Where is everyone?
The sound of clashing swords was the only noise Diego de la Vega heard as he stepped into the tavern on a bright and sunny Saturday morning. The tables were bare and there wasn't a soul inside.
Sergeant Garcia wanted to meet at the tavern…And it was highly unusual for him not to be sitting inside. What is going on?
The sound of steel crossing was getting louder as Diego made his way to the patio door and pushed it open. Ah, here is everyone. A crowd had gathered, the tables all pushed to the sides. Diego stood on the step and watched a tall swordsman, who looked to be about his height, and a little older, fighting another man. Diego didn't know the bearded swordsman, but the other man with the high forehead, Diego was sure he'd seen in town before.
The bearded man was good, Diego noted. He watched his form, his moves. He had been taught, for a long time, and very well. No doubt he had learned from some sort of schooling, like Diego had at the universidad in Madrid. His fingers itched to give the man a go, but alas, this Diego de la Vega barely knew what end of the rapier to hold. To fence this man would be to give away his skill with the blade, and fuel the suspicions of the secret identity of El Zorro, The Fox.
So instead, he made his way over to Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes, who were leaning against a wagon. Diego was careful to stay out of the way of the match. "This fellow's pretty good, eh sargento?" Diego said by way of greeting.
"Of course he's good, he's-" Garcia looked up, realizing who he was speaking to. "Don Diego, buenas dias." He gestured to the two swordsmen. "Not being a swordsman," he told Diego, "you wouldn't know, but you can take it from one who does."
"He's good," Reyes cut in, his eyes never leaving the two men.
"Who is he?" Diego asked. All newcomers to the pueblo de Los Angeles had to go through Garcia, the current acting comandante.
"A Señor Avila," Garcia said. "He and his compadre Señor Pineda arrived in the pueblo yesterday morning on the coach."
A sword flew past the three men and buried itself in the dirt near the back gate of the tavern. Diego blinked, looking up to see the man Señor Avila had been dueling concede to him. Polite applause rippled through the onlookers.
"Would anyone else like to risk a small wager?" Avila called out to the crowd. There were many shakes of the head and polite no's. A few, Diego noted, looked curious. "Come. Do not be afraid, gentlemen," Avila coaxed, a hint of taunting in his tone. "I will not harm you. It is merely a test of skill."
A wager. Diego shook his head. Obviously a man using his talents to prey on others to take their money, to appeal to their egos and honor only to cut their legs out from under them. Any other day, a man Zorro might like to cross blades with.
"I know of only one swordsman who could beat this Señor Avila," Garcia said, continuing to watch the stranger press the crowd for a challenger.
I can think of two, and they're one and the same, Diego thought with a grin. He caught Sergeant Garcia looking at him curiously, and he said, "You're absolutely right."
Garcia's eyes widened, seemingly shocked to be on the same wavelength as Diego. Diego clapped him on the shoulder. "Sergeant Garcia. Why don't you take him on?"
That clearly had not been what Garcia was thinking. The bigger man's eyes widened to the size of saucers at the thought of dueling such a swordsman. "Me?! Oh, nonono, Don Diego, I-I'm not that good," he tried to bow out graciously.
Diego held back a laugh, pleased that his distraction had worked. He'd known exactly who Garcia had meant could take Avila on.
Garcia was still babbling, "Besides, I don't have a single peso."
Reyes held up a coin. "I have a peso," he said. Diego hid a laugh with a cough, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back, watching the soldiers' exchange.
"Estupido," Garcia told Reyes. "When I don't want a peso, you have it. When I do want one, you don't have it. When I want your money, I ask for it, don't I?"
Reyes was saved from having to answer by a cheer going up from the crowd. The three of them looked to see a man come forward out of the people. Diego recognized him as one of his father's friends, a Señor Iglesias. He watched Avila turn to the man with a predatory smile that he played up as politeness.
"Ah, here is a man who is not afraid!" Avila bowed gallantly to the challenger. Diego's stomach turned. Avila is a snake, he thought to himself. I do not like this man at all.
"How much, Señor?"
The man held out some money. "Five pesos," he replied.
"Ah, does it have to be so small a wager? Make it ten perhaps," Avila suggested. Diego caught a look that passed between Avila and his partner. These men are definitely up to something. There is an ulterior motive here.
"Five is all I have," Señor Iglesias said.
Avila looked annoyed, but Señor Pineda took the money and passed Iglesias a rapier. The two men stood across from each other, saluted, and took up positions. Diego watched Avila with interest as the two men circled each other. Diego could see the defense Señor Iglesias was attempting, but unfortunately, so did Señor Avila. The bout was over in seconds, Avila's rapier point in the other man's chest.
Iglesias held up his hands. "I yield!"
Diego waited. It took longer than he expected for Avila to drop his sword, even as the crowd applauded. As Iglesias walked away dejectedly, Diego watched Avila and his friend converse, and then, the two of them turned to him.
I'm sure I look an easy mark, Diego thought, attempting to look disinterested. He would not find me so easily beaten, however.
"How about you, Señor?" Avila walked over to him. Diego studied his clothing. Avila was well off, it appeared, judging by his clothing. But as Diego looked closer, he could see where the seams of his shirt were a little thin, where the brass on his pants was dulling, the scuffs on his boots. Ah. It seems our Señor Avila is not so well off. His arrogance is a front for his lack of wealth. Diego looked at him. Avila returned his gaze, looking him up and down. "You, ah, do not wear any scars. Therefore, I must assume that you are an expert with the sword."
Diego leaned back against the wagon. Dios mio, but Avila would be a tantalizing challenge…were this another time and place. "Well, Señor," Diego countered, "you may also assume that I do not wear any scars because I do not fight." And there are plenty of scars, Señor, but none that you can see. It wasn't as if one could leap off the cuartel roof every night without sustaining a few injuries here and there.
Sergeant Garcia cut in. "Señor de la Vega may not be a swordsman, Señor," he informed Avila, but he is an expert in other matters, such as books, and fine wines."
Diego appreciated the compliment, but Avila barely paid Garcia any mind. "Yes, I seem to have heard of your reputation," he said. "That would account for your lack of scars."
Diego waved a hand at him as if to concede the point. Inside, he wanted nothing more than to go a round with Señor Avila, if anything just to shut him up.
Avila was still trying to goad the crowd. "Anyone else case to test his skill?" He wasn't receiving any challengers, and, Diego noted, looking more frustrated by that every moment. His arrogance and frustration would prove an interesting foil to his skill in a match, Diego thought. Everyone knew fencing was as much a mental sport as a physical one. If one could get under his skin, Diego knew, Avila would unravel.
"This Avila, sergeant," he spoke up, keeping his voice low. "What do you know about him?"
"Nothing, Don Diego…except he has a reputation for dueling. You saw for yourself, he is a professional swordsman." Garcia shook his head. "I doubt if even Zorro could beat him."
Diego watched Avila. He and his friend were losing the crowd, and had given up, returning to take care of their swords and winnings instead. "I wonder…" he said, half to himself.
"Oh, I speak from experience, Don Diego," Garcia assured him. Reyes eyed him in confusion. "I have fought the fox many times, and-"
"Lost?" Reyes offered. Diego hid a chuckle with a cough.
Garcia glared at him. "Of course, Baboso! A man doesn't live who can beat Zorro." He tapped a finger to his chin. "I guess that is why I am still alive," he mused.
This time, Diego did laugh. "Sergeant, why don't we pursue the subject further?" he questioned. "Perhaps over some refreshments?"
Garcia's face broke into a wide smile. "I was just about to suggest it, Don Diego," he said.
Diego kept his smile. I'm sure you were.
Garcia turned to Corporal Reyes. "Now, you may lend me the peso, Corporal Reyes." Reyes rolled his eyes as he deposited the money in his superior's hand. "Gracias." Garcia turned to Diego. "This time, you will be my guest."
Diego gave him a nod. "It would be a pleasure, sergeant," he said. He followed the two soldiers into the tavern, which was far fuller than it had been when he first arrived. He caught sight of his father, Alejandro, sitting at a table with some other rancheros. That's right. Today is their weekly card game, Diego remembered. He excused himself politely from Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes and made his way down to his father and his friends. "You look out for this one, Señores," he said, placing his hands on his father's shoulders. "He's a sly fox when it comes to the cards."
Alejandro smiled knowingly. "Sly enough to teach you a few tricks my son," he jabbed back good naturedly. "Will you join us?" he asked.
Diego shook his head. "Perhaps later, Father," he apologized. "But right now, Sergeant Garcia has offered to play host."
Alejandro raised an eyebrow. "Really."
Diego winked. "He just negotiated a loan from Corporal Reyes." Alejandro laughed. Diego returned to the soldiers, where Garcia was already pouring from a bottle, and Diego took a seat and raised the glass to his host. Garcia, he noted, had given himself a generous portion. He was about to tease him, when he saw Señor Avila walk over to his father's card game.
"It's your deal," Alejandro said, passing the cards to another player. He gave Avila a passing glance. "Buenas dias, Señores," Avila said politely.
"Buenas dias," Alejandro returned, picking up his hand. It wasn't a great hand, but perhaps he could bluff his way into better fortune.
"Might I join you?" Avila nodded to an empty chair.
Alejandro eyed the chair, then Avila. "I am sorry. The chair is occupied," he told him. As a rule, the dons did not play with strangers. Strangers had tendencies to cheat, to boast, to lie. Better to play with men whose morals and motives were already known. And the morning's events had not gone unnoticed by these men, some of the wealthiest in California. Avila was not unusual. Many men came through the pueblo looking to scrape together money, sometimes legally, sometimes otherwise.
Avila didn't let up. "On the contrary," he argued. "It seems quite empty."
The card came had gone quiet. Alejandro picked up his hat from the back of his chair, and deposited it on the seat of the empty chair. "I said the chair was ocupado, Señor."
Avila grinned. "In that case," Avila said, picking up the hat, and dropping it to the table right in front of Alejandro. "Let us remove the occupant."
"We do not play with strangers," Alejandro said, standing. His voice was deadly quiet. The entire tavern was listening now. "Excuse us." The men got up to leave, but Avila stepped right in front of Alejandro.
Diego set his glass down. This man is asking for trouble. He is going to find it. Alejandro de la Vega was an older class of man. In his generation, your honor and your pride were everything. Diego loved his father to death, and knew from past experience, Alejandro would not walk away from a provocation, if pushed hard enough. And Avila, it seemed, was willing to push him over the edge.
"Just a minute, my proud old rooster," Avila said. "What is wrong with a stranger's money?"
Alejandro looked him dead in the eye. "Oh, it is not your money," he said. "It is you. We do not play with strangers," he repeated himself. "Now. Largate!" He moved to go back to his seat. Avila grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around.
"Are you calling me a cheat?" Avila demanded. "I'll make you swallow those words, old man!" He gave Alejandro a push. Alejandro stumbled backwards, bumping the table. A murmur rippled through the tavern. Next to him, Diego felt Garcia and Reyes both stand.
Diego was seeing red. Remember your part, Diego, he reminded himself. This cannot be your fight. In this moment, you are Diego de la Vega, not Zorro.
Avila grabbed his father by the jacket lapel. Diego's hands balled into fists, and the next thing he knew, he was on the landing, inches from Avila's face. "Let go of him, Señor," Diego told him coldly.
"Stay out of this, Diego," Alejandro reprimanded him. Diego knew it was a thinly-veiled warning that if he did something foolish, it wasn't only going to be the de la Vega honor called into question.
"Yes," Avila said. "Stay out if you know what's good for you. Now," he said, returning his focus to Alejandro. "Take back what you-"
Diego's fist lashed out, sending Avila staggering clumsily backwards and over the top of a table. Pineda was at his side in an instant. Diego felt Alejandro's hand rest warningly on his arm. "Calmarse," he muttered to his son. "Settle down."
Garcia stepped between Avila, who was ready to come after the two de la Vega men. Lucky he cuts such an imposing figure, Diego thought, fighting the urge to push his way past the sargento and rearrange Avila's smug grin.
"You are disturbing the peace, Señor. That is against the law," Garcia told Avila. Diego could hear the anger in his voice. The de la Vega men were counted among Garcia's friends, and no one dared interfere with his friends.
"No man strikes me, Señor, without paying the penalty!" Avila yelled, yanking his arm out of his friend's grip. "I demand satisfaction!" He stepped into Diego's space, eyeing him. "My second will call on you tonight." Diego stared him down, and Avila stepped back with a curt nod.
As he and Pineda gathered their things and left, Diego was certain he caught Avila smirking. His shoulders sagged. Damn him. I gave him exactly what he wanted.
And gave myself a heap of trouble. As the haze of anger faded, he realized that he'd just provoked Avila to a duel…as Don Diego.
His father seemed to understand the situation as well, because he stood up, gathering his hat. "Excuse me, friends," he apologized to his friends. We'll finish our game another time." With a hand on Diego's elbow, he guided his son from the building. Sergeant Garcia followed the two of them out.
Bernardo was waiting for the two of them, his face falling as he noted the expressions on his friend's face.
"Please, Don Diego. Do not fight Señor Avila. He will kill you!" Garcia pleaded with Diego as the de la Vega men made their way to their wagon.
Bernardo nearly dropped his facade of not being able to hear the conversation. Steeling his features, he adopted a confused look while wondering what on earth had just happened.
Diego climbed up onto Princesa while his father got into the wagon next to Bernardo. Diego looked at Garcia in resignation. "Not a very happy prospect, is it, Sergeant?" he questioned. "If you can think of a way out of it, let me know." He dug his heels into Princesa and rode off ahead of his father and Bernardo, lost in thought.
