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Chapter 1. The price of respect

"Your son has changed, don Alejandro," the elderly de la Vega heard the voice of one of his acquaintances. "He gained confidence."

The older caballero suppressed a sigh, turning to face the speaker. During the several days that had passed since Diego's wedding to Victoria, or, actually, from the duel that took place immediately after the wedding, he had grown tired of that remark. It was spoken by practically everyone who had met his son since then.

Not that it was not justified. The death of de Soto came as a shock to the young caballero and turned the joy of the wedding into anxiety for Victoria and his father when Diego returned home almost without noticing his surroundings. He woke up from this stupor after a few hours, but for the next few days he seemed to be a shadow of his former selves –of both the Diego known to everyone, and the one whom only his family knew. No previous event, not even the accident in which that bandit, Zaragosa, was killed, had such an impact on the young de la Vega.

Diego shook himself back to his usual self, however, and his father thought that he had regained his balance. Furthermore, don Alejandro noticed that his son was now more himself than ever before. Free from having to hide from the alcalde, he spoke much boldly now, a certainty that he could not show to anyone in all those long years spent under the rule of Luis Ramone and, then, under Ignacio de Soto's.

Such a change could not go unnoticed, and was commented upon by virtually everyone. From what don Alejandro had heard, no one questioned why Zorro had not objected to Victoria's wedding. What people saw in the square in front of the church convinced them that the outlaw had entrusted the disgraced young woman to the care of the de la Vegs, in the hope that she would find a safe haven there. For, if Victoria Escalante could no longer be with her outlaw lover, her place was with her friend, Diego.

The duel also meant that, although the wedding of the young de la Vega was a misalliance, no one doubted the reasons why don Alejandro had agreed to it. On the contrary, friends and acquaintances congratulated him that his son had finally become a real caballero, capable of fighting with a weapon in his hand. For, in this man who had challenged the whole pueblo, standing in front of people with a bloody sword in his hand, there was not even a hint of the dreamer Diego. Although it had been de Soto to force the fight, no one had any doubts that the young de la Vega had no intention of avoiding it.

Don Alejandro was filled with paternal pride. However, it was also getting tiresome, especially since other, more irritating rumors were repeated over and over again. He knew that the same caballeros who so praised the change that had taken place in his son commented among themselves that he, as his father, had had to turn a blind eye to the bride's low ancestry and at her public affair with Zorro. And, even if there had been nothing more than a few kisses between her and the outlaw, he must have forgotten that, before the young woman had stood in front of the altar with his son, she had been abused by several, if not a dozen, soldiers. And, some whispered, wondering whether the elder de la Vegs would accept the fact that the first child born during that marriage might not be of his blood, since Victoria might already be pregnant with a bastard. And if that happened, what would he do if Diego insisted on giving him his name?

Don Alejandro tried to ignore those rumors. Victoria and Diego had suffered too much to now be expected to explain to every gossip in the pueblo and surrounding area that at least the latter was by no means justified. He did not doubt his daughter-in-law's assurances that that night had not left her with such a memento. After all, it had been for fear of it that she had initially insisted so much to leave the pueblo. But he still hoped that the first signs that he would have a grandson would appear no sooner than in half-a-year, so that no one would try to count the months and remind Victoria once again of the events in the garrison.

For now, however, Victoria was learning to be a doña. She was spending most of her time at the hacienda and, with each passing day, she seemed to feel more confident in her new role. Yes, she continued to visit the pueblo, supervising Pilar and the employed workers so that the tavern would not lose its reputation for good cuisine, but those were only short visits and always in the company of her husband or father-in-law. While previously don Alejandro could not have imagined Alfonso Escalante's daughter abandon her inheritance, he now saw that she did so without much regret. This alone showed how traumatic the past events had been for her. The elder de la Vega doubted that any of the repeated rumors would reach her. Not only because his daughter-in-law felt better and more confident each day, but also because he didn't think anyone would dare repeat them in front of his son. He, himself, felt a chill every time he recalled Diego asking if anyone else wanted to accuse Victoria, and he already knew then who he really was. Other witnesses of the duel, used to the polite, gentle, smiling caballero must have been terrified.

"If we use what the alcalde had collected as a travel tax, we could pay the workers..." Diego explained to the gathered caballeros the plan of bettering the road. At Victoria's tavern, a whole group of them gathered to consider what to do with the money found in de Soto's chest, undoubtedly resulted from unfairly-imposed additional taxes. The repair of the road in the Los Angeles area was one of the few long-delayed pueblo needs, and now the young de la Vega was able to present plans and proposals for works.

His father only watched Diego go over the maps. It was clear that he did not need paternal support right now. On the contrary, by interfering, don Alejandro would only distract the audience and interfere with the explanations. So, he preferred to stand aside and watch his son, pleased with his renewed self. With the future development of the pueblo relying on Diego's knowledge, he became a scientist who enjoyed calculations and explanations.

The explanations of the young caballero were unexpectedly interrupted by Sergeant Mendoza, who entered the tavern, leading two men inside. Don Alejandro recognized them to be two small farmers from the area south of the pueblo.

"Don Diego, if you could help us..." Mendoza started saying. One of the men who had come with him pouted unexpectedly, but the other held his arm, saying something hurriedly in his ear.

"Excuse me, señores." The young de la Vega took a few steps away from the maps.

There was silence in the inn, and everyone in the crowd could hear the caballero questioning the sergeant and the farmers, first about the reasons for their arrival, then about the reasons for their quarrel. He asked short, meaningful questions, and after listening to the answers, he asked again, this time addressing both adversaries. Don Alejandro couldn't help but smile as he heard his son make both men look at each other with unexpected confusion, which quickly turned into embarrassment and undisguised regret. Moments later, the two opponents shook hands and headed to the bar to ask Pilar for some wine, while Diego returned to the table with the maps and the plans for the improvements, quickly cutting off the sergeant's effusive thanks on the way.

The elder de la Vega watched it proudly. Diego always tried to be a friend of the people and had often intervened in quarrels among the De la Vega tenants. But now, after the duel, increasingly often, the people saw him as an able judge of their problems. And they never left disappointed. The tall caballero used the increased respect with which he was being treated to become a mediator who always tried to find the best solution for both sides of a conflict. It was something, don Alejandro realized, that they had not had all those years earlier when Luis Ramone had perished. At that time, Mendoza was barely able to command the garrison and settle local disputes. Now that it was clear that the sergeant could turn to the young caballero for help on any issue, and when he did, ruling the pueblo was easier, Mendoza himself had more time to take care of the soldiers' affairs. Though here, too, he could use the help of someone more experienced… Like a certain old colonel, don Alejandro smiled to himself. Together they could guide Los Angeles.

X X X

When they returned to the hacienda before nightfall, Diego tried to prevent his father from seeing his face. He hadn't expected it to hurt him so much. This fear in the sergeant's eyes, this forced humility, his and those quarrelsome farmers'... As if all the hours Mendoza had spent in his company, at the tavern over the dinner he had bought him, or at The Guardian's office, discussing Señor Estomago's next article had disappeared in but an instant. Now there was only fear, dread, and obedience, the way the sergeant had taken de Soto's and Ramone's orders. Diego had the sickening certainty that, if he raised his voice even a little, Mendoza would choke uttering "Si , mi alcalde. Si, don Diego." And the farmers would repeat after him.

Their problem had been simple, their quarrel trivial. It had been enough just to draw their attention to what they overlooked to make them apologize and agree, but they were too afraid of him to ask beforehand how to end the argument. They came not because he could help them or because they wanted him to help them, but because it was the sergeant who thought he could settle their dispute this way. He could order them anything, and they wouldn't object, because they would be too afraid of what he, Diego, might do then.

In the ten years since his return from Spain, the young de la Vega had tried to help the people of Los Angeles. He advised them on matters of farming and health. He supported them with money when the situation became difficult. He published a newspaper so that they could learn the news from the world of politics and science. He taught their children and themselves. And it had seemed to him, over the years, that he was considered a friend by the inhabitants of the pueblo and the surrounding area. Maybe a strange one, a bit secluded from the world of ordinary people because of his love of science, but a friend. Someone they talked about with sympathy and a bit of amusement, but also to whom they came when they needed help.

Now it had all changed. Even if they had found out that he was Zorro, people wouldn't have backed away from him as fearfully as they did now. He wasn't even sure if the caballeros at the tavern considered his project good because it was really so, or because they didn't want to get in the way of the dangerous man.

Of a murderer. Everyone feared murderers.

Diego grimaced involuntarily. How else could they think of him? And wasn't the fact that he did not feel even the slightest regret after Ignacio's death a confirmation that he was just such a person? For years, Zorro had avoided bloodshed but, when Diego looked back now, he could see that he was approaching this threshold slowly, step by step, with every fight he won, every fight with bandits or the alcalde. He flogged, cut clothes, put a blade to one's neck, frightened... He threatened to kill, and eventually killed. Without hesitation. Without regrets. He broke the promise that was supposed to prevent him from doing something like that, and he did not regret it.

Did Sir Edmund see it in him during their time in Madrid? If so, when? In one of the practice duels? Or maybe even earlier, at the very beginning of the fencing classes? And was that why he had trained him like that? He knew what his true nature was? Did Kendall know even back then? Was it why he had warned him as he left Spain? Did his professor know that his fight would not be complete without bloodshed? That he would, one day, become a killer?

X X X

Victoria de la Vega was sitting in the hacienda's patio. Taking advantage of the afternoon's shade, she had taken some of the ledgers outside, and now, with a stylus in her hand and a tablet next to her, she was trying to understand the accounts don Alejandro had written there. For her it was part of learning how to be doña de la Vega. Not only by name, an innkeeper dressed up in as a doña, but a real doña.

Maria, the de la Vega housekeeper, who remembered the times when the mistress of the hacienda was doña Elena, helped her practice gestures and manners appropriate for a high-born lady. Diego happily offered her books so that she could complete her education, although don Alejandro claimed that none of the caballeros' wiveswere so educated. But being a true doña also meant being responsible for the property and the people who lived there, and that knowledge could only be acquired through her own efforts.

Some of the records and billing ledgers seemed similar to the ones she used at her tavern, but she knew it was a deceptive resemblance. At times, the amounts alone aroused a respectful fear in her. A friend of de la Vega, used to the generosity with which Diego approached the padre's requests, she hadn't really realized just how rich her husband and father-in-law were. Or how many people depended on them. Servants and vaqueros, their families, tenants on the fringes of the property. All these people tied their lives to the de la Vega hacienda and it was up to don Alejandro to provide for their future. And then Diego and she were to take care of them. Of them and their children, and to prepare their own heirs for it...

Victoria's thoughts were cut off for a moment, as always when her reflections touched upon that subject. There had been a time when she had dreamed of a family with Zorro, and there had been a time when she had been terrified of the thought that she might be pregnant. Now, when her old dreams had a chance to come true, all she felt was dread. Her old life had turned to dust, and now, beginning a new one, she trembled at the thought that something might destroy it just as easily. People were still whispering. Every time she drove to the tavern, she saw their watchful, appraising glances. Maybe they looked more at Diego now, unable to believe that someone so gentle and friendly had been capable of challenging the entire pueblo, but she knew she was being watched, too. Rumors could become devastating. If only she gave a hint of an excuse to be talked about... She was afraid of the thought that someone could force Diego to another duel in defense of her honor. And that could happen if one of these gossipers started to suspect that she might want to protect a bastard by giving him the de la Vega name...

She breathed again and leaned over the ledgers. Her fears were unfounded. She and Diego had time now. They didn't have to rush. The rumors would subside in a few weeks, and even if they would be revived, each day, each week, would push suspicions away. Yes, people would remember what had happened to her. They would talk about it. But there would be no accusation there. No derogatory comments. De Soto, who was the first to accuse her, was gone. They were safe.

She broke the calculations when Diego entered the patio. The time spent in the pueblo talking to the caballeros seemed more tiresome to him than several hours spent riding in the hills. Victoria realized with a twinge of anxiety that her husband seemed exhausted, as if he was still spending the night in the saddle or keeping her safe so that she would not go mad again. And, if she could read the expression on his face correctly, there was a strange sadness in him, the sadness brought about by the feeling that he had lost himself.

"Diego?" She rose from behind the table.

He shuddered as if he was lost in thought and did not notice her presence.

"Mi preciosa!" He took her hands, suddenly smiling again as if all his weariness had just vanished. "Account ledgers?"

"I believe I'm better at accounting than you are!"

"Undoubtedly. Father will be delighted to discover what you are doing." Diego was smiling, but she had the impression that his smile did not reach his eyes. It almost seemed like she had that distracted caballero in front of her again, the one who didn't like to rise his nose from his books and paintings. Even his voice grew higher and weaker than the real one she knew.

"What's going on, Diego?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What is it you're hiding now?"

She felt his hands tremble. He looked away to the side. She was sure he was going to tell her what had happened, but he didn't.

Instead, he embraced her, resting his cheek against her hair, cradling her, or rather, holding onto her as if she were the only fixed point, a rock in the quicksand, or a support in a storm. She felt his breath tremble and slowly settle down.

"I don't know yet, mi querida," he whispered. "I do not know yet."

TBC