As Ye Sow

The next couple of months were, comparatively speaking, quiet. Except for one extraordinarily inept attempt at poisoning Zorro, Ignacio hatched no Byzantine schemes to extort money from the peasants, cheat the landowners, or capture Zorro. Which is not to say there was nothing to do: in addition to the occasional highwayman and sneak thief, the alcalde repeatedly needed to be reminded of his duties. Ignacio appeared to have lost interest not only in his nefarious pursuits, but also his honorable ones. With the embarrassment of Zorro on his record, there was no hope of promotion, and so, perhaps, no point in rousing himself to act on any problem that did not affect him directly.

But while the current alcalde was only moderately inconvenient, the sins of his predecessor resurfaced in unexpected and horrifying ways. Luis Ramone, intimidated by Zorro into abandoning one of his less subtle land-grabbing plots, had buried the evidence--unfortunately in barrels that leaked.

It didn't escape Diego that the attempt to avoid committing a crime had resulted in just as much or more damage than the original plan. The mine tailings in the barrels were terribly poisonous. Before Zorro managed to change the course of a stream, they had rendered a quarter acre of land completely barren, killed an unknown number of birds and game animals, killed two men and sickened four more.

One of the four had been Felipe, who had stopped to drink downstream of the contamination one day on the way home. At the time Diego had not identified the contaminant, had, in fact, only his guess that water was the problem at all.

Since it was hours too late to vomit up the poison, he'd dosed Felipe soundly with emetics to hurry it through the other way, all the time smiling and promising the boy that there was no chance--of course not--that Felipe could have consumed enough to kill him.

Father in heaven.

The purge--and it was reassuring that Felipe had so much energy to complain about Diego's methods--was followed by lots of clean water and soft clay, to absorb and dilute any of the poison that hadn't come out. By late afternoon, he was sleeping peacefully, Diego had offered to pay Martina's little brother ten centavos a head for all the live mice he could catch in the barn, and Zorro was on his way to the Carbejal ranch to collect a sample of their water.

By eleven the next morning Diego had two dead mice; four test tubes marked "definitely sulfur," "definitely lead," "definitely zinc," and "probably arsenic;" and a pot full of tea to help Felipe with the lingering headache he denied was inconveniencing him.

Since there were no lead mines upstream of either the Carbejal ranch or Oak Creek, this left a new mystery in place of the old one, but since he wouldn't have a chance to investigate further until after dark, Diego returned to the house and went to bed. When he met his father at dinner, he didn't mention the deaths or the mystery or Diego's own activities, but only asked how Felipe was doing.

Short discussions with a couple of mine owners and Sergeant Mendoza--when necessary at the point of a very polite sword--quickly led Zorro to where Luis Ramon had buried the evidence of his abandoned plan for land fraud--on what had later become Carbejal land, very nearly in sight of the house, upstream of Oak Creek.

He reminded himself that it was useless to hate a dead man, and got to work. Once Zorro had diverted the water from the area, Diego had very publicly investigated the facts of the case and published the full account in the Guardian, including a 'statement' from Zorro. It wasn't very satisfying, but Ramone was dead, and the only vengeance Diego could get was to drag his name through the (evil, poisonous, polluted) mud he'd created.

The personal side of Diego's life was much more satisfying. Things reached a head with Victoria as both of them nearly broke with the tension between what they both wanted and what they knew was safe and wise...and while Diego was only frustrated and exhausted with yearning, Victoria, who was far too unconcerned about the risks involved, was impatient and angry. The compromise Diego settled on--well, it was not enough, certainly. But it was wonderful. Zorro proposed and she accepted and they both had that wonderful hope to carry in their hearts.

Not nearly as dramatic (but still much appreciated) was the truce Diego seemed to have reached with his father, who stopped mentioning marriage, only occasionally berated him for not being aggressive enough, and even started playing the piano with him again. The old don also spent a great deal of time with Felipe, taking him on inspections, purchasing trips, and visits with the neighbors.

Felipe commented on it one evening in the cave. The new microscope had arrived. While Diego carefully assembled it at the worktable, Felipe sat at the desk reading--still haltingly and far too quietly--the Bible. It was the same lesson Diego had used that afternoon for his class at the mission. "'You see that a person is justified by what he does and not by faith alone. In the same way, was not even Ra...Ra...Rahab the prostitute considered righteous for what she did when...when she gave lodging to the spies and sent them off in a different direction? As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds'--Diego?"

"Hmmm?" he answered absently, trying to hold the lamp so he could see how the positioning arm was supposed to attach. It was a very good microscope--it magnified two hundred and fifty times, almost double what Diego had had before. It had cost an embarrassing amount of money, and if he broke it--

"Diego," Felipe repeated, more loudly.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Continue. You were doing fine."

That earned him an impatient look. "I was thinking--" he stopped, slid back so he had room to move and continued with his hands, "Is your father punishing you by spending so much time with me?"

"Punishing me?" he repeated. "Of course not."

Felipe looked unconvinced. The corners of his mouth turned down.

"No," Diego repeated firmly. "If my father wanted to punish me, he wouldn't be subtle or cruel about it. And he would hardly be so patient as to extend it out over a period of weeks. And he certainly would not use an innocent as his tool."

Felipe conceded that, but he was still puzzled. "Then what?"

"I still don't know what he thinks I'm doing," Diego said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's drawn the conclusion that I'm a dangerous influence and he's trying to ease you out of my orbit?"

"Not likely," Felipe signed.

"No, not very. He may have given up on me entirely. He's involving you in the day to day business of running the estate, hoping you will learn enough to do what I, apparently, cannot."

Felipe looked appalled. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It doesn't do any harm. It might even be good for you both."

"What about you?" he asked sadly.

"What about me? I have neither the time nor the inclination to spend as much time on managing the estate as my father would wish. As long as you have time for your studies and don't object, I'm perfectly content with to see the two of you spend some time together. It demonstrates a great deal of faith in you, and I can hardly disapprove of that."

Felipe looked away with a frown that signaled that, while he didn't concede the point, he was done arguing.

Diego wasn't sure letting it go was the right thing to do. "Why do you disagree?"

Felipe shrugged. He reached for the Bible and began to search for his place.

Diego went to him, put the Bible aside, and seated himself on the corner of the desk. "Felipe, if my father has done or said something...."

Felipe flinched and looked at the floor; an old habit for avoiding a topic he didn't like.

Diego swallowed. "I promise you can tell me. He is my father, and I love him and I will forgive him. But I know...he can be...difficult....And if he has upset you...." Diego probably knew better than anyone, how hard his father could be.

"Long time ago," Felipe signed. "It's not important."

Diego waited.

Felipe shifted nervously, about to answer, and then stilled, his hands limp in his lap.

"Please," Diego whispered. "Whatever this is...tell me."

"While you were gone, I fell."

"Yesterday?" Diego asked, horrified. "While I was in San Pedro?"

Felipe knotted his hands together in his lap. "No, Spain," he whispered.

"When I was in Spain--?" That was six or seven years ago now....

Slowly, he began signing again. "We were bringing a mare home. There was a ground falling."

"An earthquake?" Diego asked.

Felipe shook his head, lowered his hands, and said, "A rockslide. We were bringing a new mare home, your father, Juan, and me. And there was a rockslide. I couldn't...hear it. The horses spooked. I was thrown."

He stopped. Diego, needing to do something, went and poured him a cup of water from the pitcher on the worktable. "Go on. You were hurt?"

"My head. Dizzy. Trouble seeing." He clutched his stomach and mouth and shuddered graphically.

Diego remembered the first time he had well and truly knocked his head. It had been absolute hell. The first night especially, which he'd spent on a rocky outcrop about thirty feet down Perdito Canyon, blinded by pain, his head in Felipe's lap, drifting in out of consciousness....

Once he'd recovered, he'd marveled at the boy's courage and patience that night. There had been blood and vomiting, and Felipe had flinched at neither. Without fuss he'd done what was necessary and then gone on to hide them both from the soldiers who had come to collect Zorro's body.

"Bad then. But why wasn't I told?"

Felipe pressed his lips together and answered, "Gone," with his hands.

"I received a letter every few months!" He tried to tease. "Hmmm? Perhaps you've heard of the royal mail?"

"How...how could we write you? By the time the letter arrived, I would be either dead or recovered," he said aloud. "And then I was better, but Ramone had just been assigned to the garrison. Everyone was afraid and angry, and then your father was sending for you, and then you were traveling...."

Diego frowned. "I see. And the fact that you had been badly hurt slipped everyone's mind." Felipe flinched, and Diego swallowed his anger. "Forgive me. Forgive me. Please, go on. Tell me the rest."

"There was this...." he fumbled for a word, gesturing vaguely with hands before settling on "noise in my head. I kept asking," here he signed, "What is the big thing?" and shook his head ruefully, "And scared everyone, because they had no idea what I was talking about and I couldn't explain. I suppose they thought I was mad. So I stopped asking...." he fell silent again. Diego forced himself to wait. "Sometimes I couldn't sleep, it was so loud. And then it changed. Loud and soft and," he struggled for a moment and signed, "Chaos."

Diego swallowed. "That must have been very frightening."

"I suppose....I'd forgotten a lot. It took...a long time for me to realize I was hearing noises along with the roaring. And then the roaring went away, but I still couldn't tell what people were saying if I couldn't see them talk."

"I'm so sorry. I should have been here. Felipe--"

He was interrupted. "One day I was in the house, doing my lessons, and your father was with Don Carlos in the courtyard. Visiting, you understand. And they were talking about you coming home. I was trying to listen...." He broke off and took a gulp of the water.

Diego could hardly admonish him for eavesdropping when Zorro had actively encouraged the habit. He waited with as much patience and encouragement as he could convey.

"He said--your father said I still wasn't acting normally and it worried him because he didn't know what he'd say to you if I was still ill when you returned."

Diego nodded.

"And Don Carlos said that everyone knew you were quite fond of your little pet."

Diego winced. "An unfortunate choice of words, but Don Carlos was never known for prudence." Don Carlos was dead, so, sadly, he'd have no opportunity to grow wiser.

Felipe's hands twisted together. "Your father said that you had managed quite a miracle in me. That...he was appalled when you first brought me back with you. He'd thought...the little war orphan was already ruined, he'd never think properly, or function normally. That in your place, he'd have given him to the mission, perhaps with a donation for...my care." The last word was barely audible.

Diego lifted one of Felipe's hands and held it tightly. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to rage. He managed not to do either: Felipe had been carrying this inside for far too long. It was time to let it out, and as hard as it was to hear, Diego had to listen to it.

"But--he said--you had been right all along. I could communicate. I could learn. I was literate. I did sums quickly. A hard worker and polite...and it was a terrible shame that I was deaf and dumb because otherwise I might become quite a man." His eyes were shining, but the tears didn't fall. "He said I was a tragedy."

Diego couldn't stop himself from leaning down and gathering Felipe into his arms. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I knew you weren't close before I left. I knew he could be a bit impatient or patronizing....Felipe, I never would have left you here if I'd known." Diego's own eyes were burning now.

"He was always kind. He has never mistreated me." He pulled free. "Diego, don't think--he was never cruel."

"Are you telling me the truth? Of course you are. You have never lied to me." Diego closed his eyes. Kind. The man who saw no value in you was at least kind. "Shall I be grateful that it wasn't as bad as it could have been then? That my father--who taught me compassion and respect for mankind--that he would say this, that he would think this...."

"Your father is a good man," Felipe caught himself signing, took a breath, and began again out loud. "He takes care of his people. He is brave and strong and kind. He's admitted he was wrong. About me. Not everyone would do that."

"And so you have forgiven him," Diego said.

"I owe him everything. He let you keep me. He was very kind when you were gone."

Kind. That word again. "But you didn't tell him you could hear."

Felipe sagged. "I was...confused. So I didn't. And then you were home, and everything changed." Felipe finished the water, brushed a weary hand over his eyes, gathered himself, and continued, "We did grow closer while you were gone. We missed you so badly, and we only had each other. But...I didn't feel like a tragedy. I didn't know he thought that until I heard him." The tears over ran his eyes then, and his throat seized up so badly the only sound that would come was a frightening squeal. Crying, gripping he arms of the chair so hard his hands were white, Felipe tried to say something, but he had no control, and his voice's failure was making him even more upset.

Diego gently pulled him against his shoulder. "Relax. Just relax. It'll come. We have time. Just relax."

"He said it. He said it," Felipe managed at last. His voice cracked horribly, but Diego understood. "I thought we were friends, or at least that he liked me a little and I could trust him...but he didn't...he didn't believe in me. Not even a little."

Diego held Felipe until he grew still. By then his own tears had nearly dried and were making his face itch. He sat back, pulled out a handkerchief, used one corner himself and then offered the rest to Felipe. Felipe actually laughed once, and then shook his head and produced a handkerchief of his own.

"He doesn't feel that way any more." Diego wiped his eyes again. "For the last two or three years, he's been nagging me to...cut the apron strings. I keep you too close, shelter you too much, limit your horizons. He says I'm doing you no service by keeping you so dependent...."

Felipe's eyes widened. Most of this argument had been kept from him. "You don't! How could he think you limit me?"

Diego sighed. "I do, actually. He just doesn't realize that it isn't because I'm protecting you, but the other way around."

"Not again! Not again....You have to--you have to stop saying that. If what Zorro does is worth what you are sacrificing, the risks you take, then--" His voice gave way again, and Felipe covered his face with both hands and breathed shakily. "I'm so t-tired of this fight. I love you. You mean more than anything. P-please, Diego."

Diego rubbed Felipe's shoulder, trying to sooth him a little. "I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I'm just afraid that twenty years from now you'll look back and regret all of this."

"Regret what? Being part of the best thing to ever happen to the Territory?"

"I hope you'll still feel that way."

"Don't be an idiot." It was the first time he had ever said the words out loud, and as soon as they were out of his mouth his eyes widened in horror. Diego laughed.

Felipe shoved him gently. Diego shoved back. Felipe made a tired grab for his torso, and somehow sent the Bible and the empty cup flying off onto the floor.

As Diego retrieved them he said, "It isn't very late yet. Let's go up to the parlor. I'll play the piano and you can 'read.' Hmmm? We could both use something uplifting."

"Beethoven?"

Diego reached out and mussed Felipe's hair. "All right. Yes. Anything you like."