Chapter 13
Alejandro and his vaqueros had been ready with ample time. So much so, in fact, he had begun to wonder if Felipe was not mistaken about the whole thing. It was more than two hours before the first sign of trouble arrived.
On the outskirts of the de la Vega lands, the large group of men had been sighted in plenty of time to relay the message to the others. They moved slowly as a group. The torches they brought with them were already lit and would have been a dead giveaway even had the alarm not been given by Felipe earlier.
Alejandro and two others waited just inside the hacienda walls, pistols primed and ready. By the time the mostly drunken men arrived, it was easy for the four vaqueros doubling up behind them to disarm them all.
The whole "attack" took less than ten minutes from start to finish.
"Well done, Felipe!" Alejandro was proud of the boy. He was growing up so fast. It was moments like this when he realized it. "Did you see who one of those men was? None other than Ricardo Quintana! Can they not keep that man in prison! This makes the third time he has come here with no good intent. Mendoza's jails will be full tonight!"
Felipe signed a flurry of questions, most of which went past Alejandro's comprehension. But he did catch the reference to Zorro.
"Yes, you should go check on Zorro. He may not have even noticed this little altercation, since we didn't even have to fire a shot." The boy ran off toward the room as one eager to spread a message.
But when he got there, he curiously set about arranging the bedding into a shape that would give anyone just looking through the door an impression that the occupant was asleep. He didn't know how long it might take Zorro to complete his mission to rescue Victoria, but this would give him until late morning before his absence would be noticed. Not knowing what else to do, he waited until the household had quieted down and then headed for the library and the secret panel. He would wait for his master's return in the cave.
Sergeant Mendoza was doing paperwork when his newest prisoners arrived. He had never envisioned the life of the alcalde as one of paperwork, but that was all he seemed to be doing these days. And he didn't like it. He still did not feel comfortable sitting behind the alcalde's desk, and the room was filled with reminders of the dead man wherever he looked.
"Madre de Dios! What happened?"
"Sergeant, these men were planning to attack the de la Vega hacienda tonight. But we got wind of it and foiled the attack. Most have been celebrating a bit too much this evening, so it was fairly easy. But look at this one! Do you recognize him?"
"Sí, it is Señor Quintana! I just received a new poster yesterday about his escape! But where am I going to put all these prisoners? Madre de Dios! The outside jails are full and now, these will fill up the inside cells as well!"
"But isn't it better, good sergeant, that men such as these are inside the jails and not on the outside?" Juan laughed at the wailing sergeant.
"And the judge coming too! Aye! What is he to think of all this?"
"He will think, Sergeant, that the new Alcalde of Los Angeles does not tolerate crime! I think you should look at some of your other wanted posters. I believe a few of these other faces might be on one as well. They're a sorry lot!" Juan joined his fellow vaqueros and mounted his horse. "Good evening, Sergeant!"
But Mendoza just groaned. He went back into the office now alive with the sounds of grousing and grumbling from the back room cells. The former alcalde never had to deal with this many people in his jail at one time. It was just a good thing Zorro was no longer here. There wouldn't be room for him!
He walked over and sat behind the desk. The noise from the back room died down a little, and once again he started getting that old feeling that someone was watching him! It always happened in this room.
He looked about the room and saw the painting of Machiavelli still hanging on the wall. That was it! That painting! It had always given him a strange feeling. Well, there was no reason to keep it hanging there. De Soto was dead. The painting could go too!
He moved the chair over next to the wall and climbed up to take down the painting. As he lifted it up off the peg and set it down on the floor, he saw a curious thing. There, just below the peg, was a round hole in the adobe wall. And there was something in the hole. He grabbed his knife and poked the blade into the hole. What is that? he thought.
When he withdrew the blade, it brought with it a rolled-up piece of parchment. Shaking, with thoughts of secret treasure maps swirling through his mind, he slowly unrolled the parchment.
It was an official document from the Spanish Court signed by the King of Spain himself! The seal and signature at the bottom was unmistakable. He began reading the flowery words at the beginning with interest, and, after the first few lines, he nearly fell off the chair in his surprise.
"Madre de Dios! It is a decree of amnesty for Zorro!" he said aloud.
But how could this be! He took the precaution of getting off the chair before reading any further. Yes, it was definitely a legal decree granting "amnesty for any and all past and future crimes for the said criminal known as Zorro"! And it was signed by the King...he searched for the date... The document had been signed three years ago!
Three years ago? Mendoza looked back up at the hole in the wall and then back down at the impressive document in his hands. The alcalde had hidden this! Zorro could have been a free man for the past three years and the alcalde had ...
New anger at his late commanding officer welled up inside of him. And then the thought slammed into his brain. This would release Zorro from the charges of killing the alcalde! There wouldn't even have to be a trial!
A wave of happiness for his friend washed over Mendoza. He would ride out to the hacienda tonight... No, he couldn't do that. His jails were full. It wouldn't be a wise thing to do tonight. But in the morning, he couldn't wait to see the look on the face of that lawyer from Monterey!
His mind was sleeping, but his body was restless. His muscles twitched incessantly and she could practically see the poison course through him. Tiny groans escaped his lips as he fought for his life as he slumbered. She had done all that she could for him, for now.
She had removed the mask as he slept and she held it in her hands, contemplating it. This thing had been between them for so long. This simple black piece of cloth had become a symbol for so much. With its help, the man before her had single-handedly saved lives and given hope to so many. But it had kept her from knowing the man and sharing his life. It was this mask that had condemned her to living all these years alone, sharing only fleeting moments with the man she loved.
She clutched it angrily as she watched his chest rise and fall. At least, for now, his breathing had eased. She was daring to hope that he would indeed survive this. His constitution was strong. She knew that. He was the strongest man she had ever known. He had to live!
Her knuckles were white as she dug her nails into the black satin. At one time, she would have been thinking that he had to live to continue his fight for justice. He had to live to continue to give hope to the people. But was that what she now believed? The alcalde was dead. Things would be different now. There might not be a need for Zorro, for the mask. A glimmer of hope began to grow behind her eyes.
If only he could stop being Zorro. If only he could just be Diego. Then there would be some hope for the two of them together. If there were no Zorro...
And then, there intruded into her mind the picture of that room at the hacienda. The differences in their class came rushing back to her anew. No, it wasn't only the mask that would keep them apart. The tears that had gone unshed throughout the past few hours now came in a flood. She buried her face in the black cloth and sobbed aloud.
"Victoria?" His voice was weak but the hand that reached out to hers still bore some strength. "Victoria, what's wrong?"
"Oh, Diego, you're awake! She wiped the tears away as she spoke. "How do you fe-"
He interrupted her and raised himself up to peer into her face. "Victoria, you were crying. I want to know why." His words were soft and caring and she turned her head away from him before he could see the fresh tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, Querrida." He sighed as he pulled her close, and she buried her face in his chest as she let the tears flow. For several minutes, he held her and let her cry. And then, he took the mask from her and dried her tears with it. He repeated his words. This time, they were more of a command. "I want to know why."
"I was so worried," she began. "You could have died..." He was looking into her eyes so intently she had to look away. Even in the firelight, she felt he could see to the depths of her soul.
"No, that is not it. I told you that this wouldn't kill me and you usually believe what I tell you. I want to know the truth. Tell me. Why were you crying?" He turned her face once more to his.
"Diego, it's... I don't know how to tell you...I don't know how to ask you...Oh, why did you have to be you!" She slapped at his chest and he caught her hand in his.
"Then you are disappointed. I was afraid of this. I —"
"No, not disappointed. No! But, Diego, you're a caballero!" Her voice broke on the word, but she continued, getting louder with each point. "And not just any caballero. No, you have to be a de la Vega!"
He sank back against the rock, his hand on his brow. His head ached from the poison still in his veins and from trying to make sense of what she was saying. "Victoria." He spoke with closed eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't understand..."
But Victoria had not noticed and she had finally found the anger that she'd hidden within herself. "How could you propose to me! How could you give me that hope! You didn't have to —"
"I didn't have to what?" He didn't think he could be any more confused than he already was.
"You didn't have to pretend that there could be a future for us!" There, she had said it. But she finished with a simple statement. "I would have loved you anyway." She lifted her chin to him, defiantly.
"Victoria. My mind is a shade foggy at the moment." This was important. He had to stay focused. "But are you telling me that you don't think I was serious when I proposed?"
She nodded silently, bitterly.
"Victoria, I gave you my mother's ring. I have meant every word I have ever said to you. Why would I not?"
"But you're a caballero!" She said the words louder than she had meant and he winced at the sound.
"Yes, you said that before." He shook his head slightly in an effort to clear his thoughts, but he was only rewarded with dizziness. It was a struggle to keep speaking but he knew this was important to her. "But what has that got to do with anything?"
Her mouth fell open in astonishment. Did he really not understand! "Diego, if you think, that for one minute, your father would permit a marriage between his only son and heir and someone like me, then you—"
"Permit!" Diego broke out in weak laughter at the word. "Victoria, is that what this is all about!" He drew her into his arms, relief releasing the clouds from his mind. "Querida, mi preciosa!" he whispered into her hair, "you worry about a problem that does not exist!" He gave her an assuring squeeze with his waning strength. "My father would only be too happy to have me marry 'someone like' you." His voice was fading as he continued, "You do yourself... such... injustice!"
"Diego!" She pulled away, alarmed at the way his voice had begun to trail away to a whisper.
"Oh, Querida, I... love... you."
"Diego, hush! You must save your str—"
"No, this...is ...important. Can you not... see?" She held his hand and began wiping the beading sweat from his forehead with the mask. "Oh, I know... ten... twenty years ago...such things... may have made... more of a difference. But now... new world..." he stopped talking for many seconds and, for a moment, she thought he had passed out once more. But then he took a deep, difficult breath and spoke again. "I could even argue... a few points with you... about your... family. But I will not... only thing ... truly matters... is the love ..." His hand went limp in hers.
The effort of the conversation had taken its toll on him. His breathing had become ragged again. She could feel his heart beating erratically once more in his chest. The venom had not run its course. But whatever else happened, she was glad she now knew where she stood with him. Her heart was a little lighter. The future was not as dark. She would pull him through this. He would escape the gallows. And she would have him for her husband. Of that, she was certain. There was only one problem. The mask that she still held in her hands. That hateful piece of black satin she had once so revered.