Feb 13, 1815
Alejandro
Diego was convinced that Vargas was an innocent patsy the alcalde was using to conceal his own fraud and embezzlement. He might well be right. It made a certain amount of sense. Under the circumstances, Don Alejandro would much rather have kept Diego out of the entire affair, but as Diego pointed out he was already involved. And poor Vargas, if he was only a victim, deserved help from an advocate who actually believed he was innocent.
Still, even Diego's earnest help might not be enough. The magistrate had finally arrived, and it was not (as they'd hoped) Bernardo de la Paz. It was Victor Coloma, who was rumored to be closed-minded when it came to evidence and open-minded when it came to bribes.
Diego had fretted over this all day on Saturday, after word came that he had arrived. "You know the alcalde will pay him off. There is no point in pretending," he growled.
"So you are giving up?" Alejandro asked.
"No! I…am thinking of making a counter-bribe."
"I hope you are telling me this because you expect me to talk you out of it. Two wrongs don't make a right. Subverting the law - "
"Father, if this man dies, it will be my fault!"
Alejandro folded his arms. "You are not responsible for someone else's crime."
"I am responsible if I fail to stop him!" He sagged sadly against the back of the chair. "Father, this opportunity….I am so close. If I can get the bank clerk to make a mistake on the witness stand….I could take down the alcalde, too. I'm sure of it. If there is any justice at all – but Coloma -"
"So which is your priority? Saving Vargus? Or seeing our alcalde face justice?"
Diego closed his eyes. "This opportunity….But, no, you're right. The priority is to get Vargas out of this alive. The rest of it can wait….there must be some way. Some other way. Ramone will make another mistake. Sooner or later." Diego had gotten quiet after that.
As bad as the situation was, it actually got worse on Sunday morning. When they got to town everyone was abuzz with the news that the bank clerk, Marco Seva, had died in the night. His landlady had found him when he didn't appear for the wagon ride in for church. According to the doctor, his heart had failed. The poor man had been terribly shaken by the robbery, and he was hardly young or robust….
Diego had paced the library all Sunday afternoon, growling at everyone who approached him. Alejandro indulged it until suppertime. "Diego, you must eat."
"The alcalde surely killed him," he answered distractedly, staring at the tip of his quill. The ink had dried.
"Even if you're right about the conspiracy between them, it might have been the terrible strain of the lie that killed him. The poor man had to have believed that the 'bankrobber' would never be actually caught and tried. I can't imagine how he felt, knowing he was actually having to bear false witness tomorrow."
"Father, I can name six compounds that could cause the death the doctor described. I've taken two of them. His death is too convenient to be anything but murder."
"All right. As you say," Alejandro sighed. "If you are right about the conspiracy, you are probably right about the murder. Do you have any proof?"
"Father, you know I haven't!"
"Then stop fretting over it and focus on what you must do tomorrow. And get something to eat. Hungry men don't think clearly."
"Dinner? This is serious!"
Alejandro knew it was, but he didn't try to argue with Diego. He just gave him a hard look until he slammed down the pen and came to dinner with bad grace.
Diego hadn't asked for advice, which was just as well. What could he say? As proud as Alejandro was of the character his son was showing – both the risks he had taken originally and his willingness to accept responsibility for the consequences – he could offer no solution to the current problem. Worse, he couldn't help fretting a little about Diego's stamina…and dreading quite a lot the toll a failure here might take on his health. How could he weigh the value of a principle against the life of his son? If Diego did ask for his opinion, Alejandro might well encourage him to give up or somehow cheat. Diego would never forgive him for that.
The next morning Diego came to breakfast in his best suit. He was on time and ate diligently, while flipping through some kind of ledger. He was calm and resolved, and Alejandro found that reassuring. He did not, this once, criticize him for reading at the table.
Gilberto, on the other hand, had huge circles under his eyes. He picked at his food. When Alejandro asked if he was all right, he smiled oddly and said, "I feel as though I have hardly slept in three days. I think Diego's trial is giving me nightmares."
With Gilberto half asleep and Diego's mind elsewhere the only conversation at breakfast was with Felipe, and since the boy couldn't easily talk while holding a fork, not much was said by anyone.
It was still early, but they went in to town anyway. There was already a small crowd gathering in the plaza: a trial was always entertainment, and this time many people had an interest in the outcome because of the money in the bank.
In the tavern, the tables had been cleared aside and all the chairs and benches had been set in orderly rows so that the magistrate could preside over a small court. Tables had been set near the front for the judge, the prosecutor, and the defense. It made a passable showing of being 'official' despite being makeshift and frontier.
After helping Diego carry in his bundle of books and documents, Alejandro took Felipe and went to finds seats. He intended to sit at the back, since that would give him a better view of the onlookers, but he bumped into Don Emilio, who greeted him very politely and invited him to sit down. There was no civil way to refuse, so Alejandro found himself sitting nearly at the front and next to Emilio Pascal. In a cheerful mood, the young man complained absently about the lack of little luxuries these days. This was a considerable improvement on his usual conversation, which often centered on malicious gossip about the neighbors or complaints about the laziness and ineptitude of peons. Alejandro managed to nod politely. His mind was on Diego.
Gilberto, coming in, shot him an amused glance and walked casually around to sit on the other side of Felipe. Surely Alejandro only imagined that he was gloating at having two people between himself and Don Emilio.
Nestor Vargas entered. He sat down directly behind Diego. Alejandro dismissed the tiny stab of anxiety that accompanied the sight of the implicit menace. Like everyone else in town, he had heard the rumors about Vargas' threats if his brother was convicted.
The brother himself was coming in now. Enrique Vargas was accompanied by two lancers who stood very straight and wore very clean uniforms. Diego rose smoothly and turned to greet his client. He was smiling with such casual confidence that Alejandro almost had to wonder if this was a completely different person then he had been living with for the last several days. When had Diego become such a marvelous actor?
Mendoza, when he entered, was much less composed, but he always seemed a bit anxious on court days. He was a soldier, not a law man at heart. He never enjoyed criminal proceedings. At least that was one advantage Diego had. Alejandro was fairly sure Diego wouldn't let his friendship with the sergeant prevent him from exploiting that small edge.
Beside him, Don Emilio took out his pocket watch and scowled. "They should be getting started by now. No disrespect to Diego's little diversion playing at advocate, but I hope they find him guilty quickly and execute him today. I'm supposed to get married tomorrow. Amanda will be furious if we have to have a ghastly corpse in the plaza ruining everything."
For just a moment, Alejandro could not even think what to say – and then he spent the next moment stopping himself from saying the words that came to mind. Now was not the time to point out publically what a disgrace to humanity in general Emilio Pascal was. "In that case, perhaps you should hope for acquittal," he suggested.
That earned him a scowl. "Zorro may be a blight on the territory, but he does catch bandits," he answered sourly.
The minutes dragged on. The seats were all full now, and half the town seemed to be packed in at the back of the room. Mendoza was shuffling earnestly though a very small book. Diego, his head bent toward the smaller man, was conversing calmly with his client.
The alcalde came in and gave a very long speech about the rule of law and the social contract. He said all the right words, and his delivery was earnest and charming. He spoke with an amazing amount of passion for a man whom everyone knew was lying. Alejandro folded his arms and schooled his expression to patience.
Finally, nearly half an hour late, the magistrate appeared in the doorway. Coloma paused for a long time to look over the room. As the gathered citizens came to their feet he almost seemed to sway backwards. Then he stalked to the center table and motioned everyone to sit. For a moment he scanned the crowded room before sitting down himself and calling the assembly to order in the name of the king.
Alejandro thought Coloma might be sweating. He was a thin man, older than the alcalde and not quite as handsome. After a long silence, he ordered Mendoza to present the charges. It didn't take long.
"And how does the defendant plead?"
Diego rose smoothly. "Not guilty."
"Very well. We shall proceed with - "
There was a crash from the kitchen, the sort of sound made by a large metal pot falling. Everyone jumped, but Coloma leapt to his feet so quickly he knocked his chair over. He looked around frantically and then froze. Someone in the back giggled nervously.
Coloma pounded the gavel angrily. "I call a ten minute recess. Perhaps in that time you can manage to collect the proper respect for a court of law."
He vanished out the door in a very undignified hurry.
In the silence that followed, Mendoza said helplessly, "But we had only just started…."
The crowd shuffled and then began to talk quietly together. Don Emilio wondered lazily if Coloma had eaten something that disagreed with him. Victoria left her seat at the back of the room and went to check on the kitchen. Diego rose slowly, patted Vargas on the shoulder, and came down the aisle signing too rapidly to follow.
Alejandro expected Felipe to jump to his feet on some errand, but it was Gilberto who answered with a signed proclamation of his own innocence and harmlessness.
Diego was looming over his brother now. "There is help," he ground out softly, "and help I don't need."
"What did he do?" Alejandro asked mystified.
"Nothing, Father," Gilberto whispered, hopping to his feet and drawing Diego smoothly to the door and onto the porch.
Alejandro looked after them for a moment and turned to Felipe. "What was that about?"
Felipe shrugged with far too much bewilderment for it to be genuine. Damn it. "Tell me Gilberto is not deliberately provoking his brother!" Not now, surely. Not with Diego under so much pressure and a man's life at stake.
Felipe shook his head vigorously. Alejandro would have pursued it, but Diego came stalking back in. He didn't look around but returned to his place at the table. Gilberto just smiled affably as he resumed his seat.
It was slightly more than ten minutes before the judge came back. He resumed the trial and asked Mendoza and Diego to give general statements before moving on to the evidence.
The prosecution didn't have very much. Mendoza submitted an accounting sheet showing how much money was missing and a description of the events given by the poor, deceased bank clerk.
Diego objected at the irregularity of not having the witness present to testify to the incident or identify the alleged perpetrator. Mendoza, looking horrified, said "But, Don Diego, he has died," as though Diego had somehow forgotten, and Coloma immediately pronounced, "Quite right. Under the circumstances, the evidence will stand!" but almost at once his vehemence vanished and he glanced around nervously.
Diego filled the rest of the morning with testimony from three lancers who had been on duty that morning in the plaza. Patiently, he had each recount the day. One had noticed the stranger Vargas near the bank, but none had seen him coming out carrying a huge bag of stolen gold. It was, Alejandro thought, rather dull.
Diego
For the noon break, Diego retreated to the Guardian office. Felipe brought him a lunch tray and hovered for several minutes, suggesting things Diego might need. More soup? More water? Was there anyone he needed to see? Could Felipe carry a message?
It seemed to take forever to convince Felipe that he could safely leave Diego by himself, but he needed a little time alone to think.
The morning had gone more or less as Diego had expected – notwithstanding the magistrate's incongruous nervousness. Gilberto –
Gilberto, he reminded himself, had been invaluable these last few days. He had gone out every night, patiently listening at windows and watching the movements of the alcalde. He had searched the bank clerk's old room and the bank itself as well as the alcalde's private estate, his office, and his rooms in the cuertel. He had been tireless and diligent and he had managed to produce enough evidence to at least cast doubt on Vargas' guilt. It was not his fault that he hadn't found more….
As it was, he'd done more than Diego would have liked. Zorro had also paid a visit to the judge last night. Gilberto had promised, during his brief confession on the porch, that he had not done anything illegal or immoral. Diego, sitting close enough to Coloma to be sure that the man was terrified, was not so sure. And he did not know what he would do if Gilberto had, in fact, crossed a line…
Perhaps – perhaps – it was only Nestor Vargas that frightened Coloma. He certainly had the alcalde nervous. But Coloma scarcely looked at Vargas. He was too busy searching the room for some invisible threat….
Diego looked unhappily at his lunch and forced himself to take another bite of bread. Court would resume after siesta. There was so little time –
The door opened and shut again. With a little click, Gilberto pushed home the bolt. "You have so little faith in me, little brother."
"Coloma was terrified this morning. Yesterday at church he was - he was - "
"I think 'smug' is the word you are looking for." He took a long swallow of lemonade from Diego's untouched glass. "If he is terrified now, it is only because his conscience is bothering him."
"He doesn't have a reputation for having one," Diego protested. "Whatever little talk you had - "
Gilberto sat down, eying Diego sternly. "Zorro only told him that if the verdict he reached wasn't justified by the evidence presented, he would kill him very slowly."
"You didn't!"
"Don't look so horrified. He has nothing to worry about as long as he acts reasonably."
"We might as well have bribed him," Diego hissed.
Gilberto drew himself up indignantly. "Hardly. You still have to win the case. Unless he has already been bribed to subvert justice, he has nothing to fear." He selected a bit of chicken from Diego's plate, wrapped it in a chunk of bread and handed it to him. "Eat this. And stop being scandalized. I was very reasonable. He understands that if the defense can't make a case he is free to rule appropriately. I only ensured he would do his job honestly. You can't complain about that."
Diego already had, and it hadn't gotten him anywhere. He forced himself to take a bite of the food.
Gilberto handed him the lemonade. "So? Can you establish his innocence?"
"Maybe," he hedged.
"The ledger - "
"Oh, yes. The ledger establishes that the money was embezzledfrom the bank by someone. And the alcalde would be the obvious choice. But I don't have the evidence to implicate him directly. If we can't prove charges against him….I think one way or another he will see that this crime is laid on Enrique, and he will close the issue with an execution. He will do anything to keep himself safe."
Gilberto slumped slightly. "I hoped we had him this time. Are you sure - "
Diego stood up. "Father asked what my priority was. It has to be saving Enrique. He is completely innocent - "
"I know that," Gilberto said angrily. "I know. I'm sorry that I went racing out like a
- "
Diego slapped a hand over his brother's mouth. Even in the newspaper office behind thick adobe walls, he couldn't be yelling apologies for Zorro's mistakes.
"What will you do?" Gilberto whispered when Diego moved back.
Diego thought of the beautiful ledger Zorro had found in his nightly forays. All that lost sleep had produced a treasure at last: proof of twelve thousand pesos teased away from the bank a little at a time. It was enough money to cover the construction of the new aqueduct, an expense the alcalde had been feeling very sharply since Diego had caught him cutting corners and embezzling money from that….
There was no doubt in Diego's mind that Luis Ramone had been behind it, but he could not prove it.
Sadly, Diego sat down. "I'll lay the blame on the bank clerk, Seva. It isn't fair: he only had a minor part in the theft and framing Enrique, and he's surely already been punished enough. But if the alcalde isn't implicated he'll have no reason to scapegoat Enrique, and with Nestor in town and the judge cowed by Zorro, that may be enough. I hope it is enough."
Gilberto nodded unhappily.
"I'm sorry." Diego said, "If I could do better -"
"No, you're right. This is the best we can hope for. And if this strategy doesn't work…." He sighed. There was always Zorro. Enrique would not enjoy spending his life on the run from the law, but it was better than not being alive at all. "I suppose we better quarrel."
"What, so you can disappear? Father will be furious."
"Even better. He won't wonder why he can't find me if I'm avoiding him. Are you ready?" He rose and laid his hand on the bolt.
"Wait. What are we arguing about?"
"The case of course. I'm telling you how to do your job." He flung the door open behind him and shouted, "Pardon me for not letting you fall flat on your face!"
Diego stood up. "Don't flatter yourself. The day I need your advice on an intellectual matter will come long after the world has ended."
Gilberto rolled his eyes at that, and really, it had been absurdly weak. Diego signed a tiny apology with his left hand: he wasn't used to having to think about arguing with Gilberto. It felt terribly artificial.
"Your arrogance will embarrass the entire family. You're in over your head this time, Diego."
"As though you've been paying enough attention to even notice! You were this lazy at school -"
Gilberto winked his approval, shouted, "Pardon me if I don't stay to watch you humiliate yourself!" and slammed the door.
Feeling oddly reassured, Diego sat down and finished his lunch.
Felipe
Even though many people had packed a picnic lunch, it was still too crowded to eat at the tavern. Luckily, he could slip away from the important people who were being served inside. After taking Diego his tray, Felipe joined the vaqueros and small farmers and bought a quick lunch at the table that had been set up beside the tavern porch. The food was pretty good: a tortilla packed with beans and rice, a hunk of cheese, a couple of apples and a bread thing stuffed with cabbage, all wrapped neatly in a napkin. The bread and cabbage thing was probably Russian. Victoria must have hired Senora Neilson to help with the crowd for the trial. The table was nearly sold out by the time he got there. Victoria always made money when court was in session.
He took his lunch over to the fountain and sat on the edge to eat. He had a good view of everything from there. Town was churning with people, even busier than on market day. In the shade of the church someone was playing the guitar while a dozen picnickers looked on. On the other side of the plaza some young men were lining up, taking turns wrestling each other. A band of children ran past the fountain, chasing after a hoop and yelling at a volume Felipe found astonishing.
Amid the crowd he almost didn't notice Gilberto standing in the doorway of the newspaper office having a huge fight with Diego. Felipe couldn't tell what the yelling was about, but people were turning to look. When Gilberto slammed the door and turned away he was red in the face –
Outraged, Felipe leapt to his feet and darted forward to intercept Gilberto. How could he, today, pick a fight with Diego? Felipe snatched at his arm. Without meeting his eyes, Gilberto brushed him aside and continued on his way.
Stumbling, Felipe gazed at Gilberto's retreating back in shock. For just a moment the betrayal was so sharp that he couldn't draw breath. How could he - ?
And then he felt like a complete fool. Of course Gilberto couldn't. He hadn't. This was some game the twins were playing. Sighing, Felipe went back to the fountain and cleaned up the remains of his lunch. Then he went to the newspaper office.
Diego glanced up from the ledger open in front of him. "Has something happened?"
"Gilberto is a jerk," Felipe answered, toeing the door shut.
"Oh. Not too awful, I hope?"
Felipe shrugged. "Convincing."
Diego looked up and gave him a hard look. "I'm sorry. Whatever he said to you, he didn't mean it."
Felipe didn't admit how long it had taken him to figure that out. Instead, he asked, "What are we concealing?"
"If I cannot get Enrique acquitted, Zorro will have to rescue him. Hopefully before Nestor kills anyone."
Felipe patted him on the shoulder. Diego smiled faintly.
Felipe checked to see how much of the lunch was eaten.
"Yes, I am taking care of myself. Hmmm. Perhaps it is just as well you came in. You can deliver this for me." He handed Felipe a folded note. It was addressed to Dr. Hernandez. At Felipe's inquiring look he sighed. "I will not need his testimony. Well, there is no point in establishing that the clerk could have been murdered unless I can produce a betraying coconspirator who had motive to do it. It would serve as a distraction." He sighed again. "Go on. I have more work to do here."
"You should rest."
"Tonight. I promise. This will all be over soon."
The first thing Diego did after the magistrate reconvened the trial was bring in Old Juan and Tomas. They were pushing a small wheelbarrow and escorted by two armed lancers. "Your honor, I respectfully submit an exhibit of twelve thousand pesos in gold." He motioned Juan to open the neck of the sack in the wheelbarrow and then stand back so everyone could see. The crowd leaned forward, craning to see around one another.
The magistrate gaped for a moment. "Then…this is the stolen money? The thief told you where it was hidden?"
Diego shook his head. "This is a demonstration. Five thousand comes from my father's safe, another three from Don Roberto Segovia, and the rest I borrowed from various neighbors." He held up a sheet of paper. "I have an accounting here, but perhaps…" he turned toward Sargent Mendoza, "If you wanted to dispute the actual amount, we can have it officially counted….?"
The sergeant gaped and glanced around for the alcalde. "Um. That is, no, Don Diego. You are very honest. I mean, if you say that that is twelve thousand pesos then I, ah -"
"Very well," the magistrate cut in. "The court accepts that as twelve thousand pesos…and not the pesos that were stolen from the bank." He smiled slyly. "What is the purpose of this…exhibit?"
"Sargent, would you give the exhibit to His Honor for the court's inspection?"
"Oh, certainly, Don Diego," he said agreeably and bent down to take the bag. It didn't move. After two tries he signaled to one of the waiting lancers to help him. Straining, they lifted the bag, but could not heft it up onto the table. The other lancer rushed forward and between the three of them they set the bag in place. The table creaked ominously.
The magistrate blinked at the sack and swallowed hard.
Diego stood up and motioned his client to stand beside him. "This man, who is nearly half the size of the sergeant, is supposed to have carried such a sack all by himself."
In the crowd someone tittered. The magistrate demanded silence.
Diego continued. "And on the same topic, there is something that has been bothering me about this case. As a man who also has distinct physical limitations and a much stronger brother, I cannot imagine why Enrique Vargas would rob a bank alone." He turned and smiled sweetly at the giant. "Nestor? Would you mind?"
Silently, the giant plucked the bag of gold from the table and placed it back in the wheelbarrow. The room was very quiet, but whether it was respect for the huge man or the absurd amount of money, Felipe couldn't have said.
After a long moment, the magistrate said, "This is very dramatic, Senor de le Vega, but it proves nothing."
Diego shook his head. "In fact, it proves that he could not have robbed the bank. It proves that the statement left by the clerk - the entire case against Enrique Vargas - could not be true."
Mendoza turned to him with earnest outrage. "But Don Diego, Zorro caught him fleeing from the scene of the crime!"
"On the contrary. The crime took place a long time before last Wednesday. For my next witness, I would like to call Luis Ramone to the stand."
The magistrate scowled. "He wasn't a witness. He was eating in the tavern when the robbery occurred."
"Is there some limitation on the witnesses I am free to call?" Diego asked sweetly.
The magistrate opened his mouth and closed it again. "Luis Ramone, Alcalde of Los Angeles is called as the next witness."
As soon as the alcalde was seated before the judge, Diego placed a book in his hands. "Where did you get this?" the alcalde demanded.
"A concerned citizen left it on my doorstep. Do you recognize it?"
"I…yes. It belongs to the bank."
"You are the managing director of the Bank of Los Angeles?"
"Yes." And then, "Zorro must have stolen that." And then, "It is just the most recent daily account book. It has no bearing on the case."
"The daily account book," Diego repeated. "You mean, it keeps track of the money that goes in…and goes out."
"Yes."
"And as the managing director of the bank, you would have looked at this book once or twice a week for the last two years?"
"That one only goes back about nine months, I think. But yes, that book or the one preceding it."
"So you are very familiar with that ledger, and you have never before seen this one?" Diego produced another book from the stack on his table and laid it in the alcalde's hands.
There was a moment of silence. The alcalde opened the cover and turned a few of the pages. "No," he said carefully. "I have never seen this before."
Diego smiled. "But it is also a ledger of the Bank of Los Angeles."
"I have never seen it before," louder, more firmly this time.
"No. Of course you haven't. This second ledger was kept was kept by the clerk. It documents a shocking embezzlement of money from the bank over the last three months."
Another long pause. "I would have to examine it to be sure."
"But I assume you could tell us right now if you recognized the hand the records were kept in? And if you can't, I'm certain his landlady, Senora Ortiz, could?"
"No, I…recognize the hand. It's Marco's, I can confirm that, at least. As for the rest, I would have to examine the ledger in detail…."
Gently, Diego lifted it from his hand and laid it on the table before the magistrate. "The defense has no other evidence," he said. "Enrique Vargas did not rob the bank. Marco Seva did. He embezzled from the bank and then, to cover his crime, he framed the first convenient stranger to enter the bank alone."
There was a long silence. The magistrate lifted the book carefully. "I will have to take this under consideration. We will adjourn until tomorrow morning."
The magistrate banged his gavel. He rose. He swept out.
Inside the tavern, the crowd was silent for a long moment. Diego, smooth and unruffled, turned to have a word with first Enrique Vargas and then with Mendoza. Slowly, as the shock wore off, other people began to speak. Very quickly the whispers became an uncomfortable roar that Felipe could not follow at all. Wincing he followed Don Alejandro to collect Diego and carry all his books and papers out to the carriage.
"Where can your brother have gotten to? I don't see his horse."
Diego sank back against the seat and sighed. "I expect he went home."
"Did he?" Don Alejandro paused. "Carlos says the two of you were…quarreling?"
"If you can call it that," Diego smiled thinly. "I picked a fight with him. I felt much better afterwards."
"Diego….Your impulse to protect him is commendable. But…you cannot protect him from the consequences of his behavior forever, and giving you grief today, when so much depended on you…." He scowled.
"He didn't antagonize me. It was the other way around. I promise you, Father. Gilberto has done nothing wrong." He sat forward and rested a hand on his father's arm. "Please. He has been more help to me today than you can imagine."
Clearly unconvinced, Don Alejandro opened his mouth to argue – and then closed it firmly. "As you say." He was humoring Diego, not agreeing with him.
Diego sighed and glanced around, but the carriage was already past the town gate. Very slowly and clearly, Diego signed, "It was not the fox who stole the books. It was Gilberto."
The astonishment dawned slowly, as Don Alejandro parsed the statement at least twice. "Never!" he said.
Diego nodded and leaned back again. "If you scold him for this, he will know I tattled on him."
"Scold him? It was magnificent!" He struggled to keep his voice low. "The thought freezes my blood, of course, but – dear God, Gilberto! Hmmm. Do you know, I am not nearly as surprised as I ought to be. But…why didn't he tell me?"
Tiredly, Diego pushed his hair off his forehead. "It would put you in an awkward position if you knew. Does put you in an awkward position." He stopped. "Papa, he doesn't want your approval for doing something stupid and desperate. And illegal. Gilberto is Gilberto: difficult and annoying and vain. A grand gesture like this doesn't change that." Diego, apparently just then noticing what he had said, abruptly shut his mouth and turned to look at the meadow they were passing by.
"I love your brother very much, Diego," Don Alejandro said softly.
Diego nodded. "Of course."
For a moment it seemed as though Don Alejandro would say something else, but he suddenly turned to look at the meadow on the other side of the carriage. Felipe decided to pretend that he hadn't heard this conversation at all.
At home, Diego retreated wearily to his room and left his father to supervise Felipe and Juan in returning the demonstration money to the neighbors who came by to collect. There was a great deal of it, and with so much wealth to get safely home no one stayed to socialize.
When the last of the neighbors had gone Don Alejandro shoed Felipe off so he could have a few moments to lock his own money away. He went check on Diego, who had fallen asleep with his shoes on and an unfinished letter still in his hand. Sighing, Felipe roused him enough to remove the shoes and jacket at least.
Two hours later, at suppertime, Diego was still sleeping. Standing in the doorway where they could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, Felipe and Don Alejandro glanced at each other a bit helplessly. Diego was tired, but it was nothing to worry about, surely. He was lying flat and he wasn't very pale. If he needed to rest, well, it was hardly a surprise…..
Felipe and Don Alejandro had dinner alone. Gilberto still hadn't come home. He hadn't left word with anyone, but after his public quarrel with Diego, his absence was not a mystery. Don Alejandro pointedly did not mention it.
Felipe could imagine Zorro watching over the roads as caballeros took their money home. Yes, and after that, he would slip into town to keep an eye on the alcalde and Coloma. He would be busy, and hungry when he got home. Felipe would have to make sure he got some kind of dinner.
Felipe was so distracted with that line of thought that he spotted the tablecloth with a fat drop of gravy. Fortunately, Don Alejandro was distracted enough himself that he didn't notice.
After supper, Felipe did school work by lamplight in the library until Don Alejandro retired. Maria had already gone off to bed by then, so Felipe put away the geometry book and fixed a tray of snacks for Diego. Actually, it was unlikely that Diego would wake or that he would be hungry if he did, but the tray gave him an opportunity to put aside some dinner for Gilberto.
It was well after midnight before he heard hoof beats in the passage. Felipe roused from his doze and turned up the lamp. Toronado was spattered with mud and flecked with lather. Felipe took his head while Zorro dismounted.
"How is he?"
Felipe shrugged.
"Was he ill?"
Felipe shook his head and began to unsaddle Toronado.
"That's something, at least." Zorro stripped off his hat and mask, suddenly only Gilberto again, sweaty and tired and frowning.
Felipe set down the saddle and paused to ask, "What has happened?"
"Who knows? Oh." He saw the cup of wine and bread and cold beans Felipe had laid out for him. "Thank you." He sighed and took a long swallow from the cup. "I don't know where we stand. The alcalde and the judge both ate in the tavern, very proper, very public. And then Ramone went back to his rooms in the curatel and Coloma went upstairs. If they conspired, they were subtle enough to manage it in a room full of people."
"He has to let Vargas go, doesn't he?" Didn't he?
Gilberto sighed again and finished draining the cup. "He should let Vargas go. I assume the alcalde won't push the point, since he hasn't been implicated….But I can't assume it will go as we expect…."
"What are we going to do?"
Gilberto narrowed his eyes. "What you will do, whatever happens, is stay out of the way." He lifted a finger as Felipe moved to protest. "No. Listen. If the verdict comes back guilty, there will be a riot."
The curry comb slid out of Felipe's hand and clattered on the cave floor. Toronado shied slightly at the noise, and Felipe caught his bridle and stroked his nose while glaring at Gilberto.
"I slipped into the kitchen and had a word with Victoria. The sense around town is that Vargas must be acquitted. They won't accept a guilty verdict."
"A riot? But he is a stranger. And not very likable."
Gilberto snorted. "Diego is very likable. And not a stranger. And, frankly, people are tired of the alcalde and his little games with taxes…his contempt for the farmers…the public disciplines…. One more obvious miscarriage of injustice in Los Angeles will just be too much."
Felipe leaned down and picked up the curry comb. He came over and set it on the table beside Gilberto and said, "A riot is a bad thing."
"Felipe, if the magistrate rules against Diego…we will have to save Vargas." He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "This was the best we could come up with."
Felipe thought about that. He swallowed. "What can I do?"
"You? Stay out of the way. No - stay next to Diego. If Vargas is found guilty, get him out through Victoria's kitchen. Right away, you understand. The trial itself was bad enough, I don't want him caught in a mass of people."
"He won't leave Vargus," Felipe protested.
"Hmpf. Of course he will. Nestor will look after Enrique. They will be fine. A man who owes Zorro a favor will be waiting with horses at the edge of town if they need to make an escape. It was not the end we were hoping for but…." He shrugged. "Your part, your only part, is to get Diego out of the way."
Felipe picked up the comb and turned back to Toronado.
"You haven't agreed."
For a moment, he hesitated, hunching his shoulders. He didn't think he was so young or so useless that the best he could do was run and hide when things were dire. "I can help," he protested, half turning.
"Help? Felipe, I am asking you to protect Diego. I can't ask anyone else."
Glumly, Felipe nodded.
"Your promise. Both of you out of the way."
Felipe turned around, rolled his eyes, and firmly signed "Promise."
~tbc