Chapter 15

"Felipe! I want you to go back to the hacienda. Get Diego some of his clothes. When he is well enough to travel, he will have to return there as Diego. Do you understand?"

Felipe nodded and signed something about food. Food! She had not even given a thought to food. But he was right. She probably needed to get something down Diego. Perhaps he would feel better when he awoke this time.

"Yes, bring something for Diego. Perhaps some soup, something light. And another blanket." She had already seen the first signs of fever. His forehead was now clammy and his color was not what it was. She briefly wondered if Felipe should also bring Dr. Hernandez, but she dismissed the thought quickly. There was no use involving the doctor at this point. The proximity to the camp might call Zorro to mind. And she hadn't quite worked out just how and when Diego should return from San Pedro, not to mention that it might be going against any plans Don Sebastian might be making at the very moment.

After Felipe had gone, she went to gather some more dry wood for the dwindling fire. There was now a bitter chill in the air inside the cave and that was one thing Diego didn't need. She watched the small plume of smoke rise and trail along the roof of the cave. Yes, it would be fine. But she would have to be cautious. She couldn't afford any buildup of smoke with Diego already having such difficulty breathing.

After assuring herself that he was breathing steadily and covered up as well as she could manage, she settled down beside him and slept.

The low groan roused her from slumber. She saw immediately that Diego was burning up with fever.

Sergeant Jaime Mendoza was smiling for the first time in, what was it, a week? The morning air was crisp and decidedly cooler than normal for this time of year. That alone would be reason enough for a lighter mood, but he had an even better one. He was to be the bearer of good news. And what news he had!

He tethered his horse just outside the gates of the de la Vega hacienda. Before he could even get to the door, Don Alejandro came out to greet him.

"Sergeant! How good of you to come. You have those men from last night safely locked up, I trust?"

"Sí, sí, Don Alejandro. They are all nicely taken care of. But that is not why I am here. You will never guess what I have found! Is your friend, Señor Olvera, still here? He will be interested in my news as well!"

"Of course, we were just finishing breakfast. Come in! Come in!"

After Señor Olvera and the sergeant exchanged greetings, Don Alejandro, noting the unabashed look of desire for the food spread on the table on the sergeant's face, asked Mendoza to join them.

"Gracias! Don Alejandro! This looks so...so ...!" But his words were lost as he sat down and shoved the first tasty morsel into his mouth.

Don Alejandro smiled at the Sergeant's complete childlike enjoyment of food. He almost hated to bring the man's attention back to his own reason for coming to the hacienda this morning. "Sergeant, or should I address you as 'Alcalde'?" Don Alejandro paused for an answer.

Mendoza gulped down a sizable mouthful to answer. "Sí, I fear I am the alcalde now, and it is rather sad in some ways." Then he flashed a bright smile toward the two men. "But today I bear great news! Look! Look here!" He pulled out the paper from his jacket and handed it to Alejandro. "I found this hidden in a wall in the alcalde's office. See, it is signed by the King himself!"

Don Alejandro sat down slowly as he read the document. "Ricardo, this seems to be a decree of amnesty for Zorro!" He handed the paper to his friend and legal counsel.

"Hmm. This is interesting." Olvera stroked his chin as he read. "It certainly looks genuine. The watermark looks to be, as well. I've seen the King's signature many times...I would swear this is...Sergeant, where did you say you found this?"

"Hidden in a little carved-out niche in the wall behind that awful painting the alcalde liked so much. You know the one, Don Alejandro. The one that is real dark and —"

"Do you mean to tell me that this has been purposefully hidden for three years! The date on this is unmistakable. The more I learn of your late alcalde, the less I care for the man. Hiding a document such as this was a criminal act! Alejandro, this means Zorro has been, essentially, a free man for the past three years. And there's a phrase in here, although I admit it would normally trouble me if I had not met the subject of this decree... this phrase, "any and all past and future crimes", well, I've never seen such a thing in my entire career. The implications are ..." He stopped and held the paper up to the light to inspect the signature a little more closely.

"But if it's the King's signature. He, by rights, can put any wording in a decree that he likes, can he not?" Hope was beginning to take root in Alejandro's heart that this document was real.

"Yes, he can. But why would he do this? And why three years ago? A judge will ask these questions."

Don Alejandro looked thoughtfully out the window. He knew the answers. But he could only answer with partial truth. "I think I can explain." Both Mendoza and Olvera turned to him expectantly.

"It was a little more than three years ago that I hired a special messenger to make the long voyage to Madrid to deliver a personal request of His Majesty. I asked for this as a personal favor. It was no mean feat, I can tell you, to get around the alcalde's network of spies and cohorts. I had tried twice before, and he had intercepted my messenger each time before he had left the shores of California. When no word came from Madrid, I assumed this messenger had not gotten through either or ... that my request had not been granted. I have had little contact with my old friend in so many years. We are so far away..."

"But Zorro has ridden for some eight years now. Why did you make your request at that time?" Olvera could see his friend's hesitancy in answering.

"It just seemed like something had to be done. De Soto was obsessed with capturing Zorro. And Zorro was never a criminal! Without his interventions in the plans of two evil alcaldes, justice would be a stranger in this pueblo. This paper gladdens my heart that the King thought so much of our friendship that he complied with my request in such a way." Don Alejandro was obviously moved. "But, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I think there is someone who should hear about this right now!"

"Yes, this will be welcome news for Zor—" But Alejandro was already half way down the hallway toward his room.

He flung the door open without even knocking and went straight to the bedside to rouse the sleeping man. He pulled back the covers, and immediately his heart sank, and confusion reigned in his mind. Where was he? He looked toward the open window. After promising not to attempt escape, Zorro would never have left without good reason. The attack last night! It must have something to do with that. Had the vaqueros missed something? Oh, God, was he lying out there somewhere hurt?

Don Alejandro straightened and exhaled deeply. He shut the door softly behind him and traced his steps back down the long hallway.

"Gentlemen. I have reconsidered. Perhaps we should not tell Zorro of this before we make absolutely sure of this document's authenticity. I would not like to be responsible for causing false hopes..."

"Yes, you may be right. I, myself, would feel much more confident about this after comparing it with some known samples. I trust you have some Royal documents on file at your office, Sergeant. And, Alejandro, you surely have some letters or —"

"Yes, of course I do. I'll get them now. Sergeant, could you —"

"Sí, sí, I will fetch them right away." Mendoza was disappointed. He had wanted to see Zorro's face when he heard the news. Maybe even his whole face! For there would be no reason for the mask once amnesty was granted. He would be free. Everyone would finally know who the masked man really was.

Don Sebastian sat behind his large mahogany desk, his hands pressed together as a steeple while he planned. How was he to accomplish his task? A mass of black silk lay in a heap before him, but it was not offering him any inspiration.

His eyes narrowed in concentration. There would have to be multiple witnesses to such a death, especially since there would be no body. The clothing could help establish the man's presence... but just how...? Yes, he had it. It would require some sacrifice to himself, but what was that compared to what Zorro had done for him in the past and for what he had done for all of Los Angeles!

He would wait until just before dark. It would have to be light enough for witnesses to see him, but not bright enough for him to be recognized. He was not quite as tall as Zorro, but he might pass for him at a distance.

From what the señorita had said, Don Sebastian had to assume that Zorro was no longer in residence at the de la Vega hacienda. A small seed of worry had settled in the back of his mind at this, for Zorro had given his word not to attempt escape. But could a man like him forfeit his very life to keep that kind of bond? From what he knew of the character of the outlaw, he would choose to believe that there was good reason Zorro had left and was now lying somewhere hurt in need of his assistance.

He got up from the chair with a new air of determination, intent on issuing all the orders to his vaqueros that it would take to prepare for the death of Zorro.

It seemed like hours since Victoria had sent Felipe back to the hacienda.

Diego had drifted into a deep sleep. She thought she needed to keep him warm, but his skin was warm to the touch. It was hard to know what to do for him. She dipped a cloth bandage in cool water and bathed his forehead. She did the same for his hand. His breathing did seem easier and his heart no longer had that erratic beat.

"Victoria?" He had stirred once more.

"Diego! You're awake! How do you —"

"I am fine. You can take that worried look off your face. I do not plan on dying on you." His eyes were clear and his voice was strong. "What time is it?" He ran his fingers through his hair and struggled to sit upright.

"I'm not sure. Sometime before noon, I should think. Do you really feel better?"

"Yes, much." He smiled and nodded. Then a puzzled look crossed his face. "My hand is numb but, I... uh...I...Victoria, where's my shirt?"

"Oh, Diego, it... well, you were feverish...I ...it was damp..."

"Oh." He paused, trying to gauge her embarrassment. "But surely, it is dry by now." He looked about the small space. There was no evidence of his other things as well. "Where is it?"

"I took them outside. Felipe is bringing you some clothes. We thought it best for you to come back as Diego. No one saw Zorro get stung but me. You can say it was Diego."

"No, that won't work." He was shaking his head slowly. "Have you forgotten I am under house arrest? And I promised that I would not escape. I need to get back before they discover I am gone, if I can."

"But you can't—"

He knew her well enough that he could see she was hiding something from him. "Victoria, I need my clothes. I cannot very well ride about the countryside like this, now can I? Just get them. Please." Reading the emotions as they played across her face, he asked, "Victoria, what is going on that I do not know about?"

"Your clothes. They're not here."

Diego just stared at her.

"I took them."

Diego found it hard not to laugh outright, but he managed to keep a straight face, though his eyes danced with devilment. "So, do you plan to ...uh...keep me here to have your way with me?"

"Oh, Diego! Such talk!"

"Well, if it is not something like that, I am at a loss as to what —"

A shrill whistle caught his attention. "That's Felipe!"

A few short minutes later, the boy made a noisy entrance into the cave. At the sight of Diego, sitting up, awake and clear-eyed, Felipe broke into a huge grin. He put down his bundle of supplies and clothing and began signing questions.

"Yes, yes, much better." He followed Felipe's signs for a moment and then said, "Do you think Zorro's been missed yet?"

Felipe nodded "no" and Diego continued, "Then help me up. I need to get back there before they find me gone. Now, Victoria, about my clothes..."

"But you've been gone as Diego for over a wee—"

"And Diego must be gone for a while longer. I have to go back as Zorro, Victoria. Don't you see that?"

"But—"

"But what? What have you done, Victoria?" The voice that had been laced with amusement quickly switched to total seriousness. "What have you done?" The question was a command.

She dropped her eyes before his stare and said very timidly, "I took your clothes to Don Sebastian. He's going to kill Zorro for me. For us! I know it was a drastic thing to do, but —"

"Kill Zorro!" Diego digested this slowly. "You mean he is going to fake his...no, my death!" He let out a long slow breath. "You didn't think about discussing this with me first?" He turned away from her then.

"Diego, I thought —" A sick feeling was beginning to fill the pit of her stomach. She had to make him understand. "Please—"

"We will discuss this later. Right now, there is the question of how I am to get back. Felipe, what clothes did you bring? Let me see what we can do."

She felt him shut her out then and she retreated to the back of the cave. Her sense of guilt was overwhelming. Only one refrain kept repeating through her mind. "What have I done!"

The two men prepared the return to the hacienda like a military assault, carefully trying to think through all the possible problems that might arise. Felipe would go first to the secret cave to fetch another mask and shirt. It was now late afternoon and the sun was bright. With all the vaqueros on alert since the assault of the night before, it was not going to be easy for Diego to slip back into the hacienda. Without addressing her, they decided that she would return to the pueblo alone.

Diego had barely made it through the window in time when the door to the room flew open and his father entered.

"Don Alejandro! Buenas Tardes."

"Thank God you're back. Mendoza's just returned and they want to discuss the document with you. Come!"

"You knew I was gone? I —" A wave of dizziness overcame him and he swayed on his feet.

"Yes, but no one else knows." The older man was across the room in three strides. "What on earth? You're hurt!" He managed to get the larger man over to the bed. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I...it is nothing. I just..." The ride had just taken too much out of him. He shook his head in an effort to clear it. "I will be fine. I —"

"What is it? You don't look so good, Son."

An alarm sounded in the recesses of Zorro's mind. The endearment meant nothing. His father had called Zorro that once before in a moment of sympathy. But right now, he could not confide in the man about the wound on his hand. A black glove covered it for now, though it had had to be cut and hung loosely to allow for the swelling. Gloves were a part of Zorro's persona. Later Diego would not be able to wear gloves for extended periods of time. "I am fine," he repeated. "Now what's this about a document?"

"You will have to see it to believe it! If you think you can —"

"Very well." He forced a confident tone into his voice. "Shall we join them?"

When Zorro entered the library, Señor Olvera rose out of respect and Mendoza bowed in his usually slightly flustered way. The good sergeant had never lost that feeling of awe for the masked man in all the years he had known him. Indeed, it would be hard for anyone not to be a little intimidated by the tall man in such an impressive costume.

"Señor Zorro, I believe we have some good news for you."