April 10, 1813

Felipe woke up to Diego glaring down at him. "Shall we discuss why you are on the floor of my sitting room?"

Felipe shrugged, rubbed his eyes, and scampered up to fold the blanket he'd brought in with him the night before.

"I'm not kidding," Diego said. "This cannot continue."

Felipe grinned at him and signed that he couldn't hear what Diego was saying. Could he speak more loudly?

Diego gave a startled laugh. "My God! You used to be such a sweet child. You've turned into a monster."

Felipe ignored that and asked how he was feeling.

"Good. I feel good. I'm home."

Diego seemed....himself at breakfast. He told tales about the mischief Gilberto had gotten up to at school, praised Maria's cooking, performed a magic trick making his spoon disappear and come out again from his brother's ear. And after breakfast, when Doctor Hernandez arrived, he led the way to his bedroom, cheerfully joking about the odd quirks of physicians in Madrid.

When they turned the corner, Gilberto stood abruptly and announced that he was going to inspect the lower orchard. At his father's surprised look, he added, "I have listened to over a dozen doctors. I am sorry, Father. I can't do it again."

For the next hour, Felipe and Don Alejandro played chess. Neither of them played very well. When the doctor emerged, Don Alejandro walked him to out to his horse. Felipe followed, hoping to be unnoticed. "Emmanuel, my old friend."

Doctor Hernandez gathered the reins of his horse from the hitching post and ran his hand over the animal's neck. "He's better than Gilberto's letters led us to expect. But the news isn't good, even so. I'm sorry. This sort of condition seldom improves very much, I'm afraid."

"Is there anything you can do?"

Felipe stepped into the shadow of the gate, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle, holding his breath so he wouldn't miss on word of the Doctor's answer.

"No. The medications he is taking are already of more help than I'd have thought. He has been experimenting with composition and dosage, and has had some success. At this point, he is in a better position to prescribe for himself than I am."

"He told us...he might live for many years, despite his illness."

It was a question, but Doctor Hernandez stared into the distance for a long time before answering it. "I'm sorry, Alejandro. I can't rule it out entirely, but it's not...likely. Diego's heart is very weak. The end, when it comes, will probably be quite sudden. One day, one of his seizures will simply...take him. Or he will go to sleep and not wake up. And it could happen five years from now, yes. Or it could happen next month."

"I see. Thank you for hour honesty, Emmanuel. I appreciate your coming out." Don Alejandro waited politely until the doctor was on the road, then turned and walked calmly to the barn. Pedro was there, mending tack. Don Alejandro sent him on an errand. When the man's footsteps had faded, he shut the door, sat down on a bench, and wept silently.

Felipe sat down on the clean hay and buried his face in his hands. His own tears burned as they fought their way out.

It could happen tomorrow. Diego had recovered enough to travel, survived the long sea voyage home...but he might not wake up tomorrow.

After a long time the tears stopped coming. Felipe's eyes and throat stung. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up to find Don Alejandro watching him.

"Never again," the old man said. "He will not see us crying. He would try to comfort us, and I will not let him spend his strength on that."

Felipe shook his head. Never. Diego would never see him cry again.

"You have no other duties now. Just Diego. Are you old enough for this responsibility?" His eyes seemed to burn right through Felipe. "I am giving you my son. Whatever is necessary to care for him. Whatever comfort you might be."

Felipe gulped. He was too dazed with gratitude to even lift his hands to give thanks for this incredible gift.

Don Alejandro dunked his handkerchief in the water trough and wiped his face roughly. "If he needs anything, you will come to me."

Felipe nodded.

"I am going to...see Don Carlos. Just for a few hours. I need...I need just a little time."

Felipe nodded and replied that he would tell the boys.

Two hours later found him in the library with Diego, unpacking the crates of books that had come from Madrid. It was a very leisurely activity: every book had to be examined and fussed over and actual work was interrupted by long discussions of how to organize (and then re-organize) the existing collection in order to incorporate the new arrivals.

Once they had settled on a system (whereby Diego sat in a chair and set books on the shelves while Felipe did all of the shifting and carrying) conversation moved to other topics, particularly what had happened in the pueblo the previous day.

"He is quite mad, Felipe. Father's descriptions did not do him justice. Ramone enjoys the fear he inspires in the peons and soldiers. Terror isn't a tool, it is an end itself. The look in his eyes--" Diego sighed and handed back the book Felipe had just passed him. "That will go over there, third shelf from the bottom--The hunger, the thrill. They say he conducts his own floggings. I can only imagine how much he must enjoy that."

"Who would give a man like that power?" Felipe asked.

"Family connections. Or bribery. Or Blackmail. God alone knows." Diego laughed humorlessly. "Perhaps they have sent him to our humble backwater to get him out of the way."

Felipe sat back on his heels and said, "He is making everyone angry--the peasants, the landowners, the businessmen--"

"One businesswoman, certainly," Diego said, with a strange little smile.

Felipe rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, she is very beautiful." He stretched out the gesture and batted his eyes. "You've said. But be serious!" He slapped Diego's shin with the back of his hand. "People are getting angry. He's going too far."

Diego sobered. "He is. Some of the people in town were talking about rebellion."

"Why doesn't he understand?"

Diego sighed. "Oh he does understand. He'll push the people until they rebel, and when they do, he'll take great pleasure in crushing the opposition and punishing all his enemies." He cleared his throat. "And if you're trying to scare me to death, 'Berto, you're going to have to try harder than that."

Felipe jumped and spun around. Gilberto was standing right behind them, very nearly within arm's reach. Which was impossible, since Diego's chair had been facing the door.

"I wasn't trying to scare you. You're about the only one I can't sneak up on." He grinned, showing even, white teeth. "I was after your shadow."

"Very nice," Diego drawled. "You'll leave the invalid alone but take advantage of the poor handicapped orphan."

"Ouch. You wound me, little brother." He laid a white handkerchief on a side table, produced an orange from his pocket and began to peel it, tidily leaving the scraps of peel on the handkerchief. "You are the biggest pain in the...neck...on two continents." He flipped a segment of fruit into Diego's hand and then passed another to Felipe. "You were right, by the way. Again. You can ride a horse in through the cave." He ate a piece of orange. "You have to duck down, though...."

Diego turned to Felipe. "There is a secret passage behind the fireplace. An escape in case of Indian attack--grandfather was a bit...."

"Paranoid," Gilberto said, handing Diego another piece of orange. "Father sealed it up, but we found it when we were...ten?"

"About that, yes."

Gilberto finished the current orange and produced another. "How are you feeling today?" he asked.

"I'm quite well," Diego answered.

"He was dizzy before," Felipe said.

Gilberto's head snapped around. "Was that word 'dizzy?'" he asked.

Felipe nodded and added that he'd made Diego sit down.

His eyes narrowed. "How long did it last?"

Felipe wasn't sure: three, maybe five minutes? "But he's better now. Look--his color is good."

Scowling, Gilberto examined his brother (also scowling) for pallor. Suddenly, he grinned and threw an arm around Felipe's shoulders. "Young man, you are my new best friend."

Felipe glared up at him suspiciously, but for once Gilberto showed no trace of mockery. He handed Felipe a segment of orange and led him over to the fireplace. "Let me show you. There is a little lever--here, give me your hand--yes. The mechanism creaks a little. It could use some whale oil."

Felipe eyed the opening warily. He hadn't heard anything.

"So," Diego said. "This is what takes for the two of you to call a truce."

"No, I have just discovered you were right all along, that's all. Again. Clearly, the boy is clever and dependable. A veritable paragon."

"I'm not a boy," Felipe signed. But he understood what the twins were talking about. He and Gilberto were allies, now. None of the old jealousy mattered, not in the face of Diego's illness.

Gilberto held out his hand. "Come, take a walk with us, little brother. Get some--well, not fresh air. To be honest, it's a little musty. But it's cool."

There was a surprising amount of space behind the fireplace. A short passage led to a set of stairs and a large room shored up with stone and plastered on three of the walls. A horse was waiting there, looking eerie in the dimly lighted cave.

Diego brushed off one of the steps and sat down. "I'd forgotten how pleasant this was," he said. "It's...very easy to breathe down here."

"I don't remember. Why did we stop playing here? It must have been before the...Felipe came."

"Mother got sick," Diego said heavily. "And then later Senor Alverez arrived and we were too busy doing school work...."

Although he knew it was testing their new alliance--perhaps too much--Felipe touched Gilberto's sleeve and asked, "How did she die?"

"Ah." He glanced at Diego and shook his head. "Her illness was very different. It all happened very quickly, a couple of months, no more. There was a great deal of pain and she just...faded. She hardly knew us, at the end." He stumbled a little, then collected himself. "It's not the same."

"No," Diego agreed sadly. "Not the same. We have that mercy, at least." He and his brother shared a look that Felipe couldn't follow.

He wished he hadn't asked.

Diego and Felipe returned to the library just before Don Alejandro arrived home. Diego suggested lunch in town--at the tavern, which was no surprise to Felipe--and since he agreed readily to the carriage, his father gave in and indulged him. Gilberto might have objected, if he had been present, but he'd taken his horse around to the barn and by the time he came in through the front door it was already decided. Don Alejandro did make both boys leave their swords behind, so there would be no repeat of the previous day's near-incident.

Felipe thought the twins could get into plenty of trouble, armed or not, but he kept this opinion to himself. It was just as well. When the carriage returned later that afternoon, Don Alejandro wasn't on board and both of his sons were in a temper.

"Father has been arrested," Gilberto ground out.

"You're lying," Felipe responded. Apparently, their truce was over as quickly as it had begun. Gilberto was a terrible tease.

"True, I'm afraid," Diego said, Stripping off his cravat and tossing it onto a chair. "He was arrested for assaulting a government official."

Felipe goggled helplessly.

Diego undid his collar and ran his hands through his hair. "He punched the alcalde because he was arresting Victoria for sedition." He wasn't kidding. He was also quite pale. Felipe thought for a moment and took his hand. "Come look. Come on. It might still be there."

Diego protested a little, but Felipe knew how to coax and beg and shortly they were crouched in the secret cave watching a young vixen watch them back.

"Oh," Diego said. "That is something, yes." He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a couple of slow, deep breaths. He rolled his shoulders and sighed, then took another look at the vixen. "Hunted as they are for their beautiful pelts, it's amazing any survive."

"They're very intelligent," Felipe answered.

"Oh, yes. Very cunning," Diego said. He laid a hand on Felipe's shoulder and the weight of it was terribly reassuring.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know what to do. My father is imprisoned, at the mercy of a madman. Everything I love is in danger. I am sure--sure--that if something is not done soon, people will start dying...and there is nothing I can do."

Felipe nodded. That was not what he'd meant, but this answer was actually more important than the one he'd been looking for. It was a painful truth to face--that sometimes the world was too wounded to fix. He wrapped his arms tightly around Diego's waist. It was the only remedy for grief he knew.

When they finally returned to the house they found Gilberto setting leftover tortillas and cold chicken on the table. "I sent Maria to her son's. We're alone in the house. I thought we needed to talk."

"It will take three or four days to get our lawyer here. It will take a week to get word to the governor, if we can assume he will do anything to help," Diego answered at once.

Gilberto filled a plate and set it in front of his brother. "That wasn't what I wanted to talk about." He said. "We are going to have to fix this ourselves."

Diego set his mouth and waited for Gilberto to continue.

"The caballeros are on the verge of revolt. They need only a leader. I think they would follow me...and if you were managing 'my' strategy, we could take the fort in a couple of hours."

"I'm not mad enough to fight against soldiers."

"You'd think of something. Maybe even something clever enough to avoid bloodshed entirely."

"And then what? We would be rebels. The government would send troops."

Gilberto shrugged and filled a plate of his own. "We would surrender and hand over that bastard Ramone for trial. It is no crime to 'overthrow' a madman."

"That is where you are wrong. No, 'Berto. At the very least, our success would embarrass the government. They would have to make an example of the ring leaders. I won't be party to getting you shot."

"All right. So much for the direct approach."

Absently, Diego took a bite food. "I hesitate to ask what you consider an indirect approach."

"Assassination."

Diego's mouth full of tortilla went down the wrong way at this. He grabbed his lemonade and used half the glass to wash it down. "Very funny," he said when he could finally speak. But Felipe could see in his eyes that he knew Gilberto wasn't kidding.

"Your heart medicine would make a very effective poison."

"Poison is notoriously sloppy," Diego answered. "Bad enough if you try and fail, but how will you live with yourself if you catch some innocent in your trap."

"Fair enough," Gilberto conceded. "A knife in the back is more precise. Or a sword from the front. I am not choosy."

Diego cursed softly and pushed his plate away. Worried, Felipe moved to stand beside him, but Diego waved him off. "No." he said. "Just no."

"Tell me you didn't see what I saw today. Tell me you think the pueblo will survive the week. Say it, and I'll believe you."

"I will not help you make it worse!"

"Then tell me what to do to make it better. You have something in mind. I know you--you always have something in mind. If anyone can figure out how everyone can survive the next week, it is you. So tell me what to do, little brother."

"I have nothing," Diego said flatly.

"If you don't have a plan, I'll use one of mine."

"I can't help you."

Gilberto paused, leaning slightly forward to look his brother in the eyes. "Why not, Diego?"

Diego looked away. "Because there is no guarantee that everyone will survive. It's--absurdly dangerous. And I can't do it myself and I can't ask you to take the risk, not you--"

Gilberto laughed. Both Diego and Felipe jumped at the sound. "If it's your plan, I guarantee--I guarantee--it is not a bad one. I'll take what you consider a risk any day."

Diego looked at his hands for a long time. He drained the rest of his lemonade. He rose and paced the room once. Through it all, Gilberto waited patiently.

Finally, Diego sat down. "You must attack Ramone through his weaknesses, and you must have a way to do it without giving him a target for reprisal."

"Aside from the obvious weakness of needing not to be dead?"

Diego smiled thinly. "That would not solve the second problem. The government could hardly overlook an assassination, even of a man who must be an embarrassment."

Gilberto conceded the point with a quirk of his lips. "Go on. What weaknesses present themselves?"

"He likes control. He likes keeping people helpless. He..." Diego glanced at Felipe and edited whatever he was about to say, "I suspect he likes causing or witnessing pain, although that won't be of use to us today. He is--possibly--even more vain than you are, which means embarrassing him will itself be a form of attack."

"You're so funny...."

"He seems quite urbane and controlled, but I suspect that is only on the surface. If we can break through that surface....I think it won't be too hard to push him into enough of a rage that his decisions...suffer."

"I see it, yes. And it would be easy to provoke him. And after I did that, he would shoot Father, me, and possibly you just for pique."

"Not if he has no idea who has defied him, taken away his control, and humiliated him."

Gilberto's head snapped back. "Dear God. Diego, that is--"

"Very, very dangerous."

"Brilliant. Incredible. Magnificent. My God."

"Dangerous."

"Well...yes. The soldiers."

Diego stared into the distance. "I've given some thought to that. Lancers fight fiercely against the enemy they understand, one who fights by the rules they've been taught to expect. Against the unknown, however," he shrugged. "I had a talk with that sergeant today. He gave me some ideas. We must disguise you not just to conceal your identity, but to conceal your nature. They must not know what they are fighting."

Searching their own wardrobes--and their father's and a trunk of old clothing in one of the guest rooms--the boys produced a complete set of clothing in unrelieved black. After a short disagreement on the best way to conceal Gilberto's face, Diego sacrificed a black satin dress that had been their mother's. Since both of the boys were hopeless with a needle and thread, however, it fell to Felipe to fashion the slick cloth into a mask.

By the time they'd finished it was full dark. Diego examined his brother in the lamplight then disappeared into his room. When he returned, he was carrying a sword.

"No," Gilberto said. "That is yours."

"And as you pointed out yesterday, I will get no use out of it. Fencing is more than my poor heart can manage. Gilberto, hush. There is not a sword to match it in all of California. You will need it."

It was a very plain sword. The guard was sleek and smooth, but unadorned. It was large, and it looked...heavy. Somberly, Gilberto unsheathed the weapon he'd been carrying and exchanged them.

The quarrel they didn't have over the sword they did have over how they would get Gilberto in and out of town. Diego wanted to sneak him in under the pretext of Diego making a visit to try to negotiate with the alcalde. Gilberto wouldn't hear of it. Diego must be nowhere near the pueblo. Absolutely not.

Felipe suggested that he take a hay cart into town. Nobody noticed a servant with a mule cart. Diego was initially against involving Felipe, and Gilberto was initially against leaving Diego alone in the house. He put his point baldly enough that Diego was momentarily distracted from his own objection.

Diego was so reasonable. "What do you think is going to happen to me in the house? A dozen of our men are sleeping in the bunkhouse a hundred feet away. Public disorder has not yet reached the point that people are rioting in the streets. You will be gone two hours at most. Do you think I'm going to wander off and get lost?"

"You might become ill."

"And if I do, being alone will make little difference. Will it?"

Gilberto's fists opened and closed in frustration, but he'd lost this one.

Diego said calmly, "The sky is clear and the moon is in the first quarter. If you reach town at moonrise, the light should be just enough for you to orient yourself without being clearly seen."

Felipe, of course, missed all the action. He drove slowly through the pueblo gates to let to let Gilberto--Zorro, there was no Gilberto de le Vega in town tonight--slip off the cart and went around to wait by the mission.

Less than a quarter hour passed before he heard shouting from the Cuartel. Felipe couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed surprised and scared. Slowly, lazily, Felipe roused the mule and looped past the livery stable and toward the rarely used North Road out of town. He made no motion when Gilberto hopped onto the wagon and burrowed into the hay. He let the mule plod until town was out of sight behind them, then turned onto a narrow track leading east.

In the darkness among the trees Felipe didn't dare drive the mule too fast, but the cover did mean that Gilberto could change back into his own clothing and join Felipe on the bench. In an excited whisper, Gilberto recounted how absurdly easy it had been to slip into the jail through a skylight and release the prisoners. Don Alejandro and Senorita Victoria had been held in cells, as befitting their status as important political prisoners, while the peasants who were being held for back taxes had been herded into a pen between the fort's armory and the kitchen. There had only been two men on guard, and one of those had been asleep. The prisoners had been halfway across the plaza before the alcalde himself had happened to step outside and discover the escape. They had fought--briefly. Zorro had ended the fight tidily by using Diego's wondrous sword to cleave the alcalde's blade at the hilt.

When they finally turned onto the main road, they were able to go a little faster...and, in any case, they were very close to home. Leaving the cart behind the barn, Felipe unhitched and corralled the mule while Gilberto made sure no sign of their activities had been left in the wagon. They hurried, but even so, as they were entering the house, Gilberto signed that he heard his father and Senorita Victoria coming up the road.

Diego was waiting in the library. There was no time to explain anything. Gilberto ran to the fireplace and shoved the bundle of clothing and weapons behind the hidden door, while Felipe signed that Don Alejandro was just behind them.

Pausing only to grin at Felipe, Diego stalked over to his brother and snatched several strands of hay out of his disarrayed brown hair. He was shoving the evidence into his pocket when the front door opened. He even managed to look convincingly shocked, when, a moment later he asked what his father and Senorita Victoria were doing here when they had been arrested.

Senorita Victoria looked practically giddy, even after the two-mile walk from town. She laughed and did a little dance. "Your father and I escaped from the jail. It was incredible."

"You escaped?" Gilberto repeated.

Diego sat down heavily. "But how did you. . .?"

Felipe had to turn away to hide his smile. He hadn't realized the boys had learned to dissemble so neatly. If he hadn't been there himself when they planned he rescue he would have been fooled by this act.

"A man in a mask came in and released us," Don Alejandro paused, his eyes flickering over his sons in turn. Perhaps he did suspect something. Or perhaps he was only concerned. After a moment he continued, "He was dressed in black with a long flowing cape. . ."

"And a whip. . ." added Victoria, smiling. "And a sword."

Diego and Gilberto shot each other concerned, dubious glances. "A masked man? Really?" Gilberto asked.

"It's true," Victoria answered, frowning at them. "How do you think we escaped?"

"It seems very odd...." Diego muttered.

"What about the Alcalde?" Gilberto asked "The soldiers?"

Don Alejandro laughed. "He overpowered them all singlehandedly. Never in my life have I seen the like."

Surely, Felipe was the only one who noticed that the twins were not refusing to look directly at one another. Diego said, "That is impressive. Who is he?"

"He said his name was. . ." Don Alejandro glanced at Senorita Victoria.

Senorita Victoria looked back and hesitated a moment before answering, "El Zorro."

Don Alejandro smiled wryly. "Zorro," he agreed.

"El Zorro? A fox?" Diego sat back and folded his arms over his chest. Felipe was sure he'd gone too far this time, but no. Their own father and a woman who had known them since they were all children, and they had no idea.

"Yes," said Victoria happily. "And like a fox, he disappeared into the night."

"The alcalde can't be pleased," Gilberto said. "There is bound to be trouble."

Don Alejandro snorted. "Right now, I'm not very concerned with that man's feelings."

But Senorita Victoria met Gilberto's eyes and nodded worriedly. "If only...If only we could find this man in black. This Zorro. Well, he could help us fight the Alcalde."

Diego, still not looking in Gilberto's direction, said, "I wouldn't count on that. I mean, men who run around in masks breaking into jails are probably not terribly reliable."

Senorita Victoria spun on him impatiently: "I wish you could have seen him. Then you'd know what a true hero looks like," she snapped.

Felipe thought he was the only one to notice that Diego looked as though he'd been slapped. Expression and color alike slowly drained from his face.

Don Alejandro had already moved onto other topics. "There will be a meeting of the caballeros tomorrow. This can't be allowed to continue. In the mean time, we'll stay out of the alcalde's way." He laid a hand on Senorita Victoria's arm. "You will stay here tonight. Felipe, run and fetch Maria. Victoria should be chaperoned. Gilberto, you'll come with us to the meeting tomorrow."

Gilberto slipped a sheet of paper from the table beside Diego, crumbled it, and tossed it into the fireplace. "I suppose this ends the argument about what to write the governor to protest your detention."

Diego roused himself to mutter, "I was winning."

Felipe slipped out then. Since Maria was out of the house till morning, he ran down to the servant's quarters to fetch one of the girls to come watch the senorita. When he returned a few minutes later, the library was empty. He found Diego in his room, slowly prying off his boots.

Felipe dropped to the floor and gently batted Diego's hands out of the way. "Are you dizzy?" he asked when he'd set the boots aside.

"No, I'm fine. It's been a very long day, but I am all right." He smiled wearily. "Really. Now you must tell me what happened. Tell me everything."

Crossing his legs on the floor, Felipe repeated the story he'd gotten from Gilberto. Diego's relief and satisfaction were almost palpable, and Felipe found himself flushing with pride at his own role in the rescue.

"What about the cart? Did you have any trouble? Were you noticed?"

Felipe shook his head. "No. Nothing. But the cart is too slow. If they had been able to mount a search right away...." He shook his head regretfully.

"No," Diego agreed. "To finish this, we will need a better solution. But that is a problem for tomorrow. Right now, there is only one more issue we must discuss. Why is there a bedroll under my armoire?"

Felipe raise his chin and pointed at the open space on the floor of Diego's sitting area. "It will be more comfortable than just a blanket," he signed.

For just a moment, anger showed in Diego's eyes. Then he cleared it and asked kindly, "How long are you planning to sleep on my floor, my friend?"

Slowly, broadly, Felipe answered, "Your father has given me to you. I have no other work. Nothing else matters. Only you."

"You'll do better work if you can sleep at night," Diego said gently.

"I will not leave you."

"I'm not asking you to abandon me in the desert. I'm asking you to go sleep in your bed."

"In my room...If you called for me, I would not hear you. It's too far."

Diego dropped his head, and for a minute Felipe assumed he was marshalling his arguments or reining in his temper. Then he saw the glitter of a tear as it dropped into Diego's lap. At once Felipe grabbed Diego's arm in contrition. "Don't be upset," he begged. "I'll do anything you want. I'll sleep out in the hall--"

Diego caught his hands and stilled them. "I'm not upset. I'm only....You were such a little child when I left," he paused to scrub at his eyes with the back of one hand. "Never mind. Sleep wherever you wish. I think you'll soon grow tired of nursing me...."

Felipe stood up and wrapped his arms around Diego's wide shoulders. When he felt the tension ease, he went to the wardrobe to get Diego's night shirt.

tbc