.

GUARDIAN ANGEL

.

"It's depressing, isn't it."

Young Diego de la Vega, his lips a thin line, merely nodded. His eyes continuously scanned the charred landscape. The sting of smoke and gunpowder still hung in the air. In the distance, they could still see plumes of smoke rising from the peasant villages. Most villages and houses they had passed today had been totally destroyed – either by fire, or by man. Or both.

And to accentuate the horror of destruction around them, dozens and dozens of bodies littered the landscape – maimed, burnt, or just simply dead. Soldiers and peasants alike, with crows and vultures feasting on them. It was like riding through a nightmare.

At first when they'd been forced to enter the scene of recent warfare because there seemed to be no way around it, Don Diego had been adamant to check if any of the people lying around were still alive and in need of help.

But after an entire morning with nothing but dead, stinking bodies, even he had practically given up the hope of finding survivors. The battle here had raged recently, yes, but too long ago for the wounded to survive and for the survivors to remain here. So now they just rode on, quickly, hoping to leave the horror scene behind them before nightfall at least.

But still, Diego kept scanning the fields around him. Just in case someone did...

Abruptly, he held in his horse. "I thought I saw something there," he said quietly.

"Where?"

"By the tree."

The young Don and his middle-aged servant peered intently at the lone tree in the middle of the field off to their right. Several dead bodies were scattered around, and the ominous calls of the birds of prey echoed in their ears.

"I don't see anything," Salvador the servant said softly.

Diego shook his head. "I saw something move there. I'm sure. Wait here," he said as he started to dismount.

"Don Diego, I don't think..." Salvador began.

But the young Don raised his hand. "Don't worry – I'll come right back."

Salvador sighed, and watched how his young master picked his way over the treacherous ground. He saw him kneel by each body he passed. But apparently, they were all dead. War was such a waste...

Meanwhile, Don Diego had gotten close enough to see that indeed there was a young peasant boy sitting with his back against the tree. He had his face hidden in his hands, and did not move at all. If it wasn't for the still fairly healthy colour of his visible skin, he could have been dead, too, as still as he sat there.

Carefully, he came closer. "Hello there," he said quietly, not wanting to startle the boy.

But the boy gave no reaction at all. Not until Diego stood right in front of him, looking down at him with compassion, did he wearily raise his head. His elfin face was pinched; his grief-stricken eyes too large for that little face.

For a moment, their eyes locked.

Then he held out his arms invitingly. "Come," he wanted to say. But the word got stuck in his throat at the sight of the boy's grief.

Tentatively, the boy reached out to him in return. And Diego bent down and lifted him in his arms. The boy immediately clung to him. What had he not been through these past days?

"You'll be okay," he murmured as he held him as tight as the boy held him. "You'll be fine. I promise."

Slowly, he began to seek his way back to Salvador and the horses, all the while talking soothingly to the child. He saw Salvador dismount, too, and hurry towards him.

"Is he hurt?" the servant asked with worry evident in his voice. He tried to take over Diego's load, but the boy tensed and clung even tighter to the young caballero.

"It's okay," Diego said quietly. "He barely weighs anything."

Silently, they made their way back to the horses. And that's where the trouble started. For when Diego tried to hand him to Salvador for a moment in order to have his hands free to mount Esperanza, the boy practically panicked. His face contorted, his mouth made talking movements (although oddly enough there wasn't even a trace of a sound) and he wrapped his arms and legs desperately around Diego's body.

"Come on," Diego said soothingly as he gently tried to pry the boy's hands loose from his jacket. "I'm not going to leave you here – I just need my hands free to get on my horse. But you can ride with me. Or... are you afraid of horses?"

There was absolutely no reaction, other than the continued panic attack.

"Maybe he is in shock," Salvador thought. He tried again to pry the boy's arms away from Diego's neck, but the only result was that the boy tightened his hold even further, almost strangling Diego.

"I've got a better idea," Diego brought out. Still clutching the boy to his chest, he took Esperanza by the halter and whispered to her. And gently urged her down. The horse quickly understood – Diego de la Vega was known to be a wonder with horses – and cautiously went down on one foreknee.

"Good girl." Diego patted her forehead. "Salvador?"

Salvador took the reins, and swiftly, Diego clambered up in the saddle with his load. A simple pat on the neck made Esperanza get back up, and Salvador handed him the reins. And nodded to the boy still wrapped around Diego. "Are you going to ride holding him like that?"

"We don't have much choice, do we?" Gently, Diego rubbed the boy's back. "Until he is willing to let go of me for a moment..."

Salvador nodded. "As long as you're alright riding like that?"

"I'll be fine," Diego assured him. And with one arm around the boy and holding the reins in the other, he nudged Esperanza into a gentle trot. "Let's get out of this war zone first."

Silently, they continued along the road north. Devastation and death remained their constant companions – it seemed as if the area had been totally deserted.

Diego looked down at the boy in his arms. Was he asleep? The way he still tightly clutched to him seemed to belie that, but the boy didn't react at all to Diego's soothing words of comfort.

"Don Diego," Salvador spoke at last. "We're going to have to find a place to stay the night. It's going to be dark soon. I'm not happy about camping out on a battlefield, but I'm afraid we have little choice. Going on in the dark would be foolishness."

Diego agreed. "And I think our young friend here might be hungry."

"And perhaps he can tell us where he's from before we're too far from his home," Salvador said.

"If he still has a home to return to," Diego murmured to himself. He looked down at the little face that was buried in the ruffles of his shirt. The poor boy still hadn't moved.

They found a decent spot to camp just when the sun was beginning to turn orange. It was a small sandy clearing by a little brook, backed by some – surprisingly not burnt – bushes.

Diego swung his leg over Esperanza's back and slid to the ground. The boy's grip on him immediately intensified, and Diego patted his back. "Don't worry. I'm here."

"Why don't you try and get some information from him," Salvador suggested. "I'll take care of the horses."

Diego nodded, and took his canteen from his saddlebag. "Are you thirsty?" he asked the boy in his arms.

No reaction.

Carefully, Diego nudged his arm a little with the canteen, and finally, the boy looked up: first at the canteen, and then at him – unsure, longing.

Diego nodded encouragingly, and held out the water canteen to him. "Go ahead. Drink."

The boy grabbed the canteen with one hand (the other still tightly held on to Diego's jacket) and gulped the water down.

"I'm sorry," Diego said, feeling more than a little guilty. "I should have thought of that. Are you hungry, too?"

No reaction – the boy was just too busy quenching his thirst. And when he finally drained the last drops, suddenly he was the one who looked a little guilty.

"It's okay," Diego told him. "We'll just fill it up in the stream." He took the canteen from the boy's hand and closed it. And put it away. "Are you hungry, too, perhaps?"

The boy was still looking at his face, but his look was one of panic and incomprehension. Perhaps he didn't speak Spanish? He didn't exactly look like an Indian boy, but... Better show him what he meant.

So he took out some bread wrapped in a cloth. He shook back the cloth and held it out to the boy. This time the boy spared but a glance at his benefactor before accepting the bread and tearing off a large bite.

And Diego smiled at him. "Good. Now let's get a little more comfortable." He chose a tree and carefully lowered himself to the ground with his load. The boy was still clinging to him, but now that he was eating, at least he seemed slightly more relaxed. Diego just kept his arms protectively around him and quietly talked to him – soothing words about being safe and not having to worry anymore. But the boy was too busy chewing to pay him much heed. And by the time Salvador was finished with the horses, the boy had eaten nearly the entire loaf of bread and began to sag against Diego's chest. Clearly, he was exhausted.

Salvador got out some food for them, too. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the cold enchiladas, and Diego was quick to hand him his own. Just having had his fill with bread, the boy merely nibbled at it with a faint expression of contentment. And before he had eaten half of it, his eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep against Diego's chest.

Diego smiled down at him. "Poor kid." He took off his heavy cape and wrapped it around the boy as well as he could.

"Did you learn anything?" Salvador asked.

Diego shook his head. "Not really. Only that he doesn't seem to understand Spanish."

Salvador raised his eyebrows. "That seems unusual around here. I didn't think there were many settlers from outside the Spanish empire to live here."

"And he doesn't quite look like an Indian boy either." Diego sighed. "I suppose it will have to wait till tomorrow. Better let him sleep first."

The two men finished their cold supper in silence. Then Salvador spread out a blanket for each of them, with their horse saddle for a pillow. Diego carefully rolled onto his blanket, with the little boy still clinging to his chest. "Buenas noches, Salvador."

"Buenas noches, Don Diego."


But a very calm night it was not. Time and again, the boy was thrashing around wildly, his mouth wide open as if he were screaming – only there was no sound at all. It was almost eerie.

"Hey, wake up! Wake up, it's just a dream!" Diego shook him gently, then more firmly, until the boy opened his eyes. Even by the mere light of the half moon, there was no mistaking the terror in the boy's face as he seemed to be gasping for air.

"Ssh... it's okay. You're safe. I'm here."

The boy merely hid his face in Diego's shirt again and clung to him as his breathing and his heartbeat slowly calmed down again. And Diego kept talking to him in soothing sounds till they both dozed off again – until the next nightmare...


When the first rays of sunshine woke Diego up the next morning, he found his little protégé looking up at him, studying his face.

"Good morning," he said, giving the boy a reassuring smile.

The boy just looked at him.

"Do you understand what I say?"

A vague flash of incomprehension flitted across the boy's features, but he kept his eyes firmly on Diego's face.

Diego sighed. "You don't understand a word I say, do you." He sat up; the boy automatically came up with him as he was still holding on to Diego's jacket.

"My name." Diego pointed at himself. "Is Diego. Di-e-go. Can you say that? Di-e-go."

The boy seemed to understand and mouthed the sounds silently – or at least the vowels. But then his face lit up in recognition, and he seemed to exclaim, "Diego!" But still without the slightest sound.

"Yes." Diego smiled. "Diego. That is me. And what is your name?" He pointed at the boy for clarification, and again he seemed to understand. He pointed at himself and said something without a sound that Diego didn't get. The boy tried again, slower this time, and following his example, Diego tried to copy the movements of his mouth. "E-li-pe... Felipe?" That sounded Spanish enough.

The boy nodded, and said something again – entirely without sound. It was obvious that he was accustomed to being able to talk and being understood. Could it be that he'd screamed so badly in fear recently that he had lost his voice? But how come he didn't realize...?

Suddenly, the truth hit him. "Felipe," he said slowly, looking straight at the boy on his lap. "Are you deaf?"

That only got him another look of incomprehension.

"Deaf," he repeated. To illustrate what he was saying, he tightly covered his own ears and then pointed at Felipe.

The look of incomprehension turned into one of apprehension. The boy started to tell him something, but soon, Diego held up his hands.

"I don't understand," he said slowly.

Felipe tried again – but suddenly his eyes widened. He covered his ears and pointed at Diego, his eyes projecting a big question mark.

"Am I deaf?" Diego automatically translated. "No, I..." He hesitated. "Not really. I just have trouble understanding you."

Felipe stared at him – Diego wasn't sure if he had understood.

"Maybe," he continued slowly, "We can talk with our hands." He pointed at his mouth, mimed talking and then waved his hands about.

Felipe nodded.

"So you can't hear?" Diego asked, using both speech and gestures. "Why?" An insensitive question perhaps, but the boy already seemed to be explaining it before. And 'why' was simpler in gestures than 'what happened'.

Meanwhile, Felipe mimed a big explosion. Then he covered his ears and shook his head.

"There was an explosion," Diego translated for himself. "And then you couldn't hear anymore."

The boy just looked at him.

"Felipe." Diego pointed at his lips. "Mamà," he said slowly and clearly. Then he pointed at Felipe, and made a questioning gesture.

The boy bit his lip. He seemed to think how to convey this – then he slowly formed a standing cross with his fingers.

"Mamà is dead," Diego translated, and Felipe nodded dejectedly – he seemed to have understood those words. Once again he mimed the explosion – then the cross, then pointing at his own ears.

"And papà?"

Again, Felipe made the explosion and then the cross. And then he flung himself against Diego's chest, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh boy," Diego sighed gently. "That's an awful lot to take in at once." He held the boy tight, and softly rubbed his back. At least he knew now that any comfort needed to be physical – it was obvious that the explosion had left the boy stonedeaf. He was lucky to have escaped with his life at all. With a lot of luck, the deafness might turn out to be temporary, but for now it was Felipe's reality. And then his voice, too...

Across from him, Salvador stirred and then sat up. "Buenos dias, Don Diego. And how is our little friend?"

"Better, I think. He had a lot of nightmares though."

"Yes, I noticed," Salvador nodded. "You handled him well. I just hope you're not too tired yourself now?"

"I'm fine," Diego dismissed his worries. "I've also found out that he's in all likelihood a refugee from the war."

"I'm not surprised," Salvador interjected, and Diego nodded.

"His name is Felipe, and I discovered he's stonedeaf as the result of an explosion that also killed both his parents. He seems to have lost his voice as well, but hopefully that's only temporary."

"Madre de Dios..." Salvador crossed himself. "The poor kid..." He frowned. "But how did he tell you that if...?"

"Once I realized he was deaf, we tried to communicate with gestures. It went quite well actually." He sighed. "The odd thing is that because he can't hear, he doesn't realize that he's lost his voice. He seems to think I'm deaf, too."

"Poor kid," Salvador muttered again. He looked up. "So what are you planning to do? If his parents are dead..."

"I hope he'll be able to tell us where he's from – I hadn't gotten that far yet. And then take him there and see if we can find any relatives."

Salvador nodded. "Could be tricky though," he pointed out. "From what we've seen, his entire pueblo might have been wiped out."

Diego merely sighed, and stroked Felipe's soft hair.

Salvador got up, shook out and rolled up his blanket, and went to get them all some breakfast. The smell of cold tamales even caught little Felipe's attention, and they ate in threefold silence. Felipe kept casting wary glances in Salvador's direction, and once he had finished his breakfast and had one hand free again, he pointed to the older man and mouthed, "Papà?" to Diego.

Diego shook his head. "No. He works for my father." He tried to come up with a gesture for 'work', and after a few tries, and then taking a few coins from his pocket and pretending to pay Salvador, apparently the boy understood.

He made a few more signs.

"Where is my papà?" Diego found he automatically tried to translate Felipe's gestures into words. "My father... my papà is in Los Angeles, in California." That clearly meant nothing to the boy, so he motioned it was far, far away.

Felipe nodded. "Mamà?" he mouthed next.

Solemnly, Diego made the same cross with his fingers as Felipe had done before. "My mamà is dead."

Another nod.

"Felipe." Diego took him gently by the shoulders. "We would like to take you home. Do you know where you are from? The name of your pueblo?" He had no idea how to translate that to signs, but Felipe just stared at him with incomprehension written all over his face.

"Your pueblo. Your home," Diego tried again.

"Try drawing it in the sand," Salvador suggested as he started packing up their stuff.

That was an idea. So Diego first drew one house, and pointed from the house to Felipe. Then he drew more houses around it, pointed to himself, saying, "Diego," pointing to Felipe and saying his name, and then back to the houses in the sand. "Diego. Felipe." And then he pointed from the houses to Felipe with an inquiring gesture.

Felipe nodded his understanding. "San Carlos," he mouthed, and when Diego didn't quite get it, he said it again, slower.

"San Carlos," Diego repeated. "Is San Carlos a big pueblo? Or a small pueblo?" He illustrated his question with gestures, and after a moment of deliberation, Felipe showed him that it was somewhere in the middle.

"Okay," Diego told him. "We'll see if we can find San Carlos. Surely there must be someone in your hometown who can take you in."