The marvelous title I owe to Senselesswords! It is much cleverer and more elegant than any of the directions I was going in.

As usual, I own nothing and make no profit...and I wish all the best to those that do!

June 12, 1814

The signal was a single small explosion in town. In the open it was only a flat 'popping' noise. At once, Felipe snatched up the candle and lit the first set of fuses. While he did that, there were another three pops from town. Shielding the flame with his hand, Felipe raced around behind a flat rock and lit the next set. Then he rubbed the candle out in the dirt and raced down the slight hill. The low point was a muddy trickle this time of year. In another month it would be completely dry and rocky. A donkey was waiting there, loaded down with sacks of grain. Felipe took the donkey's rope and headed directly south, away from the pueblo, the (very) long way home.

The line of explosions started going off: little bursts, a pause, more noise. Felipe ignored it, heading through the cover of a young orange orchard. A few minutes later he felt the thunder of horses racing past. He continued south until he was out of the trees, then turned east, toward home. He risked a glance back they way he'd come: the imperial soldiers were riding back toward the pueblo again, not so fast this time, still looking for the 'rebels' they were expecting. Felipe dropped his head and slowed down. A kid, a peasant...no one would give him a second look.

No one did. He came to the King's Road and turned north.

Safely home, he put the donkey in the corral and the sacks of grain in the corner for Don Alejandro's race horses. It was only a little after dawn. Juan was already out checking the stock and Pepe was mucking out the stalls. Felipe slipped away into the house and down to the cave. He was only a moment ahead of Gilberto. Toronado was lathered; he'd come home the long way, and fast.

"Well?" Felipe demanded before reaching for the cinch.

"It was perfect. It was glorious. You should have seen me."

They had to hurry. Diego would try to keep Don Alejandro from rushing home, but Felipe and Gilberto needed to be waiting innocently in the library when they did arrive. Gilberto changed and combed his hair while Felipe swiftly rubbed down Toronado and covered him with a little blanket.

In the library, Gilberto glanced out the window. "Nothing yet," he said, and pointed to the little side table. "And flatten out your hair, you look like you've been running."

Rolling his eyes, Felipe patted his hair. Gilberto dropped into a chair at the game table and swiftly began moving chess pieces around, playing both sides of the game until the board was scattered with chessmen. Abruptly, he glanced at the window and got up. "That must be them. Look worried; you like Mendoza."

They met Don Alejandro and Diego as they came in the front door. "You're smiling," Gilberto said. "You were right? Palomarez didn't go through with it?"

"Oh, he certainly tried," Don Alejandro said, scowling suddenly. "He tried. Zorro had something to say about it."

"Zorro?" Gilberto repeated. "That's good. Isn't it?"

"It's excellent," Diego said quickly, clapping his father on the shoulder. "I'm still trying to figure out how he managed it, but Palomarez and his men are even now riding north, and that is what matters."

"You must tell us everything," Gilberto said. "You skipped breakfast, come and eat something and - "

Don Alejandro interrupted impatiently. "What happened is that the good people of Los Angeles - including me - stood there and watched as a member of our garrison was led to the gallows. Not one hand was lifted in his defense until Zorro arrived."

Gilberto's mouth popped open. He looked a little like a fish. "But, Father!" He spread his hands in confusion, which seemed to Felipe a very reasonable response. He had left Gilberto at home because he hadn't been sure his volatile son could keep his temper in the face of the outrageous behavior of this king's emissary. He had taken Diego (only slightly less volatile, but too frail to act on his anger) with him because 'If we cannot stop this injustice at least we will at least, by God, witness it with our own eyes and remember!' He had been adamant that public resistance could only lead to widespread tragedy.

"One man - One man! - risked his life for our justice, and I stood there and did nothing!"

Diego winced, but he took a step closer to his father. "There was nothing you could do. We cannot fight the government. We all know how that ends - "

"Zorro - !"

"Zorro is protected by his anonymity. As long as he is not caught, he can act with complete freedom and safety. The risk is very small."

Instead of finding this reassuring, this only seemed to make him angrier. "How can you stand there and excuse - " He broke off, snapped his teeth together, and turned on his heel. The door slammed behind him.

"Well," Gilberto said. "That was...unexpected."

Diego took a deep breath. "He's ashamed. It seems to him he is risking nothing for this fight on our behalf. Don't scowl at me 'Berto, he doesn't know."

"But where did he go?" Felipe asked.

Diego sighed. "The north pasture? The orchard? Away from me, that is all that matters. He doesn't dare stay here and quarrel." Diego buried his head in his hands for a moment, then dropped onto the settee and sighed again. "Oh, Father."

Gilberto folded his arms and began to pace. "Will he do something foolish, do you think?"

"No. What can he do? He cannot beat the government without betraying his king. And he has servants and clients to think of, an invalid son to look after. He won't do anything but despise himself." Diego closed his eyes. "Let him be for a while. Someday...He'll understand."

Gilberto paced, not answering.

Diego sat up. "It was magnificent today. Beautifully done. Perfect in every respect." He dropped his voice and added, "I was so proud of both of you."

Felipe felt himself flushing with pleasure, even though his part had been absurdly simple. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"You are going to work on your history lesson, I am going to update the monthly accounts, and you," this to Gilberto, "are going to inspect fences for a few hours; make sure you are looking innocent and industrious."

"Is that supposed to be a punishment or something?" Gilberto asked, as much puzzled as irked.

"It is the least demanding thing I can think of that will get you out of the house."

"Why do I need to be out of the house?"

"Because you'll brood if you sit here."

Gilberto didn't even try to argue with that.

Z

Summer was turning out to be warm and not impossibly dry, so the weeds were trying to take over everything. When he finished with his history lesson, Felipe set to weeding the flowerbeds out front. He was still working at it when Gilberto returned for lunch. He was smiling when he came in the side gate and Felipe was immediately suspicious. He brushed his dirty hands off on his pants and asked, "What are you up to?"

"Up to? What could I be up to?" At Felipe's stern look he said, "Nothing. Honestly. I met some vaqueros by Oak Creek. Everyone is talking about what happened in town this morning." He looked ridiculously satisfied.

He had a right to, though, so there was no point in teasing him. And Felipe was actually kind of pleased he'd come home: When both his father and brother were gone from the house, Diego tended to produce lots of very good ideas about things to do during siesta that weren't resting.

Don Alejandro didn't come home during lunch or during siesta. Diego wasn't worried, though, despite how angry his father had been when he left. Felipe decided to take advantage of Gilberto's good mood and Don Alejandro's absence and ask for a fencing lesson.

It was still quite warm. Gilberto took off his vest and rolled up his sleeves. After a moment, he took off his boots and motioned Felipe to do the same. Felipe obeyed, but cast Diego (sitting in a cane chair in the shade of a rose trellis) a doubtful look.

Diego shrugged. "One of Sir Edmund's tricks."

So Felipe went along with it. Sword lessons these days actually included swinging swords, which was very exciting, even though it was mostly positioning exercises. Today they only did exercises for a few minutes before Gilberto was signaling him to advance.

So barefooted and a bit sweaty, Felipe did his best to get past Gilberto's guard while not overbalancing against the swing and remembering not to cross his feet. His bare feet gripped the stones of the path, making moving more difficult but balance easier.

It seemed to take forever before Gilberto signaled a break and Felipe stepped back and panted. Gilberto, naturally, wasn't even really sweating. "You missed quite a fight this morning, the best since Spain, perhaps. Say, Diego, did you see that little combination?"

"Which one? Palomarez nearly had you twice."

"He did not! Anyway - here, Felipe, come at me low - slowly, and then - yes, come up under my arm- " Three times he coached Felipe through an attack, each time stepping into it differently. He was frowning, distracted, and Felipe had no clue what he was supposed to be learning from this.

"Here, just a moment," Diego said, rising. "May I?" Felipe handed over the sword and stepped out of the way. "It wasn't down and under, it was down and to the side." Diego made the move very slowly, the sword in his hand moving as lightly as a falling rose petal.

"Yes, that! How do I counter that?"

"You mean rather than just dodging madly? Here, to me..."

Slowly, Gilberto dropped his tip, came in and arced to the side. Diego took a half step back and popped his sword down vertically, neatly in the way of the swing.

"You can't do that at speed," Gilberto protested.

"Of course you can. Try it faster...See? And again."

The third time the blades were moving so fast that all Felipe could see was a bright shimmer. They didn't stop with the deflection; Diego took another step forward, feinted to the left and ended with his blade beside Gilberto's neck.

Gilberto muttered angrily. "You mean I could have had him then!"

"Yes...and no. I've had hours to think about it. Here, you try," And Diego stepped back, lowered his blade, came under and to the side, was neatly rebuffed - Gilberto didn't try for the throat. He ducked low and went after Diego's belly. He might have scored a touch if Diego had been standing in the same place, but he was already moving, forcing his brother to turn to keep up. Diego was already on the attack. Grinning, he pressed forward and Gilberto gave ground.

Gilberto looked completely shocked by Diego's advance. As he backed off the path he nearly lost his footing in the rose bed. That seemed to remind him he was being herded into thorns, and he set his teeth and swept at Diego's feet. Diego must have seen it coming, because he skipped neatly out of the way.

Gilberto was back on the path, now, though, and on the attack. He struck again and again, the blunted tip of his practice sword buzzing around Diego's face like a bee. Diego deflected each strike neatly. The long blade that always felt so ungainly to Felipe danced for Diego.

Gilberto was grinning. Zorro never, ever, looked this happy.

And then Diego's sword went flying out of his hand, and Felipe had to duck because the hilt narrowly missed his head. When he looked up again, Diego was backing away, bent over, one hand pressed to his side, gasping.

Gilberto tossed his practice sword point down into the soft earth of the flowerbed and caught Diego's arm. "Down," he said. "No, here, all the way."

Diego fought feebly for a moment before giving up and allowing himself to be lowered to the ground. "Fine...Fine...I promise..." he panted.

"You can't even speak!" Gilberto said sharply. "No, shut up. I'd call you all sorts of idiot, but I'm as bad. Oh, Diego. I am so sorry."

"Fine," Diego waved Gilberto away, but Gilberto wouldn't move.

Felipe squatted down on Diego's other side and took his hand. The pulse was fast, but regular and strong. The fingernails - pink. Felipe thrust the hand into Gilberto's field of vision.

Gilberto groaned with relief. "He's overheated." He thrust a clean handkerchief at Felipe. "Go wet this at the well."

When Felipe brought it back, cold and dripping, Gilberto was apologizing again. "I would not hurt you, not for anything - "

"Hush," Diego said. His breathing had already slowed a little. "I'm fine. Stop. You didn't...hurt me." He took the damp cloth from Felipe and grinned. "It was magnificent."

"Diego - "

"Wasn't it?"

Gilberto looked away and nodded.

Diego let his head drop back. "You're better than you were."

"I only beat you because your heart couldn't manage."

Diego smiled contentedly, his breathing almost normal. "No. You would have had me anyway. This time." He coughed. "I'm out of practice."

Gilberto's head snapped up. "No," he said.

"Yes. Why not?"

"You know why not!"

"Because I'm sick? I didn't faint. I'm not even dizzy."

"You're covered in sweat."

"So are you!"

"Only because you've frightened me out of half a year's growth."

"'Berto. We'll take it gently. I'll pay better attention. Next time - "

Gilberto rolled his eyes and muttered a prayer. "Next time!"

~TBC