DAY THREE
Early in the morning, Victoria heard moaning. She tried to shake off sleep, and realized she wasn't in her own bed at the tavern. As she opened her eyes, she remembered, and jerked up in the chair. The sudden awakening also brought to her attention sudden muscle cramps from falling asleep in the chair. She rubbed her neck and moved her head around.
Diego! She put her hand on his forehead. His fever was rising again. She dipped the end of a towel in the porcelain water basin, wrings it out, and began to gently wipe Diego's forehead. Knowing he's still sleeping, she looked at him fondly, with a knowing, yet loving smile. Just to envision it, in order to re-affirm her suspicions, she placed the damp end of the towel on his forehead, then curled the dry end across his nose, leaving his eyes, his mustache, and mouth exposed. Instead of black, it's a white 'mask,' but now she knows.
"Uh-huh! I thought so," she whispers to herself. She shook her head. Boy, am I going to get him for that! Later, when he's better, she thought. That man has a lot of explaining to do! And how she was going to milk that for all it was worth, just to make him nervous.
In this new knowledge, she knew even though she was upset; she also knew life was short. She was painfully reminded of how short life could be just this week. Not only was she in danger of losing the love of her life, Zorro, but her best friend was injured, and now he was ill with a fever.
But to learn he was Zorro – well – she was going to let him have it – but she also knew she couldn't stay angry for long. She loved him too much to ever put a wedge between them. Because she saw the wedge that the Emissary tried to drive between Alejandro and Diego with that forged 'letter' to the Governor asking permission for Diego to take over the de la Vega estates. Alejandro saw right through it, and so did she. She wondered what Diego thought about it. Alejandro thought he'd have a good laugh about it.
All that day, people were in and out of Diego's room. Victoria left to go back to the tavern after having some breakfast. She asked Alejandro to send word when Diego was ready to talk. Victoria could hardly wait, now that she had seen him and knew who he was. But she had to make sure he was going to be on the mend before she would lay into him with the Escalante temper.
Alejandro and Felipe took turns sitting with Diego, sponging his forehead, keeping him quiet in bed. Every once in a while, Diego would awaken, and Felipe would give him broth and cactus tea. Alejandro sat by the bed, sometimes holding Diego's hand, sometimes just watching. They changed his bandages, and tried to keep him warm. One sat, the other would rest and eat something. Then the other came, and so this cycle repeated itself throughout the day.
Diego dreamt he was in the garden. He had come home after Diablo Canyon to find Felipe bound with a curtain cord. He quickly released him. Although he felt a bit shaky after being under that rock pile, he knew he had to do something. There was no time to change back into Zorro. Felipe urgently stroked his chin signing your Father' and then the sign for 'Emissary' and pointed outside. He could hear the clash of swords, and quickly rushed to the door. "Father!"
Each time he dreamt it, the dream changed a little – taking him further away from what really happened. One time, he dreamt the Emissary was standing over both he and his father, with a blade to his throat. Gilberto had just killed their father. Another time, De Soto was pointing a gun at him, ready to fire and repeated "…I kill…Zorro." Another time, both De Soto and Gilberto were standing over him, arguing who was going to be the one to actually shoot him. 'I'm going to shoot him!' 'No – I'm going to shoot him!' And the dreams went on and on, over and over.
In all these dreams, Diego was always the one on the ground in a vulnerable position, unarmed, ready to be killed. The only things that didn't change from the reality – the fencing duel where Gilberto discovers his secret, punching him in the arm, then grabbing it again a short time later. Each time, over and over, the pain of that shot through his psyche, and he would cry out in pain, just as he did when it happened. But those watching just heard "Aah-ungghk!"
This was a fever vigil – again. Alejandro and Felipe were on pins and needles until the fever broke.
Deep into the night, Diego's fever finally broke. His breathing became more relaxed and his sleep was finally peaceful. Felipe came in to relieve Alejandro, who got up from the chair, stretched, and yawned. He moved to Diego and checked his forehead. It was much cooler now, although still a bit warm. He quietly left the room, feeling like he'd aged 20 years in the last 20 hours.
ZZZ
