked Diego again, hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and he realized he had been holding his breath. Diego turned to his manservant with an annoyed look. Bernardo looked amused. He pointed at Diego, then placed both hands over his heart while looking toward the strange woman.

Diego had to smile in response. "Yes, she is beautiful," he said quietly. It wouldn't do for anyone nearby to guess Bernardo could hear his master's words. "Let's find out who she is, shall we?" With that, Diego began walking toward the stagecoach.

The driver was still unloading bags as Diego reached the coach. The man who had come out first was assisting him. The woman was dividing her attention between the two men and the pueblo around her. She watched Diego approach. He smiled at her, and she inclined her head cordially in return.

"Buenos Dias," Diego said, "welcome to Los Angeles. I am Diego de la Vega. May I assist you in some way?"

"Gracias, señor," the woman replied. "I am Anica Vandos, and I have come from Spain to see the comandante. Do you know where I might find him?"

Her words puzzled Diego. What business could this woman have with Sergeant Garcia, and why did she call him comandante?

He decided it was not his place to correct her. "All the soldiers, including the comandante, are inside the cuartel," he replied, indicating the gate. He offered his arm and continued, "may I escort you?"

"How kind of you, Don Diego," Anica replied, taking his arm. She turned to the man with her. "Roderigo, stay with the bags, please."

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One of the sentries opened the cuartel gate, and Anica slipped her arm out of Diego's.

"Please wait here, Don Diego," she said, "my business with the comandante is quite private."

"As you wish," Diego replied, smiling. As the gate closed, he shrugged at the questioning look in the sentry's eyes.

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Sergeant Garcia sat at his desk. If he had known being acting comandante had involved so much paperwork, he would have let someone else take the job. He needed a diversion, any diversion.

A knock sounded at the door, and Garcia looked up happily. He decided he should not look so eager, so he composed his features before saying, "come in."

Corporal Reyes stood in the open doorway. He saluted and said, "there is someone here to see you."

"Send him in," Garcia commanded.

Corporal Reyes hesitated. He got that faraway look in his eyes that meant he was thinking. Finally, his eyes came back into focus, and he looked down at his boots. He peered at Garcia without raising his head.

"I cannot do that," he finally said, shaking his head mournfully.

"Why not, boboso?" Garcia questioned, impatient with the corporal.

Reyes looked at the person outside the door. "It is a señorita," he said.

Garcia threw up his hands. "Show HER in, please," he said with exaggerated patience.

The corporal nodded, then opened the door wider so the señorita could enter the room.

Garcia stood so quickly he almost knocked the chair over behind him when the saw the lady. She was a stranger, and she was beautiful.

"Come in, please, señorita," Garcia said. He rushed around the desk to hold the chair on the other side for her. "Be seated."

The lady regarded him doubtfully but entered the room and took the indicated chair.

Garcia looked at Corporal Reyes, who was staring at the señorita with rapt attention. "Thank you, Corporal," he said, "you may go."

Reyes showed no sign of having heard.

Garcia advanced on Reyes, blocking Reyes' view of their guest. "Get out of here."

Reyes looked up at him.

"Go back to your post....now, stupid!" Garcia pointed.

Reyes fled.

He returned a moment later to close the door.

Garcia rolled his eyes, shook his head, and took a deep breath to calm himself. Then he walked back to take the seat behind the desk.

"Now, señorita," he said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, "what can I do for you?"

"I am Anica Vandos," the lady said. When Garcia did not react, she continued, "I have come from Spain to meet the comandante. Are you not he?"

"Si," Garcia replied, "I am Sergeant Demetrio Lopez Garcia, Acting Comandante del Pueblo de Los Angeles, at your service."

"Garcia," Anica breathed, hoping Garcia would not recognize her tone as relief. "I am looking for Capitan Enrique Sanchez Monastario. It is my understanding he is the comandante here."

Garcia swallowed uneasily. "Capitan Monastario is....no longer in Los Angeles. But as Acting Comandante, I have the same authority."

"I am not questioning your authority, Sergeant Garcia," Anica said. She looked at him intently, as if assessing him. Finally she continued, "years ago, in Spain, when I was a child, my parents arranged for me to marry the son of another landowner. The marriage would take place after I completed my education. I have done that, and I am here to marry the man to whom I was promised--Capitan Monastario. Please, Sergeant Garcia, tell me where to find him."

Garcia drew in a large breath and blew it out his lips. "A thousand pardons, señorita, but it has been...." Garcia paused and counted on his fingers briefly, "...four months since Capitan Monastario was arrested and taken to Monterey for trial. I do not know what became of him." It was true; he had not followed Monastario's trial, and he would not tell this beautiful señorita that there was a good chance Monastario had been executed.

Anica's features took on a look of determination. "Thank you for telling me this, Sergeant. I will go to Monterey to find my husband."

She rose; Garcia followed and opened the office door for her. He closed the door behind her, clomped back to his seat, and sat down heavily.

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When Anica emerged from the cuartel, Diego was chatting with the sentry. He smiled when he saw her.

"I trust all went well," he said.

"My journey is not yet finished, Don Diego," Anica said. "It seems I must travel to Monterey."

Diego waited for Anica to explain, but she said no more.

"There won't be another northbound stage for a week," he said. At Anica's crestfallen look he added, "however, I myself am planning to leave for Monterey in the morning to look at some horses. That is my family's business. You're welcome to come with me. In fact, why don't you spend the night at our hacienda? There's plenty of room, and my father will welcome visitors from Spain."

"Gracias, Don Diego," Anica replied, "I will be honored to enjoy your hospitality."

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"Monastario!" Don Alejandro de la Vega exploded after learning of Anica's plans, "if there is any justice in this world, that devil was executed!" They had just finished eating the evening meal at the de la Vega hacienda and were still seated around the table.

"It was not that bad, father," Diego said with a small smile, trying to calm the older man.

"Not that bad! The entire countryside was on the verge of armed rebellion! If not for Zorro, there would have been war in California!" Alejandro was not placated.

"Zorro? Who is that?" Anica wanted to know.

Diego looked at Anica and said, "Zorro is a mysterious masked man who dresses completely in black. Some say he is an outlaw. Others say he fights against injustice wherever it hides. There is a reward for his capture, but no one can catch him."

"How exciting, and somewhat frightening, I confess," Anica said. "What did you mean, Don Alejandro, when you said there would have been war if not for this Zorro?"

"I am sorry to speak ill of him to you," Alejandro began, "but Monastario was the source of most injustice in Los Angeles. He levied taxes no one could pay, then threw them in jail and seized their lands. If anyone protested, he accused them of treason. Zorro thwarted many of the Capitan's schemes. A great cloud of evil disappeared when he was removed from office and taken away."

"It must have been terrible," Anica replied, looking down at her plate. "I have known 'Rique," she looked up shyly, "I have always called him 'Rique, most of my life. To me, he is kind and a true gentleman. I cannot imagine what happened to make him behave as you say."

Alejandro sighed, his anger gone. "I apologize for my outburst, Anica. I wish I could have known the Monastario you describe. You will find him, and he will be the man you know again."

Anica's eyes shone, and her smile was equally radiant. "Gracias, Don Alejandro, I am sure you are right. If you will excuse me, I am very tired; and we begin another trip in the morning." She rose, and the men rose with her. She walked around the table and kissed Alejandro's cheek lightly. "Buenas Noches, Don Alejandro, Don Diego."

After she had left the room, Alejandro turned to Diego. "If she finds Monastario, I hope he recognizes what a jewel she is."

Diego nodded but said nothing and raised his wineglass at his father's words. His smile grew broader; and with his head, he indicated Bernardo. Alejandro turned and chuckled silently. Bernardo stood as if frozen, looking in the direction Anica had gone. Silently, Diego moved to stand beside Bernardo, but out of his view. Diego's finger stabbed out to poke the manservant, just as Bernardo had poked Diego earlier. When Bernardo looked at him, outraged, Diego said, "now who's...." he mimicked the sign Bernardo had used, both hands on his heart, staring. Diego laughed, and Alejandro and Bernardo joined in.

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"I remember the case, of course," Judge Vasca said to Anica. They were in the judge's office in Monterey. "Capitan Monastario was notorious for his plots. I myself was the target of one of them."

Anica shook her head in amazement. "It is difficult for me to reconcile everything I have heard about Capitan Monastario with the memories I have of my 'Rique. What could have happened to him, your Excellency?"

"There is a saying, señorita, that the measure of a man is what he does with power. Perhaps the very fact that he was placed in a position of authority made Capitan Monastario what he was."

"You have not yet told me the outcome of the trial. What happened to 'Rique?"

Judge Vasca frowned. "Capitan Monastario was found guilty of all charges against him. In my experience, this usually means death by firing squad; but instead, the Capitan was dishonorably discharged from the Army and assessed a fine of twenty thousand pesos. He could not pay, of course; so he was sent to a military prison outside the city, where he will spend twenty years at hard labor."

Anica closed her eyes. "Praise God he is alive." She opened her eyes to look at the judge. "Suppose someone were to pay his fine? Would he be released?"

"Someone? It is not possible for just anyone to pay his fine," the judge rumbled.

"I am not just anyone," Anica spoke sharply. "I am his wife. At least, I will be. Your Excellency, I am prepared to pay that fine in full. Would justice be served if, in addition to paying the fine, I take 'Rique home to Spain with me, never to return to California?"

"Indeed it would, Señorita Vandos, indeed it would. Come, let us settle this with the clerk."

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The California sun beat down brilliantly and relentlessly on a group of men. Some of the men were shabbily dressed and were engaged in clearing boulders from a field. The rest of the men wore military uniforms. These men sat astride horses and were armed with pistols and whips.

They were quick to use their whips. "Faster, you lazy dogs!" one of them would cry. A whip would crack, and someone would scream. The soldiers would laugh, and the sequence would begin again.

Monastario fumed. A few short months ago, those worthless pigs of soldiers would have been obeying his orders. Now, he was at their mercy; and they had none. Months of hot sun, hard work, and not enough water had taken their toll on the entire group of prisoners. Monastario had seen one man die since he had arrived. He, himself, could feel his strength leaving him day by day, a bit at a time. He had been given a death sentence, he knew.

Now, all the prisoners were snatching a few moments of rest. The field they had been working for so long was finally clear of rocks.

The capitan in charge of the soldiers rode his horse down the line of prisoners. Monastario was at the end of the line, and the officer stopped in front of him. He grinned evilly, showing bad teeth.

"Now," he sneered, "move every rock on this side of the field over to the other side."

"What?!?" Monastario couldn't stop his enraged exclamation.

"You disapprove, Comandante?" Once the soldiers had learned of his former rank, they enjoyed taunting him with it. The capitan laughed and continued, "get the prisoners moving. Use those whips!" He swung his own.

Monastario's arm was hit, and momentum carried the whip stroke across his back. He fell to his knees and pitched forward onto his face.

Lying there, breathing dirt and listening to the screams of his fellow prisoners, Monastario experienced a moment of perfect clarity. His mind took him back to a night at the Mission San Gabriel. He remembered giving the order for Padre Felipe's Indians to move rocks back across the unnecessary new road they had just cleared at his bidding. He remembered ordering his soldiers to use their whips, and he remembered the pleasure he felt when the Indians screamed.

"Madre del Dios, what have I done?" he whispered to the ground. From somewhere deep in his memory, he recalled a teacher from his youth, a priest, reading from The Revelation, "remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent...." 1 He had never understood that verse, until now. He felt deeply, profoundly, ashamed.

"On your feet! Get back to work!" someone shouted, and another whip stroke caught the back of Monastario's legs.

Monastario struggled to his knees. His body shook, as much from the physical pain as from the spiritual contrition he felt. "Forgive me," he whispered, his head bowed. When he raised his face and slowly got to his feet, his eyes were indescribably sad. Without a word, he walked toward the rocks.

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The next morning, Monastario awoke in agony. His injuries had stiffened overnight. Slowly, painfully, he struggled out of his bunk. As he did every day in this place, he wondered if today would be the last day of his life; but today, there was a difference. Today, the knot of rage around his heart was gone. Today, he looked at everything differently, even his status as a prisoner. After a few careful stretches, he stepped out of his cell and turned toward the work area.

"No," the guard at his cell door said quietly, "you are not going to the field today. Come with me, please."

The guard's courteous tone puzzled Monastario. He was taken to the prison's doctor, where his wounds were treated. He was even allowed to bathe, and a barber trimmed his hair and beard. After that, he was given a plain suit to wear.

"What's going on?" Monastario asked as the doctor helped him put on the shirt and jacket.

"The comandante will explain," the doctor replied, adjusting Monastario's jacket so it would not aggravate his back injury. "Come, he is waiting."

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"You are a very fortunate man, señor," the prison comandante said, "I have here a document signed by the governor himself instructing me to release you."

"I don't understand," Monastario replied, "have the charges against me been dropped?"

"No, the verdict against you remains. You were sent here because you could not pay the fine you were given. According to this document, someone has paid it."

"Who?" Monastario asked.

"I do not know. They are waiting for you outside the gate."

Monastario's eyes darted to the prison gate. It was a long distance from where he stood. There were a dozen guards in the courtyard between him and the gate. Each guard had a musket, though none of the weapons was raised.

Now he understood. They wanted him to think he was being given his freedom, and he would be shot while trying to "escape." He had arranged similar circumstances himself.

Monastario raised his head and squared his shoulders. If it was his time to die, so be it. He started walking toward the gate.

His injured legs and back protested with every step. He did not move his head but kept his eyes moving from side to side, and he listened for the sound of a weapon being cocked. None came.

Two sentries opened the prison gate and stood at attention as he passed.

The prison gate closed behind him, and Monastario savored his first free breath in over four months. The air tasted sweeter and the sky seemed bluer than a few moments earlier. The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile, and he sent a silent prayer of thankfulness heavenward.

"Monastario," came a quiet male voice from his left side. He turned in the direction of the voice. The speaker was standing in the shade of a tree, and his face was shadowed.

Monastario walked toward the figure. He couldn't identify the man until he, too, stood in the shade. "De la Vega," he said, surprised.

Diego inclined his head, his expression neutral. He wasn't going to make this easy, Monastario saw.

"They tell me someone paid my fine," Monastario began, "was it you?"

"I paid your fine," came a different voice, and a señorita stepped from behind the tree trunk.

"Gracias, señorita, but why?" Monastario said. He started to bow, but a back spasm stopped him. He gasped and straightened quickly.

"Do you not recognize me, 'Rique?" the woman said.

Monastario narrowed his eyes. Only two people in the world called him 'Rique. One was his mother, and she was in Spain. The other was....

"Anica?"

"You remember!" Anica cried joyfully, and threw her arms around Monastario's shoulders. His wounded back screamed and his legs buckled. He groaned aloud and would have fallen if Diego hadn't caught him.

Anica released him from her embrace, a puzzled look on her face, and slipped her hand into his.

"Gracias, Don Diego," Monastario said, stepping out of Diego's steadying grasp. He turned to Anica. "I've been injured, but I'll be all right." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "It's wonderful to see you, but how did you come to be here?"

Anica quickly recounted her trip from Spain and her stop in Los Angeles. "I would have traveled any distance. We are bound to one another," she finished.

Monastario had listened quietly to Anica's story. "My dear Anica," he said, "I remember the day we were promised to each other. I've done things since then, terrible things, that I'm not proud of. I feel as if I don't deserve you."

"'Rique, you must not say such things. Whatever you have done, it is over."

Monastario laid Anica's hand against his cheek, then kissed the palm of her hand. He looked into her eyes and grinned mischievously. "I'd get down on one knee, but I'm not sure I can. Anica, will you marry me?"

"Si," Anica replied simply, and she went to him. This time, she let him embrace her.

Diego watched them. He could hardly believe that the man before him had once held Los Angeles in his brutal grasp. Surely, a miracle had occurred.

"This calls for a celebration," he said jovially, "shall we go to the tavern for a drink?"

The three of them walked off together, but Anica and Monastario had eyes only for each other.

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Two days later, Diego watched as Monastario handed Anica into the coach that would take them to the harbor, where a ship waited to take them back to Spain to be married. Anica's servant was loading the bags.

After settling Anica in the carriage, Monastario turned to Diego. "Thank you, Don Diego, for everything you have done.

"It shames me to think of my behavior in Los Angeles. Somehow, I lost sight of my duty. I pray I will never be so blind again."

Diego smiled and extended his hand. "My best wishes to both of you," he said. The two men shook hands, and Monastario got in the carriage. Diego and Bernardo waved as it drove away.

"Come, Bernardo," Diego said quietly, "there is one more thing to do, and we must hurry."

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Monastario and Anica sat in companionable silence in the open carriage. He hadn't been able to bear the thought of getting into a closed stagecoach; the memory of his cell was too fresh.

Suddenly Anica gasped, looking behind Monastario. He turned and followed her gaze.

"Zorro!" he exclaimed.

Standing tall on the roof of a nearby building, cape rippling in the light wind, stood the man who, for so long, had been Monastario's nemesis. The masked man waved, and there was no hint of his usual mocking sarcasm in the gesture.

On impulse, Monastario waved back, and he saw Zorro smile in response. Today, he had nothing to fear from The Fox. He turned back to Anica, and he forgot the rest of the world as he looked into her eyes.

The End

1 The Revelation 2:5, King James Bible