That night, after dinnertime was over, Diego recognized the soft knock on his door, but he did not bother to get off his bed. He continued to lie there, starring at the ceiling. The door slowly opened and Julian stuck his head through the opening. "Are you actually asleep?" he asked softly, disbelief echoing in every word.
"No, just thinking," Diego answered. To his shock, Julian walked on through the door and softly closed it behind him. They had always respected each other's privacy, but maybe Julian was also sensing that everything was changing.
Julian sighed. "Well, that's nothing new. I'm not used to the dark motif though."
Diego smiled in spite of himself. "I've been laying here thinking since this afternoon. I didn't bother to get up and light any candles."
He heard the sound of a weak chair giving a little as Julian sat down. "Los Angeles isn't like you imagined."
Diego closed his eyes against the darkness. He thought of the pleasant little pueblo. He had expected it to be like the dung heaps of Madrid where he had grown up, but instead he had found it to be warm and open. The laughing faces of the people had been the biggest surprise. He knew how incompetent of an alcalde they had, but they seemed to find a joy in life that existed outside of their circumstances. "No, it's nothing like I thought it would be."
He could hear the sounds of Julian shifting on the chair. Smiling, he thought about all the times Julian approached him when others feared to try. His faithful lieutenant had never been nervous before tonight. "Your father and brother aren't like you thought either."
Diego turned to look at the wall, so that his back was to Julian. He wanted to hide his face, even though the darkness was already doing it. He was vulnerable tonight in ways he had never been before, and he did not like it. He would not share his emotions right now with anyone, not even Julian. "Don Alejandro is just a better actor than I thought."
Julian sighed. It was the only sound in the room for a while. Finally, Julian broke the silence. "The people of Los Angeles love him."
"The people of Los Angeles," Diego spat, "don't know him."
"Diego, he has lived here most of his life. If you heard the stories--"
He cut Julian's words off with an emphasized, "They don't know him!"
The floor and the chair squeaked together as Julian stood. He walked over to the window beside Diego's bed. Even though he could not see him, Diego knew that his friend was looking out into the moonless night. "Why do you accept her word on this, Diego? You laugh at most of what she says. Why do you take her word on this one thing, amigo?"
Diego turned to look at his friend. He strained to see the outline of Julian's face, and he imagined that he could see the lines of worry etched there. "Because the evidence agrees. Have you heard one story about my father's frantic lifelong search for me?" He sat up on the bed, running his hand through his hair. "Julian, I would accept a year-long search. Have you heard of either one from these dear friends of my father? The ones who know him so well?"
Please, tell me you have heard one whisper, my friend, he silently pleaded. He wanted to believe that his father loved him, loved him enough to search for at least a day. If he just searched for one hour, Diego would go to him now and tell him the entire truth: everything that happened to him over the years, the hate he felt towards his father and mother. And he would ask for forgiveness.
Julian shifted and looked back out to the dark pueblo. "No," he admitted. "No, there has been no mention of a lost son."
Diego felt like he had been punched in the stomach, even though he had been expecting the answer. "And that's why I believe Mother."
The sounds of a couple of drunken vaqueros leaving the tavern filled the air. Diego wished for a moment that he could join in their lighthearted fun, but he had never been able to do it. He had tried to have fun at school. Sir Edmund always told him to use his mind for more than studying and learning, but he had been unable to find the ability inside himself. His childhood was over before he had been able to talk, and while most people learned to play, he learned how to take care of his mother.
He looked at his socked feet and thought about Julian's words, and then he thought of Don Alejandro's earlier reaction to his question about grandchildren. Maybe he had been thinking about his lost son, and thought about the possibility of lost grandchildren. "Has there been any mention of lost grandsons?" he asked.
Julian's reaction startled him. He always depended on Julian for the quick answers to any question, but the lieutenant's reluctance to answer was obvious to Diego, even in the dark. "Julian?"
His friend turned and began pacing. "It really doesn't matter--"
"Julian! I asked a question, and I'd like the answer to it, please." Los Angeles seemed to be affecting Julian, too.
Stopping in mid-step, he turned to look at his commander, and then stood straight, as if he was giving a formal report. "He does have a grandson, Sir."
Diego's head jerked back in surprise. "But Gilberto isn't married!"
"No, Sir, but the mother of the child is--or rather was. Her husband left the territory after the child was born." Julian's voice revealed to Diego how he hated to be revealing this information.
Diego reached over to light a candle. He wanted to see Julian's face. "How did you come by this gossip?"
"Señor Pedalta told me."
Diego waited for a moment for the rest of the story. When it became obvious to him that Julian was not going to volunteer the information, he asked, "And Señor Pedalta is?" He walked over to stand in front of the window.
Julian's shoulders sank. "He's a local farmer--jealous of Don Alejandro."
"For good reason?"
Shaking, his head, Julian meet his friend's eyes. "No, he's jealous of his wealth and his prestige. You know the type."
Diego sat down on the window seal. "I'm surprised to get such a piece of information from him in such a short time. Small pueblos like Los Angeles usually protect their own."
"I got him drunk one night," Julian admitted, sinking onto the bed. He leaned against a bedpost. "He regretted it the next morning. He was talking to me when you walked into the tavern."
"And revealed that you were my little spy," Diego finished.
Julian smiled, but it was sad. "Yeah."
"You've never regretted being found out before," Diego said. It was a question, in a way.
"No, I haven't, but I like this pueblo, Diego. I like the people. This is the first place that I have been able to imagine myself growing old, and having my children and grandchildren surrounding me on my deathbed."
Diego wondered if his friend might leave him after this "battle", but he decided he would worry about that it when the time came. Distance would not end their friendship, and Los Angeles would be a good place where Julian could grow old.
He thought of the children he had seen running through the plaza earlier today. Was one of them his nephew? He snorted. "Don Alejandro was talking about family loyalty earlier. The bastard doesn't even know the meaning of the word."
Julian's sigh was one of anger. "Diego, you are making assumptions, something I have never seen you do before now. If you must know the whole truth, Gilberto doesn't know the meaning of 'family loyalty'. One of his father's closest friends was married to a wonderful lady who was years younger than him. She was young, and as young ladies can sometimes do, she feel in love with a man closer to her own age."
Diego closed his eyes. "Gilberto."
"Gilberto," Julian agreed with a nod. "Instead of acting like the gentleman his father raised him to be, he seduced her. When she told him that she was pregnant, he made the mistake of bragging about it to one of his 'friends'. Word got out into the community. Don Alejandro refused to believe it at first, but when the child was born, there was no denying it was a de la Vega. The husband left the very next day."
"Did he divorce her?"
Shaking his head, Julian got up from the bed and walked over to stand beside his friend. "No, and I cannot tell you why. Maybe he thought he was being kind by letting her keep his name, or maybe he was doing it for his religious beliefs. Or, maybe he knew that would be the kind thing to do, but he wanted some revenge."
Diego looked over at Julian. "The kind thing? What do you mean?"
His friend smiled, standing to walk over to where Diego sat. "Everyone knows that Don Alejandro, to this day, would make Gilberto marry her if she were free. He spoils the child and the mother, but he has never acknowledged him as his grandson. He refuses to give the child that stigma."
"Because, until he does, it is still a rumor." Diego had seen enough in Madrid to understand why Don Alejandro would not do publicly what he wanted to do.
"Yeah, it's just a rumor that everyone knows is true, but no one talks about it much anymore." Julian's soft voice ached. His friend understood what it was like to be raised without a father, too.
Diego watched the stars twinkle in the sky. "And, Gilberto, does he spoil the child, too?"
Julian's silence gave him the answer. Diego did not bother to repeat the question, because he did not need, and did not want, to hear the reply.
***
Diego could barely hear his own footsteps in the quiet of the night. He had learned early how to move quietly, taking his victims totally unaware. He wondered if any of those many faceless men would believe that the ragged street urchin who managed to pick their pocket now met with the King on a regular basis. He could not, so why should they?
"Hold it right there," he heard a stern voice say to him. The tone, without saying the words, warned that the speaker held a gun in her hands.
"Señorita Escalante, I must say you have a unique way of greeting your guests," he said without moving. From the looks she had given him earlier, he had little doubt that she would love for him to give her a reason to shoot him. Why was he so intrigued by her?
He heard the whisper of a gun dropping, rubbing against a skirt. "Señor Resendo, I don't usually have my guests sneaking around after midnight," she answered smartly.
Diego turned, waving the small bag of coins in his hand. "I was wanting a bottle of wine. I fully intended to leave you payment." He felt his heart quicken at the sight of her. Victoria's hair was a mess, revealing that she had been asleep sometime tonight, or had been like him, struggling to fall asleep.
Walking over to the bar, she nodded. She reached under it and drew out a dusty bottle. It was probably a vintage that she did not get much call for in this part of the world, one too expensive to be savored by many in this pueblo. "Eight pesos," she said, holding at her hand.
Diego smiled. She was hoping to upset him with the outrageous price. He handed her ten pesos. "For your trouble," he explained.
He knew that her palms itched to throw the money back at him, but she instead dropped it into her skirt's pockets. She handed him a glass. Walking around the bar, she headed back towards the steps. Diego reached for her.
Her skin was as smooth and soft as he thought it would be. He found his thumb caressing it softly. "Stay." Usually he always sounded like he was giving orders. Julian often teased him that he had forgotten how to talk to someone outside of his command. Tonight, though, it sounded like a request, and Victoria hesitated. "Please." Diego's tongue curled around the unusual word.
He lifted the wine bottle. "It appears to be an excellent wine, and it isn't like you were finding sleep any easier than I was tonight."
She looked at him and then at his hand. He could see the struggle going on in her mind, and he felt sympathy for her. He had been fighting the same battle himself all day. She wanted to run from him, but he intrigued her, too. She finally nodded and walked over to a nearby table.
Uncorking the bottle, Diego watched the woman across from him. Her nervousness and her excitement were obvious to him. Usually, he found women's reaction to him amusing, but tonight he was having the same responses towards her. Victoria Escalante was managing to do what hundreds of French troops had only dreamed of doing: She was scaring Diego Resendo.
He took a drink. Licking his lips, he watched as Victoria joined him. "Excellent." She nodded in agreement.
Suddenly, she looked up from her wineglass. Her eyes pierced him, freezing him to the chair. "Don Alejandro is a good man," she snapped.
Diego's eyebrow rose. "I--I never said he wasn't."
Victoria shook her head. "No, but you eyes did."
"Really?" he tried to sound nonchalant, but no one had ever seen through him so easily. "I guess I'll have to order them to start being more quiet."
"He's a wonderful man, Señor Resendo--" Diego reached over and put a finger over her lips. It was a mistake. The sounds of their breathing filled the air. Caressing her lips, he smiled. "Diego--at least for tonight, call me Diego."
Her eyes told him that she wanted to resist him, but found herself powerless to do so. He would enjoy the feeling, except he was in her spell. "He's a wonderful man, Diego." He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. What was wrong with him? "Why do you hate him?"
He smiled. "I never said I did." Victoria's eyes bore into his, and he found himself unable to lie to her. "But, if I did, Victoria, I would have a good reason."
Diego watched how her throat moved as she swallowed more of the wine. "Would you? I have heard many stories about you."
"Have you?" He was used to hearing that line. His reputation always preceded him before he arrived at a pueblo. Los Angeles was the first place he wished it had come in behind him. He wanted her to have an open mind about him. "They always say not to believe everything you hear. I've heard some stories about you, too."
Victoria jerked back, and he wished he had kept his mouth shut. "I've murdered no one, Señor."
"I didn't say I thought you had." Caressing her hand, he wondered how someone who worked so hard in a tavern could have such soft hands. They were not the softest hands he had ever caressed, but he found them perfect. No one in Madrid seemed to compare to her, and that frightened Diego. He had never found a woman "perfect" before now.
"Have you--have you ever murdered anyone?" she asked.
Diego's smile turned sad. "I've never murdered anyone, Victoria, but I am a soldier. I have killed."
Victoria pulled her hand away from his. Standing she walked over towards the kitchen. "I used to understand the difference, but now--"
"In most ways that count, there is no difference." Diego's voice was soft, caressing, as he walked up behind her. "I have taken human life. It's not something I'm proud of, Victoria, but in this world, it is a reality."
Victoria wiped at her face, and Diego opened she was only trying to get the sleep out of her eyes. He was not sure he could handle this woman's tears. "Not the kind to brag that you killed over a hundred Frenchman, huh?"
He puts his arms around her stomach. Pulling her back against him, he whispered into her ear. "Never would I brag about killing a man, Victoria."
He felt her trembling. "You are nothing like I heard you were," she whispered.
"I'm me," he answered. He knew the rumors that were spread about him, just as he knew the truths. He was not sure what Victoria had heard, but he hoped she found him enjoyable. At least for a few days, until he became bored with her. He would become apathetic towards her; he had decided it would be so.
She turned in his arms and looked up at him. He realized that he was trembling, too. It did not matter. Victoria was in his arms. He reached down and began to kiss her. She tasted of wine and honey. He had kissed experienced courtesans who kissed with less finesse. Her kiss was perfection. He thought he could stay here all night kissing her. Then, he felt Victoria tense in his arms.
Looking over his shoulder, she flinched in surprise. "Zorro!"
He turned to find the notorious outlaw watching angrily from the guardrail at the top of the steps. Word of this man had even reached Madrid, along with the pueblo's support of him. Diego decided, before coming to Los Angeles, that he would make up his own mind about the outlaw. Unfortunately, it appeared the masked man had no plans to return the courtesy.
"Señor, we finally meet," Diego said, turning away from Victoria. His arms felt cold without her in them, but he admitted that he was looking forward to the challenge Zorro offered.
He felt Victoria's hands clenching his shoulders. "Diego, he is Zorro!"
Diego saw anger cross his opponent's face at Victoria's familiarity with him. Good, the man was not going to be that hard to beat, after all. A man who could not control his anger was easily defeated, especially when fighting with a sword. "Yes, I assumed as much," he answered her. "I didn't think many people would be going to his tailor."
Zorro jumped over to the chandelier and swung overhead. As he landed in front of them, Diego had to admit that he enjoyed the outlaw's sense of style. Victoria's nails were now digging into his shoulders. Diego was touched by her concern. He turned and gently pushed her behind the bar, out of the way of any sword. She clutched at his hand. "Diego, he is Zorro!"
He smiled and gently kissed her hand. "I know; I heard you the first time." Turning to look at his furious opponent, he leaned on one elbow against the bar. Ah, you don't like that do you, my little fox? You like seeing the fear in people's eyes! He pointed down to his lack of sword. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Señor. I am currently without my weapon. If you will wait a moment, I'll have my Lieutenant bring my saber."
Diego knew that Zorro was admiring him despite himself. Victoria was nervously watching them both, and he wished he could reassure her. He was a saber master himself, and he doubted that Zorro would be impossible to beat, as rumor held. The level of swordsmanship around here was far below that of Madrid. He could not tell her that though, without letting his opponent know.
Zorro nodded his head, and Diego smiled. "Julian," he called, knowing how light a sleeper his friend was. "Can you bring me my sword?" Within seconds, Julian was out of his room, wearing only his pants and his scabbard. Diego's sword was in his hands a few moments later, after he had raced into his commander's room and back out of it again. He startled a little when he saw the masked outlaw, something that was surprising in itself, but he ran down the steps, tossing Diego his sword at the bottom.
He easily caught it. He gripped the cool metal in his hand and began looking forward to this fight. It would be a real challenge. Most of his men were too frightened by his reputation to compete against him. He had no interest in killing the masked man, and doubted Zorro wanted to kill him--too many complications would arise if a royal emissary were murdered in the territories.
Some of Diego's battles ended in death. People, if they knew the real numbers, would comment that it was ridiculously low for a soldier with his ability, but Diego hated death, believing that the loss of one man was to the detriment of mankind. Sir Edmund taught him to love fencing, to enjoy the beauty in the movement, and to love the mental work of "seeing" his opponent's moves and reactions. He hated to use it for killing, even though his teacher thought that it was natural part of fighting. Tonight, the battle with Zorro would be for fun.
When Zorro unsheathed his sword, Julian spoke. "You might want to take this outside, Gentlemen. Victoria's has been damaged more than once in fights, and I'm sure she would enjoy the chance to go to bed, instead of staying up the night cleaning and repairing."
Diego smiled and nodded. "Of course." Pointing his hand towards the door, he said, "After you." Zorro waited a second, thinking. Then, nodding, he walked towards the door.
Diego could hear Victoria fussing at Julian for not stopping the battle, and he resisted the urge to laugh. No man dared to speak to the proper Lieutenant Hidalgo like Victoria was doing right now. He wondered if Julian felt as dizzy around Victoria as he did. Even as he thought that question, he ignored it. Julian had sensed how Diego was affected by the beautiful tavern owner, and Julian would ignore any feelings he may have had towards her himself.
He felt selfish for refusing to give up his own interests in Victoria. Usually, whenever a lady had intrigued both of them, something that seldom happened, they both would choose to ignore her and find other game. He could not do that now. Victoria was different from any woman he had ever met, but, given time, he was sure he would again experience the familiar ennui.
He and Zorro saluted and began circling one another, examining each other, looking for weaknesses. Diego knew little about the man before him. He heard the whispers, but he seldom paid attention to such information. After all, he learned from his own experience how seldom the gossip was true.
Noticing his opponent's preoccupation with the sight of Victoria in Julian's arms, Diego knew that he had found a weakness. Unfortunately, it was his own weakness, too. Would Zorro realize it and use it to his advantage? "She is lovely, isn't she?" he asked the masked man.
Zorro's eyes flashed. Diego saw his men and the garrison's lancers beginning to surround them. He whispered so that no one else would hear. "A wonderful kisser, too, but then you probably already knew that."
It worked. Zorro, furious, lunged at him. Diego found it ridiculously easy to fight this man, but he could see the good swordsman beneath the rage. Zorro's abilities were prolonging the battle, but his anger was preventing him from making the smartest choices. He wanted to hurt Diego, and he was not thinking ahead. A couple of good sweeps and cuts, and a sharp graze down the blade, Zorro was unarmed. The crowd gasped.
Zorro whistled. Reaching down to pick up his sword, he whistled again. His eyes hot and his arms shaking in anger, he leaned towards the royal emissary. "It's not over between us," he snarled.
Diego grinned as he admitted, "I didn't think it was." One final whistle and the neighing of a horse filled the air. Diego stepped aside as a beautiful black stallion thundered through the plaza. Zorro jumped up into its saddle and rode away into the darkness.
Julian and Victoria came to stand beside Diego. "What a beautiful horse," the royal emissary whispered in awe.
"He's not well trained. He seems to have a mind of his own most of the time, but Toronado is the fastest horse in the territory," Victoria's voice broke the silence.
"Toronado? A great name for a wonderful horse! He is the best looking stallion I have ever seen." Diego turned to look down at Victoria. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Los Angeles has showed itself to be full of mysterious beauty." Victoria blushed as Julian stiffened.
Ignacio DeSoto, still wearing his nightshirt, walked over to the group. "I've never seen Zorro defeated before tonight." His disbelief was obvious. He looked as if he had awakened into a dream, but did not know how to react.
Diego turned to look at the idiot standing next to him. "I guess that just proves, Alcalde, that Zorro has not been as big as a threat as you've made him to be. Remember, you have four more nights to catch him before I have you chained and on board a ship sailing to Madrid." DeSoto flinched. "Just imagine it, Alcalde, being dragged through the street as the rabble curses you and throws rotten food at you. Hopefully, most of it will be soft like tomatoes, but--" He left the thought up in the air. He nodded his head at Julian who understood the signal. He drew Victoria with him back into the tavern as Diego followed behind.