NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!

WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY

Chapter Eleven

Padre Ramon kneeled beside Diego and helped him to sit up further against the wall. "My son, what has happened to you? You are wounded from head to toe! We must see to your wounds and get you cleaned up immediately. Come, can you stand?" He bent over to help Diego get up.

Diego tried to help as much as he could, but he was sure that Padre Ramon was bearing most of his weight on his shoulders. Diego's legs were as useless as noodles as they crossed the room to a large, padded chair. Diego remembered it. He had sat in it many times while playing chess with the padre. It was the padre's favorite.

"Oh, please no, Padre," Diego said. "I am so dirty I will ruin your chair."

"Well, Diego, you were my favorite student and that counts for more than a chair," said the padre as he gently settled Diego. "If you can manage to take off that rag of a shirt, I will see what I can do towards cleaning you up."

He turned away as he poured a basin of water and got some towels. When he turned back he was speechless. He could clearly see Diego's arms and torso, which were covered in sword cuts and punctures. Hardly any part of him did not own its own cut or bruise. But what struck the padre the most was the deeply cut "M" on Diego's chest.

Seeing where the padre's gaze was going, Diego looked down. "I don't suppose there is any reason to hope that it won't leave a scar is there?" he said with a solemn little smile.

The padre swallowed and said, "I am afraid not. But come, let us clean you up as best we may this time of night."

"Yes, but first may I have some water? I am parched to the bone," said Diego.

"I don't wonder," said Padre Ramon feeling of Diego's forehead. "You have a very high temperature. Probably as a result of all of these injuries. I have some medicine that is good for reducing such fevers. Here it is. I'll just put some in this glass of water and bring it to you."

Diego accepted the water gratefully and then leaned his head back against the chair and within minutes he fell asleep dead to the world. He had come as far as his strength of will would carry him. There was nothing left to give.

"Yes, my son, sleep," said the padre quietly. "I have to clean these wounds and it will not be very pleasant for you. When you wake it will have been done and you will have been spared any more pain." With tears in his eyes, the padre began his task. An hour later he had cleaned Diego's wounds, especially the "M" and the deep puncture wound to his left arm. That one was showing signs of infection and he would need to get some better medication for it tomorrow. He had to cut Diego's trousers off and found another hundred wounds to tend. Appalled, he could not imagine how Diego had survived through all of this.

Going into the little room just off the bedroom that he used for meditation, he made a pallet there. Picking Diego up in his arms he was alarmed at how little he weighed. He carried him to the pallet and laid him gently there and covered him with some blankets. Then he picked up the ruins of Diego's clothing and cast about as to what to do with them. Finally, he took some paper and string and tied them up in a bundle. He shoved the thing as far under his bed mattress as he could. He would get rid of them later. He cleaned up everything else as best as he could and climbed back into his own bed after checking Diego one last time. Instantly he fell asleep.

All too soon his servant, Pablo, was shaking him awake saying, "Padre, it is time to get up."

The padre rolled over wondering if last night had been nothing but a dream. Then he saw the pistol and knife under the dresser where he had put them last night. Praying that Pablo would not see them, he ushered him out saying he felt the need for meditation and prayer today. Pablo could bring a large breakfast to his rooms and just leave it on the desk. Quickly, he closed the door after the servant was gone.

Padre Ramon rummaged through his things. He did not have any trousers for Diego, but he did have a shirt that would cover the territory until clothes for him could be arranged. Taking the shirt with him, he saw that apparently Diego had not moved all night probably due to his exhaustion and fever. Padre Ramon felt of Diego's forehead and thought that he was some cooler to the touch. He needed to give him another drought of medicine, but hated to wake him up to do so. Not having had a good chance to look at Diego's features in the candlelight last night, the padre looked at him now.

Even though he was thin and battered, he could see through the unkempt beard that there was a maturity there. Diego had been so young when he had last seen him. Now lines could be seen in his face, not all of them put there recently, but etched there over time.

"Life in California must be hard," he thought to himself. "I hope Diego is well enough soon so he can tell me what this is all about." He heard Pablo in the other room putting the breakfast tray down and then leaving.

Reluctantly, he shook Diego to wake him. Diego's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Monastario!" he cried out.

Padre Ramon held Diego so that he could not get up. "Be still, my son. It is Padre Ramon. See? Look at me."

Slowly Diego's eyes focused. "Yes . . . yes. I see it is you," he said as he collapsed back onto the pallet.

"Here, drink this. It has some more of the medicine to break the fever. How do you feel? Could you eat something?"

"Yes, Padre, I think I could, gracias."

Leaving Diego to drink the medicine, he returned with the tray of food Pablo had brought. He put it on the small table in the room. "Here let me help you up," he said coming over to the pallet. As Diego started to throw back the blankets he caught himself and looked up at the padre. "Come now. For modesty's sake take this shirt and put it on. It is one of mine and I know you are not so large as it is." Diego slipped the shirt on and gathered up a blanket to put on his legs as he was helped to the chair.

Actually, Padre Ramon was glad Diego had covered up all of those cuts and bruises. The sight of them was still powerful enough to bring tears. He would have to see them later in order to treat them, but for now it was best that they were covered.

Diego was pale and his hair and beard were a sharp contrast to that paleness. His eyes met the padre's and for a moment the padre saw so many things in them he did not know if he could name them all. First was gratitude, then love for an old friend. There was a glimpse of the devil may care attitude that the Diego he knew three years ago would have had. But he also saw a hardness, a cold edge that he had not seen before. He saw resolve and a hint of a promise made which would be a promise kept if it was the last thing Diego did on this earth. He did not like that last look.

He offered Diego the food and water. While it was simple fare, there was a lot of it. Padre Ramon had a good appetite and when he told Pablo that he wanted a large breakfast, he got a large breakfast. Diego fell to with good spirit and soon the food was gone. "More to drink?" the padre offered, but was waived off. Diego sat back feeling better than he had in a very long time.

Padre Ramon said as he brought out his medicines, bandages and cloths, "Let us see about your injuries now that I can see them in a better light. Take off your shirt again and while I tend you, you can tell me what this is all about." He began to work on Diego's shoulder.