"Emissary, what a pleasant surprise! W-we were expecting you to arrive by coach tomorrow. W-we had a welcome all planned." DeSoto knew he was stuttering in his nervousness, but he was unable to help himself. He had heard the whispered stories about the man standing before him, and Resendo's presence gave him the feeling that the tales were not exaggerated hearsay.
"A very proper welcome to your charming little pueblo, I'm sure." The emissary's voice was smooth and his accent revealed him to be a caballero. His words were supposed to be mocking, but DeSoto had the impression that, for whatever reason, Los Angels actually charmed Resendo. DeSoto shook his head slightly in an effort to clear it. What man, raised in the beauty of Madrid, would find the horrible wilderness enchanting?
"Yes, we had a band and--" DeSoto forced himself to speak more calmly. He despised weakness, and he refused to reveal more to the man standing in front of him than he already had. Resendo was the type of man who would use any failing against his enemy, and the alcalde sensed that the man saw him that way.
Resendo moved his hand across the air in a gesture that had long meant stop. "I don't need bands, Alcalde. I need tax money. Let's go meet your delightful little citizens, shall we?"
DeSoto lips thinned. The words were said as a request, but he understood they were an order. Gilberto took a step forward to introduce himself, but the emissary turned and left, expecting DeSoto to follow him. Looking over at his friend, DeSoto was pleased to see an expression of anger on his face. With Gilberto on his side, he might be able to get Don Alejandro there, too, which would unite the pueblo behind him.
***
Diego stood in the plaza a moment, gathering his thoughts. The alcalde was slowly making his way over to him, followed by the imbecile that had been in his office. Why Diego had not liked the caballero on sight he could not say, but he knew he had good instincts about men, instincts that were seldom wrong.
He managed to keep his face poker stiff, but he admitted there was something about Los Angeles that made his blood sing. It was like he was home. After all the years of searching, he had finally found his home. I'm here, Mother, he thought. I am in Los Angeles, just as you planned.
"Where do most of your people spend the day when in the pueblo?" he asked when the alcalde finally stopped beside him. He kept his voice light, with just a hint of mocking in it. He could read DeSoto like an open book. The man craved respect like an opium addict lusted for a tincture of his drug. Diego's lack of respect, without being disrespectful, would drive the other man loco. The emissary would admit to only a few people how much he looked forward to the show.
"The tavern," DeSoto answered with only a hint of rage in his voice. Maybe the alcalde would explode even faster than Diego had thought. He felt a moment of sympathy for the poor people who had to live under the man's rule. DeSoto would not be a fair or kind leader, more worried about the cut of his coat than the pain of his citizens.
Diego noticed the building immediately. It was hard to miss. As it was in many tiny pueblos that he had visited, the tavern was the largest building. Los Angeles's had "Victoria's" washed in large red letters on the front. A woman tavern owner in the territories? Unlike Madrid, Diego was fairly certain that it was not dueling as the local brothel. Small pueblos usually frowned on such activity, and the ladies made sure that their men ran the women away. He would have to ask Julian about her later.
He marched over to his destination, and allowed himself a small grin at the anger he felt radiating off from the alcalde behind him. The man was not used to being treated as an inferior by anyone. Diego stepped through the doors of the tavern and stopped in his tracks.
She was beautiful. Her hair was pulled away from her face, so he could see a gleam of sweat on her brow. She wore a simple yellow top and red skirt, free of any embellishments. Diego thought, seeing the crowd gathered inside the room, their absence was caused more by the lack of practicality than a lack of money to buy them. He found himself wishing she had a simpler life, one that allowed for her to wear the finery that would pale next to her magnificence.
Diego Resendo had wooed some of the loveliest women at Court. His face had been caressed by some of the softest hands, and his lips kissed by some of the most wanted lips in the world. However, he had never felt like he did at this moment. He had found her. In this pueblo that was in his blood, he found the part of himself that was missing.
DeSoto ran into his back, forcing him out of the spell that she had cast. Who was this woman? Diego took a deep breath, and ordered himself to think realistically. She was obviously a peasant, and whatever he was feeling was more likely lust than love. Once he began to know her, she would begin to bore him like all women did, and then he would laugh at his own foolishness.
She stopped in the middle of laughing at something a sergeant was saying to her, obviously sensing his eyes on her, and looked up at him. When her eyes meet his, Diego again felt his heart beating faster. What was wrong with him? In his agitation, he lost control of his tone. It came out far more hateful than he intended. "Do you have an empty room, barmaid?"
The beauty stiffened at his tone. He admitted to himself that she was even lovelier with her eyes flashing in anger. He read the message she was sending him as clear as a bell, and he wished he could tell her that he had been to hell many times since his birth. He even opened his mouth to say so before getting himself under control. Besides his uncle and Julian, no one knew the secrets in his past, and he was not about to begin sharing them with a peasant in front of roomful of strangers.
Her words dripped with scorn. "Yes, Señor, I have rooms."
He lifted his brow in surprise. "You are Victoria?" She angrily nodded before turning away from him. From what he knew about the wealth of Los Angeles, and by the large crowd that was sitting at her tables, he was certain that she was relatively prosperous for the area. He doubted that she needed to be the one that worked so hard, and she could definitely dress in finer clothes. She had managed to fascinate him even more. He hoped that Julian knew something about her.
She was behind the bar before she spoke to him again. She managed to hide her anger well, showing the years of practice that she had dealing with customers. "How long will you be staying, Señor?"
"I'm not sure. I will be here however long it takes to collect the tax, I suppose." Diego's voice once again had the slight mocking lilt to it. For once, it was forced.
"Tax? What tax?" He heard the Sergeant stand to attention. The man realized who he was, even if the others were still in denial.
"Why, the special war tax, of course. Just because you are so distant from home does not excuse you from your obligations to the Crown." Diego almost smiled when her chin lifted, preparing for fight. Most people became frightened when they knew who he was and what he wanted. The little spitfire was about to go where most would say angels feared to tread.
"Taxes? We pay our taxes! On our homes, our business, our crops--we pay taxes on everything!" Diego could feel every eye in the tavern on them. Victoria appeared not to notice, as if she were used to being the center of attention. How many times had the men of this community let her fight their battle for them? Finally able to find something to dislike about the place, he realized he was still captivated by this community. He would have to give himself time. Like women, places bored him quickly.
"Now, you will pay a special 10,000 peso war tax," he answered her. The crowd gasped in surprise. Diego understood their shock, having thought the amount to be ridiculously high himself, but he had been unable to talk the King out of it. The sum had excited his mother, since it would aid them in her plan.
Diego had found himself praying for the poor farmers. He understood why the King was so desperate for money, but he wished it were different. The way the war was going, Spain would surely lose. The tax money would only benefit some cannon makers.
"Ten-thousand pesos? To wage a war that will only benefit you and some cannon makers?" Diego stared at her, stunned to hear his own words echoed back to him. They were thoughts that he would never dare to utter, but this lovely beauty had the courage to say what most only thought.
Diego sensed a man stepping out of the crowd, but he could not take his eyes off of Victoria long enough to see whom it was. He recognized the pistol that was aimed beside his face however. Julian was calmly aiming it at Victoria's heart, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. "Señor Hidalgo," he heard the alcalde begin to protest.
"Lieutenant." Diego's voice sounded thick to his own ears.
"Beg your pardon?" Diego thought the man should be begging everyone in Los Angeles' pardon. The man was incompetent as well as arrogant.
"His name is Lieutenant Hidalgo, Major. Don't forget that again," he snapped.
"Of course," DeSoto said through his teeth. It was a ridiculous reprimand, since Diego had sent his companion ahead incognito, but he had known how the alcalde would react to it. Unfortunately, his mind was too occupied to enjoy the result.
The man who had been in the alcalde's office earlier stood in front of Victoria. "I must apologize for the señorita. She's a modern woman--a bit argumentative, perhaps, fiercely loyal nonetheless." Diego kept his eyes focused on the woman before him, even though the voice reminded him of someone. He wanted to grin when he saw the look of pure venom that his Victoria shot the man. His Victoria? He would definitely need to be spending a lot of time with her soon.
The handsome man in front of him stiffened in anger. Diego realized that he had some feelings for the señorita himself, and did not care for the emissary's desire. "It is a shame that the war with France goes poorly."
At those words, Diego did not feel the same respect for the man that he had felt for Victoria. She spoke out on conviction and belief, but the fool in front of him was speaking out of jealousy, thinking he could take Diego on in a battle of wits. Well, he would learn soon enough that Emissary Resendo was known to be quicker and faster with his wit than he was with his sword, and his skill with the blade was legendary.
"We are close to victory," he lied without even blinking.
"Interesting, you should say so. I have a friend--a Captain--who wrote that his men are putting down their arms in despair. He should know--he's on the front lines instead of in the territory collecting taxes." Diego barely kept from rolling his eyes. He was long past the days when he had to have everyone believe him to be the hero. He had seen enough fighting to know the horrors of the front line, and he had no desire to be there now. He suspected the man in front of him would be the type of man who would be bothered by the insult if he had been in Diego's shoes.
"What is the name of the Captain?" He asked more out of boredom than a real need to know. He wanted to go to his room, think about the vixen who was already haunting him, and get his feelings straightened out before the rough times started. He would soon be meeting his father and brother, and he wanted to be in top form.
"His name really doesn't matter." The man's tone aimed for mocking, but Diego found it merely annoying. He ordered Julian to throw the man in jail, knowing it would make him feel far more important than he was. However, he had no desire to mess with him for the rest of the day. Later, maybe he would be able to derive some amusement from it.
As Julian led the man away, Diego turned to look at the alcalde. "My other assignment, which you were not privy to, is to evaluate you. I can already tell you from what Julian has reported this last week, you are a disgrace to that uniform. I'll give you one week, Alcalde DeSoto, to capture Zorro. If he has not been caught in that time, I will personally see to it that you are taken back to Madrid in chains and hauled through the streets as a prime example of an incompetence."
He did manage to find some pleasure in the man's loss of color, but he was too tense to fully appreciate the effect his threat had on the man. He wished Julian were here so that he could ask him about Victoria. Then, he could hear about the brother he wanted to meet and the father he planned to destroy.
He turned to go to his room when an older caballero stepped in front of him. Diego stopped, respecting the courage and honor that was plain on the man's face. He felt an immediate kinship with this man, and hoped that they could be friends. With any luck, the honorable caballero was not a friend of Don Alejandro's. "It is my son that you have in your jail."
Diego almost groaned. He slowly walked past the man, not as a sign of disrespect, but because he did not want to look into the man's eyes. Such an honorable person should not be saddled with a half-wit for a son. "Then, you should teach him to keep his mouth shut." Not for the first time, he hated the survival instincts that kept him alive over the years. He learned early in life to land the first punch--physical, mental, or emotional--before the enemy managed to gather its strength. Unfortunately, the instinct took over sometimes when he did not want to hurt the other person.
"De la Vegas always speak out!" Diego froze at those words. De la Vegas . . . De la Vegas always speak out. He slowly turned to face the man that was probably his father. Julian, where are you! I need you, amigo, he thought. He was not prepared to meet this man, yet. Especially right now when his feelings were in turmoil over Victoria--the idiot was his brother? Maybe he was just being too harsh on him. He would probably get to like him after he got to know him. His instincts were definitely off kilter if he thought Don Alejandro was an honorable man.
"And you are?" He knew the answer in his heart, but he wanted to hear it said aloud.
"I am Don Alejandro Sebastian de la Vega--friend to the royal family, perhaps even you have heard of me?" The man said proudly. Diego wanted to think of it as arrogance, but he found himself unable to do so.
He nodded. It took all the strength he had left in him not to demand answers to the questions that haunted him for a lifetime; so many whys asked so many times. "Oh, yes, Señor. I've heard of you. I have most certainly heard of you."
Father and son stared at each other for a moment. Fortunately, Julian came back into the tavern then. Diego knew from Julian's response that the man had read his face and not liked what he saw. He just hoped that no one else had been able to see his weaknesses.
"Señorita Victoria! The Emissary will be staying in the room adjoining mine," his friend and confidant snapped. "Alcalde, some royal guardsman will be here any minute. Prepare to make them comfortable in the cuartel. Emissary Resendo will be freshening up in my room as you prepare his, Señorita."
Everyone moved quickly to follow Julian's bidding. Diego limply followed him up the stairs, emotionally drained by the extremes he experienced today. In Julian's room, he sighed and lay heavily on the bed. Julian smiled over at him, pouring them each a glass of wine. "So, you've met your father."
"Yes," Diego sighed.
"He's not what you expected and neither is Gilberto." Juan handed him a glass of wine, concern prevalent in his eyes. Diego looked down at the liquid and drank it quickly. Handing the glass back to his friend, he lay back again on the bed. He did not want to talk about the de la Vegas right now. He wanted to focus on the woman, the witch that had cast a spell over him. The de la Vegas would be dealt with later, after he had built back his defenses.
"Victoria--" he began, unsure what to say or ask.
Julian laughed and sat in the only chair in the room. "Yes, I noticed your preoccupation with her. I've never seen you act that way towards a woman." His words pricked at his companion like he knew they would--Julian knew him too well for the words to be accidental. Diego shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He was not in the mood to talk about his churning emotions. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her. The sooner he knew her, the sooner she could bore him.
"I'd be careful with that one, my friend." Diego tensed, hearing a warning in the tone and the words. Was she known for stealing men's hearts? Julian's next words knocked the breath out of him. "They say she is a murderer."