Chapter 2

"Diego, are you awake again?" He saw the man who was his father put his head through the door. "Felipe looked into your room earlier, and he said that you were sleeping soundly." His father came into the room, closing the door behind him.

"The doctor told me you suffer from a concussion and a loss of memory. How are you feeling?"

He sat up in his bed, and the dizziness was back again for a moment. He closed his eyes and waited for the spell to pass.

"Diego, you should better lie down. A concussion has to be taken seriously." He felt his father's hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the pillows. "Why didn't you say anything in the morning? It's dangerous to walk around with a concussion! Normally, you go to bed at the slightest cold and when you're seriously ill, you get up." His father shook his head.

"I don't remember anything, Father, not even my own name."

His father looked at him with a mixture of shock and compassion. "I'm sorry to hear that, Diego, but I'm sure you will get back your memory in no time. Victoria missed you in the tavern today, and when I told her you were ill, she sent you her best wishes. She will visit you as soon as it's less busy in the tavern, but the market day will hardly leave her a free moment."

He wanted to ask him some questions, but then someone called for his father. "I'm sorry, Diego, Juan is calling for me. One of the mares is foaling and there are some problems. We'll talk tomorrow when you've rested some more."

He couldn't sleep anymore and staring at the ceiling, he soon became bored. He reached for one of the books that were piled up on his nightstand. He started to read, but it explained some complicated chemical experiments. The drawings and letters began to blur in front of his eyes, and he couldn't concentrate either.

Frustrated, he put the book back on the pile. He hated this forced inactivity. He wanted to get up and move around. He wouldn't get back his memory if he stayed put in his bed. Nonetheless, he didn't want to take a chance on losing his memory for good by getting up against the doctor's advice. He would stay in bed today, and if his headache was gone tomorrow, he would get up again.

Dozing on and off, the time passed by slowly. A light knocking on the door woke him up again. He hoped for Felipe to come visiting, but it was only a servant.

"I'll bring your dinner, Don Diego," the maid said shyly. "It's some soup that Maria has made for you."

"Is Maria the name cook?" he asked.

"Si, Señor," the maid answered, surprised. He started to hate that reaction. He needed to know about the people in this house, but to others he gave the impression as if he had suddenly become plain stupid, asking all these questions.

"Where is Felipe?" That was a safe question to ask.

"He is in the stables with your father, supervising the foaling of Fatima." He noticed that the woman was eager to return to the kitchen, and he refrained from asking her any more questions.

Z~Z~Z

The next morning he felt much better. The headache and the dizziness were gone when he sat up in his bed. He felt refreshed as if he had gotten enough sleep for the first time in weeks. Thinking of the double life Felipe had told him about, it was probably the case. It sounded crazy to him to stay out all night as a masked man and live another life by day. How had he managed it and how long had he been doing that?

He had just finished the breakfast, the same maid from the evening before had brought him, when the doctor came for his visit.

"Good morning, Don Diego, how are you today?" Dr. Hernandez greeted him.

"Much better, Doctor." He couldn't wait to get up again. Patiently, he endured the doctor's examination of his eyes, his head, and his general constitution.

"Are the headaches and dizziness gone?"

"Si, I feel much better today," he assured the doctor.

"What about your memory? Any progress in that direction?"

"No, not at all. My memory starts with yesterday," he replied depressed. "Shouldn't there be any change, now that the headache is gone, doctor?"

"I think you expect too much. Just because you're feeling better today doesn't mean you're healed again. It takes time, and with the brain, you'll never know. The memory may return slowly or all at once, there is no rule. Sometimes it's an item or a situation that reminds the person of what he has forgotten. Strong emotions may trigger the memory too."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"Nothing special, you should give yourself time to heal and not overexert yourself."

"Can I get up again?" he asked eagerly. "I need to get out of this room."

"I'd prefer if you stayed in bed for some time, but I can see that I can hardly keep you here, now that you're feeling better. You may get up for a short time if you promise to return to bed immediately if your headaches return. And don't stay up for too long. I want you to lay flat as much as you can."

He suppressed a face at the doctor's restriction, but he was relieved to get up at all. As soon as the doctor had left, he finished his morning toilet and dressed himself. With more confidence than yesterday, he left his room. He found his father sitting in the parlor that was adjacent to the library, reading his mail.

"Diego, you look much better today. The doctor told me you shouldn't stay up too long and not strain yourself."

"Thank you, Father, I feel better. The long rest helped a lot."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" His father put down his mail and looked at him. He sat down on the chair opposite his father's.

"I don't know if you can understand it, but I know nothing of myself. Tell me about our family. What about my mother?"

His father hadn't expected that question from the astonished expression at his face.

"Your mother, Diego? You have forgotten her too?"

He nodded. "What happened to her? Is she dead? How did she look like?"

"I think you will remember her, once you get your memory back. You were already twelve years old when she died. You were an only child, and we always wished for another," his father sighed. "So we were very happy when she got pregnant again after all these years. Unfortunately, she had a miscarriage and both your mother and the child died."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Father," he put a comforting hand on the man's arm. His father wiped a tear from his eye and stood up to fetch a small picture from the mantel. It showed a portrait of a young woman with curly brown hair and striking blue eyes.

"As you can see, you have the eyes of your mother. You remind me a lot of her and not only because of her eyes. She had a quick wit and a hot temper, but she was able to control herself. One of us had to, or our marriage would have been a fiasco if we both had said what we later regretted. She was very interested in the arts too. I think you got your talent for painting from her."

"Am I painting pictures?" he asked.

"Yes, and they are wonderful, but I haven't seen new pictures from you for some time."

"So, I have no siblings. What about other relatives?"

"I had two brothers, one was killed during a campaign when were soldiers, and the other died ten years ago of an accident. He has one son, Rafael, who lives in Monterey with his family. On the way back from your uncle's funeral, you found Felipe who had lost his parents in a battle near Guadalajara and brought him here. Though you were still a teenager then, you took care of him as if he were your son. That made me really proud of you, Diego. You never cared that the boy could neither speak nor hear. And Felipe will never forget what you did for him either." His father smiled at him.

His father's eyes followed him when he started to walk around in the parlor. Though this was his home, he felt like someone who explored an unknown territory. He opened the piano and let his fingers run over the keys, playing a short melody that came into his mind.

"That's Beethoven, Diego. Do you remember that whistling bandit who robbed the pueblo? Stealing even your mother's bust!" His father made an angry face, remembering the incident.

"No, I don't remember, Father. I still haven't gotten back my memory." Frustrated, he closed the piano with a loud bang. "I'm sorry."

Looking for other things to let out his frustration, his eyes fell on some swords that were loosely attached to the wall, ready for use.

He took one of the swords from the wall and weighed it in his hand. "Why do you keep these swords here, Father?" His father looked at him, surprised. What was wrong with that question again?

"They aren't of a good quality, very light and not much use in a real fight. A good Toledo steel will easily cut the blade at its hilt."

He made some fencing moves with the blade in his need to do some exercise. "It could be better balanced," he continued his evaluation of the sword. With one quick movement, he cut through the base of the row of candles on a sideboard. "At least, it's not dull." His father stared at him open-mouthed. And Felipe who had slipped into the room unnoticed was standing behind his father with his hands on his head and a shocked expression.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked, not understanding their reaction. "Since I have lost my memory, everything is new to me. What's wrong with asking some questions?" He became annoyed with their staring. Gracefully, he rapidly swung the blade in the air with no effort and enjoyed the feeling of an extended hand though the sword was too light for his taste.

"Do these swords have a special meaning, father?" He tried to understand. "Did you mind me touching them?"

"No, Diego, not at all. I was only surprised by your skill with the sword." His father had gotten up and went over to the candles, examining them, lifting each in a row to see the clear cut. His father sat down again, shaking his head. Looking forward and back between him and the candles, his father was still upset by something.

He put the sword back on the wall. "You haven't told me about the new foal that kept you busy last night," he switched the topic and both were eager to tell him about it during lunch.

Feeling dizzy again, he went back to bed. Felipe offered him something that he called cactus tea against his headaches and after drinking it, he felt very sleepy only waking up when the servant brought dinner that he had in his room.