It had taken Diego some twenty minutes to untie his hands, the rebels having managed some very tight knots.
Once he made it, he freed his feet, took off his gag, then helped his friend. "We must hurry!" he said as soon as Emmanuel untied his own feet. "I can't allow De Soto to execute my father."
"We could use some horses, but I don't suppose they left them around here for us." His friend remarked.
"No… But, maybe…" as he said that, Diego started whistling. A few moments later, neighs began being heard, and his mare showed up from behind a hill. "Good girl," Diego uttered, petting her head. "She used to be my favorite growing up. I knew training her would be worth it! But we'll have to ride together." He then told Emmanuel.
"No. You go! Don Alejandro needs you. I can make it on foot to the hacienda within an hour at the most."
Diego nodded, grateful, then mounted, and headed for the cave.
ZZZ
The first thing Zorro noticed as he arrived in Los Angeles, was the absence of the lancers on guard at the back of the garrison. Or, at least, nobody seemed to be there, which, in truth could mean he needed to be careful not to fall into whatever trap De Soto had concocted now.
Leaving Tornado behind the building, he climbed to the roof and made his way towards the Alcalde's office, climbing down through the roof window. No one was there, either, so he headed for the jail.
"Well, well, well…" he couldn't help but utter at seeing De Soto tied up in one of the cells, easily realizing what had happened given the fact that neither his father nor the bandit leader were there. "What have we here?"
The Alcalde clearly tried to reply but the gag prevented the sounds from making any sense.
"Oh… You wish me to leave?" Zorro said. "Certainly. Forgive me for disturbing you…"
De Soto muttered louder at that.
"Alright! You needn't shout!" Zorro said, taking the spare key that hung from a nail in the wall of the jail. "I will also make sure to lock the door so that nobody disturbs you!"
Saying that he locked the door to the office, then exited through the back, though not before glancing once more at the man who had once condemned him to rot in a cell. There was something delightfully ironic in his current situation, and the black-clad man couldn't help but smile as he mounted his stallion and headed out of the pueblo in pursue of the rebels.
Three more hours passed before De Soto was found in the jail cell and freed by the lancers. By then, Don Alejandro and the Viscount, together with four of Correna's men and the rebel leader himself, were closing in on the farm where Zafira and Mariano were waiting for them.
ZZZ
"Dios mio! Is he dead?" Zafira asked when the rest of Correna's men arrived, and she was able to spot her husband lying at the back of their wagon.
"No, but he probably doesn't have long," one of the men sitting by his side said, climbing down.
"The doctor said he might make it if his fever could be brought under control." Don Alejandro pointed out.
"And who is this?" Zafira asked at noticing the old man before her eyes rested on the Viscount. "What have you done? You were only meant to bring back Joaquin!" she then chided the other men.
"Him," Pancho said pointing at Don Alejandro, "he's the don the alcalde wanted to execute for having found and helped Joaquin. We didn't have the heart to leave him there. As for this one," he then pointed at the tied-up and gagged Viscount, "we brought him as a hostage. I thought it ironic: the man who most ardently wants us hanged will help us escape the lancers…"
"Escape? They will follow him here! You should have left him in peace!" the young woman retorted.
"Indeed, I doubt he will be much help, Señor. On the contrary," Don Alejandro uttered. "As for me, while I appreciate the thought, I neither wanted nor agreed to your help. And, to be frank, I did not know who it was I was helping when I took Señor Correna to the hacienda."
"Whatever the case, I thank you for what you did for my husband." Zafira said, saddened, though a glimmer of hope was still in her voice. Don Alejandro couldn't help but be utterly polite to her, so he nodded. "Mariano, Pancho, help me take him into the house!" she then ordered.
"What are you planning to do with us?" Don Alejandro asked as he was allowed down from the wagon.
"You are free to go, Señor; or to join us, should you wish to do so." Nando replied. "That bastardo, on the other hand, will remain our prisoner."
"I appreciate the offer, but I want nothing to do with you or your activities! I am a faithful servant of the king. Not to mention that a friend of mine resulted injured in last night's attack, so I can certainly not condone what you are doing!" the don said.
"We are fighting for California, Señor, for you and all those still subject to Spanish tyranny." Another rebel replied.
Don Alejandro shook his head. "I do not need anyone fighting for me! This land is Spanish, and I will do all in my power to see it remains Spanish!"
"Then you are a short-sighted fool!" Nando pointed out. "All your troubles, and for what? How does the Spanish king reward your loyalty? By allowing his men to put you before a firing squad?"
"This was not the king's doing. It was De Soto and Risendo to have ordered my arrest." Don Alejandro said.
"And who gave them the power to do so, if not the King?" Pancho inquired as he exited the house.
The elderly don could not conjure a reasonable comeback so, instead, he glanced at the Viscount and said: "You should let him go! If anything happens to him –"
"Nothing will change for us," Nando uttered. "We are already branded as rebels. Should we be caught, they'll put us before a firing squad. But," he uttered, kneeling next the nobleman, "while we have him, they will hardly dare take any action against us. Not to mention I can always decide to kill him later…"
The Viscount tried to put on a brave, dignified face, yet his eyes betrayed him. He was afraid, and the elderly don could very well see why. Nando had a certain look in his eyes. The look of a man with nothing to lose and with scores to settle. Such men were always dangerous, and, while he owed nothing to the Viscount, on the contrary, the caballero had never been one to abandon a man in need.
"I see… Well, if you don't mind, seeing how there's nowhere for me to go, either, I'd rather remain with you for a while," he said. "Which does not mean I plan on joining your cause. But, perhaps, I can help with Señor Correna…"
Pancho and Nando, the only two men still outside the house at that point, glanced at each other.
"Alright…" Pancho replied. "But if you want to stay here, we'll need to know we can trust you."
"How?"
"You can begin by telling us your name."
"My name?" the don asked. "My name is Don Alejandro de la Vega."
Pancho nodded and, helping Nando to carry the Viscount down from the carriage, he signed for the older man to follow them inside.
The farmhouse belonged to one of the Count's tenants, called Serrano. Don Alejandro knew the owner well, for he had been his tenant his entire life. He was a widowed father of four daughters, and, together with them, he had left about two weeks earlier for San Francisco, to attend to his dying uncle. How the rebels had come to know that the house was empty, the don had no idea, and could only hope their presence there would not lead the alcalde to suspect the Serranos were in league with them.
By the time they entered, Zafira had already taken off Joaquin's bandage and was studying the wound, her actions causing her husband to wake up for a few moments, due to the pain, then fall unconscious again.
"Give me the ointment I made last week," Zafira asked Nando, and he immediately obeyed her, exiting for a few moments, then returning with a small jar.
She took it, opened it, and applied the ointment on the wound, inwardly grateful that the doctor had already taken care of suturing it. Next, she made a paste using some of the ointment as well as other ingredients she held in several pouches and jars, which she also applied on the wound before bandaging it again.
"I will need willow bark tea. A lot of it." She then told her men, and Mariano hurried to comply.
"Will he make it?" Pancho asked.
"I don't know, yet. The wound seems bad, but he's had worse. We'll have to wait and see." She answered as she headed for the adjacent room that, given the size of the house, surely served both as the kitchen and as its owner's bedroom.
As she remained there, the viscount was taken to the farthest corner of the room, where he was forced to sit on the ground, while Don Alejandro was allowed to give him some water.
"Get me out of this, and I will get De Soto to spare your life!" the Viscount whispered when he took off his gag. "Help me capture them, and your crime will be erased!"
The don just glared at him but said nothing. After the Viscount drank the water, he put the gag back on him and stood up, returning the pouch to Mariano, who had given it to him in the first place.
It was soon after the men sat down to eat in the kitchen, leaving Zafira to watch over Joaquin, when the wounded rebel started to become agitated, calling for his wife.
"I am here! I am by your side, where I always will be!" she said, taking his hand into hers.
"No! No… I know…" he replied.
She just stared at him, not even noticing the elderly don nearing her, curious about her husband's state.
"You brother… He had told me… He said you loved that don…"
Zafira breathed easier at that. "We talked about that, don't you remember? It was just an infatuation and he never gave me any hope… Besides, I haven't seen him in years…"
"No…" Joaquin replied, his fever making him imagine all kinds of things that only ever happened in his mind. "No… I know you wanted him, not me!" he said.
She didn't say a thing for a while. "Yet it is you, my husband; and I am your wife." She answered, her soothing voice achieving its goal of calming him down. For a few moments, it almost seemed like he was sleeping, and Don Alejandro, unsure what to do with himself, was about to head for the kitchen, when Joaquin started shouting, at the same time, becoming hard to contain.
"Help! Help me hold him down! He's going to reopen his wound!" Zafina called for the other men. Nando and Mariano hurried to help her, but Don Alejandro was closer and was the first to reach the rebel leader. Grabbing his arms, he immobilized him, as Zafira was doing her best to pour some laudanum down his throat.
"Tracks! Follow the tracks!" the feverish man shouted at one point, during that struggle. "Erase the tracks!"
"It's already dark outside, Joaquin! Nobody can follow tracks in the dark." Pancho uttered as he was holding one of his friend's legs.
"Zorro can! The fox… He saved the lancers... Can't trust him…" he replied, becoming almost lucid for a few moments. "He went to call them!"
"Why would he have done that? He despises De Soto!" Don Alejandro said.
"He tricks…" saying that, Joaquin started feeling the effects of the laudanum and calmed down, falling inert.
When that happened, for a few moments, Zafira feared he was dead, but her worries diminished as she watched his chest regularly moving up and down, realizing that he was truly asleep.
The men kept holding him down for a minute more, then slowly began to let go of him, while his wife was inspecting the wound for any new damage.
"The stitches seem fine," she said, relieved.
"Good. Because he's right," Pancho said. "We need to erase the tracks."
"But it's night!" Mariano pointed out. "With the sky so clouded, it might even rain…"
"Perhaps… Still, we can't risk this Zorro following us here. We don't know if he's a friend or a foe, and he is said to be an excellent tracker."
"Zorro's quarrel is with the Alcalde, Señor, and it's only due to De Soto's corruption and all the injustices he perpetrates!" Don Alejandro pointed out.
"That might be so, De la Vega, but he did help the lancers last evening. And he might try to free this bastardo here!" Nando replied, pointing at the Viscount, whose presence there had almost been forgotten by the group.
"De la Vega?" Zafira asked the don.
"Si?" the elderly man said and asked at the same time.
"You don't, by chance, happen to be in any way related to a Don Diego de la Vega…" she uttered, expectantly.
"You knew my son?" the caballero asked, clearly surprised.
Zafira glanced a moment at her sleeping husband, then nodded.
Pancho, in turn, decided it was time to leave. "Mariano will stay with you," he told zafira before signing the other men to head out. "We'll be back as soon as possible. Mariano, look after her! If any of these men tries anything, you may shoot them both!" Saying that, he glanced at Don Alejandro before leaving.
The elderly man, however, had something different on his mind and had no intention of taking advantage of the rebels' absence to free the Viscount.
After throwing him an assessing glance, Mariano decided he had not had a proper dinner and needed one, so he headed for the kitchen.
"So you knew my son?" the don asked Zafira again, hardly even registering that the other men had left.
"I did…" she confirmed. "Back in Spain, before the war. He was one of my brother's most trusted and dearest friends. Though, I understand if he wants nothing to do with me, now. He never did support my brother when he talked about the need to stand up to the French…"
The caballero's grief was visible on his face when he said, "Señora, my son, Diego is dead."
"Dead? No! He was alive when we left him…" she said.
"I'm sure he was, but it's true, nevertheless… He died last summer, in France." Don Alejandro said, misunderstanding what she was saying. "Word of it reached me a few months ago."
"No… But he's…" the young woman didn't say more, wondering about the reason why the elderly man was lying to her. She had just seen Diego a few hours earlier, and his denial of his identity had not fooled her, despite what she had led him to believe. It had then seemed strange to her that he was calling himself Count of Dragonera but, as she now thought about it, she realized there must have been more to the story than the young man's refusal to acknowledge any previous familiarity with the wife of a rebel leader. "How did he die?" she inquired.
"I still don't know that, to be frank." Don Alejandro told her. "The letter informing me of his passing was mostly destroyed by rain by the time it reached me. All I know is that he died in France. Why and how, I was unable to figure out. I requested, of course, more information, but a reply has yet to reach me." The don answered.
"I understand…" the young woman replied. "There were rumors, at the time of Diego's disappearance, that some French soldiers had taken him. But nobody believed them because we never thought there would have been a reason for the French to arrest him. He was just returning from visiting his grandfather if I remember well…"
The caballero nodded. "Will you tell me about him, Señora? About the man he was while in Spain?"
She smiled at him and nodded, though her curiosity about the situation grew. "I remember he was very well educated and chivalrous. He pursued knowledge with a passion I have never seen before, or since. Diego could easily talk for hours, about any subject. He also had a way of making sure he would never insult or hurt anyone whose opinion might differ from his or whose knowledge was not as vast as his…" Don Alejandro nodded his head, recognizing the description of his son. "He loved playing the piano," Zafira continued, "and did so happily whenever he was asked. And he was a very talented actor. I saw him in a couple of plays at the university. He had a way of becoming the character he was playing... It always seemed to me like it wasn't even him I was watching but the character he was playing."
"Really? My son? He was good at acting?" the don asked.
"He truly was. Almost as good as he was at sword fighting."
"Oh? He was a good swordsman? I never thought anything would become of his classes with Edmond…"
"Sir Kendall always said he had been his best student. Diego could have even become European champion. He never said anything about that in his letters to you?"
Don Alejandro shook his head. "No. He never mentioned it. But, if what you say is true," he uttered half-fearing the answer, "he must have had many admirers in Madrid."
"He did. Many. Not for the swordsmanship, though. He was just beginning to win competitions when he disappeared." Zafira told him. "I remember my brother used to joke that Diego always left a trail of disappointed women behind him. He told me so when we were introduced, and it must be, at least, in part true."
"Why do you think so?"
"For one, because the dean of the university had to send his daughter to live with her aunt because she had set her eyes on Diego. He refused her advances, but she could not get over her infatuation with him and would insist on following Diego around. Her father saw no other option than to send her away." Zafira said, surprising the don.
"He never courted her, then… How about other women?"
"Your son was not that kind of a man." She answered. "Diego insisted on informing every woman who showed even the slightest interest in him, that he had already given his heart to the one he was engaged to. He surely loved her very much." This, Zafira said with some sorrow, but the don did not notice that. He was glad that he could now assure Victoria that his son had never even thought about being unfaithful to her.
For, if Don Alejandro was to tell the truth, Risendo's words, that day, at the Mission, had caused him to doubt Diego's good behavior while in Spain. After all, he was not blind. He knew the fairer sex had always found Diego charming and good-looking, just as he knew well the sort of temptations Madrid could offer to such a young man. Now, however, all reason to doubt that his son had, at any point, behaved as anything less than a man of honor, had been canceled by the young woman's words.
"Victoria will surely be glad to hear that…" the caballero said, then immediately became saddened. "I just wished she'd hear it from him."
"Victoria? The tavern owner? She is the one Diego is engaged to?" Zafira asked.
"Was…" the don corrected. "But, yes, she was his fiancée."
"I didn't get to know her well, but she seems like a good woman. And she is quite beautiful. Was she also faithful to him?"
"She still is…" Don Alejandro said and nodded. "She and Diego were perfect for each other. Alas, some love stories are never meant to be written…"
Zafira nodded, looking straight at the old man. "Who knows… Perhaps that letter wasn't true… Perhaps he will still return home one day…" she said.
The caballero glanced at her with some surprise. "The Count also encourages me to keep my faith that, one day, I might see Diego again. How I wish it might be so… I would give everything just to spend one more day with my son… Just to see his face again…" Saying that, the don allowed himself a couple of tears. It was not in his nature to cry, but, for some reason, he was unable to avoid it at that very moment.
"I feel the same whenever I think about my family," Zafira replied softly. "About my parents and my brother… They were taken from me too early. I have this fantasy sometimes… that I go home and they are waiting for me there, their arms open and ready to embrace me…"
"I… I sometimes imagine… I imagine that I stand in front of the hacienda and I see a rider in the distance. And, as he nears, I realize it is my son, coming home to me and Victoria." The don said, wiping away his tears. "The hard truth, however, is that, even if a miracle does happen and he would return one day, the home he grew up in no longer belongs to us… He might not even recognize it, to be frank…"
"How so?" the young woman inquired.
"A few months ago I lost everything I owned. If I still live in what used to be my house, it is only because the Count of Dragonera, its current owner, seems to like having me around for whatever reason…"
Zafira was understanding less and less as the elderly man went on, but she didn't want to stir the proverbial waters.
"I am sorry to hear about your troubles. You're lucky, though… In more ways than you know, Don Alejandro." she uttered.
"I suppose it could have been even worse. Had it been up to former Emissary Risendo and our esteemed Alcalde, I would be begging in the streets for a loaf of bread."
"Risendo? Not Gilberto Risendo…" she uttered in disbelief.
The don nodded. "You know him?"
"That scoundrel is here?" she inquired.
"What do you mean, Señora?"
"Risendo is the reason why my husband and his men are wanted rebels instead of being celebrated as the heroes they truly are." She said.
"How so?" Don Alejandro inquired curiously.
Zafira stared at the elderly man for a few moments, before sharing her story. "My husband and his men, among which was once my brother, Ricardo, had not started out as rebels. During the French occupation, they were patriotas. For more than three years they had fought with El Empecinado*. My brother died in the siege of Segovia, as did many other good men. It was then that I joined them, first to care for my brother as he was dying, then to help care for the other injured men.
"After the battle of Alcalá de Henares, when it became clear that things were about to change and Spain would soon be free again, Díez's army was joined by several new regiments. In acknowledgment of his heroism and skill in battle, Joaquin was made a Lieutenant and was given command over a unit. The rest of the men with us, as well as two more we lost on the way here, were part of it; all of them Spanish soldiers.
"Díez held my husband in high esteem, a fact Gilberto Risendo could not stand. He was also a Lieutenant at the time, newly appointed to El Empecinado's command.
"One day, while Joaquin and six of the men in his unit were out on patrol, two women from a nearby village came, telling the general that they had seen them torturing a young boy after he had threatened to let everyone know that they had collaborated with the French troops. Díez did not believe them, but he did send men to investigate - Risendo and his men.
"They returned a couple of hours later with the disfigured dead body of a youngster, and the women gave testimony that it had been the one they had seen Joaquin torturing.
"I tried to defend them. I told everyone that the women were lying; that the body was in rigor mortis, thus clearly dead for a while at that point. Yet Risendo claimed I'd say anything to help my husband, and Díez chose to believe him.
"Despite all they had done for the cause, despite their innocence, upon their return, Joaquin and his men were arrested and sentenced to hang for a crime they had never committed. Risendo even visited them in prison, the day before they were to be executed, to boast about the brilliant trap he had laid for them."
"He killed a boy to set your husband up?" the elderly caballero inquired.
"No… The boy had died falling off a cliff. Risendo had found his body and came up with the idea to use it in his schemes. All he had to do was to bribe some poor women to give the false testimony." Zafira answered. "That night, after he left, I seduced the prison guard, slipped him some sleeping potion, and, with Nando's and Mariano's help, freed them all. We've been on the run, ever since."
"Every time I think I know the kind of man he is, he surprises me by turning out to be even more diabolical than I had imagined…" the don concluded, referring, yet not mentioning Risendo. He didn't really need to.
The young woman nodded her head. "You know… When he was appointed to El Empecinado, I already disliked him… I should have known he was up to no good. I should have warned my husband about him…"
"You knew him from before, then?"
"Yes… I had seen him…" Zafira stopped at that and seemed pensive for a while. "And then, Emmanuel…" she didn't finish out loud her idea, but words and facts began clicking in her head. "When did Risendo arrive here?" she asked.
"Last Summer."
"And you say your troubles started when Risendo arrived?"
"Even before that, to be fair. They started when his man, Ignacio De Soto became our new alcalde. But, it's true that, since Risendo arrived, things worsened. My vineyards caught fire days after he got here, he impounded my bank accounts, took over my hacienda… Well…His actions led to me having to sell it, in the end, even if only to avoid him getting his hands on it."
"Ignacio de Soto… I also know that name… The cheater!" she realized.
"The cheater?"
"Yes… My brother once told me that he had tried to win a fencing tournament by cheating. When it came out, he was banned from taking part in another competition."
"No wonder Zorro always bested him whenever they fought each other!" Don Alejandro smiled.
"Zorro? Yes… I heard that he is a good swordsman…"
"Good? I was a good swordsman in my youth, but I doubt I could have bested him. In fact, I doubt even my friend, Edmond Kendall could best him… You should see him in action..."
Zafira remained pensive for a while. "This Zorro you mention – before we arrived here, we heard rumors of him. They say he's a hero of the people."
"He certainly helped many since he first appeared. He's not a rebel, though… His fight is with De Soto… and, I suspect, also with Risendo… He seems to despise the man."
"And how long has he been around?" the young woman inquired.
"Well… About two months now… His first appearance was in... September. De Soto was about to execute a young man for being unable to pay his taxes. Many of us, myself included, tried to reason with him, but the Alcalde refused to listen to us. Had Zorro not intervened, the young man would be dead now.
"I remember everyone marveled when first we saw him. He used a flying device of sorts. He landed right in the middle of the plaza, and, after challenging the Alcalde and his men, proceeded to humiliate them all. I had never seen anything quite like it… After that day, he has been a constant presence in the pueblo. Stopping De Soto from burdening the people with his illegal taxes, preventing him from harming more innocents… even catching bandits. About a month ago, he also saved me and Victoria from what, I am rather convinced, was a trap De Soto and Risendo had set for us." the caballero told her before proceeding to recount the events of the time to the young woman.
From his corner, the Viscount was listening attentively.
* Juan Martín Díez, known as "El Empecinado", was a guerilla fighter and a hero of the Peninsular War.