Chapter 22 – A powerful emetic
"Ah, Diego. Here you are. Why didn't you return to the pueblo? What happened?" Don Alejandro said on entering the library. "Gosh, for a brief moment I had my doubts that you could be Zorro!" he said, relieved, laughing it off.
"Sorry, Father, but I had to stay here. Esteban was sick. He could not stop vomiting, so I prepared an herbal remedy and stayed with him because I didn't want to leave him on his own."
"Sick? Is he alright?" Don Emilio said.
"Yes, he's much better now. He's in my bedroom. I had to move him there to clean the mess in his room."
"Well, Son, you missed all the action in the pueblo," Don Alejandro said. "Again."
"Yes. What happened? Did the alcalde flog those farmers or not?"
"No. Zorro got on the way. But Mendoza shot him in the abdomen."
"Good Lord! Really? Is he alright?" Diego said standing up for effect to act really concerned and shocked, something he soon regretted, feeling dizzy, and finding difficult to stand straight.
"We don't know. We have to find him, because the sergeant said Zorro will need medical attention. If the doctor can't reach him maybe you can help him instead, with your books and your stuff."
"Yes, of course. But we have to find him first."
"Any ideas where he can be?"
"No, not really," Diego said. His father looked disappointed, so he carried on. "I know some people think I may have a connection with him, but he is the one who contacts me if he wants a message to be passed on, not the other way round. I have no idea where he hides."
Esteban got out of Diego's bedroom then, helped by Felipe, and walked to the library.
"Esteban, I thought you were sick. Should you be up so early?" Don Emilio said.
"Yes. I feel much better now after Diego gave me that disgusting concoction. My stomach is not aching so much now, and I'm fed up of staying in bed all the time. Yes, my back is still sore, actually killing me, but I am not an invalid. Yet." He walked to one of the armchairs and sat down at the edge, with his back straight, careful not to lean on the backrest.
"How's Victoria? I bet she is worried sick," Diego said, trying hard not to sound over-concerned.
"That poor woman... She is in a state, yes. She fainted when she found out. We got her to the tavern, and she took a while to wake up, even with the salts. I asked her to come here to rest, but she insisted to stay at the tavern in case Zorro would send her a note, or she got any kind of news from him," Don Alejandro said, pausing for a moment, looking very concerned. "Diego, I'm really worried about her. It's not fair she has to go through this kind of things. Not fair."
His bitterness made Diego feel even worse, adding emotional pain to his physical agony. Of course, it wasn't fair. The whole situation wasn't, for anybody involved. But, before he could dwell too much into those guilty feelings he had, the alcalde arrived at the hacienda.
ZZZ
Victoria paced the kitchen up and down relentlessly. She knew she couldn't stop because otherwise she would probably drop to the floor crying, curling up into a ball.
She knew something like that could happen. She knew it! She somehow knew Zorro was going to get hurt this time. Maybe that's why she had been so shameless, behaving like a slut, luring Zorro into bed because she feared maybe she would not see him again, ever.
She stopped in her tracks when a new, alarming thought crept into her mind. She felt really bad about it, but she could not help thinking it would have been better if he had died at the plaza, because the agony would be different. It would be over. She would finally know the face under the mask, and she would not feel the uncertainty she felt right then. Was he still alive? Was he agonizing in a cave somewhere and no one could help him? She could not contemplate that possibility, because imagining such thing was too disturbing.
She had already felt like that only a few days ago when the soldiers mentioned Zorro could have been hit at the roof, but they were not sure then. And he was, only in his arm, but now it was for real: he had been shot in the abdomen, and Mendoza said it looked serious. If she didn't get any news from him over the next few days, maybe she would never find out what happened until many years from then, when someone accidentally ran across a skeleton inside a remote cave; one wearing black rags, with a Toledo blade resting by his side.
She dropped to the floor on her knees then, covering her face with both hands, crying buckets. Pilar found her like that in the kitchen and hurried to help her, holding her in her kind, loving arms.
"Don't worry, Victoria. Everything will be alright. You just have to have faith."
"He's going to die on his own in a remote cave somewhere, and I am never going to find out who he is! Never!" she said while sobbing uncontrollably.
"Don Alejandro said he'll try to find out where Zorro is to help him, didn't he?"
"Yes."
Victoria recalled then the conversation with the old don after she woke up.
"Don Alejandro, where is Diego?"
"I don't know. He left to get another medicine for Apollo, but he said he would return before noon. I don't know where he is."
"Do you think…" she said then, unsure, and then lowered her voice even more: "Do you think he could be Zorro?"
"Who? Diego? Don't be ridiculous! Look, I can see your point, because he wasn't at the plaza with us when this happened, but there must be a logical explanation why Diego didn't return to the pueblo on time. And that is not because he came back dressed on Zorro's outfit!"
"I know it sounds ridiculous, but… I just wonder. I don't like coincidences," Victoria said.
"Don't worry. I'm riding back to the hacienda now. I'm sure Diego will be there. And maybe he has an idea how to find Zorro to help him."
"Yes, please, do that, and let me know what happens."
"Why don't you come to the hacienda with me and stay there today?"
"No, I prefer to stay here in the tavern in case Zorro gets a way to send me a note or something. I need to be here."
Yes, she needed to be at the place where she last saw him, where she could still smell his presence.
"Come on now. Stand up, and I'll help you to your room until you calm down. You shouldn't be working today. We may get news from Zorro soon, and I'll let you know."
"Thank you, Pilar." She stood up and followed her employee upstairs like on a trance, willing to get there as soon as possible to hug her pillow.
ZZZ
"Alcalde, to what do we owe the pleasure? Please, take a seat," Don Alejandro said when Ramón came into the library with Mendoza and two other soldiers on tow, showing him the hardest, most uncomfortable chair of all to seat on. The alcalde looked at it with apprehension, not appreciating the old don's sense of humour in the slightest.
"No, thank you. It will be brief. As you know, Sergeant Mendoza surprised us all today by hitting that sneaky Zorro with a well-deserved bullet, and we are looking for him. There is always word in the pueblo your son may know how to find him."
"No, not really. That is a misconception. Zorro has contacted me in the past to deliver messages, but I don't know how to contact him myself, even if I want to."
"Well, in that case, I have a list of some male citizens who weren't at the plaza today when Zorro was hit, and I intend to check them all for a gunshot wound in the abdomen. I think I can start with you," Ramón said, pointing at Esteban with his gloved, index finger. "Show me your abdomen."
"What are you going to do if I don't comply? Flog me again?" Esteban said, standing up defiantly, trying to stretch his body to his full height a few inches above Ramón to look him down, but it was a difficult thing to do, with the gashes in his back hurting when he stretched them.
"Don't tempt me. Lift that shirt, please. Now," Ramón said. He could not believe that man's arrogance after what had happened. He would willingly deliver a second round of lashes if he had to so the insolent, rebellious don would shut his mouth and conform. As Esteban didn't move, the alcalde got his sword then and aimed the tip at his throat, enjoying the hatred in the younger man's eyes. "I said NOW."
"Alcalde, there is no need for that. Withdraw your blade, please," Don Alejandro said, getting in the way. "Esteban, please, be reasonable. Lift your shirt and finish with this nonsense so the alcalde can get out of here and leave us in peace."
Esteban lifted his shirt then, slowly, keeping his irate eyes on the alcalde's. The only marks Ramón could see in there were some of the stray lashes that had stretched beyond Esteban's back, as far as his side. No gunshot wounds. The alcalde lowered his sword then and turned to face Diego.
"What about you, Don Diego? Could that ridiculous notion be true, that you are Zorro and you had us all fooled all this time?"
"Alcalde, I feel honoured that you consider me worthy of such ludicrous idea, that I have been impersonating Zorro for years, but I am afraid you will be disappointed. That person under the mask at the plaza today could not be me, because I have been here taking care of my sick cousin." But the idiota could try to make an effort and look sicker, instead of playing up the hero again like this, making me a liar, and upsetting the alcalde, Diego thought.
"I remember seeing you at the plaza when I made the announcement, but then you disappeared," the alcalde said.
"I didn't disappear. I was at the plaza earlier this morning, yes, but then I considered I had enough time to come back to the hacienda to get a new poultice for my stallion before the action started. I regret missing what happened, of course, because the way Toronado jumped off the roof must have been really impressive, but I stayed here because my cousin was sick as a dog, throwing up non-stop. And I think whatever he had it could be something catchy, because I'm not feeling very well myself," Diego said. "My stomach has been grumbling all day."
"Yes, alcalde. He had a glass of milk at the tavern this morning, complaining of reflux," Don Alejandro said.
And what a wonderful coincidence that is, Diego thought.
"Yes, mi alcalde, I saw Don Diego this morning drinking a glass of milk. I thought it was odd," Mendoza said.
He certainly didn't look well, with droplets of sweat scattered over his forehead, looking clammy and pale. He was trying hard to maintain a normal posture, keeping his torso straight and not slouching as he would prefer to do, and also refraining himself from checking if his waistcoat was showing any blood stains yet, to avoid anybody else focusing on that spot.
"I don't care! Stop the trifle talk and do the easy thing so we can go: lift your shirt," the alcalde said.
"But how could Don Diego be Zorro? That man was bleeding to death, and Don Diego is here, standing, and—,"
"Shut up, Mendoza! And you, it is the last time I ask: lift your shirt!" Ramón barked, lifting his sword towards Diego.
"All right," Diego said, considering his options. The alcalde had his sword in his hand, pointing at him, so he would need a distraction to grab one of the old swords displayed on the wall, fight him off, dodge the incoming bullets from the soldiers again, and reach for the door, to… To do what? That crazy plan wasn't going to work. He wasn't going to get far because of his injury. Unfortunately, this was looking more and more like the end of Zorro.
"Maybe you look so sick because you have been shot down?" Ramón said, with his sardonic laugh. "Come on, lift your shirt so I can move on and keep searching for Zorro. I have a full list of candidates to check. I am not sure why I stopped here first, on my way to see Alvarez, a more likely candidate to be Zorro, but I want to be methodical and thorough this time."
Diego felt the emetic herbal remedy starting to make effect then, and he pretended to be unbuttoning his waistcoat, until he could not pretend anymore.
"Excuse me. I think I am going to be sick like my cousin."
He stepped forward towards the door covering his mouth with his hand, but half way there, with the first strong contraction of his stomach, he threw up a large amount of vomit, projectile-style, that covered the alcalde almost completely from head to toe.
"Aaargh! De la Vega! How could you? This is disgusting!"
Don Alejandro had to make an effort not to laugh when he saw the alcalde trying to shake the slimy vomit off his sleeves by shaking his hands wildly. He only managed to keep a straight face because of his concern about his son.
"Are you all right, Diego?"
"No, I'm not. Sorry, alcalde. I'm so sorry. I didn't —," Diego started, but another bout of retching made him threw up some more. With each stomach cramp, the pain in his perforated abdominal muscles was excruciating, but he tried hard not to favour his side in front of Ramón. By then, he was sweating profusely, with a grimace that distorted his face, exactly as Esteban had when he found him on the floor.
"Get this man away from me! And bring me something to clean up this revolting mess from my clothes! Now!"
"Come Diego, you are really ill. I'll take you to your room. What did you eat yesterday?"
"Chicken… soup. Same as… him, I think." That had been another lucky coincidence.
"Yes, I had that soup. Blimey, is that it? The soup, not the porridge?" Esteban said.
"I think the rest of us ate the roasted gammon. It must have been that soup then, affecting only you two."
"Maybe. It makes sense," Esteban said.
The mention of food made Diego retch again, and he felt even guiltier now for administering that killer juice to his cousin. The stomach cramps were dreadful, and even worse for him due to his wound. Every time he retched it felt as if his abdominal wall was going to fall apart bursting at the gunshot wound. He gave up on the pretence altogether, faltering, and supporting most of his weight on his father's shoulder, he left him guide him to his bedroom.
"Wait! He didn't show me his abdomen!" the alcalde cried while still shaking off the vomit.
Don Alejandro stopped, only turning his head towards the alcalde, struggling under Diego's weight.
"Don't be ridiculous! My son can't be Zorro. He's very sick, and he has been here all morning taking care of his cousin. And both of them, by the way, could have been with us at the plaza if you hadn't flogged my nephew to death only to start this whole mess in the first place!"
Without waiting for an answer, he carried on walking, dragging Diego along the corridor, almost like a dead weight now.
Ramón had to agree Diego was the most unlikely candidate to be Zorro, and if he had really been shot in his abdomen, he should be howling in pain every time he retched so violently, so he gave up and returned to the pueblo to wash and change his clothes before he would carry on with the search.
ZZZZZ
A.N – Sorry, I could not resist the temptation to have Diego puking on the alcalde. Priceless! LOL