Chapter 51 – None of that matters now

In the dull and faint pre-dawn twilight, Esteban left the kitchen to go upstairs to see Victoria, but he didn't need to go further than a few steps up. Alarmed by all the commotion in the plaza, she was already up, walking down the gloomy stairs with an oil lamp lit, because it was still quite dark inside the tavern, with all the shutters closed.

"Is that you, Esteban?" she said, lifting the lamp in one hand while she grabbed the shawl that covered her shoulders with the other, over her cleavage. "What are you doing down there? I'm so glad you are up and about, feeling better. I was so worried, because there's nobody in your room, and there's something going on at the garrison. Where is Zorro?"

"In the kitchen. I don't know how to tell you this, so I'll be as blunt and fast as possible: Diego is injured."

"Diego?" she said, puzzled, tilting her head. "How can you possibly know that? He is in Monterey, isn't he?"

"No, he is not."

"Are you for real? How badly is he injured? What happened? And where is he if he's not in Monterey?"

"In the kitchen."

"With Zorro?"

"Mmmm… Zorro, yes. But no, not exactly with Zorro."

"I don't understand you." She carried on walking down the stairs, past him, but she stopped when she got to the bottom. Then she turned around to look at Esteban with a big question in her eyes. "Not exactly with Zorro… By that, you don't mean that he… that he…"

"Yes, Diego is Zorro."

"No! He can't be!"

Esteban thought that his own, shocked expression, must have been quite similar to the one on her face right then.

"I'm afraid it's true. I'm sorry, Victoria. He is Zorro. And he's injured."

The oil lamp slid off her suddenly feeble fingers, and its glass cover smashed in pieces on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs. Some oil splashed her skirt and it caught fire with the rapidly expanding, live flame. She cried, panicking, not reacting to put it out, mesmerized by the rising flames. Esteban ran downstairs, grabbed her by her waist to get her away from the burning, spilled oil, and then flapped on her skirt with his bare hands to stamp out the flames. When he couldn't put out the fire that way, he roughly forced her to the floor to make her roll over it.

"Are you alright?" he said when the fire on her cloths died out and they stopped rolling. They were both on the floor, with their glowing faces lit up by the fire still ablaze in the puddle of oil by the stairs. He was lying on top of her, in an awkward, compromising pose, but none of them seemed to notice after such fright. "Did you get burn?"

She shook her head, with her wide-open, frightened eyes locked in his. He relaxed then, and started to lift his body off hers.

"He can't be Zorro! You are lying!" she cried then suddenly, hitting his upper body furiously until he weighed down on her to grab her wrists.

"I'm sorry, Victoria. I'm so sorry. But it's true. It's him. Calm down, please."

"Get off me!" she cried, wriggling under his body weight.

"Only if you calm down."

His words had the opposite effect, and she got even more agitated, screaming like a raving lunatic, demanding to be released. Giving up, he let go of her hands and rolled to a side, over his bruised ribs. She stood up quickly then, much faster than he could with his aching body, and while she ran out to the kitchen he got up in slow motion, like an arthritic old man. The dangerous fire was still ablaze on the wooden floor, so he grabbed a thick tablecloth to extinguish it, but before he could accomplish that, her desperate cry filled the tavern. When the fire finally died off, he left the ruined tablecloth on the floor and made his way back to the kitchen in the semidarkness of the early morning.

As he feared, Victoria had fainted when she saw the lifeless body resting against the wall, and the doctor was using the smelling salts to wake her up.

Esteban sat down by her side and held her in his arms while she woke up.

"Victoria, calm down please," he said when she came to. She started crying then, turning to grab Esteban's shirt with both hands, burying her face on his chest, sobbing inconsolably.

"What have we done? We are going to burn in hell!"

"No, we are not, because we didn't know," he said, holding her tightly, rocking her quivering, petite frame, as if she was a baby.

"We should have known! I surely should have known!" she howled into his chest.

He grabbed her shoulders then and gently pushed her away from him, to look at her in the eye.

"Yes, but none of this matters now. We have to help him. And we have to move fast. We have to get him to a bed upstairs."

"Is he still alive then?" she said, with hope lighting up her drenched eyes. Esteban looked up at the doctor for confirmation, relieved when he saw him nodding.

"Yes, he is, so there is still hope. Come on, collect yourself, the same as I did only a while ago when I found out his secret, because we have to keep calm and carry on. We have to push away all those feelings of guilt and regret if we want to help him now. We owe him that."

"Yes, you're right. We owe him so much. I'll dwell on my stupidity later."

"So will I. Come on, get up. Good girl."

She stood up, wiping off her tears with her shawl, and then Doctor Hernández helped Esteban to his feet.

"Help me to get him upstairs," Esteban said, approaching Diego. "Victoria, can you please clean that oil at the bottom of the stairs? I don't want to slip on that while carrying him. Be careful, it will still be hot."

ZZZ

Esteban struggled going upstairs, resenting his fractured ribs while carrying Diego with the doctor's help, each holding one arm over their shoulders. Diego's feet and the tip of his sword dragged along the steps, as he was much taller than the doctor, and the difference in height between the two men let Esteban carrying most of the weight. He thought it was quite ironic how his cousin had helped him up those same steps only a few hours ago, but he had done so almost effortlessly. Or so it seemed, in comparison.

When they finally reached the same bed Esteban had been lying on before, he dropped his cousin's limp body onto the mattress and sat down heavily at the edge of the bed, panting after all that effort, holding his aching, bruised side.

"We made it!"

"Yes, well done," the doctor said, patting Esteban's shoulder, also a bit out of breath. "I'm sorry. I know I wasn't of much help to you, but you are both way too tall for me, I'm afraid."

"What do we do now?" Victoria said, eager to do something useful, as she had not taken part in the effort of moving Diego upstairs.

"Let's start with removing all Zorro's clothes and weapons," Doctor Hernández said. "You have to hide them somewhere safe, so the alcalde cannot find them if he comes along searching for him. Then I'll have a look at his wound."

"Yes, good idea," Victoria said, starting by pulling one of his boots.

"And don't forget the hat and the mask. They are still downstairs."

"Yes. I'll put everything in that storage room at the stables, where Apollo was," she said, tossing the boot on the floor. That thought brought her memories of all the time she had spent at that pen with Diego while tending for the stallion. All that time she didn't suspect him to be the one. That brought tears to her eyes again, and she stopped what she was doing, with another breakdown.

"Victoria, please, focus. We don't have time to cry now. We'll do that later," Esteban said, standing to undo Zorro's belt.

She nodded, wiping off the tears with the back of her hands, and carried on then, grabbing the other boot.

"Sorry. I know crying is pointless, but I can't help it. I really can't," she babbled, with fresh tears blurring her vision while she tossed away the other boot.

"Well, try harder," Esteban said, pulling off Zorro's black trousers while the doctor struggled with the cape's cord.

Once they got Diego resting on the bed in his underwear, Victoria took a long look at his naked upper body. Yes, that was the muscular torso she had been in such close contact with. And that was the face she could not picture in her mind while she explored it in the dark with her eager hands, framed by that luscious hair she loved to finger-comb so much. And she was such a fool she had rejected all that when there was no need!

Then, when her eyes stopped at the sore, re-opened gunshot wound at his side, she could not take it any longer. She gathered all the clothes and weapons quickly and rushed downstairs, blinded by the tears again. On the way out, she stopped at the kitchen to collect the hat and the mask, and then dashed through the back door, running to the stables. There, at the small pen used for storage, she dropped all the items and sat down on the top of that heap of black silk, giving up to despair.

ZZZ

Ramón returned to the garrison, stopping by the jail's back door. The dead bodies of the three men from Madrid still lay there, untouched, but Esteban wasn't there anymore. The alcalde had hesitated before with his sword in his hand, but killing a man while he was defenceless having a seizure was too low, even for him. But now he regretted letting him live, frustrated because he didn't kill Zorro either. The masked bandit had escaped into the darkness of the night one more time, as he always did, and that made him so furious he felt the urge to vent his rage on someone, anyone. And Esteban de la Vega would be the ideal candidate.

He lifted his head to look at the tavern, wondering if he could be there, and saw the light filtering through the edge of the window shutters in one of the rooms on the first floor.

Ramón looked around then, scanning the macabre scene, searching for Lucía's dagger. If he didn't hit Zorro with it before, it should be still around. But he couldn't find it.

Maybe one of those morons took it. If they did, I hope they don't touch the blade, he thought, when his inept soldiers came to mind.

"Mendozaaaaaaaa!"

"Sí, mi alcalde!" the sergeant said, running quickly to his side.

"Get some men. We are going to raid the tavern."

"Raid the tavern? Now? What for? Do you think Zorro is there?"

"Don't think, Sergeant. Just do as you are told. Now!"

"Sí, mi alcalde. As you wish," Mendoza said, running back to the garrison. "Lancers!"

ZZZZZ

AN – So, the second reveal, for Victoria, is done. I hope you liked it, igniting and all with the shock, like the "girl on flames" of the Hunger Games, hahahaha. Maybe I should have let her burn, but then you'd hate me too much for that. Although, I would become the ultimate, gory, Maimer Queen... Oh, the temptation of that title! LOL

Now, wait for the anger. She hasn't had time to be angry yet, poor silly woman. But I always enjoy an angry Victoria at reveals, so she'll have to deal with some rage at some point. Otherwise, I'll be disappointed with myself.

Thank you for all the kind, encouraging reviews, and keep reading, please. Don Alejandro still doesn't know. Woo hoo.