Hopefully, I did not contradict myself in this (rather long) chapter, and I got the proper wording. I feel it's now almost a contest of where Fanta3 made a mistake :) I hope you are also having fun trying to understand what is going on at this point. And... I could not resist torturing Monastario some more, hope you will enjoy it! 'cause I did (poor poor him, give him a pat when you get the chance).

The old vine climbing on the pale wall of the hacienda was definitely not strong enough to support the weight of a full grown man as it was, but thankfully there was a very solid wooden support right behind it onto which it had grown. Diego had never really understood the need for having these plants around their house, but he had always been happy, especially as a kid, to have this easy means to get in and out of the hacienda without having to use the front door... And it was definitely more fun.

In the dark of the night, the young caballero tried to control his breath and movements to make as little noise as possible, and avoid alerting anyone. However, his focus was disturbed by the puzzled thoughts he had been juggling with since he had had dinner with his father and best friend.

Instead of being is usual cheerful self like in Madrid, Tonio had been aloof and distant, and had barely uttered a word when he had finally excused himself early and left for his room. Obviously, he was still disturbed by his father's death, but he had not mentioned anything about it to him or his father. Diego was worried Tonio was going through something difficult, and the wound he had got on his way to Los Angeles must not have helped his cause at all.

Fortunately, Diego had a chance to speak with Bernardo before retiring to his bedroom, but his friend had been cryptic about Tonio, mentioning something about a a duel, a handkerchief, and a lost pocket watch. Bernardo had also confirmed that Tonio had not been fooled by his deaf act, but he had been able to keep it a secret for now. With these facts in mind, Diego had decided to get the story straight from the source, and here he was, climbing onto the second floor balcony that was leading to the guest bedroom.

The candles were out, indicating Tonio might be sleeping already, though Diego knew that whenever his friend was deeply disturbed by something he did not have such an easy means of escape to forget about his issues.

Slowly, he tiptoed his way to the windowed door, which had been left open to let fresh air come in. Diego carefully pulled the curtains aside and walked in, but as he looked around to determine whether or not his friend was indeed sleeping, he felt a presence right next to him, one second too late. A sword was already against his throat before he could do something about it.

"My, my, what is going on in Los Angeles?" Tonio asked. "I catch you off guard, Bernardo is spying for you, and you're not even walking around with something sharp. This must be Boredom Pueblo indeed!"

"Well, I've still got my wits," Diego replied calmly without moving one bit. "I may also mention that you are lucky I did not bring something sharp."

The caballero sensed his friend's eyes looking down, and the soldier finally realized with a laugh that Diego had been holding a butter knife against his stomach, reminiscent of a prank Tonio had pulled against him in Madrid. At least the funny memory cheered him up a little for now.

"I also remember it's important to socialize with the host when one is a honored guest," Diego added, trying to bring the conversation to what was bothering him.

Tonio took a deep breath, sighed, and went to sit on the bed after throwing his sword on it. He then kept silent for a long, awkward moment. Diego resisted the urge to say something and simply stood still by the door frame.

"Diego, I'm sorry about that. It's just that... I... don't want to bring you into this messy story. I haven't been able to fully figure out what is going on, and... This is driving me nuts," Tonio finally confessed in a whisper, with difficulty.

"Why don't you start by telling me what happened on your way to Los Angeles, amigo?"

"Not even related to any of my crazy problems," Tonio chuckled faintly. "You see, this guy, Martínez, was just some random idiot like the ones we used to pick on in taverns and alleys. He was just looking for a fight, and he followed me after I... well... found a way to cheat out of the duel he wanted to have. He obviously didn't like it.

"He followed me on the way to Los Angeles, and caught me off guard at Mission San Luis Obispo. Your father and Bernardo basically stumbled upon us while we were fighting... and Martínez left me a little souvenir of his. There's really not much to it, and it's definitely not one of my best stories either."

Tonio paused a moment, as if the words he had just uttered had suddenly lifted a weight off his chest. However, the relief seemed only momentary, as Diego saw his friend frown in the moonlight, which lit his concerned expression as he distractedly scratched his shoulder.

"All right, that takes care of your physical wounds I guess. What about the rest?" Diego asked in a teasing manner, hoping Tonio would open up some more about his obvious other problems.

"Bernardo was right, you are such a gossiping lady!" his friend replied in the same tone with a lopsided smile.

Diego grumbled the annoyance he always felt when being insulted by his best friend, although he was able to restrain himself from replying in the same manner to the taunt. Tonio was trying to change the subject of the conversation to avoid talking about himself.

"Tonio... Whether or not you want my help, you're getting it and that's it," Diego reprimanded dryly. "Stop fiddling around and tell me what's going on. Tell me about your father, about Martínez, whatever... but stop wallowing in your own problems just this one time!"

The caballero expected an angry retort, but Tonio did no such thing, and simply sighed with a faint smile.

"O nuit désastreuse! ô nuit effroyable, où retentit tout à coup, comme un éclat de tonnerre, cette étonnante nouvelle: Madame se meurt, Madame est morte! (1)" he finally declared solemnly.

"What... are you talking about?" said Diego, taken aback by the sudden act and the strange, foreign words he recognized as French.

"Those are the words of a famous French bishop. After my mother's death, my father became obsessed with his texts, particularly the eulogy of... Gah! Why am I telling you this! Here, have a look for yourself."

Tonio pulled something from under his pillow and handed it to Diego. It was a handkerchief, the one Bernardo had mentioned probably, though Diego could not determine in the darkness what it had to do with a French bishop or Tonio's father.

"Don't bother lighting a candle, Diego. I've been staring at it too much already."

"Why would you stare at a handkerchief? Are you all right?" Diego was seriously getting worried by his friend's strange attitude. He made absolutely no sense, and that had never happened before, even when he had been drunk in Madrid.

"Bernardo found it in my vest while I was taking my bath. It's my father's handkerchief, and he wrote, God knows how, some words along its edges, like a fancy pattern. Those are basically excerpts from that bishop's eulogy for the Duchess of Orléans. She died pretty young, and this text reminded my father of how... Mother died."

"I'm... sorry, Tonio. About your father's death and—"

"Don't be, Diego," Tonio interrupted. "We weren't on such good terms anyways. I never felt I was the son he wanted to have, he was just so distant I could never reach out to him."

"Oh, that I can somehow relate to," mumbled Diego between stiff lips, but before Tonio could wonder what he meant by that he kept on talking. "What's the big deal about... this now?"

Diego gave the handkerchief back. He was very curious about what this story meant to Tonio that it would throw him off so much.

"Ah! You forget one thing about Docteur Jacques Garat, cher ami. Everything has a meaning. If the handkerchief was put into my pocket without my knowledge, it must be for a reason. Just like the broken watch back in Madrid, you must remember that one too."

"Seriously, Tonio, this certainly doesn't look like something devious or meant to—"

"Tsk, tsk. You said you would help amigo, so I have to finish my story now." Tonio took a deep breath, his uncertainty gone now that he was talking openly about the things that were troubling his mind. Unconsciously, Diego had walked up to his friend, and he now sat on the bed next to him, listening with renewed curiosity to what the soldier was about to reveal.

"I think Gaspar, my father's lifelong servant, must have done it. He's the one who packed my things before I left for California. It would make sense, he's also the one who sent the watch to me. He must have known something about my father that he could not openly reveal, and of course my father said absolutely nothing before passing away. Besides his very odd but fervent desire for me to return to my birthplace, he mentioned absolutely nothing, nothing at all."

"What makes you feel so certain that there was something important to hide?"

"Well... three things. First, I have seemingly been followed by someone since my arrival in Monterey, which tells me I was expected. Who could have known about my coming besides Gaspar, you and the Comandante? Gaspar even warned me that someone would be waiting for me here..."

"The Capitán could have sent ahead for an escort," Diego suggested.

"Nah, soldiers would've reported to me. It just can't be. Why do this anyways? No one has soldiers to spare for escorts nowadays!"

"All right," he conceded. "Though this sounds a little far-fetched. What's the second reason?"

"I told you I had been staring at this handkerchief. I know the eulogy pretty well, but something which struck me as odd has been inserted in the text. It's a quote from Saint Francis of Assisi, and it does seem to fit the Bishop's original words for one who would not know about it, but it doesn't. It must mean something too."

"Spare me the French quotes, Tonio," Diego begged, raising his hand to stop another blurt of foreign words.

"'We reach Heaven faster by leaving from a house than from a palace.'(2) " he translated.

"That's it? It's pretty vague. Are you sure this means something? Your father could have remembered this in the wrong way, or simply misquoted."

"My father?! Never!" Tonio snapped. "The bastard had such uncanny love for details, he would never have done that kind of mistake unless it was on purpose."

"All right, all right," Diego sighed. "Why the elaborate setup on a handkerchief? Does that mean something too?"

"Of course! Writing this on paper would've made this hidden message conspicuous, but this is somewhat disguised as a pattern on a fancy piece of cloth... and the handkerchief is not something I could dismiss easily, while others would. I instantly recognized it as my father's when Bernardo held it up. I hate to admit it, but my father was very smart... and Gaspar too, for that matter."

"Tonio..." Diego said, shaking his head. He really felt like the elaborate castle made of assumptions, theories, and guesses would come down and crumble on his friend in no time.

"Before you dismiss all of this as completely ridiculous," Tonio continued, "think about this third fact. You do remember the pocket watch that my father sent to me back in Madrid? I showed you the short word Gaspar put along with it."

"The broken watch, yes. I remember, you didn't want me to touch it and you were totally mad at your father. In fact, I think it's the only time you ever spoke of him to me in all the time we've known each other. But what does it have to do with the handkerchief?" Diego frowned. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense.

"It may have nothing to do with the handkerchief, but it was stolen. I had it in Monterey and now it's gone. It must be linked somehow to all of this. I mean, someone follows me, and after I learn about this I get knocked out for two days, and first thing I know that stupid watch is gone."

"Unconscious for... two days?! Dios mío! What on earth are you talking about?"

"Mateo gave me something that made me sleep two full days, after I was wounded by Martínez. In fact, when I asked him about being followed, he got all strange and denied knowing about it. I hate to think about this, but he may be involved somehow."

"Tonio. You really are insane. You see enemies everywhere! You probably just lost your watch during the duel, or when you took off your clothes!" Diego countered, trying to reason his friend to common sense.

"I can't really accuse Mateo of anything unless I have proof," Tonio continued fervently as if Diego had said nothing. His eyes were glistening with excitement, and he grabbed the caballero's forearm. "You think you could help me on that? Sneak into his place and look for the watch."

"No!" Diego refused categorically.

"Oh, but you will, Diego de la Vega," Tonio replied, his tone full of assurance. "I know you can't resist a challenge, and besides, you said you would help me."

"I will, but not in this manner!" he declared dryly.

"What's wrong with you? Aren't friends supposed to stand up for—"

"Tonio," Diego cut in.

His friend became silent and cocked his head, sensing the urgency in Diego's voice. The moment the caballero had dreaded the most was coming up. He would have to explain, or rather, lie, to his best friend. Diego had reached the conclusion that he could not reveal his secret to Tonio, not until he could be sure about his loyalty. He had no doubt he could keep a secret, but it was simply too dangerous to reveal Zorro's identity at this point, when he had absolutely no idea about his relationship with the Comandante.

"Tonio..." Diego repeated softly. "Before we go on your wild-goose chase, you need to know something. A few things changed since I came back to California."

"Diego, what is going on? What is this gloomy look on your face?" Tonio asked, standing up abruptly with concern. The caballero looked down with a sinking feeling, unable to stare at his friend in the eyes, the familiar shame at lying to the ones he loved tightening his chest.

"Diego de la Vega... gave up the sword, amigo," he finally whispered.

Imelda had the greatest of difficulties to bring the tears up. Now that Tomás was dead, maybe there was hope. Maybe.

"I am sorry, Señora Escudero," Jacques said, unable to look into her eyes. He was busy tying the don's shirt back, and had already covered his face with a handkerchief. Don Alejandro was standing by, speechless at the sudden death of his dear friend, unaware of the subtle things that were happening right under his eyes.

"Jacques..." whispered Imelda, putting her shaky hand on the doctor's forearm. He immediately pulled away and stood up.

"I declare Don Tomás Escudero Manrique dead. He suffered from a heart attack," Jacques declared to the crowd that had formed around the odd trio. "There is nothing else I can do. Someone please call a priest to take care of the Señora."

"Doctor..." Don Alejandro murmured. Jacques eagerly walked up to him, still avoiding Imelda's eyes as if they would burn him.

"Don Alejandro de la Vega, I presume. I am sorry for the loss of your friend," he said bluntly.

"Were there any symptoms? I.. had no idea Don Tomás..." he trailed off.

"There is nothing you could have done to prevent this. No need to torture yourself. I..." Jacques stopped talking and finally threw a long, hard look at Imelda. His eyes were glaring with the anger of the devil himself. He... knew.

Don Alejandro walked up to Imelda and offered a hand to help her up. She picked it as she looked up to everyone surrounding her, and all the crowd could see now were the tears streaking down her reddened cheeks, as any widow would bear the burden of her sudden loss. They were just unaware that Imelda was crying for an entirely different reason.

Antoine stared at Diego in disbelief for a long time before breaking into laughter, patting his friend's shoulder to reassure himself. "Diego, for one second there, you had me totally fooled!"

"Tonio, this is not funny. Things happened when I came back, and... well... this is not Madrid. Not anymore."

The soldier could not believe what he was hearing. What was going on with his best friend, the most daring person he had ever known, the one that could never say no to a challenge and a sword fight? Antoine thought his problems were something, but the tone in Diego's voice when he said he had given up the sword was even more worrisome than his own issues.

"Father warned me that things were not going so well in Los Angeles prior to my arrival. I did not know what to expect, but on my very first day in town, I learned that our neighbor Don Ignacio Torres had been accused of treason.

"Father was very upset about the whole affair, and wanted me to get involved. What could I do to help Don Nacho? I tried to reason with the Comandante, write a letter to the Governor... I could not simply fight off every soldier in Los Angeles by myself to defend him, it would only have made things worse..." Diego trailed off for a moment, visibly ashamed of something. His eyes were decidedly averting Antoine's.

"Seriously, Diego, there must have been a good reason for the Capitán to accuse this Don Ignacio Torres of treason. A proper trial would have cleared his name if he weren't guilty."

"He was judged and declared innocent, Tonio, but... before the trial, my father called a secret meeting with the other caballeros to put together a plan to free Don Nacho's wife and daughter from the cuartel's prison. The Comandante learned of the whole affair, and caught him in the act. My father escaped, but he got shot in the process."

"Diego, I—"

"Let me finish, Tonio," Diego interrupted, lifting his hand up. "This is not something I am too proud of, but you need to know. My father was tried with Don Nacho, and their names were thankfully cleared. However... all this time... Zorro helped them, while I did absolutely nothing."

"Zorro?!" Antoine almost shouted. The mere mention of the name brought his anger back to the surface. "That outlaw with the mask and the attitude? What has he got to do with your father and Don Nacho?"

"I... can't answer that, Tonio. All that I know is that he somehow saved my father's life, and I owe him that."

Diego was looking at the floor again, his shoulders sagged from some invisible weight on them. Antoine slowly sat back on the bed, unsure of what to say to his friend. He stared at the moon outside for a moment, letting the cool breeze of the night calm him down.

"I refused to pick up my sword, Tonio. I should have fought like a lion, even if it would have cost me my life! I am a coward. My father now thinks I am useless and that I won't stand up with him."

"What has this got to do with cowardice?! You can simply show him your skills and prove him wrong!" Antoine protested. He did not understand Diego's reaction at all. Why let his father believe things that were so wrong and false?

"I can't," Diego answered in a whisper. "When I finally tried to do something and warn him about not carrying out his rebellion... Father got hurt. I refuse to let this happen again. Violence is not the way to go for me, not anymore. I did not agree with my father's way though I shared his feelings... but I will not go against the Spanish Army or lead people to revolt, or even try to catch this Zorro. I will not fight against... you, Tonio."

"But—"

"There are...other ways to fight, Tonio. Father did not have the chance to learn about my skills with the sword, and I would like to keep it that way. If there is anything I would like you to do for me, it's that you respect my wish in this matter. I will handle the matter with father when I am ready to face him."

Antoine sensed Diego was pulling away from him. He had never realized that the uniform he was wearing could have done something to their friendship. What had happened to the spirited caballero with the devilish and charming smile? It felt almost as if he were hiding something else, but the soldier could not blame him for doing so. He himself had his lot of secrets in the family, and he could relate to the feeling very well. Antoine decided not to push his friend too hard, and trusted he would talk about his other concerns eventually. Maybe his presence would rekindle his friend's interest in friendly sword fights, if nothing else.

"One day or the other, Diego, your father will learn about this, trust me on this one," Antoine finally declared as he shook his head. "He won't learn it from me though, I promise. I can't say I agree with your choices, but I will respect them."

"Thanks, Tonio."

"However, you've proven that you're still able to sneak into a house without something sharp at your side. There's no way out of this one for you, lazy friend."

Diego sighed heavily. "You are just impossible, Tonio. I hate you."

"I know, amigo, I know," Antoine chuckled.

The sun was not yet showing at the horizon, but Imelda was already awake. She was lying in her bed, staring with a smile at the dashing Comandante who was still sleeping like a baby in the rapidly fading darkness. He just looked so innocent in this manner, the perpetual frown and turmoil on his face hiding for a moment behind a faint, childish smile.

"I'll head to town to check on Garat," a voice said close by. "Are you meeting with the tribe today?"

"Don't be ridiculous, he's not ready yet," Imelda chided.

"I saw you kiss him."

Imelda smiled. "Are you jealous?"

"No."

"Then get out, he'll be awake soon."

After a moment, Imelda was alone again with the Comandante. She was enjoying her last few minutes of silence with him. A storm would be coming up soon.

Softness. Then pain. Whatever he tried to do, Monastario could not open his eyes without grunting and moaning. It took them a while before they could adjust to the bright sunshine of the... Was it afternoon already? Sunshine never came in through the window this early in the day.

The Comandante turned on his side and tried to lift himself on his elbow. The bed was definitely too comfortable, and his back ached from having slept on something too soft for hours. With his free hand he rubbed his eyes for a while, trying to erase the remnants of sleepiness at their corners. When he could finally focus, he found himself staring at a beautiful woman who was smiling back at him.

"I trust you had a good night, Enrique?"

"Señora Escudero! What—" Monastario gasped. "What are you doing in my bed!?"

"Your bed? You're so funny," she giggled.

Monastario was completely lost. He darted his eyes around, and realized he was not at the cuartel at all. His thoughts then brought him to last night, and the... kiss. Suddenly self-conscious, the poor man lifted the blanket for a short moment to confirm the horrible suspicion that had just crossed his mind. He put it back down with an angry gesture, his face now red hot.

"Señora! What did you do to my pants!" he yelled, unable to control the boiling anger and the shame he felt at not understanding what was going on.

"Pshh.. They're right where you left them, on the floor."

What? He could not possibly have slept with this woman who was older than him... She was driving him nuts on purpose, he just knew it. She was beautiful, it was undeniable, but it annoyed him so much that he could simply not remember anything at all beyond their kiss. Nothing.

Monastario quickly jumped out of the bed, dragging one of the blankets and draping himself into it in a prude manner. As he reached down to grab his uniform, which had been randomly thrown all over the floor, the door suddenly opened without a noise.

"Señora, Señor," a young woman greeted them with a nod. She was carrying a tray with drinks and fruit on them.

He would not have thought it possible, but the presence of the Señorita, while he was strolling around the bedroom and picking up his clothes, made him blush and become even redder than he already was. Monastario felt the uncomfortable heat irradiating from his skin like the sun itself.

"Oh, don't be shy around Nina, Enrique. She just brought us some refreshments, as I requested," Imelda chirped from the bed.

"Don't... call... me... Enrique!" he yelled, biting out each word as they were pronounced.

Nina stared at him with a blank look. "Do you wish anything else, Señor Enrique?" she asked.

The Comandante growled back at her like an animal. The girl calmly left shortly after, thankfully interpreting this as a no.

How did he get into this mess? Monastario knew that Imelda... the Señora was playing with him. He had to get rid of her. He could not stand being teased in this fashion. Treasure or no treasure, he had to get out of her spiderweb.

"Shall we go out for breakfast, Enrique? This is such a beautiful day! We could set up the table outside," she suggested with a purr.

Monastario, who had finished picking up his uniform, turned his back to her, still holding on to the blanket for dear life.

"Duty calls. I need to be at the cuartel," he simply replied.

Next: Antoine gets more and more suspicious... and I will try not to torture Monastario anymore! It'll be difficult though :)

Also, I knew everyone was looking forward to the long-awaited discussion between Diego and Antoine. I think Diego got through not too badly with his half-lies, what do you think?

ps. Hi O'mally! Tks for reading!

(1) O disastrous night! O appalling night, where resounds suddenly, like the roar of thunder, this astonishing news: Madam dies! Madam died! - from "Oraison funèbre d'Henriette-Anne d'Angleterre" by Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet, 1670. I haven't been able to find an official English translation so I had to translate it myself :)

(2) "On atteint plus vite le ciel en partant d'une chaumière que d'un palais." by Saint Francis of Assisi, founder of the Franciscan order (you know? All those missions along Camino Real...) – if anyone finds the actual wording in English let me know, I had to translate that one too, and frankly it doesn't sound really as poetic as the French one. :) I'm also open to suggestions if you find better wording.