Victoria was startled from sleep by Diego shouting something. Her eyes flew open, and she moved closer to the bed.
He was tossing and turning, pushing off the blankets that covered him lightly. The air was hot and still, making conditions not ideal for sleeping. He was having a nightmare.
"Hush, Diego. It's alright, it's just a dream," she soothed, reaching out to hold his hand. "You're dreaming."
Zzz
Diego was standing alone. It was like the whole pueblo had taken three steps back away from the problem in front of him. So much for admiring him and encouraging him.
"It's not our problem, Diego. It's not yours either," someone in the crowd yelled. "There is no reason for you to get involved."
There was every reason. The woman he loved was being threatened. The man with the ginger hair, vaguely familiar, had tied her to a pole in the plaza.
"Diego, Diego, Diego," the man said, shaking his head. "All this fuss. If Zorro shows up and gives himself up, then I will let her go. I am a man of my word. You know me."
The name came to his lips. "MacKay, let her go. What if Zorro doesn't come?" Diego responded, stepping forward again, even as the rest of the people shrunk even further back.
"That would be a pity, wouldn't it?" MacKay played with a pistol, making sure Diego saw him load it and prime it ready for firing. "Such a pity. She is quite lovely, when you stop to notice."
"Keep your hands off her," Diego demanded, as the man moved towards Victoria. MacKay sneered at the young nobleman. He deliberately took a hand, and caressed Victoria's cheek, making her squeeze her eyes shut.
"Or what? Don Diego, what will you do to me? You are completely unarmed."
"Diego, let Zorro deal with this. Don't get yourself hurt," Victoria said. His heart twisted inside his chest.
He couldn't just stand there and watch her be harmed. He couldn't just do nothing at all. He ran up to MacKay and wrestled him for the weapon, confident that he would succeed. He found himself being pulled off the man by his father of all people.
"Let me go, damn it. Let me go," he protested, struggling against an impossibly strong Alejandro.
MacKay raised the weapon, levelling it at Victoria's head. "Zorro has had his time. I'm sorry Victoria. It has to be this way."
Diego broke from his father's grasp and dove in front of Victoria.
Zzz
Victoria caught him in her arms, as he woke up, preventing him from falling out of bed. He stared at her in shock, the memory of the nightmare fading even as he clutched at it. He gasped for air, and in the stifling heat of the room found it difficult to breathe.
"It's alright, Diego, it's alright," Victoria said, gently. She held him for a few moments, and could feel his heart racing in his chest. "It was just a nightmare. Only a dream."
"Victoria, are you alright? He was...ah...he was…" Diego said, his face going blank and then flushed with a blush. He stared at her again for a few moments. "Are you real? Are you alright?"
"I am fine," she said, reassuringly. "Take a look at me, I'm perfectly fine."
He scanned her face, her torso. Their eyes met, and the energy between them was electric. Like a storm was brewing in the air. She drew in her breath, and licked her lips. It was as if she was in Zorro's arms, and she fought to control herself. She couldn't very well reach out and kiss him. Not like she wanted to, not the way Zorro would welcome.
"Don Diego, Senorita," the church assistant said after a few moments. "I can fetch some water or some lemonade."
"That...would be a good idea," Diego said, without turning his head. Victoria saw Zorro's eyes in Diego's face, the hint of passion glowed for a moment, before fading away. He sucked in his breath shakily.
"This is embarrassing," he said, and looked away. It broke the spell, and Victoria could breathe again. She patted his right arm reassuringly, and sat back.
"Can you remember any of it?" Victoria asked softly. "It was very intense. You were very distressed."
"I think...no," Diego said, and stopped. "No, it's gone."
"Just try to relax. It's over," she said. "You're safe. I'm safe. We'll take you home and everything will be fine."
"It is so stuffy in here," Diego said, and Victoria had to move aside to let him leave the bed. He began to pace the small room, making it more cramped than it had been.
"Let's go outside and get some air," Victoria said, taking his arm gently. Diego patted it gently, and allowed her to lead him outside.
It was much cooler in the shade of the patio. Diego sighed and sat down, resting his head in his hands. Victoria watched him carefully. The church assistant found them and poured out two lemonades, sitting discreetly to the side, for appearance sake more than anything.
"Well," Diego said. She waited for him to say something, but he was at a loss for words. Unusual for Diego.
"Well," she answered. "I'm sure that the nightmare was caused by the stuffy room."
Diego's face grimaced into a forced grin. He shook his head slowly.
"I'm sure it was more than that," he said grimly. "It felt like an omen, like a premonition. And I can't even remember it."
"It was about me?"
He stared at her for a moment. He looked away and then at the floor.
"I know it was about me. You were so anxious about me being alright, don't you remember?"
"I think I was still mostly asleep," Diego admitted with a sigh. "You know a lot about Zorro, don't you?"
"I'd say so."
"I'm sorry I can't remember him. He sounds like a great man, a man of the people."
"He is," Victoria said, tightly. Don't cry, don't upset him, she told herself. She dug her fingernails into her palms, to remind herself to stay in control.
"He is a hero," Diego said slowly. "The blacksmith, the apothecary, the padre. You. Would everyone in the pueblo say the same?"
"It depends who you ask," Victoria said. "The alcalde is not very appreciative of him. Several soldiers might agree with their alcalde."
"Might?"
"Zorro has survived for five years in this district," she said with a shrug. "There are some lancers who are less than proficient with their aim. There could be a reason for that."
"What is he like?"
"He is tall, like you," Victoria said, staring into space, trying to picture Zorro standing in front of her. "He wears black: shirt, trousers, sash, bandana, hat. All made of silk. A sword of Toledo steel hangs at his side, a sabre. His hair peeks out from under the bandana, soft and dark. His eyes change colour…"
"Change colour?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes they are clear blue, sometimes they are closer to brown. I don't know why."
"Hazel," he murmured. "Has he been beaten?"
She looked at him carefully.
"How does he fight?"
"With the sword. They say he has used a crossbow in the past, a dagger at times and maybe even a pistol," Victoria said, wistfully. "I don't think he's ever been beaten."
"Never been beaten," Diego murmured. "He must be very highly skilled."
Victoria thought of the list, and what Diego had said. "Some say he must have been trained in Mexico City."
"The best fencing masters live in Madrid. Toledo sword, how do you know that it is Toledo steel?"
"He told me once, when I asked. He told me it was a sabre and it was a present from someone he greatly admired. Then he wouldn't tell me any more."
"You don't know who he is?" Diego said, watching her closely.
"Some say he is a wealthy gentleman, others say he's just a workman."
"Only wealthy men can afford to get such training," Diego murmured. He was looking forward to seeing this master swordsman in action. He sounded very theatrical. A man after his own heart.