Chapter One
The sound of their swords clashing together echoed throughout the plaza, drawing the attention of those passing by. Their blades flew like lightning as one would advance, yet the other would simply block his attack. A small crowd had quickly gathered around them, watching in awe and with bated breath to see who would become the victor.
The small one was too quick. He dodged his opponent's move with one of his own until the point of his sword was at his enemy's heart.
"Here's to the fox, whoever he be..." the surrounding children began to sing as the two boys in the center of the circle dropped their wooden swords to the ground and danced around while the winner chose his next opponent. "... May he live long and merrily." Another boy was chosen and the fighting began all over again.
Don Diego de la Vega smiled to himself as he witnessed the game from the seat of his faetón(1), his manservant—Bernardo—at his side.
The pueblo was alive with excitement. The shops had opened extra early, laying out their best wares to sell to the large crowd expected later in the day. The tavern had been cooking up something that smelled delicious all morning. The aroma made Diego's stomach rumble with hunger as it wafted in his direction. Perhaps he and Bernardo would stop in for a quick bite of lunch before meeting up with his father.
Tipping back the brim of his hat, he peered at the group of young children as they played around the nearby well. Two new boys carrying their wooden swords now battled against one another under the watchful eye of their mothers as they hovered around a nearby stall. They were so young and innocent in the ways of the world, and also, hopefully, unaware of the dangers that lurked on the other side of the thin veil of their childhood.
He recognized the game as: "el Zorro and the Bandidos" which was a commonly played activity among the local children. The two in the center would fight against one another until they decided there was a winner, then switch off with the collection of other children patiently waiting for their turn. Then the game would begin again.
While this wasn't an unusual sight to see in the plaza, quite a few more people were milling about to witness it. Los Angeles was expecting the arrival of the new Comandante, a man who was rumored to uphold the law and would hopefully instill justice among the people. It was what Capitán Julio Ramon Estevez was known for. Diego had heard stories about the man's many accomplishments, despite his young age. Not even yet thirty years of age and he was already taking command of his first garrison. It was a feat most soldiers twice his age would never achieve.
The rest of Los Angeles may have been eager to welcome the young commander, but to Diego, this event was bittersweet. While he was glad for the return of law and order to their small part of the world, a part of him felt lost.
For, if the stories about Capitán Estevez were true, then there would no longer be a need for his alter ego; the man the children in the plaza idolized wholeheartedly. El Zorro—the fox.
Diego had been playing the role of both men for so long now that he was no longer certain of his future. He'd never dreamed his term as Zorro would be so short-lived. And for it to end so abruptly was a tad disheartening.
Puffing lightly at his cigar, he exhaled on a heavy sigh. All of this was going to leave him with a great deal to think about.
Confusion was clear on the face of his mute manservant as he studied his master and friend's solemn demeanor. Furrowing his brow, he tilted his head slightly in question. "What's wrong?"
"You realize now, my friend, that there will be little use for Zorro with Capitán Estevez in charge over Los Angeles," the young caballero muttered low enough for his man to hear, but not so loud that others would become suspicious. It was a façade first crafted between the two men when Diego had returned to the shores of California after his years at University. Bernardo only pretended to be a deaf-mute to assist Diego in his performance as the masked outlaw. He acted as an extra set of eyes and ears in the pueblo and the surrounding areas, gathering information.
Bernardo was excellent in his role. For three years, they had been fighting against tyranny, and he hadn't yet been discovered. Of course, there had been some suspicion a time or two, but he hadn't yet found his neck in a noose. He had a great deal of luck and the loyalty of the man sitting beside him to thank for that.
The round-faced man obviously didn't believe what Diego was saying, though, and told him so in his own manner: a simple shake of his head.
"You don't think so?" Again, a shake of the head. Chuckling, the young Don snubbed out the end of his cigar before climbing out of the carriage. "I've heard about Capitán Estevez's accomplishment. His record is remarkable. Los Angeles is in very capable hands."
Glancing around to make certain no one was watching them, Bernardo then covered the lower half of his face with one hand and mimed having a gun in the other. Then, he threw his arms out and shrugged his shoulders in question again.
"What about the bandidos?" Diego asked as he translated. The mute nodded. "The soldiers are more than capable of handling them. No, I think this will be good for me, my friend. Perhaps I will do as my father wishes and find myself a nice señorita to settle down with." He chuckled when the quiet man shot him a look of disbelief. "Alright, I'll admit that they could use a bit of assistance until the Comandante settles in. But after that, then what? Trust me, Bernardo, it will all be better when Zorro is gone for good." It was with those words that Diego put the conversation to rest and also put some distance between him and his manservant.
The mute just shook his head, but Diego pretended not to notice. While his servant may have had good intentions in mind, Diego had to resign himself to believe in what he was saying. Yes, he would miss donning the mask. Yes, he would miss the thrill of the fight. But, until he decided on what his next step in life was going to be, it had to be that way.
"No, estùpido! It is not high enough! Lift it higher!" a tall, rotund officer shouted up a tall ladder—of which he held the base—toward the poor Corporal perched at the top. The officers were hanging decorations around the plaza to celebrate the arrival of their new commanding officer.
"I'm lifting it as high as I can, Sergeant," Corporal Reyes fired back as he stood on the tips of his toes, a nail tucked between his lips and a hammer in one hand as he held on fiercely to the ladder with the other.
"Well, lift it higher, baboso!"
"Buenos días, Sergeant," Diego greeted the large man before glancing up the ladder toward the man perched high above them and waving. "Corporal."
"Buenos días, Don Diego!" Sergeant Garcia crowed in a greeting grin to the young man before glancing up to check on the progress of his lesser officer. "A little to the right, Corporal," he instructed with a light air of authority before turning his full attention back to Diego and Bernardo. "Hello to you too, little one." He wiggled his fingers in kind acknowledgment of the man who returned the gesture with a smile of his own.
Diego patted his old friend on the back. "The decorations are really coming together," he complimented.
"Sí, gracias, Don Diego. I do hope the new Comandante appreciates all of the hard work I've put into them."
Corporal Reyes snorted from above. "But, Sergeant, I've been the one climbing up and down the ladder all morning. You've just stood there and-"
"Silencio, estúpido!" Garcia barked up at him. In a more amiable tone, he turned to the young Don again. "Someone has to supervise. I'm sure you understand, Don Diego."
Diego stifled a grin of amusement and nodded. "Of course, my friend. Listen, Bernardo and I were about to step into the tavern for a bit of refreshment. Would you care to join us?"
"Gracias, Don Diego!" It was common knowledge that Sergeant Garcia would never turn down a visit to the local tavern. And the fact that the younger de la Vega would be paying for it only made his appetite heartier. "Continue on here, Corporal," he instructed without a second glance, leaving the soldier to balance precariously on the top of the ladder.
"But, Sergeant," Corporal Reyes protested as one foot slipped from the rung he perched on, but Garcia's attention was clearly focused on one goal that his plea was ignored. Corporal Reyes quickly righted himself, clenching onto the sides of the ladder as his legs trembled underneath him.
Diego trailed behind the fat Sergeant, only turning to send a pitying glance toward the poor Corporal before disappearing inside.
Inside the tavern, Diego ordered a bottle of wine and a plate of whatever smelled so delicious as Clara, the innkeeper's wife, passed by the door. Handing up their hats on the rack by the door, the two men took a table by the windows, leaving Bernardo to take a spot at the bar. The table provided a view of the plaza and the crowd still steadily pouring in. It seemed that every ranchero and peón would be in attendance for the Capitán's arrival.
The tavern was already busy at such an early hour. Diego could only assume that quite a few people had spent the night in town in anticipation of the ceremony in the plaza. Faces, familiar and not, mixed together in the dining area. Events like this in their small pueblo brought everyone out of the woodwork; including the ones without good intentions.
Clara returned to the table with a bottle and two glasses as Maria, the young servant girl set down a steaming hot bowl of stew in front of him. He thanked both women kindly, tossing a coin that would more than cover his order onto each of their trays. Clara smiled kindly at the younger man, barely paying any attention to the larger man, before she rushed off to serve other customers, ushering Maria to do so as well.
Popping the cork on the wine, Diego poured the Sergeant a glass before pouring one for himself as well. "It is an exciting day, isn't it, Sergeant?"
Entranced by the delectable taste of the liquid in his cup, Garcia was confused for a moment. "Why is that, Don Diego?"
"Because of the arrival of the new Comandante, of course." Diego peered at his friend over the rim of his glass. The Sergeant certainly didn't seem to be as thrilled as the rest of the population over the assignment of Capitán Estevez.
"Sí, it is exciting," the officer mumbled solemnly as he stared down into the bottom of his almost empty cup.
"Well, don't hold back your excitement. I can tell you are about to burst with enthusiasm," Diego chuckled as he unfolded his napkin and laid it over his lap. He picked up his spoon and dug into the hearty stew.
Garcia sighed as he downed the last bit of liquid in his cup and continued to stare into its emptiness. "Oh, I am excited, Don Diego. Really, I am. It's just that... I have had such bad luck with Comandantes lately. They either end up getting arrested, killed, or are not who they say they are."
"So, then, why doesn't the Governor just promote you into being permanent Comandante? You know the pueblo better than any higher officer they can send and you'll catch that bandit Zorro in no time, I'm sure." Glancing toward Bernardo who was still seated at the bar. Diego watched the hint of a smirk curl at the corners of his servant's mouth. They both knew that with the Sergeant in charge, no suspicion would be sent in Diego's direction as to Zorro's true identity.
The finger of accusation had been pointed in his direction more than once and he'd been far too close to losing his head a few times. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking and a great deal of luck on his side, he probably would have.
"I'm glad you think so, Don Diego. But, Zorro is just too difficult to catch. No matter what I do, he always outsmarts me."
"You, Sergeant?" Diego managed to sound incredulous. "I don't believe that. Perhaps you just don't have the right tools accessible to you. Aren't you always talking about how fast his horse is?"
"Sí, his horse is incredibly fast. He is like the wind, he is." Pursing his lips, the Sergeant turned his empty glass around between his large fingers before shooting a pleading glance in his kind benefactor's direction. "Please, Don Diego, can I trouble you for one more glass?"
"Of course, my friend," Diego chuckled as he acquiesced and filled the soldier's cup once more.
"Oh, gracias!" the corpulent officer roared with delight as he downed half of his fresh portion of the wine in one gulp. He then paused as he glanced at his friend again. "Do you think Capitán Estevez will be a good Comandante?"
Diego pretended to think about it, for that was all that had been filling his thoughts ever since he'd heard the news of the Capitán's appointment. "Yes, Sergeant, I believe he will be. I have an old friend that was stationed with him in Spain a few years ago. When I wrote about the Capitán to him, he told me he had never met a finer officer in all of the Kind's army."
Garcia nodded as he allowed the words to sink in. "Gracias, Don Diego. That is just what I needed to hear." And that was the truth, it seemed. Garcia's large form relaxed the tension it held as their conversation seemed to drift closed and the two men were left with a companionable silence between them.
Finishing his stew, Diego's gaze drifted out the window, taking in the number of people that were now in the plaza. There were still a few more hours until the Capitán was due to arrive, yet the city was already celebrating. There was the murmur of music coming from outside and Diego spotted two dancers not too far away from the tavern. They were entertaining the lingering crowds. He pretended not to notice Sergeant Garcia pour himself another glass of wine out of the corner of his eye.
Bernardo approached the table and tapped his master on the shoulder to gain his attention. He pointed to another window that looked out toward the stables. Diego followed his gaze and then reached into his waistcoat to pull out his pocket watch. Frowning, he checked the time before tucking it away again.
"Sergeant, what time is the new Comandante supposed to arrive?"
"Not until two o'clock, Don Diego," the Sergeant was distracted by the fresh drink in his cup because the question didn't completely register.
"And the coach from Santa Barbara? What about that?"
"Oh, that is not supposed to arrive until noon tomorrow." Garcia guzzled down the rest of his refreshment, the questions finally hitting him now that he was no longer distracted by the sweet liquid. "Why do you ask?"
Motioning out into the plaza with the hand holding onto his own glass, Diego said: "Because, if I'm not mistaken, a coach just pulled up in front of the stables."
As if not believing his friend, Garcia had to turn to see for himself. But, it was just as the young Don had said. The large coach was led by four quarter horses, each of them panting and foaming from their long, harsh ride. The two in the lead each shifted from one foot to the other as if they were not used to being at rest and eager to continue running.
This was not the coach carrying the Comandante, though. It had to be the one coming from Santa Barbara.
"But, it is not supposed to arrive until Wednesday."
"It is Wednesday, Sergeant," the innkeeper said as he paused at their table to clear away the now-empty wine bottle and Diego's empty bowl. "It is also the day you are supposed to pay your bill."
Garcia seemed affronted by that statement. "You know my credit is always good," he argued.
"Ha! Your credit is not good enough to scrub my floors with!"
Diego chuckled as the Sergeant continued to argue with the innkeeper about his tab. The soldiers' pay was late once again, which was not at all Garcia's fault. Diego considered teaching his friend how to budget his money more and not squander it all on drink. But then, he would not get the opportunity to witness this same scene every month, now would he? And Sergeant Garcia was always good at giving him a laugh. He'd also managed to take his mind off of his constant thoughts.
"It is not my fault, Don Diego," the fat Sergeant pouted once Teo had gone off in a huff. "We soldiers have not been paid in at least three months."
Diego said nothing, merely patted his friend on the shoulder in a consoling manner and sipped from his glass as he gazed out the window. He watched as the coachman opened the door to the carriage. Another man came out from the stables and began unpacking the back as the driver slid out the retractable step before holding out his hand to the disembarking passengers.
Less than a handful of well-worn travelers exited; a merchant that Diego recognized as one who frequented the road between Los Angeles and San Diego—he stopped into town once every few months to arrange deals with the local shop owners. Don Maximo Ortega and his wife had finally returned home from visiting family in Spain—Diego's father would be happy to hear that. They would have to invite them to dinner one evening to celebrate their return.
A hand belonging to the final passenger appeared through the doorway. It was small and delicate-looking, with skin the color of fresh cream.
Diego's eyes widened in interest at the sight of the woman that had was attached to as she emerged from the carriage. Her brown hair was tied back away from her face with a mint green ribbon that matched her traveling dress perfectly. He could not get a good look at her features from where he sat, but he did notice the indecent glances of appreciation from the men who passed by her on their way into the plaza.
She stepped down from the carriage, the hem of her dress catching underneath the heel of her boot. She stumbled forward slightly, but with help from the driver and her own quick thinking, she'd managed to catch herself with a hand on the doorframe.
Even from the distance which he sat, Diego noted the familiar pink hue of embarrassment dusting her cheeks and a grin curled to his lips in amusement.
"If you would excuse me, Don Diego. I must return to my duties," Garcia's voice interrupted his observation.
Embarrassed to be caught staring after the young woman, Diego felt the familiar heat flush to his cheeks before glancing up at his large friend. "Of course, Sergeant. I am supposed to meet my father soon, anyhow. Until later, my friend?" He watched as the Sergeant put his hat back on his head.
"Of course." The larger man was just about to head off to meet the new arrivals but paused as he downed the rest of his glass. Slamming it down on the table, Garcia turned to exit the taberna but paused again before turning back around. "Before I forget, Don Diego, I must ask you a question."
"Anything, my friend," Diego wholeheartedly agreed.
"Would it be possible that you and your father could join me in welcoming the Capitán when he arrives?" The de la Vega's were one of the most respected families in the entire pueblo and Diego knew that having him and his father, Don Alejandro, at his side would not only make him feel honored but give him the courage to meet his new commanding officer.
"Of course, Sergeant. My father and I do have a bit of business to take care of beforehand, but we shall be there."
"Oh, muchas gracias! But, now I must go. Buenos días, Don Diego. And to you too, little one," he said, bowing in a sign of thanks and respect before exiting the tavern.
(1) faetón- phaeton- light, four-wheeled carriage that is pulled by one or two horses.
Hello all! This has been a passion project of mine for some time and I am very excited for others to read it. I fell in love with Walt Disney's Zorro when I was in high school and I don't think I ever looked back. There was just something about Guy Williams in his role that got to me. I was just always disappointed that the story never continued or that Diego had never found true love. So that is what this story is. I hope you enjoy it and please give it a favorite or offer any feedback.
Thank you
Linny