NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!
WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY
BOOK 2
Chapter 22 – Desires
Diego and Bernardo were beginning to become somewhat accustomed to being the objects of curiosity whenever the cuartel gates were open. As the days passed, people in the plaza would stop to point and talk as they looked at the son of the most prominent landholder in the district being held in the jail. Bernardo made the comment, when no one was looking, that it seemed the general tone of the people at the gate was growing darker. Diego had to agree. The faces and gestures of the people who watched them were beginning to mirror those of the people of Santa Barbara. There was absolutely nothing they could do about it, however. They could only endure as well as they could until the trial. Daily they prayed for their miracle, but so far, it seemed, the heavens had chosen not to hear.
They were well treated as prisoners go. Hidalgo followed the Magistrado's orders precisely, though he still held the opinion that the prisoners were being coddled. They received three meals a day and were given the items needed to shave and clean up. Diego asked for and received a book to read, a pen and some paper with which to write some poetry, and a guitar. Unfortunately, the book he was given was the one left from the time of Monastario and Diego had already passed judgement upon its contents once before. He gave it to Bernardo who had much the same opinion after he tried to read some of it. Diego made a few attempts to write some poetry, but really was not in the mood, so he set the paper aside. He spent a great deal of his time playing the guitar, which turned out to be in fairly good condition. It helped to pass the time and the music he chose gave both of them some comfort. Still, there were times when Diego would stare out into the plaza in silence, longing to see the one whom he secretly feared would not come. The crowds of people would come and go, and Diego had seen almost everyone he knew at one time or another, but the one face he longed to see did not appear. This left him saddened more than he could say.
However, as part of his efforts to leave Santiago wondering, Diego always seemed to be content with his surroundings whenever the Magistrado came to visit the cuartel. He was inwardly satisfied to see the Magistrado give him strange looks as Diego refused to act like a man who was already sentenced to death. He could not strike a physical blow on his behalf, but he could smile and carry on with his persona of Diego de la Vega, scholar and poet, which left the Magistrado unsettled. Santiago never said anything about it, but Diego could see his actions were worrying the Magistrado because he could not understand them. Santiago thought he knew Diego so well, did he? Well, Diego was going to show him he did not. He rather enjoyed Santiago's discomfiture and Bernardo shared this with him.
They were able to watch each morning as Santiago would come to the cuartel, both to check upon the prisoners and to indulge himself with Capitán Hidalgo. It seemed Hidalgo was quite an accomplished swordsman in his own right, and enjoyed pitting himself against the Magistrado. This morning, the third one since the prisoners had been put in the jail, the Magistrado appeared as usual. After a moment of greeting and of warming up, the two men were ready to begin. Saluting each other with their swords, they looked to Sergeant Garcia to give the signal. Garcia dropped a handkerchief and the blades of both men became mere blurs as they attacked and parried.
Santiago liked testing his skills against those of Hidalgo. He was eager to do "battle" with Hidalgo, having found none better as an opponent since his posting as the Magistrado for the district. However, since Santiago was certain of the outcome of their match, that did take away from the ultimate satisfaction he might have gained from their fencing. Their exercise served to keep his skills sharpened, but knowing how the fencing match would end left something to be desired. He knew Hidalgo did not hold back, he would not have respected the man if he had, but Santiago also knew that the Capitán was not good enough to beat him. No man was. It was Santiago who skillfully made allowances for Hidalgo so that the match would not end too soon. He was so smooth at this Hidalgo did not even recognize he was being accommodated. If Santiago had a desire which he felt would never be met, it would be to find an opponent worthy of his skills. True, he knew that he was the finest swordsman in all California, but it was becoming a hollow title to him without peers of equal skills to acknowledge his greatness. And to his knowledge, there was not a swordsman in California who could aspire to be his peer.
Diego watched the match between the two men with great interest. He found himself studying the style and movements of each man, keenly aware that he would give up almost everything he had in order to have the chance to face either of them with a sword in his hand. Hidalgo had his strength and experience from long years in the military. His style was very direct and forceful. Santiago on the other hand, just seemed to flow from one point to another, his style deceptively so smooth that it almost looked as if he was not exerting himself. Nevertheless, he was able to meet all of Hidalgo's challenges move for move and issue challenges of his own. Diego was riveted, able to forget for a short while where he was and why. From time to time, he would unconsciously make quick and minute movements with his hands, arms, or legs which mirrored the two fencers, so in tune was he with their lightning fast dance. The match between the two men took them over a vast amount of the cuartel's yard as each man sought advantage over the other. Soldiers who happened to be watching sometimes had to skitter out of the way lest they be injured, for neither duelist would give way for them.
It did not take long for Diego to detect the moves Santiago was making to accommodate Hidalgo. He had to admire the subtlety with which they were done. He was sure Hidalgo did not know. The capitán continued fencing with all of his strength and stamina, never backing down from the challenges issued by the Magistrado. Today's match was lasting much longer than had the others Diego had been privileged to witness between the two men. It took great skill to fence for such a long period of time without rest. As one tired, the reflexes slowed, giving your opponent the advantage if his stamina was greater than yours, all else being equal. Diego knew one had to look within oneself to find the strength of will to go on when to falter for just a moment was defeat or . . . death. At last, after a furious flurry of marvelous swordplay, most of it too fast for the eye to follow unless you were also a trained swordsman, Hidalgo's sword went flying to land point first at Sergeant Garcia's feet. Hidalgo bowed to the victor while all the soldiers clapped in appreciation, some shouting bravos.
Diego was as completely impressed with Santiago's stamina and skill as he had been in the past. He could see no weakness in the Magistrado's style or form. The sword seemed to be a completely natural extension of Santiago's hand and mind, a feeling with which Diego had been intimately familiar. In matters of the sword, Diego could still find within him some measure of admiration for the Magistrado. Today's match had ended the way all of the matches had ended between the two men; with Santiago the winner. Hidalgo was good, but Santiago was superior. No wonder that he had been able to defeat Masterswordsman de Vida at the university. He was a man born to the sword. Unconsciously, Diego's right hand clenched and unclenched.
Bernardo watched the duel between Santiago and Hidalgo, but he also watched his young master, understanding his thoughts and desires. He could see how much Diego wanted to take on the two men, but Bernardo quietly had some reservations. He knew Diego was every bit the equal of Santiago when he was in top form, but something had happened which might give Santiago the edge should there ever be a duel between the two of them. Diego had not even so much as practiced with his sword for several months, Not since he became so involved with the work of the Magistrado's office. It was an unintended side effect of all that had happened. Bernardo shook his head to himself. Dueling with a sword in a contest of life and death was a matter of fractions. A mere fraction of an inch here or a minute fraction of a second there could spell instant death for the duelist. Constant rigorous practice was required to keep that keen edge which could split those fractions on the side of life. Practice which Diego had set aside. But watching Diego now, Bernardo understood his young friend. Given the opportunity and the guarantee of safety for his father, Diego would not hesitate to take on Santiago and prevail, or die trying. As he looked around the walls of his cell, Bernardo shrugged to himself. It did not seem as if Diego would ever get the chance. They were constrained by these walls, yes, but much more than that, they were constrained by their love for Don Alejandro and the concern for his life. Bernardo sighed. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Santiago as the man sheathed his sword and congratulated Hidalgo on a fine workout. Given half a chance, Bernardo would himself be willing to take on Santiago if it would set Diego free and protect Don Alejandro. In this, he was not so different than his friend.
