Chapter 53 – Overwhelming
"Enough with the games! Tell me what the hell is going on! At once!" Don Alejandro shouted, about to lose it.
"All right, I'll tell you," Esteban said, standing up to face the old man. "But to be honest, I would prefer that man from Madrid pulling all my teeth than doing this: Diego is Zorro, and the alcalde stabbed him with the same poisoned dagger that killed Don Luis."
"He… what?"
"I know, it's too much, but you insisted on knowing what's happening at once. Mull it over for a second, please, while we lift Diego onto the bed. And please, everybody help me with this because I felt another rib cracking before. I can't lift him on my own. He's too heavy."
"Pero qué cojones dices? Estás loco? Zorro? Poisoned? It can't be! Diego was in Monterey!" Don Alejandro said, in denial, unable to process the information he'd been given, standing close to the bed while looking at that familiar body that could not possibly be there, lying on the cold floor of that room, unconscious and without clothes.
"Excuse me," the doctor said, wedging between the old don and the bed to grab Diego's feet. Esteban held him by the armpits, and Victoria and Felipe helped to lift the middle section. Once they left Diego resting on the bed again, Victoria had an idea.
"I think it will be better if we move him to the adjacent room. These two rooms have a connecting door linking them as a double room. If the alcalde comes back later to check on you, he'll come to this bedroom, and not the other one, will he not?"
"Yes, that makes sense, because the soldiers checked the rest of the tavern already, and I don't think they will do that again," Esteban said. "Better to keep Diego in another room, and I can stick around and pretend to be unconscious in this bed again if the alcalde comes back. Good idea, Victoria. Is that internal door open?"
"No. It should be closed on both sides. And I have to move this chest of drawers out of the way. Wait a second."
Felipe gave her a hand to move the piece of furniture, and then Victoria unlatched the catch on that side and walked out to the other room. Then she reappeared again through the connecting door.
"Come on, let's move him."
While they did that, they left Don Alejandro behind, still trying to digest the news, until he came back to reality and charged towards the other room, fuming.
"Why I wasn't told any of this before? Why he never told me anything about being Zorro?"
"You'll have to ask him about that when he wakes up. I can't help you with that. I had no idea he was Zorro. No idea," Esteban said, breathing more heavily, hurting again after the effort of moving Diego to the other bed.
"Neither did I," Victoria said, worried about Esteban, who looked even more pale and miserable than before. "Esteban, are you all right?"
"Yes. It's my… you know," he said, taking a hand to his aching side again, embarrassed and tired of stating the obvious all the time: his fractured ribs and battered abdomen hurt as hell with any effort he made. And dragging his cousin's heavy frame from place to place all over the tavern was too taxing.
Don Alejandro looked at Felipe and the doctor then, who had not denied knowledge of Diego's secret identity.
"You two knew about this, didn't you?" he said, with an accusatory finger pointing at them.
"Yes, I knew," Doctor Hernández said. "I found out when Mendoza shot your son accidentally, and I have been helping him ever since."
"And it didn't occur to you that I should know?!" Don Alejandro barked like a mad dog.
"Calm down, please. I did suggest that, actually, but Diego didn't want to tell you to keep you safe. All of you," he said, looking at Esteban and Victoria, and then back at Don Alejandro. "But, as your nephew said, you should ask Diego about it when he wakes up. I am not the one to give any explanations to his motivations."
"I'm sorry, Doctor; I shouldn't shout at you. I am very grateful for all you've done to help my son. Now, please, tell me: how bad is he? Is he going to make it? Don Luis died with that poison. Is he… is he…?" Don Alejandro said, with his lips trembling, as all his sudden rage for the deception was quickly reversing back into anxiety and guilt.
"I have to be honest: I don't know what's going to happen. I hope he will survive, because I want to believe the amount of poison left on that blade will not be enough to be fatal anymore, or Diego would be dead already. But I don't know. We'll have to take it one step at a time. He has a stabbing wound in his back, which I treated already and it should not be too much of a problem, but I can't be certain. Now we have to wait and see."
Tears returned to Don Alejandro's eyes, giving in to the conflicting emotions: firstly, his son was the legendary Zorro, and he felt immensely proud of him; secondly, he didn't know anything about it for years, while he mistreated him for not behaving like a brave caballero, like a man wearing the proud De la Vega surname should do, and he felt extremely stupid and mean for that, and at the same time angry as hell because Diego never bothered telling him, as if he wasn't worthy, as if he could not keep a secret, while Felipe could. And, the most worrying thing of all: he could be dying in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he or anybody else could do for him. Unless…
"Should I get the priest?"
"If you want to, but that means involving yet another person in the plot. I am so sorry, Don Alejandro, I really would like to be of more help, but there is not much else I can do at the moment," the doctor said, placing a supportive and understanding hand on his shoulder.
The old don nodded, acknowledging his efforts, and then looked at Esteban, who was leaning against the wall, getting paler by the minute. He was barefoot, only wearing trousers, with only the dressing covering his bruised torso. The fresh, small cut in his arm was still bleeding a bit, and he looked totally worn out.
"And how are you, Esteban? I really thought you were dying only a moment ago. I am so glad that is not the case. Felipe told me three men from Madrid kidnapped you and gave you a good trashing, but he said you were fine, the same as Victoria, and that I shouldn't worry. But now I think he wanted to spare me the grief, because you look awful. What did they do to you?"
"They used me like a punching bag, and yes, I look and feel like shit," he said, biting his lower lip, something he regretted immediately because it was so sore.
"I can see that. Why don't you go back to the other room and rest? You look like about to faint."
"Yes, good idea. You've done enough," Victoria said, but he hesitated, not moving away from the wall.
"Go and rest for now, please," the doctor said. "In your condition, you did a terrific job carting your cousin around. But there is nothing else you can do for him at the moment, and you should take care of yourself if you want to carry on helping him."
"Come on," Victoria said, taking his hand. He hissed slightly then, before he followed her through the connecting door. At the other side, she closed the door behind them and helped him to the bed, where he slumped, sitting at the edge.
"Let me see those hands."
Victoria took his hands and turned them up to check his palms. He had some blisters in there, some of them already burst and quite sore looking, with the damaged skin tore off due to all the use he had made of his hands since putting out the fire, mainly handling Diego. And he also had some other minor burns past his wrists.
"I knew it. You got burnt before while helping me, didn't you?"
"Only a little. It's nothing."
"I didn't thank you for what you did then. I could have burned like a witch at the stake if he wasn't for you. I owe you my life."
"You owe me nothing. It was my fault. I should not have told you about Diego while you were holding an oil lamp. Forgive me."
"Your hands are covered in blisters because of my clumsiness and you ask me to forgive you? What are you made of?" she said, shaking her head. Then, she took a hand to his bruised face, gently touching his swollen cheek. "But you are right. Comparing with the state of the rest of your body, those blisters are nothing to worry about. Nonetheless, I'll get some honey for your burns. Lie down and rest now while I get it. And I'll bring you something to eat as well. You must be starving after a long day of torture followed by a night of thrills."
"Yes, I am quite hungry. Thank you."
After she left the room, he took the small bottle containing the clove oil, which was still on the side table, and applied some to his aching tooth. Then he lay down on the bed and sank his head on the soft pillow, with a deep sigh. He was so exhausted that not even all the worry for Diego, nor the general aching of his whole body or the rumbling of his empty stomach, could prevent him from shutting down almost immediately.
By the time Victoria returned carrying a tray with breakfast, containing a small jar of honey to spread on toasts as well as on his hands, he was already asleep, snoring softly. She applied the honey then on his sore blisters, and some more arnica ointment on his bruised face. After that, she tucked him up with the blanket and closed the shutters on the window, so the bright light of the new day would not bother him on his well-earned rest.
ZZZ
"What really happened to Esteban and Victoria yesterday?" Don Alejandro asked while they were in the adjacent room. "And who are those men that abducted and torture them? Anybody knows? Felipe said that Zorro… Oh my God. I mean, him," he said, pointing at his son, pausing for a moment to swallow hard, still digesting the shocking truth, "he brought them to jail. They should be prosecuted for this, and pay hard for what they did."
"You should not worry about those men anymore. They paid already, with their lives. They are all dead," said the doctor while checking Diego's pulse.
"How? Who killed them?"
"I don't know. I guess Diego, I mean, Zorro, got into a fight with them when the alcalde set them free, and he got stabbed. I don't know how that happened, but I saw them all dead, by the jail's back door."
"This is all too much, too overwhelming," Don Alejandro said, grabbing a chair to sit by the bed. The doctor had finished taking the pulse, letting go of Diego's wrist, and Don Alejandro took that same hand in his. "Is he all right?"
"He is stable, yes. That's all I can say at the moment."
"Look at all those scars… How did you keep this going secret for so long, Son? And how come you never told me? Why you never said you were hurting, so I could help you?" And why did I never realize it was you? Why I never made a connection? he thought, remembering all those times Diego had been sick in bed nursing minor ailments, mainly headaches, during the past four years, since he returned from Madrid. And then he recalled how he had scolded him so many times for that reason, for being such a wimp he could stay in bed several days only for a simple cold. Oh – my – Lord… He must have been seriously injured each of those times to stay in bed, but he never said a word! I am such a thoughtless idiot! That line of thought brought tears to his eyes again, especially when he paid attention to the unhealed wound in his abdomen.
"That's the gunshot wound, isn't it? When Mendoza shot Zorro at the alcalde's office."
"Yes," the doctor said. "It hasn't healed yet. I still have to fix it."
"What was all that about developing a skin burn with one of your chemicals? You knew about the gunshot already, so, did you burn him on purpose to hide the wound, or for treatment?"
"Neither. He got burnt accidentally using clove oil to numb the pain in that area because he had to rescue Victoria and Esteban from jail, when the alcalde threatened to send them both to the gallows."
"And he rescued them while seriously injured, and he jumped off that roof with Toronado, and then he got burnt… But he was sick that day, at home, vomiting like Esteban was. How come?"
"He made himself sick as an alibi when the alcalde wanted to check his abdomen for a gunshot wound the same day he got injured, and the trick worked really well, as he managed to vomit all over him," the doctor said, chuckling. "Later on, I had to improvise with the excuse for the burn on his skin. God knows how much pain he had to endure that first day while retching with a fresh, open gunshot wound in his abdomen. And he did it twice, as if once wasn't enough torment."
"Santa Madre de Dios!" Don Alejandro said, taking both hands to his face, overwhelmed. "Please, stop. Stop. I can't listen to this anymore. I have been calling my son a coward, telling him to man-up for years, while he was doing all that behind my back. This feels unreal. And it's too disturbing."
"It is what it is, I'm afraid. And you should be proud of him, as a father."
"And I am, of course I am! But I am so ashamed of myself for not knowing, and at the same time so angry with him for not telling me… I can't handle this."
"I know. It is mind-blowing. You just need time to accept it. And a long chat with him when he wakes up."
"What if he doesn't wake up? What if I can never talk to him, and I can never ask him to forgive me for being so callous and so blind?"
"That would be an absolute shame, but let's not think about that, all right? Let's be positive: he is going to make it."
Felipe nodded in the background. He was also crying quietly, as he had been left to deal with his own shock by his own devices. When he arrived at the tavern he wasn't expecting to find Esteban at death's door, and even less Diego.
Don Alejandro covered his son with the blanket then, tucking him up to his bruised jaw.
"We have to get him some clothes. Felipe, would you be so kind to go back to the hacienda and bring some clothes for Diego?" he said, looking in the youngster's direction, realizing for the first time how affected the boy was. "I'm sorry, Felipe. Come here. Don't cry, please. He is going to be fine."
Felipe approached him and the old don stood up to give him a warm, comforting hug.
"I know it is an easy thing to say, don't cry, when I am the first one who can't stop the tears flowing," he admitted, tapping the youngster's back. "He is all right at the moment, so I really think it would be a good idea if you go to the hacienda and get some fresh air to clear your head. And he really needs some cloths. We can't keep him here naked for days. Or, on the other hand, Doctor: should we move him to the hacienda instead?" he asked when he broke the embrace with Felipe.
"I don't think that's a good idea. People will see us getting him in the carriage. And, everybody thinks Diego is in Monterey collecting my medicines."
"Of course. And you made that up too, I guess. So, was there ever a break-in in your house at all?"
"Yes, actually there was a break in, but not what anybody could imagine. He broke into my house that night."
"He? Do you mean Diego?"
"No, Zorro."
"This is ridiculous! Way too confusing! How can we refer to him as two different people all the time now?"
"Can you imagine how messed up he must be in his head to carry two identities so contradictory, so opposed in their behaviours? I have no idea how he could keep that up for so long. Specially how he could keep himself under control as Diego every time he was insulted."
"And I was the worse culprit. I insulted him almost on a daily basis."
"So did I," said Victoria, who had entered the room through the connecting door in time to catch the last sentences of that conversation. "How is he?"
"The same. He is not even flinching when I poke him," the doctor said, taking a hard pinch in his arm. "Unresponsive, but stable."
"What are we going to do? What's the plan?"
"Why are you all looking at me?" the doctor said, feeling the pressure of so many pairs of eyes on him. "I don't have a plan. I have no idea!"
"You said we should keep him here, so nobody sees us carrying him outside. So, what are you going to do, Victoria? Are you keeping the tavern closed today?" Don Alejandro said.
"Yes, I think so. I have the excuse of all the damage I have to repair, so, why not?"
"Good. So, we have a plan, then. We stay here, out of sight, and give him time to recover, quietly."
Someone banged at the front door then, quite insistently.
"Excuse me. Let me see who that is," Victoria said, going downstairs.
She came back after a while, with a sombre face.
"It was Mendoza. Apparently, the alcalde insists I should open the tavern immediately because it is a public house, and people are complaining already because it is still closed at this time in the morning. I can't believe that for that second, because it's early. Pilar is not even here yet. What is he playing at?"
"I don't know. Probably he wants to prevent our privacy," the doctor said.
"I told Mendoza I will open the tavern for meals and drinks, but not the guests' area and the bedrooms, because it is not safe."
"So, we need a new plan then," Don Alejandro said. Felipe lifted his hand then, tapping at his chest. "All right, Felipe. Do you have a plan?"
The boy nodded, smiling cheekily.
"All right. What is it? Come on, tell us."
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