Diego tried, with little success, to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Over the years, he had accepted it, as a part of his right as a customer, to have a hot meal waiting when he awoke. Now, he thought it was a cruel demand. His Uncle Felipe said it was always easier to look at someone else's life and not see the problems until you had lived it. "I wish there was more I could do."
Victoria turned from her fire and smiled. "You've done more than enough. I'm sorry I kept you up so late." She sauntered over to where he stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You know, you could always give up the life of a soldier and become an innkeeper instead."
Pulling her close, Diego smiled into her hair. "I can't do that, Victoria."
"I know. Just like you could not tell me the real reason you came to Los Angeles."
He pulled away from her. Slowly, he caressed her face and wished life was different. "If I could do that, Victoria, I could stay."
She looked down, obviously trying to hide her tears. "Then, just say it."
"I would." He hoped she could hear his pain; he wanted her to know that he did not want to leave. "But I can't. It would hurt someone that I care for very much. Maybe one day," he whispered. She nodded, obviously as aware as he of how little the odds were of his return.
The sound of a coach driver yelling at his horses broke the silence. Diego looked over his shoulder, and then back at Victoria. "I'll go meet the customers."
"Thank you." He could hear the tears in her voice.
Forcing a smile on his face by sheer will, he walked out of the curtain dividing the kitchen from the main room of the tavern. When he saw the pale, stiff woman standing there, his smile faltered. Neither one spoke to one another, each starring at the other as if they were in a competition. Finally, Diego smile became a smirk, and his voice found a cruel taunting quality that had been lost during the last few days. "Well, it is a miracle! Your doctors managed to bring you back from the edge of death, Mother."
Diego felt his muscles preparing for battle. There was only one reason for Ynez Resendo to be here, and he was determined that she was going to be leaving sadly disappointed. The son of Don Alejandro de la Vega was not going to let her hurt the caballero, even if he had to be the one to bear the wounds from the battle himself. After today, if he had his way, he and Ynez both would be showing battle scars.
Ynez's eyebrow arched, and Diego gritted his teeth. This woman, who had stolen him from his family, had claimed to raise him as her own son, always seemed to hold the opinion that she was right and everyone else was wrong. She never liked to be called on her mistakes, and usually she tried to find a way to blame them on someone else. He was not surprised by her answer when she finally gave it. "I was ill, but the doctor underestimated my will to live, my son."
He kept himself from flinching, barely. "The doctors misdiagnosed your illness." His tone was flat and as expressionless as his face.
A cool nod was his answer. Before he could say anything else, Victoria entered the room and warmly greeted his mo--Ynez Resendo. "I'll go and prepare--"
"Victoria," he interrupted. "Can you wait a few minutes? I'll escort the señora to her room. You can bring the linens up in a little bit." He saw a hundred questions in her eyes, and he gave a grateful smile when she did not ask one of them. She nodded, turning back to walk into her kitchen.
The manners his uncle had ingrained in him forced him to offer to carry Resendo's bags for her. Struggling with his thoughts, he slowly walked up the steps. He knew what needed to be said, but old habits, years in the making, were screaming in protest at him. He had taken care of her for so long, he was not sure he could be the one to hurt her. Diego knew, however, that he had to get her away from Los Angeles and Don Alejandro for good, and there was only one way to ensure that it happened.
Sitting down her bags, he turned to look at the woman he had called "Mother" for so long. As he had expected, her eyes were full of disdain at the simple furnishings of the tavern. He did not bother with the usual platitudes he usually mumbled to appease her. "Tell me again," he ordered.
Ynez looked surprised by his tone, but then she had right to be. He had never spoken that way to her before today. She told him, with the timbre of someone telling a well-remembered story, and that was all it was--a story. "After I helped your mother birth Gilberto, a few minutes after your birth, Don Alejandro lifted him up and said this is my son, this is my heir."
"Why would he say such a cruel thing, Mother?" He used to ask the question feeling a deep slash of pain inside of him. Now, he felt anger and sadness.
"You know why." He could the worry on her face. She was beginning to see that she had lost him. "How many times do you need to hear it?"
She turned to walk away from him. Diego's hand on her arms prevented her from moving. "I need to hear it again." He needed to be sure that the story was the same, that there was no possibility of misunderstanding.
"You were born first, but your legs were misshapen," she hissed. "I tried to tell them that it was nothing to worry about--"
"But they wouldn't believe you."
Ynez nodded, yanking her arm away as she turned from him. "No," she said angrily, as if she actually believed the lie she was proclaiming. "God forbid that Don Alejandro should be ashamed of a deformed child bearing the de la Vega name. He was going to put you away into an institution that took care of such children. That very night I took you away. I left Madrid so that they would never find us. I brought you up as my own."
Diego sat on her bed in silence. What he was about to say would forever end his family as he knew it, but he could not ignore the truth. "You stole me, you mean. My father was not even there the day we were born."
Ynez's lips twisted. "Where did you hear such a ridiculous story? Did you listen to his lies?"
Shaking his head sadly, Diego managed to smile. "No, I never told him. It got brought up by accident one day, and I managed to finally learn why Don Alejandro left the army he loved so much." He stood as he rubbed his hands though his hair. "You drugged my mother and then stole me from her."
He looked at her trying to see some regret, some speck of compassion on her face, but he found none. There was only cold anger. "What did they do to you?" He thought of her earlier letter. "What humiliation did you receive at the hands of my father? Did he yell at you one day? Tell you that you should be doing you job? What did he do?"
He wanted to shake her. He wanted something to smash against the wall. He wanted answers that he would never get. Sighing sadly, he sank back down to the bed. "Leave Los Angeles."
"Why should I do that? Just because you failed--"
"Leave Los Angeles or spend the rest of your miserable life in jail. I'll make sure you go there for stealing me from them if you dare to hurt him. You got your revenge. Now leave." He thought he almost saw a flash of pain in her eyes, but it was gone so fast he could not be sure. He handed her the bag he had just carried up for her. "The coach hasn't left, yet. Be on it."
Grabbing it from his hands, she spat, "I never want to see you again."
Diego wished he could be sad at her loss, but he felt a great relief instead. "Why should I come see you? You are nothing more than a thief who took me from my mother and father."
He watched her lips twist again and realized it was for the last time. "Do you really believe that Don Alejandro would have taken as good of care of you as I did?"
"You never took care of me. I always took care of you." Ynez's spine stiffened. She turned and nearly knocked down a stunned Victoria. Diego could tell by the look on the tavern owner's face that she had heard too much, and he knew he could never leave here now without telling her everything.
***
Diego nervously paced the de la Vega gardens. Victoria, still showing signs of shock from his earlier revelations, was sitting quietly in a chair. He hoped this visit would help convince her to leave with him in a few hours. He had ordered all of his men to prepare for the journey, as well as the alcalde. Diego was taking him back to Madrid to face numerous charges. They were here because she had protested that he was acting as if he knew for sure that Gilberto would be unable to handle the idea of a twin living in the pueblo. He had not answered, but he knew his brother well enough to know the answer to a question not yet asked.
He saw the jealousy and the anger in Gilberto's eyes the moment the man walked out into the garden. "I'm sorry I took so long. I was just getting ready for the day when Felipe came to tell me that you were here." He hesitated for a moment, and then with his eyes focused on Victoria, he casually dropped a piece of information that showed he had been awake much longer than he was claiming. "I hear that you are leaving our fair pueblo, Don Diego."
Diego's eyes met with Victoria's for a moment. "That depends on you."
Gilberto's eyes finally left Victoria's face. "On me?"
"Yes, on you," Diego answered, nervously shifting. "Perhaps we could talk about it in private." He motioned with his hands that they walk farther out into the garden. Gilberto looked at Victoria who simply nodded. Her eagerness was obvious to Diego, and he had little doubt that Gilberto could see it, too.
They had walked a little piece when Diego finally spoke. "I have a confession."
"Oooh, a confession! Sounds interesting," Gilberto mocked. More interesting than you think, my brother.
"I did not come to Los Angeles only to collect taxes." Diego sensed the sudden tension in the man walking beside him, and then he realized that Gilberto thought he was in Los Angeles to capture Zorro. "I came to destroy your father."
They stopped walking. Gilberto's face was still wearing the mocking sneer that it usually wore. "Really? And what would you have against him?"
Diego struggled to find the words. He would rather be facing a thousand Frenchmen right now, but he had made a promise. Against his will, his eyes scanned the garden until they rested on Victoria. Gilberto was going to have to accept that she loved him instead. "I hated him for abandoning me, for refusing to admit that I was his son."
Gilberto laughed. "You're his son, too? I would never have thought it of the Old Man. He's always talking honor and responsibility. The makings for an interesting conversation." Diego remembered a young boy being raised by his mother alone, because of Gilberto's irresponsibility. He would not let his brother dare think that of their father.
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. The 'Old Man' is nothing like that." He took a deep breath and forced the words out of his mouth. "My Mo--the woman who raised me as her son was a woman by the name of Ynez Resendo. Have you ever heard the name?" Diego thought he saw recognition in Gilberto's eyes, but the man shook his head.
"She was your moth--our mother's midwife. She had always told me that I was first born, that my leg was twisted, that Father declared you his heir because I was deformed."
Gilberto's rage was sudden and extreme. "You lying son of--"
"I am not lying!" Diego's anger met his. He had come to Los Angeles in hopes of finding a brother he could admire. Instead, he met Gilberto. "I don't particularly care if you believe me or not. I'm here because I made a promise to ask if you could stand to see me living here."
Gilberto's snort of disdain was answer enough. Diego's looked back at Victoria and gave a reassuring smile. She had told him that if had least made the effort to ask, she would pack and leave Los Angeles with him. He wished they could marry and live here in this wonderful pueblo and with the amazing people who lived here, but life had deemed it unworkable.
"She loves you," Gilberto said softly, too softly for Diego's liking.
"Yes, she does, and I love her." He treasured how easily the words now came to his lips.
The click of a pistol being cocked was his only warning. He turned to find Gilberto pointing the pistol straight at his head, his intentions obvious. "You can't have her."
"Gilberto!" Diego flinched when he heard Don Alejandro's voice come from behind the wall. He moved his eyes to see the man, covered in dust, the shears in his hands revealing that he had been pruning some plants on the other side. There was no way he could have missed hearing what Diego shared with his son.
"Stay out of this, Father. It is none of your concern."
Don Alejandro's pain and joy were obvious in his words. "None of my concern? Gilberto, he is your brother."
The tears shimmering in Gilberto's eyes surprised Diego. "The kind of son that you always wanted. Right, Father? Somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough." Diego's heart raced as he heard the soft footsteps approaching him from behind. Victoria, as usual, was racing to where angels feared to tread.
"I was never good enough for you, either, was I, Victoria? I was always just below your notice, never reaching that impossible standard that you set, but he was. Somehow, he was deemed better than me."
"Gilbe--"
"No!" he yelled. "I will not spend my life being second best to him! I have always tried and you all never gave me a chance. I put on that mask--" Victoria's gasp mingled with Don Alejandro's, letting Diego know that they had never guessed Zorro's identity. "To get your respect, but even then I was not good enough."