Late the next morning, Diego awoke in the de la Vega hacienda, and allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of being home. His father and grandfather built this house. His father and mother lived in this home for most of their married life. He had stayed awake, long into the night, examining the various pieces that made up his history. He had found a cameo of his mother in the library and cried. He was finally seeing the face of the woman who had borne him, and he could finally glimpse from where he and Gilberto inherited their looks.
Getting up to continue his exploration, he found Julian in the library reading a book. If things had been normal between them, he would have teased his friend. Diego was the reader between the two, and he had spent many hours cajoling his friend into reading various books. Diego smiled when he noticed the title--Robin Hood. He had read it Madrid and talked about it constantly with Julian on the ship.
Diego sat down with his paper and quill. Taking a deep breath, he began his short letter to his mother.
Dear Mother,
I am doing well. I hope that you are also doing better. Please let me know what the doctors have to say.
You will be pleased to know that I am sitting in the de la Vega hacienda, just as you dreamed all these years. It is beautiful, and I hope that you may join me in seeing it soon.
Your Son,
Diego
Well, at least that letter was done. He had little to say to the woman who had agreed to take him from the de la Vegas instead of allowing him to be put into an orphanage or a home for the sick. He owed her a great deal for that alone. She brought him into her family, in a way. After she mentioned her brother to her then ten-year old son, he took it upon himself to write to the man. Fortunately, that man had had more sense than his sister. After looking at the horrible conditions that they were living in, Diego's uncle immediately began packing them up to take them home with him. Diego did not dare let himself wonder how his life might have been had he not made the fateful decision to write that letter.
Uncle Felipe was not a man of great wealth, but he had a shop. He insisted that the young man attend the local school that the monks offered, and struggled desperately to keep him away from the criminal element that he had earlier fallen into as a means of survival. Uncle Felipe had not been totally successful, but then that had been for the best.
Because one day, Diego tried to pick the pocket of a well-dressed Englishman. Sir Edmund apparently saw something in that boy that he liked, and insisted on meeting his family. Uncle Felipe had not been pleased with the assumptions of the Englishman, and Sir Edmund realized his mistakes soon enough. They both agreed, however, that Diego's mind was being wasted. So, a fourteen-year old Diego began training with a saber, as well as tutoring lessons with Sir Edmund. The man even paid for his years of study at the University. Diego would always be in both men's debt.
Dear Uncle Felipe,
I am doing well, and pray that you are, too. I received a letter from Bebe saying that you are misbehaving, but I know that is her usual concern for her father.
I'm here, Uncle. In Los Angeles. A place I never expected to find myself. When the King's men first approached me with the assignment, I planned to refuse, but then I talked to Mother and realized I couldn't deny her this one request. I pray that I will manage to survive it with my soul intact.
Nothing here is how I envisioned it. I have found myself falling in love with the land. It is so beautiful, in its own untamed way. The people have strength, a will to survive, that I find remarkable.
My father has also been nothing like I expected. I find myself doubting my course of action, and you know me well enough to know that never happens! Gilberto has been a lazy, weak man that I can find nothing about to admire or even like. How can two men so close in the womb turn out so different in life?
I wish that you were here with me right now, giving that special brand of advice that only you give or understand. For the first time in my life, Uncle, I feel like I am home, and it frightens me.
Yours,
Diego
"Are you okay?" Julian asked as he addressed the envelopes.
Diego's hand shook a little as he wrote his uncle's address. He had almost mentioned Victoria in his letter. He'd have to get over her charm or he was going to go mad. "I'm fine. Just writing letters to Mother and Uncle Felipe."
"Letting them know you are here?"
Diego looked up at his friend and saw compassion in those eyes instead of anger. He nodded. "I had to let Mother know as soon as possible."
The old Julian would have let the subject drop with that, but this new person refused to let questions go unasked. "Why?"
Sighing, Diego walked over to the fireplace mantel, and leaned against it. "There's something I didn't tell you in Madrid."
Julian sat down his book and leaned back in his chair. "I've already figured that out, my friend."
"Mother's dying."
Julian gasped, but did not offer his sympathies. He understood how mixed Diego's feelings were about the woman who had been his real mother's midwife. She was loco, and Diego spent most of his childhood taking care of her, but she had never been satisfied by him, always demanding more. "So, this is to fulfill a dying wish," he realized.
Diego nodded. "I could not deny her this one thing."
If Julian begged to differ, he kept his mouth shut. "Have you ever considered asking your father?"
Diego's laugh was hollow. "What? 'Excuse me, Sir, but you did give away a small baby to a slightly mad lady? And, if so, why?'"
"Why not? At least then you would know for sure." Diego just stared at him for a minute.
Felipe, a young servant boy of the de la Vegas, entered the room. He walked over to the corner where Diego's muddy boots still rested from the night before, and began to clean them. Diego looked over at Julian, confused, who only shrugged back at them. He walked over to the boy and gently patted him on the back. Don Alejandro, before he left, made sure that Diego understood the boy was both deaf and mute. It warmed his heart that the old man was so concerned about one servant.
"What are you doing?" he asked the boy, making sure to pronounce each word carefully.
Felipe signed that he was cleaning the boots. Diego laughed. That answer was obvious. "I can clean my own boots, thank you. You have been working all morning without a break. Sit down, read, do something relaxing," he ordered the boy.
The servant looked at him, confused. "You do know how to read?" The boy nodded and signed that Don Alejandro had taught him. "You really love that man, don't you?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. "What about Don Gilberto?" Felipe was silent for a moment and then signed that the man was a good master. Diego nodded his head. "Your loyalty is to be admired, my friend, but your slowness in answering had a lot to say in itself."
He heard Julian laughing behind him. "How on earth do you understand what he's saying?" Diego looked down at Felipe and was surprised to notice that his hand was on the boy's shoulder. Laughing, he shrugged. "I don't know. It seemed obvious to me what he was meaning."
"Really? Everyone says that Don Alejandro understands him better than anyone, and I don't think he usually understands him that easy," Julian said.
"Then, maybe, I am just imagining what I think he is saying," Diego answered mildly and chose one of the many books on the shelf for himself. "Or maybe I'm the only person in the world who can understand Felipes. Everyone always says that I'm the only one in the world who can fully comprehend Uncle Felipe!" Julian laughed, and then the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon reading quietly together.
***
That night, Felipe entered the library, carefully listening to the laughing of the emissary and his lieutenant. Don Diego was a surprise to him. Knowing how upset his patron had been at the actions of the man, he had expected to hate him. A man who would hurt the church for money was not a good man, but Don Diego was--seemed to be a good man. He had thrown Don Alejandro out of his home, but he appreciated the history and the beauty of the hacienda, making sure that all the servants were comfortable. It was a contradiction, but then Felipe was use to living in a world of contrasts.
Looking over his shoulder, he slipped into the secret passageway. He started when he noticed Don Gilberto standing there. "They still in the house?" He nodded. Gilberto had a hard time understanding his signs, so he tried not to use them unless it was an emergency. Fortunately, Gilberto seldom asked questions that required more than a shake of his head as an answer anyway.
Gilberto turned, grunting his impatience. "He's like a Gordian knot that I long to cut! I don't know why that man--" Felipe was used to listening to Gilberto's tirades. The man did not know that this mute servant could hear, so he thought it was safe to share his thoughts. Felipe would never share those secrets he revealed, but he knew that the young de la Vega heir would never believe it if he found out that Felipe could hear. He seemed to make the mistake of thinking deaf and dumb had something to do with mental abilities.
"Victoria, my dear Victoria, has resisted my every advance for almost a decade! He comes into the pueblo, and she's kissing him that same night!" Felipe barely kept his reaction in check. Victoria's instincts were usually perfect when it came to people, and if she was actually kissing Don Diego that soon then she must believe him to be a good person. He would have to go to the pueblo later to see if he could over hear any gossip. Gilberto's view was often distorted. Don Diego could have been kissing Victoria, who hated every minute of it. Perhaps it was for the best that the man was now in the de la Vega hacienda instead of her tavern.
"Why can't she love me? Why can't my father love me? I go out as Zorro and they fear me, but they don't respect me. I risk my life for them!" Gilberto picked up a vase and began to toss it in the air. Pacing, he continued to speak. "Oh, they will defend me when the pressure is high, and warn me about the alcalde--not that I need it. The bumbling fool usually lets me know his every move before he makes it!"
Only years of practice kept Felipe from jumping when the vase smashed against the wall. Gilberto turned to look at him. "I try, Felipe. I honestly try to care about those people. I want to love this pueblo like my father and my grandfather! I just don't feel like I belong here. I love Madrid and the soft beds and easy company." Sighing, Gilberto sat down on the steps. "I really try."
Felipe wished he could hug the man, but he knew Don Gilberto would not accept comfort from a servant. He, better than anyone, probably even Don Gilberto, knew the man. He understood all the man's faults as well as all his strengths. He had been present after all of Zorro's rides, and had heard all the self-condemning talks when Gilberto made a mistake. The younger de la Vega wanted to do well, but unlike his father, it did not come naturally to him to be concerned about his fellow mankind.
Finally, Gilberto looked up at Felipe and smiled grimly. "I think it's time for Zorro to get rid of this walking pestilence." He nodded and walked over to help his patron dress in the familiar black outfit.