Diego sat straight up on the bed. Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair. Crossing his legs, he leaned back against the headboard. "No, Julian. I don't know much about that woman, but I can tell you that she is no murder." Julian watched as his friend frowned. Diego usually was not quick to believe in anyone's innocence or guilt. Let the facts tell, he usually said.
"I didn't say that she was. I said that they say she is, with all the wisdom 'they' usually show," Julian answered. He walked over to the window, looking out over the almost empty plaza of Los Angeles. The silence between him and Diego was a comfortable one. They had always understood one another, even when they were first roomed together at the university. Each sensed the other's pain, and never forced the other to talk about it.
Many men whispered that Julian rode Diego's coattails to his current rank, and he was honest enough to admit that it was true. Diego was raw talent in an impressive package. He could go wherever he wanted, and he would be further today, if not for worrying about his mother and friend.
Julian wished had not mentioned the ridiculous rumor to his friend, but he always made sure Diego had all the information he needed. It was the only way he could really aid the man. Usually, a rumor about the tavern owner in a pueblo was unimportant, but Julian had never seen Diego respond to a woman the way he had to Victoria Escalante. To be truthful, the excitable business owner's response surprised him, too. He had only known her for a little over a week, but she had shown herself to be very distant where the señors were concerned.
"I admit the circumstances were damning. A dead man in the bed, blood on the knife she was holding in her hand. Sergeant Jamie Mendoza, after hearing her screaming, ran in from the plaza to find her standing over the body." As usual, he kept his tone of voice monotone when giving a report. He did not want to influence Diego's thoughts by his own opinion. If Diego wanted his estimation, he never hesitated to ask for it, and he always got a completely honest answer.
"Mendoza? The Sergeant downstairs that she was talking to when I entered?" Julian felt concern at the fatigue he heard in Diego's voice. Physical exhaustion was difficult, but emotional weariness carried far more danger.
"Yes, Jamie Mendoza is one of the few lancers here universally liked by the people. He is a bit naïve, and sometimes a little slow intellectually, but his heart is made of gold. He is a good friend to Don Alejandro and Señorita Victoria, but he acts uncomfortable around Don Gilberto."
"Uncomfortable? In what way?" Julian knew his friend's wish to become friends with the brother he had never met before, but he was going to be disappointed. Gilberto de la Vega did have some redeeming qualities, but his dishonesty would prevent the emissary from liking him.
"He stops laughing when the man walks in the room. Not a gradual stop, but a choking end. He usually leaves the room or the area when Don Gilberto arrives. He greets him very formally compared to the rest of the pueblo's citizens. Mendoza is even on a first name basis with Don Renaldo, the most proper of Los Angeles's caballeros, but Don Gilberto is referred to as 'Señor de la Vega.'" Julian turned to look at his tired leader. Praying that his friend could finally find peace, he slowly walked over to the bed.
"He's a good man, Diego. You'll want to be his friend," he finished softly.
"Is he the one that accused Victoria of murder?" Julian noticed the lack of address in front of the tavern owner's name. He forced himself not to show any emotion. Diego was usually very proper about how he addressed people. Why had the señorita affected him so strongly?
Shacking his head, Julian sat in his abandoned chair. "No, he was the one that passionately defended her. The alcalde was prepared to hang her, and Mendoza actually stood up to him. Stuttering the whole time, I'm told, but actually very persuasive. He said that Victoria would not harm a fly unless absolutely forced to do so."
"The alcalde agreed to let her go because of it?" Julian smiled at the incredulous tone in his friend's voice. Diego's eyes were wide, and his mouth was actually open a little in his surprise.
Laughing, he shook his head. "No, Luis Ramón--the alcalde of Los Angeles at that time--gave him extra duty for three months. Señor Zorro rescued the lady. He threatened to kill the man until he agreed to let her go. It was one of the first crimes he committed. The people still whispered about her and the murder, however. No one else was ever caught or convicted of the crime, so there is a cloud of doubt over Señorita Victoria's head in some people's eyes. Most of Los Angeles loves her and believes her to be innocent."
"Why do they love her?" Diego met his gaze, disbelief clouding his eyes. Surely Diego did not think himself to be in love with the señorita? Diego Resendo never courted a woman more than a few months. His heart was his own, never given to any woman besides his mother. Even that love was difficult for Diego to feel.
Setting his glass down, Julian leaned back in his chair. "She's very passionate, as I'm sure you noticed." Diego grunted in agreement. "Victoria Escalante is willing to stand up for anybody and has many times. She's often given free food and board to those that needed it. She's almost the pueblo's princess."
A sharp knock at the door startled the two men. Julian stood to answer it, and was pleased to see Corporal Figueroa carrying the emissary's trunk, on the other side of it. "Ah, Corporal! Come on in, and place it beside my bed. I'll have it moved after they have finished preparing the emissary's room."
Diego stood, a show of respect for which his men loved him. Unlike so many other military leaders of the day, Diego truly admired and trusted the men who served under him. They in turn repaid him with their respect and fevered admiration. His door was open to them at anytime of the night, and they knew it. If they had a problem, no one hesitated to go speak to Resendo about it.
"Sir, it's good to see you again!" Figueroa said with a smart salute.
Diego grinned, returning the salute and greeting. "Everyone is well?" The corporal nodded. Julian knew that Diego had only been separated from his men for less than a week, but knowing his friend, the man spent the entire time worrying that something would happen to them.
Julian's smile left his face when he remembered why his friend had been absent from his men. Ynez Resendo was staying in Santa Paulo, waiting for the moment of revenge to be complete. Without the constant push of his mother or his own devotion to her, Diego would forget about the de la Vegas and go on with his life. He wanted some answers, but he did not care about hurting Don Alejandro. He would do it only because his mother wanted it.
After the corporal left, Diego lost his smile, too. "Diego--"
The emissary held up his hand. "I don't want to talk about it, Julian!" For once, he found himself wishing that he could press the issue, but he knew Diego would only get angrier and more tight-lipped if he did.
Reaching to open his chest, Diego sighed. "Time to get ready to go mock, Father."
***
Alejandro turned towards the tavern. Diego stopped the sigh that wanted to escape his lips. He desired to go anywhere but inside this particular building, because he did not want to see the woman inside of it. Continuing to talk, he silently prayed that Victoria was not working at the moment, but he suspected it was a dim-witted wish.
There she stood, smiling at Mendoza, his black-haired witch with her soft brown skin and lush lips. How dare she use them to smile at anyone but him? How dare he be jealous of a woman he barely knew for smiling at a man he knew would never be more than a friend to her? What was wrong with him? He forced his thoughts away from her and back to the real reason he was in Los Angeles--his father.
"--owns half of Barcelona! He has four sons and thirteen grandchildren. How about you, Don Alejandro? Any grandsons?" Diego continued to taunt. Every man of wealth he knew wanted grandchildren to carry on the family name, and Diego was sure that Don Alejandro de la Vega felt the same way. He had found out about many of his father's old friends, and their current state of grandchildren, before he left Madrid.
A look of pain, of regret, crossed Don Alejandro's eyes. It gave Diego an uneasy feeling for some reason he could not name. Victoria, pouring them both drinks, shot him a look of loathing. He had expected the question to needle the old man a little, but this reaction was more extreme than he thought was normal. "No," Don Alejandro answered. "No grandchildren. My son is not married."
Diego noticed Victoria's eyes fall to look at the counter. She put their drink in front of them, before walking off, huffing, her anger at Diego, and her concern for Alejandro, showing in her every movement. He turned to look at Don Alejandro, but the older man seemed to have found a face carved out of stone. He made a mental note to ask Julian about it later. "Not yet, and he won't get there as long as he sits in your jail," Alejandro finished speaking, managing to hold onto that famous de la Vega temper.
Thinking carefully about his next words, Diego took a sip of his wine, and was surprised to find such a rich flavor in the territories. He was a man who lived his entire life by careful thinking. Even in anger, he forced himself to consider every option, every possibility, before he made a move. "Alejandro," he began, acting like a friend, forgetting the customary don before the caballero's name. He spoke almost condescendingly. "As a friend to the King, you know that no matter how badly the war goes with the French goes, we can't tell every peasant, or laborer--"
Alejandro interrupted, showing how well he did know politics. "Or taxpayer?" Anger was managing to shine through his words.
Diego pretended to ignore it. "We understand each other perfectly." He knew the little dig would get his father. Alejandro de la Vega did not want to believe he had anything in common with him. As much as Diego understood it, it made him angry anyway. "On the other hand, Gilberto--is that his name?--seems terribly confused by the political realities of today's world."
The caballero answer was short. "Well, the foremost reality is that Gilberto--and that is his name--sits in your jail." Diego felt a moment of victory that his comment about Gilberto's name managed to sting Alejandro, but he also felt a moment of regret. In another world, in another time, he thought he might respect this man. He knew how to stay focused on the issue. Diego would admire him today, if he did not know the truth about him. Unfortunately, he did know about the loyalty of this man, and he would make sure everyone else learned the reality of who Alejandro was, too, after he destroyed him.
"You must hold him very dear," Diego answered softly. Why, Father, couldn't you hold me dear, too? A crooked leg made me unlovable? Why? He wanted to ask, but he managed to keep the questions hidden away. He doubted anyone watching him would even see his pain in his eyes. He learned years ago how to hide the agony of rejection.
Alejandro's eyes showed his love of his son. "He is my only son." Diego managed to stop himself from flinching--barely. "We are loyal to each other . . . and to Spain!" Alejandro lifted his glass in a toast before drinking the cool liquid from its container.
"Then, he shall go free," Diego replied. Alejandro looked at him a moment. Diego admired the intelligence he saw working behind that gaze. Most men gladly took favors from him without a moment's concern that he might later demand repayment. Alejandro was not that type of man. He knew that sometime later, Diego Resendo would demand something in return. Little did he know, but Diego was planning to take his very soul from him. He smiled as the older man nodded, took his gloves off the counter, and walked away.
His smile faltered when his eyes met Victoria's. She seemed to be looking into his soul, and Diego found the sensation uncomfortable. What was really bothering him, though, was the feeling that he could see into her soul, too. He saw a passion, a desire for justice, and an innate honesty that called out to him.
The laughing of some vaqueros managed to break the spell. She looked away first, and Diego felt as if someone had taken something very valuable away from him. Yes, he was going to have to spend a lot of time with her and soon. The more time spent, the less effect she would have him. Ennui was a familiar feeling for him, and he had no doubt that Victoria would begin to bore him as soon as he began to know her. He turned away and walked towards the jail.
As Mendoza opened the door with shaking hands, Diego watched the people standing in the small jail. His brother slowly, yet angrily, walked out of his jail cell. Gilberto shot him a look of hate, but Diego hoped that would soon change. He yearned to be friends with his brother. He, at least, wanted a chance to get to know the man who was his twin, since he doubted they would be life-long friends. After all, Diego was there to destroy their father, and he would succeed. He never failed at a mission.
He watched as their father reverently hugged Gilberto. He noticed, in amazement and curiosity, that Gilberto seemed to be a little stiff in his returning hug. Diego wondered if Gilberto was like him, if his eyes were open to the truth about Don Alejandro. If they were, than maybe, they could be friends.
"Such devotion between a father and son," he sneered. Many people who had challenged Diego Resendo over the years still trembled in fear of his words. They said he was far more deadly with language than he was with the blade, and everyone knew how good he was with a saber.
Alejandro's back stiffened. "De la Vegas take great pride in family loyalty." Diego wanted to scorn him, wanted to shake him, for his lies. Family loyalty? The man did not know the meaning of those words! He gave up his son, gave up Diego, because of a twisted leg he quickly outgrew. Alejandro left his oldest son in the hands of a mad woman who had been unable to even take care of herself.
"How inspiring." Diego made sure that the other men could hear the mocking in his voice. "It should be a lesson to us all." It was only Alejandro's hand that stopped Gilberto from stepping forward. Diego found himself, again, reluctantly admiring their father. His brother was showing himself to be an impatient fool, but Diego hoped it was only a sign of the stress today had brought. Gilberto appeared to be in love with Victoria, and had not liked Diego's interest. Jealousy made men act loco all the time. Yes, that was the answer; Gilberto was jealous.
He watched with a heavy heart as they walked out of the jail. How would have life been different if Don Alejandro had been an honorable man and a loving father? Would they all now be somewhere working on the rancho, laughing at some shared joke? Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing the answer.