XIV. A single sparrow
In this chapter the commandante and the Fox get into trouble. Together.
The licenciado makes a career.
Enrique inhaled deeply the cool, night breeze. The few droplets of warm rain soaked his shirt and his new woolen trousers, but he didn't mind. He was seventeen again, it was spring in Spain and Cristina was keeping his hand, as she was leading him through the narrow paths and hidden passages of her parents' garden.
She was his first youthful love and losing her was one of the greatest pains of his adolescence. However, many years passed and now he felt no sorrow, only enjoyed once more the view of her fair face and laughing eyes, when they were sneaking thought the moonlit garden.
"Come quickly," she whispered. "We must return before your father starts to look for you."
"He won't," replied Enrique. "He never cares where I am."
Nevertheless, they neared to the house, full of lights, music and people as there was a reception taking place. But it wasn't Cristina's house, it was a Californian hacienda. Enrique could recognize the guests – the haciendados from Los Angeles with their families. They stood at the yard chatting, drinking, some of them dancing. And on the external staircase, leaning over the balustrade, stood Diego de la Vega with his smile of Sphinx.
"Shoot him," said Cristina, and when Monastario looked at her it was not Cristina any more, only Anna Peréz, and this time his heart clenched painfully.
He was again in his uniform, with the pistol in the scabbard by his belt, so he took it, aimed carefully – his soul swelling with delight – and shot. His victim fell on the stairs and laid there motionless. Yet when Monastario looked at Anna again, she was no longer by his side. Suddenly she was kneeling over de la Vega's body, sobbing and caressing his face.
"It is good you chose the pistol. You could never match him in swordplay," stated obliviously Monastario's father, stepping forth from the darkness with his inseparable cigar in hand.
The commandante woke up abruptly, grasping the air and tossing away the covers that seemed to strangle him. The rapid gesture tossed the bottle standing on his night table, so that it rolled under the wall with loud clatter.
"Capitán? What happened?" asked anxious voice behind the door.
For a moment he sat on his bed, panting heavily, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. After regaining more or less his composure, he replied weakly:
"Nothing."
His legs wobbly, he walked to the doors and opened them. "Garcia? What are you doing here?"
"It is my watch," replied the sergeant. "Did you have a nightmare, Capitán?"
"Yes… No…" Monastario rubbed his temple. "It is nothing. Have someone change you at the watch and go to sleep. It is going to be a hell of a day tomorrow."
When he put himself to bed again, the images from his dream slowly merged with the problems of his reality. At the verge of falling asleep again, but already conscious of what he would have to cope with on the next day, he muttered to the pillow:
"I do not like this Varga, because he reminds me too much of my father."
And somehow, the decision, what he would do, was taken.
Once relieved from the burden of doubts, Monastario suddenly felt awaken and full of energy. He stood up and reached for his uniform. There were some things he had to take care about.
"Garcia!" he yelled into the yard. "Come here at once!" And when the fat sergeant emerged from the barracks in some not-so-white underwear, the capitán scolded him:
"Put your uniform on! It is almost morning. And come to my office, I want to pass you orders."
When the sergeant reappeared again, as smartened as Garcia could be at the breaking of the dawn, Monastario started impatiently.
"Sergeant, the administrado ordered me to visit him at the morning and I cannot avoid this meeting without declaring open conflict. He seemed to have taken a reconciliatory attitude, so I do not foresee any problems. However, just in case, we must discuss the steps you would take, providing that he tries to jail me."
Garcia looked at him unsurely, shifting the weight from one foot to another.
"Ugh… but capitán…" he mumbled, looking at the floor with such concentration, as if he saw there something fascinating, "of course you have been the great commandante in the last year… and you became much nicer the last days… but it is hardly a reason enough for mutiny…" Having said that, he cast a timid glance toward the capitán and quickly stepped back.
Monastario furrowed his eyebrows.
"What? Babosó, don't you understand!... Ah, but you don't indeed," he silenced, struck by the realization that Garcia managed to remain in blissful unawareness of the Eagle's noose tightening around them. Just as the rest of the pueblo, he thought that Monastario was to be removed from his position and trialed for his irregularities.
That fat idiot! Monastario bridled, yet in his irritation was also a shadow of guilt. Perhaps I should have talked with him earlier… Things being as they are, this mumbling elephant is now the closest aid I could count on.
"I am sorry, Sergeant. Let's start from the beginning," the capitán continued much calmer. "José Varga is not who he pretends to be. I am not certain, if he was really nominated as the administrator, or whether he only claims so. What I do know for sure is that he is the head of a secret conspiracy, with evil agenda for Los Angeles and beyond. His men are guilty of many crimes – extortions, murders. They are behind the death of our lancer and behind the attempt on the life of Alejandro de la Vega, you heard about… Sergeant, I know this is disturbing news, but are you following me?..." Monastario asked impatiently, seeing that during his speech Garcia stared at him with his mouth agape and eyes round like saucers.
"But… Capitán, did you really say 'I am sorry'? As if you were apologizing? Apologizing to me?" he stuttered.
Monastario sat behind his desk, burying his face in hand for a moment. Whatever neglects he was guilty of, now it was the time to pay for them. He took deep breath.
"All right, Sergeant. Let's start from the beginning again."
"Diego de la Vega is Zorro."
Once Licenciado Pina took his decision and said aloud the real name of the Fox, for a moment he felt relief, that the burden of hesitations finally disappeared. Within the blink of an eye, however, the burden returned, this time in the form of remorse. He had just sent an outstanding man to death from the hands of this cruel monster… Pina tried to recall the moment when Zorro threatened him with his rapier and mocked him, but it didn't help.
"Diego de la Vega… Somehow I find it hard to believe," said Varga after the moment of consideration. "I am familiar with this man and this family. Señorita Peréz…" the Eagle sent questioning glance toward his secretary and Greco immediately filled in the gaps in his employer's memory:
"Señorita Peréz wrote about Diego de la Vega as a quiet, bookish man with pacifistic attitude toward life. According to her it was unlikely that he would oppose actively against the new regime."
Pina vaguely recalled the girl that Monastario was so smitten with. Was she also the Eagle's agent? A woman? She did indeed live in the de la Vega hacienda… Never mind. In spite of remorse, Pina felt obliged to defend his discovery:
"He is only pretending to be such kind of man. I believe that he keeps his second life hidden from everyone, even from his household."
Varga shook his head, unconvinced. So did Greco, adding:
"She would have noticed. Señorita Peréz has a way with men. She makes them try to show the most dashing part of them. I am sure that if he was el Zorro, he would confide in her, just to impress her."
"I am sure that he is not so reckless," replied Pina cuttingly.
"You do not know much about young men and their pursuits, Licenciado," smiled the secretary. Varga silenced him with impatient gesture.
"Enough of this. Señor Pina, tell me, why do you think that this man is Zorro."
The licenciado swallowed the bile of anxiety rising in his throat. He was sure that Varga and Greco would accept his news as a great revelation and take action immediately. He didn't expect that he would have to give them reasons.
"I saw through his play… I feel, I know that he is acting, pretending to be someone else," he started chaotically. No, that was no good. He had to concentrate. Seeing impatient grimace on Varga's face, Pina tried to gather his thoughts and started once again. "He is always… in the center of events, although… although he spends the whole days pretending he does nothing. I feel that…"
"Enough!" shouted Varga and the licenciado crouched scared by his fury. "I do not care about your feelings! Speak concretely!"
"The Fox made his first appearance shortly after Diego de la Vega returned from Spain," recited quickly Pina. He tried to formulate the next sentence, but his head was empty. What exactly did de la Vega do that proved he was the one wearing the black mask?
There were many hints, but no specific evidence. That was the way of the Fox. Unseizable.
Finally Pina clung to the first trail that led him to Zorro's identity. "He came to Camero with one of your feathers and sent him straight into the lancers' hands."
Now, that was it. Varga and Greco exchanged troubled glances and Pina knew that for the first time they started to treat young de la Vega seriously.
"That doesn't prove that he is el Zorro, but certainly he knows too much," stated Varga and waved for his aids.
"Go to the de la Vega hacienda and bring the young don here. Don't let him speak with anyone. And you," Varga turned to another man, "you fetch here the commandante. Let's hear what he has to say."
I do not want to meet neither of them, thought Pina and started to withdraw himself toward the door. Unfortunately, Varga stopped him.
"Stay, Licenciado. You may be useful when I will talk with them," he ordered.
Pina returned and with unhappy face took a seat somewhere behind Varga's desk. Greco neared to him with consoling smile.
"Do not worry, Licenciado. The commandante cannot do you any harm," he said reassuringly.
He will look at me, thought Pina.
"But do not tell de la Vega that I… that I…" he stuttered.
Greco looked at him without comprehension.
"You have no reason to fear him, Licenciado. It is this man who is in trouble, not you," he stated and returned to the administrado's documents.
The minutes passed and Pina waited in the dark tavern's salá. It was quiet, apart from ticking of the clocks, occasional whispers of Varga's guards waiting near the door and scratch of feathers, as both Varga and Greco were writing letters. Apparently Varga preferred now to work here – no matter how gloomy now the salá was – than in his quarters. Pina assumed that the Eagle chose to be among his henchmen rather than alone in his office.
Monastario of course let Varga wait for him beyond the limits of decency. The licenciado already thought that the people sent to the hacienda would return before the one who went to the cuartel, when finally the commandante appeared.
Pina cast him quick glance, cautious to avoid eye contact. The commandante looked… strong. Strong, proud, self-confident. For a moment the licenciado felt nostalgic about the times they spent together, when he had his share in Monastario's usual energy and enthusiasm.
Varga was also strong and proud, but everything in his bearing spoke about destruction.
"Commandante Monastario," started Varga. "I hope you decided to be cooperative. Will you help me to unmask and capture the man, whom you declared an outlaw and who calls himself Zorro?"
Monastario shrugged his shoulders, but didn't appear hostile.
"Catching the bandits is my duty," he replied.
Pina sunk in the wave of relief. So Monastario agreed! He would work with Varga! He would be the one to fight with de la Vega – oh and certainly he would enjoy it! It would be like in the good old days. Perhaps with time they would pass behind rancor and rebuilt their cooperation?
"Very well," stated Varga. "So, Licenciado Pina claims he knows the identity of the Fox."
Monastario cast a fleeting glimpse toward Pina with the expression that didn't forbade good cooperation. It was a glance usually sent to something hideous, something between a rat and a cockroach.
"And that would be?" he asked scornfully.
"Diego de la Vega."
Pina, forgetting fear, sank his sight in Monastario's face, but the commandante didn't show the slightest sign of surprise, only laughed.
"Oh, no, not again. The licenciado is obsessed with the young de la Vega. That's not the first time he makes such suppositions. They have been proved to be wrong."
Pina almost cursed aloud. How could he forget that Monastario would immediately refer to this unfortunate masquerade when they were trying to test de la Vega's fighting skills?
"No, no, that's something new!..." he started to explain hectically, but Varga silenced him with a gesture.
"Explain, Commandante. How have you proved that this young man is not the outlaw?"
"We prepared the trap," Monastario related quite willingly, the amusement still visible on his face. "The occasion, where the young de la Vega could fight unobserved, if he only knew how."
"And?..."
"Oh, he didn't. He was just as meek and faint-hearted, as usual," the commandante stated lightly. "Besides, just after that, Zorro and this boy happened to be in two different places at the same time."
"Ah. I see," Varga gnarled, sending angry glance toward licenciado.
Pina for the first time didn't care for Varga's disappointment. He stared at Monastario with wide open eyes, frozen with surprise. He knew the commandante well enough to see, that behind the appearances of nonchalance, he remained tense and watchful.
Monastario was lying.
He knows I am right, realized Pina with a chill. He knew that de la Vega is Zorro, before he came here.
The licenciado hardly controlled the urge to jump up from his seat and ask Monastario, 'How did you guess it by yourself?'
But then, if the commandante knew the identity of the Fox, why was he deliberately lying to protect it? Pina would sooner expect the fire to freeze than Monastario to make any kind of agreement with the man that brought him so close to madness. Was it because the capitán wanted to catch the outlaw only by himself?
"And you are certain, Capitán, that this… trap you prepared proves that Don Diego de la Vega cannot be Zorro?" asked Greco.
"I am positive," snorted Monastario. "Only the Licenciado, who never even neared to any other weapon than the swatter, could think that it is so easy to conceal one's skills and training."
"Capitán, please refrain yourself from such remarks," admonished him Greco, but it seemed that in his opinion de la Vega was free from suspicions.
And if they let him walk away freely and he will learn that I… that I… Pina again didn't dare to finish the thought.
He opened the mouth to argue, to defend his point – but in this moment the tavern's door crackled and Varga's men led in Diego de la Vega. Pina, lost in panic, squeezed himself even deeper in his chair, closing his eyes. That's why at first he didn't see the young man only heard his irritated – no, not irritated: sulking – voice:
"Señor Administrado, I do not mind helping the government's official, but you could have passed your invitation in the more civilized manner and at less ungodly hour."
"Be quiet, Señor, and wait," replied Varga with distraction.
Pina opened his eyes and saw that together with de la Vega arrived the courier with new letters. The Eagle started to open the envelopes and looked through their contents.
The licenciado slowly moved his eyes on Diego de la Vega. Even if the young man was complaining at the early hour, he looked as fine as usual, clothed in one of his embroidered suits, with matching tie and sash. He slightly bridled at Varga's rude answer, but placed himself calmly under the wall, with folded hands and passed half-bored, half-irritated glance through the room.
He didn't seem to notice Pina, but greeted Monastario with a nod.
Pina saw how their eyes met and de la Vega frowned his temple, sending the capitán a questioning look that spoke something like: Do I owe you being here?
Monastario not being even half as subtle in his mimic as the young don, simply shook his head. And then – to Pina's terror – with short nod he simply pointed toward the licenciado.
So there was some kind of agreement between them.
Pina froze, watching how Diego de la Vega raised his eyebrows in amusement, then moved the glance to the licenciado and slightly bowed.
For a while Pina had the full attention of the Fox.
He closed his eyes again, pretending to be someone else, somewhere far away...
"Señor," Varga finally finished his letters and neared to de la Vega.
The amusement disappeared from the face of the young man, giving place to polite curiosity concerning the administrado's businesses. The Eagle for a moment spoke nothing only eyed the young de la Vega cautiously – from the carefully combed hair to the shining boots.
"Señor, I am trying to establish the identity of the bandit who calls himself el Zorro. You have been pointed at as the man, who is hiding himself behind this outlaw's mask."
Even as the administrado was saying these words, he spoke to the young de la Vega with scorn, not with caution. Pina understood that his revelation – which cost him so much doubt, hesitation and fear – was simply dismissed. Varga and Greco didn't believe him.
And of course Diego de la Vega didn't betray himself with a slightest sign of anxiety. Hearing Varga's words, he snorted with strangled laughter. He shook his head and looked at the administrado with lenient smirk.
"No, I am not," he replied only.
Somehow, this indulgent smile appeared much more offensive than Monastario's harsh amusement. The licenciado didn't see Varga's face, but he noticed that his neck reddened. Certainly the proud Eagle couldn't bear to be looked at with leniency… He not only won't believe me, he would also make me pay for ridiculing him, thought Pina with despair.
Evidently holding himself to the remains of his control, Varga turned to Monastario.
"Capitán?..."
"I do not know who the Fox is," sighed Monastario, as if getting weary with the conversation, "but I know it is not this one."
Pina shook his head in disbelief, seeing these two men lying together so smoothly. De la Vega was a clever cheater, true, but to remain so unabashed in the moment of such danger? And Monastario? Monastario was always too proud and too impatient, to lie well!
But now they know it is about life and death, realized the licenciado. If Varga wouldn't believe them…
But Varga believed.
"That was an absurd idea from the beginning," he muttered angrily and Pina hardly curbed the need to crawl under the desk. "But there is also another matter, Señor," the administrado turned again to de la Vega. "We are leading certain investigation. Could you explain to me, how you came into the possession of the eagle's feather, that was seen in your hands?"
"Excuse me? What kind of feather?" Diego de la Vega frowned, tugging his earlobe.
"The one you showed to Señor Camero," précised Greco.
"Ah. This feather," nodded the young man. "Well, it was given to me by Señorita Peréz on her departure. She said I might use it in the future, if I needed help."
That's possible, thought Pina. That's even logical. If she was fond of him, she might have tried to secure his future.
"Do you know the meaning of such feather?" asked Greco pretending to be oblivious, but his voice betrayed the tension. However, de la Vega only shrugged his shoulders.
"No, Señor, I am sorry. Here I cannot be of help. I only assume that it is a sign of some kind, but that's all."
"So why did you decide to show this feather to Señor Camero and order him to leave the town?" asked Varga.
"Order? I didn't order him anything," defended de la Vega. "The moods in Los Angeles were tense and I was fearing the confrontation between the landowners and the army. I thought, that if the magistrado leaves for a while, the heads will cool down. But I was merely asking him for it, the decision was his to take," he concluded.
"And did you know that Camero will recognize this feather?" continued Varga. The licenciado noticed anxious expression on Greco's face – these questions betrayed too much. It would require very naïve man to believe that it was only an official investigation.
But de la Vega looked neither distrustful nor naïve. He appeared to be entirely honest.
"No, I took it just in case," he replied simply. "I followed the advice of Señorita Peréz."
Varga nodded. It seemed that he relaxed and his attention drifted away from the young man. Yet Greco wasn't so easy to convince:
"But how is it that Camero was arrested by lancers immediately after he left Los Angeles?..." he asked.
Diego de la Vega only shook his head.
"As for the lancers' presence you must ask the commandante, I had no idea about it. Besides, in those days I didn't know that Camero was an imposter and may get arrested. None of the haciendados did."
Could it have been so simple? wondered Pina. It is possible! This is a credible explanation that does not involve the participation of Zorro. Was I mistaken? Did I make the fool of myself?
No, no, the licenciado rubbed his temple, as if trying to wipe off the fog from his thoughts. I remember how he spoke to Camero, I heard it with my own ears and saw de la Vega with my own eyes! I won't let him muddle in my head now!
He was ready to stand up and protest, but it was too late. Varga already made his decision, especially that another courier with new letter arrived, drawing his attention.
"All right, you may leave," he said, opening the envelope and started to read the letter.
Though the administrado didn't precise whether he was referring to de la Vega or to Monastario, they both eagerly turned to the door.
"No, wait. Wait," suddenly ordered Varga, raising his hand, and the guards stepped in front of the door, preventing the men from leaving.
"Wait," repeated Varga. "I must think." The administrado neared to his desk and waved for Greco to come closer.
"It is from Count Kolinko," he said in the hushed voice, so that Pina barely heard him, showing him the letter. "He will arrive today."
"That's sooner than expected," whispered the secretary quietly. "And he is the last one."
The last bidder, realized Pina. The last buyer, he corrected himself, recalling that other bidders resigned. If he leaves, the hopes for quick profit are in vain.
"Yes," stated Varga. "He cannot withdraw. We must control the situation. I cannot do anything about Zorro in a few hours, but anyway we must tighten the grip on this pueblo."
"Cuartel," muttered Greco. "Even if we are not fully ready…"
"We cannot delay it," nodded Varga and turned toward Monastario: "Capitán, the circumstances have changed. I will deal with the Fox later. Now it is time to end this charade between us. You are too unpredictable and there is too much at stake," he stated obliviously. "Hand over your weapons."
"You have no right!..." bridled Monastario, unsheathing his rapier, but one of Varga's men pressed the pistol to his back, forcing him to raise his hands. The others swiftly stripped him from his rapier and pistol.
"Lock him in the cellar," ordered Varga. "And the other one too, just in case, once he saw it," he pointed at de la Vega, who, during the commotion stepped back, maneuvering himself closer to the doors.
The young man made no gesture of protest and had no weapon that Varga's men could take from him. However, Pina saw how his jaw tightened and hands clenched into fists in strangled anger, when he was shoved into the cellar behind Monastario.
"Damn it, damn it! Treacherous bastard, let him rot under the scaffold and burn in hell!" yelled Monastario, as the doors closed over him and he remained locked in the tavern's cellar. Then he turned toward his companion in this predicament: "And that's all because of you!"
"Because of me? Why did you come here at all!" snapped angrily Diego de la Vega. "You should know better than to trust Varga!"
For a moment they both stood struggling with anger, until de la Vega shook his head, sighed and passed by Monastario, entering deeper the room.
"I had to, it was either this or open war. And nothing would have happened had he not received this last letter," muttered Monastario. He took a few deep breaths to control the anger, but it didn't help. "Pina told them that you are el Zorro," he said to the young man, trying to observe his reaction in the dim light coming from the small window.
However, Diego was already close to his usual composed self, as he only snorted:
"I believe that you and the licenciado have already tried to test me against such suspicion."
"You realized that and you said nothing?" asked Monastario incredulously, his thoughts running back to his misfortunate adventure, when he ridiculed himself in front of Alejandro's eyes.
Young de la Vega walked around the cellar, watching walls, barrels with wine and shelves with provisions, as if he saw such place for the first time in his life.
"Why should I? Would you believe me if I denied it? I waited for events to prove you wrong," he replied so casually that Monastario felt the wave of anger rising again. Was this impudent rascal going to pull the wool over his eyes again, just after he saved his secret?
"Pina has just called you the Fox, in front of the administrado. Had I confirmed his words, you would be dead already," the commandante stated gloomily.
De la Vega, who – God knows why – was trying to move the grain bags, looked at Monastario with the most innocent confusion.
"Well, gracias, but why would you confirm them?"
Monastario felt the remains of his self-control disappear.
"Enough of it!" he almost shouted. "I know that it is you. You are this… masquerader. Trickster. Liar!"
"That's quite a litany, Capitán. Have you finished?" asked calmly Diego.
"No," growled Monastario and placed the best aimed punch on de la Vega's jaw. The blow sent the young man toppling onto the bags and empty crates piling under the wall and Monastario blinked with surprise. He was sure that de la Vega would dodge and put up a fight.
"Why did you do it?" exclaimed Diego, crumbling from the remains of crates, his eyes full of hurt surprise. He looked like a beaten puppy.
Monastario suddenly felt very stupid. Did he just hit that miserable slouch?
"I am sorry," he muttered.
Did he just apologize to the Fox?
No, no, no, don't let him do it! He admonished himself, shaking his head to see through the illusion woven in front of his eyes. He is not the slouch!
"Oh, please, allow yourself for a moment of honesty!" he exclaimed with despair. "How do you think, what will Varga do with us? We will die within few hours, we can speak openly!"
"Take control of your temper, Commandante," snorted the young man, cleaning his jacket from the remains of dust and rubbish. "And do not get so desperate. I have no intention of dying, neither now, nor later."
Monastario didn't reply, angry and shaken. After a while, de la Vega added conciliatorily: "You heard Varga, he locked us here 'just in case'. There is still a chance he will let us go."
"He will sooner shoot us, just in case," retorted the commandante gloomily. "But if you prefer to stick to your lies, fine. Just be quiet."
Having said that, he sat under the wall, resting the elbows on the knees.
Diego de la Vega remained silent for a while, staring at the floor under his feet. When he raised his eyes at Monastario again, on his face appeared a cryptic smile.
"But you know, Commandante," he said, "if Zorro was on my place, he would certainly be grateful to you."
Monastario snorted, but without irritation. It was rather feeble expression of gratitude. Still, it was the most open thanks he could hear from de la Vega.
A bit calmer, he watched how de la Vega examined the one and only small, barred window, placed just under the ceiling. The young man pulled himself to check it closer, but soon climbed down, disappointed. Even without bars, the window would be too small for a grown up man to push through.
Monastario plunged in somber thoughts. No, Varga won't let me go, he thought. Perhaps he will release de la Vega, if he considers him harmless, to keep good relations with his father. But not me. Once he showed his true colors, he won't let me return to the cuartel.
The last thought brought him some hope. He may however need me if Garcia acts wisely and puts up resistance. Then he will still try to use me.
"You may be right, Señor," Monastario said to Diego de la Vega with much gentler tone. "This traitor might still need both of us, me to exert pressure on Garcia and the lancers, and you – to influence the decisions of your father and other dons."
Diego de la Vega frowned and for the first time a true anxiety appeared on his face.
"Actually, that's what I am worried about," he muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"About my father," sighed Diego. "I fear that…"
He didn't finish the sentence, as that was the moment when the door opened and Alejandro, pushed roughly by Varga's man, joined them in the cellar.
"Diego! Are you fine?" called the older man, running toward his son.
"Si, Father, except from the fact I hoped not to see you here," replied nervously the young man. Alejandro embraced him shortly and asked, noticing the commandante:
"You, Monastario?... All that's doubtlessly your fault! What have you schemed again?"
The capitán didn't bother to reply, only scowled. Being imprisoned in the room with this suave cheater was difficult enough. Now it was getting insufferable.
"Father, why are you here? When Varga's men came to the hacienda, they didn't search for you," asked impatiently younger de la Vega.
"Ah, I got worried about you, Diego!..." exclaimed Alejandro, looking a bit guilty. "The servants told me what happened and I rode here after you, to speak to Varga… but he hardly listened, only asked his thugs to lock me here. Just tell me, what did he want from you?"
"Well, Varga questioned me about a certain incident from the times of the false magistrado," replied cautiously Diego.
Monastario inwardly grinned, seeing his obvious discomfort. Not easy to keep the pretenses, Señor Zorro, when you got between the rock and a hard place? Between the lies you told me and the lies you told your father?
But if Alejandro knew his son's secret? It seemed that gap between father and son somehow disappeared. Alejandro looked at his son with concern, but not with irritated impatience, as he used to.
"Just speak freely, Señores," Monastario interjected maliciously. "Do not bother yourselves with my presence. I believe that neither of us needs to worry about the future."
Alejandro looked at the capitán with surprise.
"What does he mean?" the old don asked his son.
"He is very shaken, speaks of dying all the time," explained Diego with hushed voice.
"Ah," nodded Alejandro, measuring the commandante with scrutinizing glance, as if he were a lame horse or colic cattle. "But tell me about Camero, Diego. What incident was Varga questioning you about?"
"The incident was of no particular meaning itself, yet Varga started to suspect that we know too much of his hidden agenda," explained his son and added reassuringly: "Don't worry, I think I managed to calm him."
"So why did he imprison you here? And the capitán?"
"Because he received a letter that made him come to attention, so he locked here the capitán – and me as well, as he said, 'just in case'. I believe that he is starting to reveal his true colors," concluded Diego with heavy sigh.
"Madre de Dios! Already? We must somehow pass the warning to the haciendas!" exclaimed Alejandro. "If people are unprepared, they will have no chances!"
Monastario raised his head, intrigued that Alejandro was scared, not surprised. So, he knew about the Eagle's conspiracy! And how could you know it, had it not been for your rascal of a son being Zorro?
"How do you know that Varga has a hidden agenda? And what was this insignificant incident with Camero exactly about?" he asked innocently, but the de la Vegas didn't pay attention.
"I will try to talk with the administrado again," decided Diego. "As far as he thinks, we are unaware of his conspiracy, perhaps he will let at least one of us go."
Having said that, he set off toward the door, but Alejandro grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"Listen, Diego… I was perhaps a bit too straightforward when I was talking to him," he started, now with very guilty expression. Diego froze.
"Father... but you didn't reveal to him what we know?..." he asked quietly. For a moment Monastario saw real fear in his eyes.
"I might have called him an imposter and traitor…" admitted the older de la Vega, lowering his head.
"Father!..."
"I am sorry, Diego, that man got on my worst side," sighed helplessly Alejandro. He slowly walked toward the pile of grain bags and sat on one of them, rubbing his temple.
Monastario observed how the expression on Diego's face changed from irritation to concern. After a while he sat near Alejandro.
"Don't worry, Father, he deserves each word he heard from you," he chuckled slightly, though the shadow of distress remained in his eyes. "Only that there is no use in talking with him now. He won't release us freely. We must find another way."
"Not so easy to behave yourself without your son leading your temper on a leash, Alejandro? He leaves you alone for an hour and you pack both of you in troubles," noticed maliciously Monastario, earning furious glances from both de la Vegas. "But I would still like to hear how did you learn about Varga's conspiracy."
Father and son exchanged glances and Alejandro, raising high Monastario's hopes, nodded.
"Tell him."
"All right," started Diego. "A few days ago we had a visitor, Sir Brighton, an English diplomat who was to represent his government in the negotiations with José Varga."
"What?" exclaimed Monastario, as this entirely wasn't what he expected.
"Yes," confirmed gloomily Alejandro. "Varga is a traitor, who intends to take over the control of the whole California. In the meantime, he leads negotiations with foreign governments, intending to sell his allegiance, as soon as his coup succeeds."
"Sir Brighton, however, decided that the administrado is not a reliable partner. He not only resigned from negotiations, but also, to prevent Varga from succeeding, confided us the whole scheme," finished Diego.
Coup d'etat, noted Monastario numbly. I should have suspected something like this… after all the clues I got… the clues gathered by myself and by the Fox… and still I hoped that it is going something… lesser. A swindle, nothing more serious than some swindle…
It was not that he had illusions concerning the interest of the Spanish Crown to its distant colony. However, it was one thing to be realistic, even to use the lack of control to his favor… and the other to witness the… treason of such scale. To witness and be unable to prevent it… while being the very same person who should do it.
"Does it mean… that he is literally selling California? To whom?" he asked.
"The French envoy withdrew yesterday," stated Diego de la Vega impassively. "But there is still Russia engaged."
"We were visiting the haciendas to warn the others and gather the resistance, but people are cautious and mistrustful, after all the turmoil and suffering you put them through, Commandante," said accusingly Alejandro. "Especially after your scheme during Camero's visit, when you so eagerly planned to slaughter us."
Monastario had no will or strength to defend himself. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted this to go so far. Oh, if I only knew… I would have arrested Ramírez and López on the spot, I would have never given Anna anything, only sent her home, I would have convinced people to step against Camero with me… Oh, why didn't I do it?... he mourned.
"But how can Varga control the whole California?" he asked with strangled voice.
"I believe that he has many supporters in all bigger pueblos. Have you seen all these letters he receives and writes? They must be waiting for their leader to… proclaim himself the sovereign," replied bitterly Diego de la Vega. "It will start here, in Los Angeles. And once it starts, it will be like a flame that will devour the whole country."
For a moment they sat in silence, broken by Alejandro, who said with an unwonted softness in his voice:
"I regret I called you off from Spain, Diego."
"Father, I would never forgive myself, if I wasn't with you in such predicament," replied his son in the same way.
Monastario didn't comment this exchange. Somehow, he lost the will to quarrel. At the moment he even didn't care, whether Diego is Zorro or not. He spoke only when he reminded himself of something that could defend of his competencies.
"Before I came here, I made arrangements with Sergeant Garcia, in case Varga would detain me," he said. "I ordered him to lock the cuartel and keep Varga's men in deadlock with musket fire. It won't save our throats, but it was the only way to thwart Varga's plans, or at least slow them."
"That was a right thing to do, Capitán," nodded approvingly Alejandro. "As for our lives… we all are in the hands of God."
Witnessing the storm made by Alejandro de la Vega was too much for the licenciado. Not caring whether the administrado wished his presence in the salá or not, he sneaked out into one of the back rooms and covered his ears.
If Alejandro de la Vega learnt that I named his son Zorro to the man who sworn to destroy the Fox… ah, the Fox himself might perhaps forgive me, but his father never!...
This morning nothing went as he expected. He didn't win Varga's favors, but still managed to incur himself Zorro's displeasure. Even if de la Vega was detained at the moment, he was also safe and sound and definitely planning escape. Perhaps he even wouldn't have to escape, perhaps Varga would simply let him out later.
Would I feel better if Varga killed him? mused Pina. No, not better, but safer, he replied himself.
And what about Monastario?...
The licenciado sighed and buried the face in his hands. It was unlikely for Monastario to leave this cellar alive. After all, the commandante represented the King's power at the pueblo, the power Varga intended to take over.
I am sorry, Enrique, I am really sorry, whispered Pina and he truly meant it.
The noises from the salá became louder, to the angry shouts and joint clatter of overthrown furniture. Something got knocked over. Someone cursed aloud.
And then the door slammed and everything silenced.
"Licenciado?" Greco peeked into Pina's hiding. "It is all over now. Saints, do all people here have such temper?"
"What happened with Don Alejandro?" asked the licenciado.
"He joined his son in the cellar," replied Greco. "However, one could hardly say that it is indeed his son by the character!"
"Oh yes, he is," nodded gloomily Pina. "He is. The same blood, the same fire. Only that the younger one is more cunning."
"Stop it, Licenciado," laughed the secretary. "You made some guesswork, but you were mistaken. It is obvious, that the young de la Vega cannot be the Fox. He is a nobleman. Well-educated, civilized. How could he have something in common with this wild daredevil in the mask?"
"I know I am right," Pina stubbornly shook his head. "Monastario was lying. De la Vega…"
"Licenciado," the secretary silenced him, putting the hand on his shoulder. "Stop it. Believe it if you wish, but do not mention it to the administrado anymore. You would only irritate him. This young man is locked up anyway and we do not have to bother with him. Let's go, Señor Varga needs us."
When they entered the salá, they saw the administrado talking to the lancer. At first Pina flinched, fearing that lancers already came searching for Monastario. Then, however, he noticed that lancer behaved with strange slackness.
Another agent? wondered the licenciado.
Varga turned toward them with gloomy expression.
"I do not know how, but this old fool de la Vega knew far too much. And if he did, perhaps the other haciendados also have some suspicions. We must proceed faster than planned."
"The new weapons did not arrive yet," noticed Greco.
"Then we will have to take the weapons from the cuartel," cut him off Varga. "Now, you and Señor Pina go upstairs and work on the Russian contract. I want to have all the details prepared, till Kolinko arrives. In the meantime I will take care of the cuartel. The commandante was trying to be clever," he smirked scornfully.
When the licenciado was following Greco upstairs, he heard Varga speaking to the lancer:
"Go to this fat sergeant and tell him, that the capitán wishes to meet him… under the south wall of the cuartel. Or better closer here, near this provisional kitchen."
"Garcia?... Garcia, what are you doing here, you stupid donkey?..." Monastario's weak voice was not much more above whisper, when the sergeant was ushered into the cellar. "Just do not tell me you let yourself be duped again. I warned you… I told you…"
"I do not know, Capitán," replied sadly Garcia, lowering his head. His downtrodden uniform and bruise forming on his forehead showed that he had been through some fighting. "Private Herrera came and told me there is some problem with supplies, so I went and these men were waiting for me and…"
"Herrera?... But… Madre de Dios, I didn't tell you about Herrera!" Monastario moaned, feeling the blood escaping from his face. How could he have forgotten?
"What?" asked sharply Diego de la Vega. "What Herrera?"
The commandante lingered with the answer.
"One of the lancers, Herrera, is Varga's agent," finally he replied reluctantly. "I intended to use it. I was just waiting for the good occasion."
"But how could you have been so stupid!" shouted the young man almost trembling with anger. "That one time when so much depended on your professional conduct – and you couldn't do it right!"
Monastario couldn't help but flinch from the fury and scorn twisting Diego's features, yet he turned toward him with challenging expression. Ashamed how he was, the commandante didn't intend to give ground to this rascal.
"Mind your words, Señor," he gnarled though clenched teeth. "No one will address me in such way."
"But Diego is right. It appears, Commandante, that you have just managed to surrender the cuartel without one shot," commented bitingly Alejandro.
"And you, Señor? You managed to surrender yourself, even if no one was pursuing you," snapped maliciously Monastario, noticing with satisfaction that the older de la Vega reddened, as if he was going to burst out in a second.
"Stop it, this will lead us nowhere," said Diego in a tone that probably had to be conciliatory, though his darkened eyes and tensed expression spoke otherwise.
He turned to Garcia and patted consolingly his shoulder.
"That was not your fault, Sergeant," he stated.
"And at least you put up some fight," added Alejandro de la Vega.
"Gracias, Don Alejandro, but I doubt that these few bruises I left will disturb the administrado's men for long," replied sadly the sergeant.
Monastario only shook his head and sat heavily under the wall. No, indeed. A few bruises were all losses his soldiers managed to inflict. The commandante felt crushed. Like the last idiot who cheated himself. He knew that some of this guilt must be visible on his face, but he couldn't help it.
Diego de la Vega also took the seat – only that he chose another wall – and sunk in thoughts with unreadable expression.
"We must do something!" exclaimed Alejandro de la Vega. "It is all up to us now!" The old haciendado started to pace here and back again through the cellar, now reminding of the caged wolf.
An hour ago he was ready to accept his own death… and even the death of his son, mused Monastario. But he cannot accept the fact that Varga will win and there is nothing we could about it.
"We must do something!" repeated the old don. "Sergeant, did you manage to explain the situation to the other lancers?" he asked with the shadow of hope.
"Hardly," Garcia shook his head with resignation. "I started to talk with Corporal Reyes, but we only exchanged a few words until Herrera came for me… and it would require much more than a few words to make Corporal Reyes understand the situation."
Alejandro sighed, nodded, and returned to pacing.
"Sit down, Father. You will only wear yourself out," asked quietly his son. It sounded like a polite request, but Monastario saw that the young man was barely holding his nerves on a leash.
"Don't worry, Don Alejandro," said the sergeant with sudden new hope on his face. "Zorro will help us." After the moment of consideration he added: "Though perhaps it were more likely if you weren't here, Commandante. I think that Zorro doesn't like you."
"And I do not think that it is me, whose presence here will prevent your Zorro from rescuing us," muttered bitingly Monastario, casting malicious glance toward Diego de la Vega, but the young man didn't even raise his head.
"We must do something," stated Alejandro for the thousandth time. "Diego, por favor!... Think of something!" he turned to his son with impatient, pleading expression.
"There is still Bernardo," Diego started slowly. "I hope that..."
"Bernardo!" Alejandro interrupted him with irritation. "Bernardo! So waiting for Bernardo is everything we will do to fight this traitor?"
Diego withdrew, raising his hands in gesture of surrender. "I am sorry, Father, forget I mentioned it."
Alejandro sighed with resignation, walked through the cellar once again and finally sat down, with folded hands and lowered head.
After a while, Monastario asked without real interest, just to break the silence: "Who is Bernardo?" This name sounded somehow familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on where he heard it.
"The little one," replied the sergeant, as if it explained everything, and added with a sad sigh: "He is a nice fellow, but I doubt that he will be able to help us."
Diego de la Vega didn't comment it. For a long while, they remained in silence.
"I have never seen a document like this before," stated Pina having read the project of the contract with Count Kolinko, "but I not think that after you sign it California will still to be called a free country."
Greco made only some vague sound in reply, as José Varga entered the room. The administrado looked even more imposing than usual: straightened, proud and decisive. There was also the glitter of satisfaction in his eyes, nefarious, but triumphant. Pina thought that it was the close coronation of the long woven Eagle's conspiracy that made its leader glow.
Varga took the contract and flipped it quickly to the page with the price – the gold that Kolinko was to deliver immediately after signing the contract. The licenciado had never seen such amount in one transaction before. He couldn't even imagine it. Should it be a chest with gold? Two chests? How many men would have to carry it?
"Pity, we couldn't organize that bidding. It could be higher. Now we must satisfy with what Kolinko offers," commented Varga.
"And we need it quickly," nodded Greco. "As soon as you proclaim yourself the sovereign and our supporters take over the country… they will require payback."
The administrado bridled, as if his secretary said something out of place.
"Neither them, nor you, Greco, should forget, who I am. Don't you dare to 'require' anything, is that clear?"
"Si, Señor," replied meekly Greco, lowering his head. Pina, however, noticed that the secretary was displeased with his superior's reaction. The licenciado understood him well. Business is business, if you buy something, you have to pay for it, even if you buy treason and murder. Or rather, especially when you buy treason and murder. Otherwise, things may get nasty.
"This should be higher!" exclaimed Varga, looking once again at the contract. "Kolinko will too soon get the refund, from all these taxes and duties we will provide him with!"
Pina raised his eyebrows. True. He knew much about squeezing taxes – even if only in Los Angeles scale – and that what this contract provided was far beyond all exaggeration.
He caught Greco's anxious glimpse, realizing that the secretary was thinking the same. Señor Varga, as California's future ruler, will have a hard task keeping this country under control with such charges put on their citizens.
This was not going to be an easy business. Neither for Varga, nor for his officials.
"We must sign it anyway. I only hope that no one would interfere," commented Greco. "Count Kolinko is a very cautious man. If he takes suspicions, that we are not in the control of the situation, he might withdraw the offer."
"We are in the control of the situation," stressed the administrado. After the while he added: "The cuartel is secured. After our men captured the sergeant, I spoke with that small corporal. I told him that the commandante and the sergeant were sent to Monterey and from now on he is to report directly to me."
"Did he get any suspicions?..." asked Greco anxiously, but Varga only smirked scornfully.
"He is stupid like a mule. He only asked whether the soldiers can have their dinner as usual. Besides, Herrera will keep an eye on him."
"We must be cautious. The situation might have become dangerous. If Herrera didn't overhear the commandante speaking to the sergeant…"
"But he did," cut him off the administrado. "Enough of this crowing."
Pina had strange feeling of déjà vu. That's how Monastario was: decisive and blind for warnings. And where did it lead him?
"What are you going to do with the commandante? And the de la Vegas?" he asked quietly.
Varga and Greco exchanged glances.
"The easiest way would be to take them out of town and execute," stated obliviously Varga. "However, it could be noticed in the pueblo. This will have to wait until I officially proclaim myself and take over the full power."
"Do you think they would give us some meal, Don Diego? It is almost time for dinner," complained the sergeant.
"Shut up, Garcia, and save some dignity," replied wearily Monastario.
"Si, Commandante," sighed the sergeant. "But do you think we could at least open some of these barrels?... A sip of wine…"
"No," replied impatiently Diego de la Vega and – to soften his sharp tone – he added gentler: "In our situation it would be better to keep the head clear."
"Si, Don Diego," sighed Garcia again.
Time for dinner… So I am sitting here for half a day already… thought Monastario. Damn, it feels like eternity.
And what was Varga doing in the meantime, while they were idly sitting in this lousy tavern? What was happening at the pueblo? In the cuartel?
How could I allow all this to happen? thought Monastario for the thousandth time and almost curled, pierced by the sting of guilt. He fought the impulse to bury the face in his hands and struggled to keep his expression neutral, so that Alejandro wouldn't see the remorse and desperation that literally ate him.
Los Angeles belonged to him, he had a power here, an absolute power – and he let it slip out of his fingers. He failed to prevent the catastrophe.
He cast a glance toward Diego de la Vega, who seemingly calmly sat in the other corner of the room. And what is the use of the Fox's tricks now? thought Monastario bitterly. He is as helpless as I am.
And actually, it was because of Pina. Varga would probably get rid of Monastario anyway, but he would never bother himself with de la Vega, had it not been for Pina. The commandante grimaced, recalling the lawyer. How strange it was to see him standing by Varga's side… That miserable scribbler, always trembling and weeping, scared of his own shadow, where did he find the nerve to join the traitors?
How could I let him do it? repeated Monastario with irritation that was very close to regret, as he knew that if he considered deeper Pina's decisions, he might have been forced to admit that he… contributed to some of the licenciado's choices.
But no, he wasn't going to consider – or give reasons – to Pina's decisions. After all, the damn lawyer was somewhere on the upper floors of the very same building, free to go where he wished and do what he wanted… whereas Monastario was rotting in this cellar since hours, with no possibility to escape and no hopes for the future.
The commandante fleetingly thought about all the prisoners who spent years in their cells. How could anyone bear it? No, not the cells… but the idleness? The helplessness? The lack of any control over their fate?
"I have had enough of this," he decided suddenly. "I will demand that Varga speaks with us."
"I am going with you," eagerly agreed Alejandro de la Vega.
They strode toward the door, with every intention of bumping and knocking into it until someone opened.
"Don't do it," warned them Diego, standing up. "Don't draw Varga's attention."
His serious tone made them hesitate for a moment.
And then a little pebble rolled toward Diego's feet. At first no one paid attention, except from de la Vega himself who looked around with sudden interest. Then there was a second pebble, that hit him directly in the knee. There could be no doubts that it was thrown intentionally.
De la Vega beamed with his most cheerful smile and in a second climbed to the window, pulling himself close to the bars. For a long while he remained there, though Monastario heard no word or whisper, only saw that the young man nodded from time to time.
When Diego de la Vega finally climbed down, his face brightened.
"It is Bernardo," he said simply. "My servant, Capitán. He will help us to get out."
"That's great, Diego, but how?" asked hectically Alejandro.
The young man pointed at the pile of grain bags. "Just as I expected – there is a chute here, behind these bags. It is locked both from inside and outside, but with Bernardo's help we will manage to open it."
"A chute?..." Garcia's voice trembled slightly.
"Do not worry, Sergeant, if it was big enough for these flour bags, it will also do for you," laughed Diego de la Vega. He was in his usual witty mood again.
"So what?" Monastario shrugged his shoulders. "There are guards all around the building. I saw them. You could speak with your servant unnoticed only because the side of this window is sheltered by our provisional kitchen and cauldron. However, from the side of the chute there are two men. Your servant won't even manage to get close to the lock. They will start alarm."
"There will be a distraction," smiled enigmatically de la Vega.
He climbed onto the pile of bags and with the help of the sergeant started to remove them one by one, until the chute's door appeared.
"I guess that your servant must be good with distractions, Señor," snorted maliciously Monastario.
"Bernardo? No, why? The distraction…" chuckled the young man, "the distraction will be provided by Corporal Reyes."
"Corporal! Ha!" beamed Sergeant Garcia. "I knew he became much smarter since he spends a lot of time with me!"
"I hope he won't blow us all up in the process. Anyway, I would use the tricks of the devil himself to get out of here," cursed Monastario relentlessly.
"Your determination is admirable, Commandante. You may need it all when you see our means of transport," commented Diego de la Vega, starting to work on the chute's hasp.
"Speaking of transport – we must decide where to go," said Alejandro de la Vega, whose thoughts were already outside their prison, planning the next step. "We cannot return to the hacienda. I would suggest going to the Torres rancho, but I am afraid that Nacho wouldn't welcome the capitán under his roof."
"Oh, do not concern yourselves with me," bridled Monastario. "If you really manage to get us out of here, I am going straight to the cuartel."
"Varga hasn't revealed his true agenda yet. He still presents himself as legitimate official. Are you certain, Commandante, that all lancers will follow your orders?" asked quietly Diego de la Vega. "Reyes agreed to help, true, but what about the other soldiers? If you ask them to attack Varga now, many of them may not listen. It might end in the internal bloodshed of your own men."
The hasp gave in with metallic clack, and the young man moved aside, waiting for the promised distraction.
"Let's go to the Mission San Gabriél," decided Alejandro de la Vega. "We must pass the warning to the haciendas. Varga is a threat that lancers won't solve themselves. The situation requires engagement of all citizens. We must join our efforts. Ride with us, Capitán," he said turning to the commandante with firm determination in his eyes. Monastario could have no doubt that the invitation was sincere.
"I will," he replied.
"As soon as Kolinko arrives, you will accommodate him in the tavern. And this time do not let anyone interfere, is that clear? Neither el Zorro, nor the devil himself!" Varga looked at Greco menacingly.
As long as Diego de la Vega is locked in your cellar, the Fox won't interfere. And the devil himself is pulling your strings, Señor Administrado, mused Pina.
"When Kolinko reads the contract and accepts it…" continued Varga, but suddenly trailed off. "What's that stench?" he asked with disgust.
The foul smell was coming from the outside. The licenciado peeked through the window and grimaced.
"Soldiers must have had fishes for dinner and the waste starts to decay in the sun. But it is already loaded at the cart and covered, so it will be removed soon," he said, closing the window.
"This kitchen must disappear from here, starting from tomorrow!" muttered the administrado. "Now, when Kolinko accepts the contract, we will start the coup."
"We must retrieve weapons from the cuartel," reminded Greco. "Especially muskets."
"That's not a problem. I will ask this small corporal to bring the muskets to the tavern," snorted Varga. "I am sure that this imbécil will obey."
"That's too risky," objected the secretary. "The lancers…"
His voice drowned out in the sudden outburst that made the floor tremble and all the glass in the room clink. Pina jumped, his heartbeat stopped for a moment. Was it a cannon? Were they under attack? He wanted to slump behind the desk and hide. Varga, however, quickly neared to the window and looked down.
"These damn soldiers again!" he shouted. "That was their grate!"
"Again…?" surprised Greco. "But this time it was an accident?"
"It appears so. However, I will let the guards check it," ordered Varga.
When the administrado was giving orders, Pina dared to look himself at the commotion down at the street. It seemed that no one was hurt, but the grate, kettles, even some benches were all destroyed into pieces. They do not know how to cook their dinner without Garcia, thought the licenciado with certain amusement.
"So much turmoil!" nagged Greco. "Now they will shout and mess until sunset, before they clean it. And we must work, Licenciado! We must read the contract once again and prepare the second copy. How can one work in such conditions? First the stench of rotting fishes, now the noise…"
"The smell won't disturb us anymore," said Pina, closing the window over the remains of the soldiers' kitchen and opening the one from the other side again. "The cart with food waste is just leaving."