Author's note: Thank you for your comments! And now it's time to better introduce a certain Colonel...
Chapter 7. Waiting
It was siesta time and the garrison was silent. Diego was sitting on the bunk bed, staring at the dust pollen lazily spinning in the beam of sunlight, or rather beyond it, because the silence, only rarely disturbed by the sounds of the barracks or alcalde 's office, and the stillness forced by the constant presence of the sentry made his mind oscillating on the edge between sleep and full awareness.
The crumbs of the exploded ammunition cart fall to the ground like rain...
The smell of ink bites the nose, the press moves heavily, the pages of Guardian fall to the low table...
A thin man looks pleadingly, almost squeezing into a corner of the sacristy...
The voices of the cicadas pulsate in the ears along with the blood, merging into a single noise. The air vibrates in the heat, bushes and stones blur in front of one's eyes, breath wheezes in a dry throat, bruised muscles hurt at the slightest movement...
The sun sinks into the surface of the ocean. The clouds shimmer with shades of orange, pink and purple...
The father's face seems to be carved in ivory, it hardly differs in color from the sheets, the pulled back blanket reveals the dressings. The old caballero is barely breathing...
Victoria's bright dress is just a stain in the darkness of the garden...
The boy rushes on a piebald mare and urges her forward with a clap of his hand. The horse prepares to jump and almost flies over the fence...
The fire consumes the wooden walls, the smoke scratches one's throat...
Victoria stands on the porch of the inn, the wind blowing her hair. Leaning over the railing, she follows Zorro's every gesture...
Don Alejandro talks to his friends, laughs at some story. He invites others to join him with a gesture of his hand...
De Soto, a sword in his hand, beaded with sweat and frozen in a grimace of fury, his face suddenly beams with a smile of victory, his lips move as if he were whispering...
Diego straightened up sharply. For two days in the cell he managed to understand what Victoria had been through while in the cave, and now he was drifting between half-sleep and memories. Some were good, soothing, but others shook him off like a nightmare. Not only when he remembered how close he had once been to losing Victoria or his father, but also when his own words came back to mind, Zorro's words addressed to the petty thief, reminding him of the necessity of punishment.
One of those memories was special. The sight of Ignacio just before the sword had hit him kept coming back as if there was something important about him. Something that Diego should understand and still couldn't.
Not worrying about the sentry anymore, he squeezed his temples with his hands. If he was going to believe his own memory, if the memories weren't just an illusion, de Soto was talking to him at that moment. But what about?
"Don Diego?"
The sergeant's remorseful voice snapped the young de la Vega out of his thoughts.
"What are you doing here, sergeant?" He asked as Mendoza came close to the window grille. When Diego spoke, the sergeant looked around, scared, but with some determination he pressed himself closer to the window.
"Don Diego, I am so sorry to..." he began to say.
"For what, sergeant?" Diego got up to come closer.
"He questioned me in the evening about everything that had happened. I had to tell him about the duel..."
"What are you doing here, sergeant? Who allowed you to talk to the prisoner?" This time it wasn't Diego who asked. Lieutenant Hidalgo stood in the door of the jail, followed by two white-uniformed lancers. Mendoza froze as if turned to stone.
"He decided he owed me an apology," replied Diego.
"He's not given permission to do so," replied Hidalgo. "Go back to your quarters!" He ordered sharply. "If you come here again, I'll assume you're trying to free the prisoner!"
Mendoza disappeared from the window as if blown by the wind. The lieutenant watched Diego carefully for a moment, before waving his hand that the accompanying soldiers could enter the arrest. One of them targeted the young de la Vega, while the other opened the grate and put a tray of dishes on the ground.
"Lunch. From the inn," he informed the prisoner.
"Wait a minute, my father..."
"Your father and your wife haven't spoken to the colonel yet. I advise patience." Hidalgo headed for the door, but stopped at the threshold. "A second sentry will stand outside to keep the sergeant from being tempted to chat again," he added.
When he left, Diego reached for the tray. The soup in the bowl was hot and so was the fresh bread. There was nothing hidden in the vessel or the bread, and the young de la Vega, or rather Zorro, smiled grimly. Maybe it was a bit too much to expect them to send him a weapon or a lock pick this way. However, Hidalgo and his men were indeed as well trained as it appeared at first. Whatever would have been hidden there, they would have found, and anyone wanting to help him that way would undoubtedly be in trouble. Anyway, even if he would have gotten a lock pick this way, he would not be able to use it with constant watch in custody.
Diego shook himself. No matter how determined he was to answer for de Soto's death, he was somewhat grateful to the colonel for keeping him under guard at all times, and the grate being opened with at least one additional soldier, weapons ready to fire. Under such conditions, Zorro could not delude himself that he had a chance to escape. There was no temptation to try, even if it were to have a tragic end.
The bowl contained albondigas soup, his favorite, and Diego wondered briefly if Victoria had cooked it. But the thought alone made the food lose all flavor for him. If she had to prepare a meal for him, knowing it would be one of the last… But no, she couldn't cook now. If what Hidalgo told him was true, his wife was locked up with don Alejandro in one of the inn's rooms.
Diego had no idea what else Risendo wanted to know, but the lieutenant informed him on the first evening that all the caballeros were imprisoned in the inn and would be interrogated one by one. The previous day he might have heard some of the conversations, or rather the screams. He recognized don Tomaso's voice. Whatever the royal envoy asked him, the caballero did not take it well. Others protested less vehemently, but also loudly voiced their indignation.
It was noon now, and the garrison was silent. Diego ate his meal, put the dishes on the ground by the grate and again looked at the pollen of dust swirling in the beam of sunlight. Or rather beyond it, to what he saw on the border of sleep and reality.
Ignacio de Soto smiles victorious, silently whispering a word...
X X X
Lieutenant Julian Hidalgo closed the door to the alcalde's office behind him.
"Querías verme?" He asked.
"Si." Gilberto Risendo turned from the sideboard. "What was going in there?" He pointed at the entrance to the jail.
"The sergeant went to the prisoner for a chat. Apparently he wanted to apologize. I put another sentry next to the cell window so that he wouldn't repeat such mistake."
"The sergeant will have a busy afternoon. And you too." The colonel went back to examining the contents of the sideboard. "Don't mix my books," he remarked, seemingly unrelated.
"I won't... I'd rather not think of what you would do to me should that happen." Julian carefully avoided the pile of books lying on the floor, just in case.
Risendo snorted at his words.
"Are the rest of the soldiers calm? What's going on in the pueblo?" He asked.
"The others are sitting in the barracks, asking me to let them go no further than the latrine." Hidalgo pushed the chair away from the desk, removed the books lying on it, and sat down, comfortably stretching his legs. "I didn't listen to their pleas… hasta ahora. They have probably repaired every shutter and roof, cleared the stables, and today they will renovate the latrines after siesta. Maybe by our departure these hovels will start to resemble a cuartel. I can't order people to clean up the pueblo, but everyone's locked in their houses; they don't stick their nose out the door. Silencio y tranquilidad, almost like in a graveyard." He laughed, but then became serious. "Since we are talking about cemeteries, I visited the local one. I saw a familiar name on one of the crosses. Edmund Kendall was here..."
"Lo se." Risendo did not turn around, just clenched his hand on the edge of the door. "I found the alcalde's report..." He spoke seemingly calmly, but Julian Hidalgo felt a familiar shiver run down his neck. His friend was furious.
"This de Soto's?"
"His predecessor's." Gilberto bowed his head as if pressed by some invisible weight. "He did not find a safe haven here..." he said slowly.
"There was nothing you could have done for him, Berto," Julian remarked softly. "If you were in Madrid then, you would have also been in serious trouble. Nobody could have foreseen that he would come across a scoundrel here..."
"He lured him out for the bounty hunters. And when they injured him, he made sure that the doctor could not reach him in time..."
The lieutenant hissed something unflattering under his breath about the conduct of the alcalde's mother, which would make his character weak. Risendo shook himself and straightened, then poured alcohol into two glasses.
"Don't insult this woman we don't know," he remarked in a seemingly light tone, but Julian could easily hear a note of bitterness in it. "It may well be that she was almost a saint, and her son's villainy drove her into the grave prematurely. Try this!" He handed his friend a glass.
Hidalgo sniffed the contents, then took a sip and raised his eyebrows in appreciation.
"Excelente!" He praised. Then he thought. "I haven't seen you confiscate it at the inn. Is it from the stocks of this abominable alcalde?"
"Indeed." Gilberto sat down at the desk. "Both he and his predecessor were very fond of luxuries. And they didn't care much about where they got the money for them, or who their supplier was."
"I understand we are better never having had the chance to meet them?"
"Al contrario. I would have loved to meet at least this brandy man." Risendo's smile was almost predatory. "I would have had a lot of questions for him about his sources in Mexico."
"A rebel? The alcalde worked for him?"
The colonel shook his head.
"No, he was loyal to the Crown. But he did allow spies to hover around here. And I think the governor is making a similar mistake..."
Julian sat up in his chair in alarm, then leaned forward.
"Gilberto…" he said more quietly than before. "Aren't you aiming too high? Do you want to antagonize a man appointed by the king?"
"There are those in the royal court who will be more than happy to skin him for us," Risendo replied just as quietly. "We'll only give them the opportunity to do so. Because, think about it! If it was possible to prosecute a professor for a conspiracy despite him not knowing what his students were doing, why not call someone who traded with the rebels a traitor? Who left the pueblos in the hands of the inept alcalde whose greed caused the people to curse the Crown? If the rebellion gets here, thanks to the governor's indifference, the rebel troops will be greeted with flowers!"
There was silence in the office for a moment. Julian finally broke it.
"Do I want to know why you are putting us at risk?" He asked ironically. "It was supposed to be a simple mission, Gilberto. Interrogating one alcalde, which had ignored orders, and then we were to take care of our own matters. Alright, the alcalde is dead because he insulted the wrong woman, and we've found evidence that he embezzled royal funds to make some extra money for himself, not bothering that he was dealing with rebels in Mexico while making those profits. But setting fire to the ground under the governor's feet..."
"You think it won't work?"
Hidalgo snorted contemptuously.
"It will. Estoy seguro que si. If you tell me you have evidence, that means you have evidence. I have known you for long enough to be sure of it. But I want to know why."
Risendo leaned back comfortably in his chair.
"Because it's much worse here than we had thought..." he said quietly. "It was much worse," he corrected. "The caballeros had been begging for years to be rid of Ramone, and the governor ignored their complaints. Kendall would have survived if another alcalde had been in charge," he said sharply. "And so he died, and his death was only an incident, worth one line in a report!" He growled with suppressed fury.
Julian was silent for a moment, giving him time to contain his anger. He knew that the Englishman, the fencing master, had been very important to him, no matter how little time Gilberto was able to spend taking his classes. He also knew that his friend did not believe in leaving unfinished business behind, and that he used to settle accounts with his enemies ingeniously and sometimes cruelly. And now it seemed the governor had become his enemy.
"So what do we do?" He asked. "And what are we going to do with..." He nodded toward the door leading to the detention facility.
"Him? That remains to be seen," Risendo replied.
"You were serious that he is the outlaw?"
"I saw him in black the day before you came. I couldn't help but recognize who it was. I had watched him for too long in Madrid..."
"You knew each other?" Hidalgo had no idea about it.
Risendo reached for the alcohol. He rocked the glass and stared at the golden liquid.
"That's perhaps an exaggeration…" he muttered. He looked at his friend. "We met at a fencing tournament," he explained. "That was when I was still trying to find my way, trying to gain fame and honor, and hoping that my mother would look kinder on me if I took revenge on the de la Vegas on her behalf. The tournament was officially only for students, but they announced that other fencers could participate if they paid the due fee. It was high, but I took it as an opportunity to prove myself in the eyes of my superiors. Some of them were supposed to be judges there."
Julian smiled. He knew how good Gilberto was with the sword.
"When I went to register," continued the colonel, still staring at his glass, "it turned out I had miscalculated the money. I was a few pesos short. I tried to convince the man responsible for the fees to sign me up anyway, but to no avail." He winced involuntarily. "But de la Vega was there, too. He was about to register when he overheard our conversation and offered me the amount I needed."
"Oh, he took pity of you? Did you take the money?" The lieutenant wondered, remembering how many times Gilberto, even as a boy, had rejected anyone's mercy.
"¿Compasión? ¡Eso no fue jodida compasión!" Risendo snorted. "I don't know what I would have done if it had been mercy on his part. I wanted to take part in that tournament, but the idea of joining it thanks to someone's mercy..." He shook his head, grimacing at the thought of such an uncomfortable situation. "But it wasn't pity. He just…" Gilberto trailed off. "He just lent me money." The colonel paused again to look at the prison door. "At that time, I was so sure of winning that I had promised to return him twice the amount he gave me. Though I didn't know who he was. I didn't ask for his name then, and neither did he ask for mine." Risendo shrugged, as if remembering the mutual impoliteness. "The competition started and I won my first two fights in just a few minutes, as I intended. Then, I almost lost it all.
"What happened?"
"The piece of scrap I used to call my sword broke like a glass rod in the middle of the fight. I was given a few minutes to find another one on the condition that, if I failed, my opponent would be declared the winner. I was furious. I didn't know anyone there. Besides, only the contestants present had swords, and none of them seemed willing to lend me a blade only to lose a match against me an hour later. But Diego de la Vega over there," Risendo pointed with his glass at the jail door, "came to my rescue for the second time that day, handing me his own sword. And I won that fight."
"That's pretty… unusual," Julian ventured. "Help a possible opponent."
"He's unlike any other men I know." Replied Risendo. "After the fight was over, I gave him the blade, and only then did we properly introduce ourselves. I can't say I wasn't shocked when I learned his name."
"And? Did you win the competition?"
"No. I lost in the semi-final. My opponent cheated, but the judges ruled in his favor. He then went on to fight in the finals. It was the only one of de la Vega's fights that I got to see, and I still remember that the level of skill he displayed back then made me feel like a beginner." The colonel smiled, staring ahead, as if he were back in that arena. He returned to his sense after a moment. "For the entire five minutes of the bout, it was clear to everyone watching that this young Don from California was just playing with his opponent. The poor fellow was talented in his own way, and yet he had no chance against him. And, I admit, the way de la Vega approached that fight even made me feel avenged for the unfair elimination I had suffered earlier.
"Later, when each of us received our prizes and the minister giving them mentioned that he could make a good career in the military, de la Vega said that he was honored by the suggestion, but he had probably only won because he didn't have to fight me in the final."
Risendo put down his glass and sat up straighter in his chair. "At the time, I didn't understand why he did it. Now…" He looked at the door again, then shook his head, not finishing his thoughts. "Whatever his motivations," he continued, "my superiors heard his remark to the minister. And Kendall, who had watched my last fight and was clearly unhappy with the result, confirmed de la Vega's opinion with some very accurate comments. It was all I needed to start my career. I got my dream job. Risky, but it brought me a penny and a promotion. And Kendall remembered me. I went to him a year later, as soon as I had enough money to pay for lessons. I also knew enough about the young de la Vega to have him believe we were friends. He welcomed me without hesitation, taught me, and spoke to some of his friends about me. A year and a half later, I was able to bring you into my unit."
Hidalgo shook his head.
"What a story! It's a pity you didn't tell me this earlier." He said with a smile. "I didn't think de la Vega had done anything good for you," he added.
"Yes." Risendo's smile faded away. "He did. And now I have him locked in a cell."
He put down his glass and picked up the papers.
"You won't have a long siesta today," he said. "Nor will some other people. But, first, we need to send a special messenger to Monterey."
"A messenger?" The lieutenant asked. "What is so important that you cannot entrust it to the normal courier?"
"Adan Vidal." Gilberto almost spat the name out, and his friend raised his eyebrows in amazement. "He and his men must live to see our return."
The surprise on Hidalgo's face was replaced by reflection. The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he came to the inevitable conclusions.
"You think the governor will want to..." he began.
"Vidal is the only man who can say exactly who Monsangre traded with," said Risendo. "How extensive was his network, and who protected him, if the intervention of the padre and the bishop himself was necessary for the governor to decide his arrest. I don't want to find out when I return to Monterey that someone has silenced these people. Besides," he broke off and reached for the glass, "I've learned a bit about their visit here. The first one. About what they did here."
"Besides kidnapping children?"
"Yes," he growled.
Julian studied his friend for a moment before he smirked.
"I'll send Alvarez. He will find a way to protect them, even if he has to barricade himself in a cell or flee the city."
Risendo shook his head and replied with the same crooked smile.
"He should be fine." He slid a large envelope across the counter. "Order for him to use his men rather than recruit desperados to defend the prison."
Both men laughed at the recollection of the clever actions of the swift corporal. In one of the presidios in the south of Mexico, the commander had been making some extra money by selling weapons and secrets, so when the king's envoy showed up, he decided that an unfortunate accident should happened to him. And maybe his plan would have work, because the tropical jungle was not a place where a wounded, lonely man, even a very determined one, could survive for a long time, but Corporal Alvarez, at the news that his commander was murdered by smugglers, gathered a detachment and hid outside the presidio, then bribed the smugglers to search a large stretch of the coast and its forests in search of the deceased. Ultimately, Risendo had a few scars after that incident, and the commander, seeing his enemy returning from beyond the grave, raised his sword and died a few moments later. That was to the colonel's disappointment, for he had wished for the man to have enough time to consider his mistakes on his way to Spain for trial and execution.
Hidalgo hid his relief at the colonel's laughter. Rarely had he need Risendo look as he did at learning about Monsangre's actions, so he preferred not to ask what it was that he had learned from the interrogated caballeros.
For Gilberto, the arrival in Los Angeles was both an opportunity and a battle, and Julian he did not want his friend to lose this clash because he was unable to contain his anger and his desire for revenge.
"Alright, Alvarez is one issue," he said. "You mentioned I wouldn't have a siesta?"
"Yes, that's the second thing." The Colonel set a stack of papers on the desk. "This is a list of people who were not at the inn the day before yesterday. You have until dusk to find them and ask a few questions. Take three or four of our lancers as an escort, and that chatting sergeant as a guide so you don't waste any time!"
The lieutenant reached for the papers.
"You wrote down what to ask," he said. "Are you afraid I won't remember?"
"Remember if they say anything more," Risendo replied grimly. "Remember, write down, tell me... This is something I need to know."
"Well, I hope the sergeant is able to keep himself in the saddle," Julian said.
He scooped up the papers and headed for the door. He stopped suddenly.
"That's all I have to do?" He asked. "I thought…"
"I can handle the caballero ," the colonel reassured him. "And doña de la Vega I will not summon for questioning. You can also send Gonsalves to me. After the siesta, he will be taking care of the scaffold."
Hidalgo was silent for a moment, staring at his friend.
"Do you want to raise the stakes?" He finally asked.
"Si. We'll see how big the pot gets."
X X X
Don Alejandro went to the window. There was an alley on that side of the building, apparently empty at the moment, but the caballero could make out shadows at the end of it. The colonel's lancers were on guard at the front of the inn. Behind them was a section of an empty square. When Risendo finished questioning the farmers and allowed them to leave, the people fled home and no one dared show up again. The caballeros trapped in the rooms only heard the sounds of departing and returning soldiers. Probably, as promised by the envoy, his men took over patrolling the area.
Not only the pueblo seemed silent. In the building itself, now only the sounds of the kitchen could be heard, where Pilar, under the colonel's orders, was cooking meals for the detainees. She did it in almost total silence, as the sentries also stood in the taproom, making sure the caballeros did not try to leave the rooms or talk to each other.
Don Alejandro remembered someone, perhaps Ernesto, had broken this prohibition. For a long moment, the inn shook with his shouts and protests as the soldiers overpowered the chatty caballero and dragged him first to the ground floor and, shortly afterwards, out of the building. The elder de la Vega saw, leaning out the window, how his friend was not so much guided as pulled by two lancers. In the frightening silence prevailing in the pueblo, his shouts echoed for a long time until they stopped somewhere on the other side of the square, probably outside the garrison gate. What happened next, he did not know, despite constantly listening. Probably Ernesto did not return to his room, but what happened to him...
The caballero grimaced. Actually, he knew one thing. He was certainly not shot. The last shots in Los Angeles were fired on the first night as farmers and peonies at the inn were questioned by Risendo. The screams of the wounded and lamentations were not heard, the padre did not call back the mourning mass, so the elder de la Vega hoped that no one had died, and the soldiers accompanying the colonel only frightened the gathered people, just like his lieutenant had before him. If that was the case, then the royal envoy was indeed both a formidable and a restrained man. Don Alejandro remembered all too well what had happened in and around the pueblo as the revolutionaries were being hunted down in that part of California. Executions at the slightest suspicion of collaboration with the rebels, real or imaginary, beatings and rapes, any attempt to defend oneself punished with a noose, houses and farms burned down together with their inhabitants… Risendo was right. He had enough soldiers to turn Los Angeles to rubble, and yet nobody seems to be hurt. Which didn't mean they were safe...
In that fearful silence, he could easily hear when the colonel summoned the next caballeros for questioning. Deliberately or not, the lancers walking with them stamped their feet loudly as they climbed the stairs. At first, don Alejandro had thought that those summoned did not return, but Victoria disagreed and he had to agree with her that morning. The hustle and bustle of the soldiers spreading food was the same, so all or almost all of the prisoners were still there.
"Can you see anyone?" Victoria whispered.
"No." Don Alejandro shook his head and turned away from the window.
There was only one bed in the room, so they took turns sleeping. Now it was his daughter-in-law's time, but Victoria was awake. She sat huddled around her knees, and seemed to listen to her surroundings, as if trying to guess who the soldiers would be coming for this time.
"They'll come for us today," she said, confirming his suspicions.
"How do you know?"
"I was counting who they were taking," she replied. "It's my inn. I know how many rooms there are and how many guests there are. I also know the voice of each of the caballeros. Apart from us, everyone had already gone outside. Now is our turn."
Her voice, though hushed so as not to attract the attention of the sentries, was so calm and sure that don Alejandro couldn't help but smile. Zorro chose a good wife for himself. He couldn't imagine any of his friends' daughters being able to stay calm and cool despite being imprisoned. And Victoria, when she had cooled down from the terror brought about by the presence of soldiers and Diego's arrest, began to look for a way to help her husband. All the previous day she had been pacing the small room, too nervous to stop even for a moment, planning and mulling over the possibilities. Her plans had little chance of success, but her willingness to fight alone filled with warmth the heart of the elder caballero. He was afraid for her, he was afraid that she would be taken to the garrison, that Risendo would follow in Monsangre's footsteps, but he was proud to see her considering the chances of saving Diego.
The click of the door downstairs made doña de la Vega straighten upright.
"They're coming for us," she whispered.
She was right. The lancer stamped loudly and don Alejandro involuntarily counted his steps until he stopped outside their room.
The soldier knocked before pushing the handle.
"Señor de la Vega," he announced, "the colonel wants to see you."
The caballero rose from his chair. Victoria planned to incite the people to revolt or storm the garrison. He was hoping for something else and waiting for his opportunity. It was a chance to convince the colonel to release his son.
X X X
Victoria heard the lancers descend the stairs with don Alejandro. She guessed that, during the conversation, her father-in-law would try to beg or bribe the colonel to release Diego, but was there even a chance of that? During the meeting in the taproom, that man seemed to be having a good time conducting his investigation, and he moved so easily from intimate questions to threats that she was terrified. Diego, his father, herself, the other caballeros, and the people of Los Angeles seemed to her but pawns on the board, the colonel to move them at his whim, and he didn't seem to care if they lived or died.
A soft murmur distracted her thoughts. Something moved above her head on the roof. She rose from her seat, staring at the ceiling as she realized the rustle she heard was moving. A moment later, something scraped just above the window and two bare, dirty feet appeared in its opening.
Felipe slid onto the windowsill with the dexterity of a cat, and immediately jumped to the floor to move to the corner of the room and hide from anyone who might be looking at the inn's windows. He was smiling broadly, but his smile faded as he realized Victoria was alone.
"They took him in for questioning," she whispered.
He nodded and pulled a wax-coated tablet and a stylus from behind his shirt. The first words he wrote on it were: "I have plan."
TBC.