CHAPTER TEN
Diego raised his weapon to parry Maldonado's unsportsmanlike assault with
only a second to spare. Their swords remained pressed to together for a long
moment, long enough for Diego to see the hatred and madness in the other
man's eyes. A horrible thought crossed his mind. He pushed off, sending Domingo
flying backward.
"You were the one who accused Sir Edmund of revolutionary activities, aren't
you?" Diego didn't wait for a response before continuing, "You killed him
just as surely as if the bullet came from your own gun."
Maldonado lunged again, a wild thrust Diego easily blocked. "It was so satisfying
to hear of that traitor's death, especially since you got to witness it,"
he said, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.
A red haze blurred Diego's vision for a second, but he shook it off. The
first rule Sir Edmund had taught him: Don't give into your anger. Which lead
to the second rule: Make your opponent angry. "I find it amusing that you
have spent all these years seeking revenge against me," he taunted. "I've
barely given you a second thought."
Diego smirked as he saw the fury in the other man's eyes. Maldonado attacked
blindly, forgetting everything their saber master had taught them. Good,
keep him off balance. Speaking of which. . . Diego drove Domingo back, toward
a good-sized rock which lie in the other man's path. The third rule: Make
use of any weapon at your disposal. Just as he hoped, Maldonado stumbled
over the rock, awkwardly landing on his ass.
He never got a chance to capitalize on the mishap as Domingo picked up the
offending object and flung it at Diego's head. It missed him by a few inches
as he dodged out of the way. His opponent regained his footing and they engaged
once more.
The sounds of steel on steel filled the arroyo, but even so, Diego could
hear someone shouting. Forcing himself to ignore the intruder, he focused
his concentration on Maldonado. Until the other man's eyes grew wide with
surprise then narrowed with annoyance, and he lowered his saber.
"No! Stop!" Violetta rushed into the clearing, panting for breath as she
came to a halt between them. "You can't kill him, I won't let you."
Diego was unsure as to whom she was directing her words. Her intended target
became clearer when she pulled a pistol from her skirt pocket and aimed it
at Domingo.
"Put that away, Violetta," he said, raising his hands. "You wouldn't want
me to tell him of your part in all this."
"He already knows," she stated, her voice trembling with a mixture of panic
and fear. "He's not the fool you thought he was, Domingo."
"Put the pistol down," Diego suggested, creeping closer.
She glanced anxiously over her shoulder at him. "He hates you, Diego. He
means to kill you," she said, keeping her attention and her gun trained on
the other man. "I won't let him. I love you."
Maldonado took a step toward her. "You stupid puta," he snapped. "After
I take care of de la Vega, I'm going to show you how a wife is to obey her
husband." He chuckled, a touch of madness mingled with his mirth. "Maybe
I will make him die slowly so he can watch me fuck the woman he loves."
Violetta laughed hysterically. "He doesn't love me," she said. "He won't
care what you do to me." She cocked the pistol and pointed it at Domingo's
heart. "But I care what you do to him, and I'm not going to let you murder
him."
The pair of them were so fixated on the other, Diego had moved within a meter
behind Violetta, hoping they would keep talking so he could remove her from
harm's way. That was when disaster struck.
His toe kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the ground. Violetta
and Maldonado both looked at him, astonishment registering on their faces.
Whipping back around, she gripped the gun as she advanced on the other man
before tripping on a tree root. Domingo raised his sword in a defensive manner
as she tumbled toward him.
What happened next would haunt Diego's dreams for the rest of his life. Violetta
was impaled on the saber at the same time she pulled the trigger, shooting
Maldonado right in the heart. He fell backward, pulling her down on top of
him, driving his blade into her until it jutted from her back.
Diego dropped his sword and rushed over to them. Getting down on one knee,
he felt for pulses, first on Domingo, and when he didn't find one there,
checked for Violetta's. There was an almost indiscernible flutter. She was
still alive, Madre de Dios. Then he looked at where the sword had
entered her and winced. It had thrust upward at a forty-five degree angle
on her left side, surely piercing a lung and possibly her heart.
"Diego."
He glanced up at her face when he heard her whisper. Bringing his other hand
up to her cheek, he said, "Shh, save your strength. You are. . ."
"I'm so sorry, Diego," she interrupted, her words barely audible, blood trickling
from the corner of her mouth. "I love you."
Realizing she had seconds to live, and because it wasn't truly a lie, he
murmured, "I love you, too."
A brief smile touched her lips then faded. The tiny flicker under his fingers
ceased.
Z Z Z
"There they are!"
The youthful shout shook Diego out of his stupor. He rose to his feet to
see the young boy Roberto leading a crowd of people toward the arroyo. Evidently
neither he nor Maldonado had paid the lad enough to buy his silence about
their duel.
Diego's heart sank when he saw de Soto and Mendoza following right behind
the boy. But then, he scolded himself, what did he think was going to happen?
That he could just walk away and not have to explain the two dead people
lying on the ground before him? The pistol shot alone would have called attention
to anyone nearby, as no one hunted this close to the pueblo, any game in
the area long gone.
"Diego! What happened here?" The alcalde reached the clearing, huffing and
puffing, although not as much as his sergeant.
"I told you," Roberto chimed in, "they were having a duel."
De Soto chuckled, apparently amused Diego could do something so strenuous
as pick up a sword. "So is what the lad says true? You were dueling with
this fellow. . ." He stepped closer to the bodies, then gasped. "That's Domingo
Maldonado!" he exclaimed. "He is. . . I know him." Leaning over to get a
better look, he put his hand to his mouth for a moment. "He's dead."
Mendoza crossed himself as did most of the onlookers. "And so is Señora
Murillo," the commandante added. He straightened and stared at Diego. "Just
what did happen here, de la Vega?," he asked accusingly. "I remember. . .you
and Maldonado. . .you and I only shared the one year at university, but everyone
knew about the rivalry between the two of you. Would you care to explain
to me why the man you hated is now dead at your feet?"
"I never hated him," declared Diego. "Although I don't expect you to believe
it. The animosity was all his. I only did what I had to do to defend myself
against his hostility."
"And is that what happened here?"
"I don't think Don Diego killed either of them, mi alcalde," the stout
sergeant said, staring at the disturbing tableau. "It looks like they killed
each other."
De Soto glared at Mendoza, no doubt upset by the fact if it was so obvious
even his dull-witted subordinate had figured out what had occurred, he would
look like an idiot if he didn't come to the same conclusion. "Well, of course
it does, Sergeant," he retorted. "Any fool can see that." He turned his attention
back to Diego. "You were lucky the widow interfered, de la Vega. Maldonado
was a master swordsman, from what I hear," the alcalde sneered. "He would
have sliced you to ribbons."
Diego ignored the other man's gibes. He wished to be alone, to fester in
his guilt and grief, horrified by his feelings of relief neither his identity
nor his affair would be exposed.
"I should arrest you for illegal dueling," said de Soto, who then let out
an exasperated sigh. "But as there are no witnesses, you are free to go."
Turning to his sergeant, he ordered, "Gather up some volunteers and take
the bodies back to town, Sergeant. Report to me when you are finished." With
that, he pivoted on his heel and strode out of the clearing.
Mendoza shrugged then waved his hand at a few of the men who still lingered.
Diego watched impassively as they removed Violetta and Maldonado from the
arroyo and carried them back to the pueblo. Once the last of the stragglers
had departed, he bent down to pick up his sword. He stared at its shiny blade,
unstained by the blood shed that day. He, who had so much to lose, was allowed
to walk away. It wasn't right. Two people were dead. Murdered by his secrets.
Z Z Z
Later that evening, Diego was sitting at his desk in the cave, idly twirling
a quill, as he stared at the blank sheet of parchment before him. Why had
he offered to write to Maldonado's family to inform them of his death? Guilt,
of course, along with a healthy dose of self punishment. Neither of those
helped him form the words of condolence he needed to pen, nor to stir up
any sympathy for the parents who had raised a bully and a blackmailer. What
could one say? He tossed the quill on the desk.
He had gone with De Soto and Mendoza to search Maldonado's belongings, finding
nothing but clothing, money, and a handful of letters, some meant to send
back to Spain, and one for Diego. Thankfully, its message was as cryptic
as the first two: 'The day of reckoning is close at hand.' The alcalde
didn't even question it. "Closer than he thought, eh?" he had joked crassly.
Diego was stirred from his musings when he heard footsteps. Rising from his
chair, he exhaled nervously as Felipe entered the cave.
"Felipe, I am sorry," he began to apologize, "what I did is unfor. . . ."
The youth had crossed the distance between them, cutting off his words as
he threw his arms around him. Diego returned the embrace before Felipe took
a step back, his hands gesturing frantically. He had heard about the duel,
and was glad Diego was unharmed. That he was sorry he had spilled wine on
Señora Murillo, he had done it on purpose, to stop her from revealing
Diego's lessons with Sir Edmund. And he had acted so rudely when he found
out about the. . . the affair because he was afraid Diego might marry her
and she would make Diego send him away.
Diego placed his hands on the lad's shoulders. "I would never do that, Felipe,"
he reassured him. "You're a part of this family, no matter who else might
join it." Sighing, he continued, "And I am sorry. What I did was wrong, in
more ways than you can imagine. I can only hope to be forgiven some day."
Felipe signed he was forgiven now. And he was ready for those saber lessons
he had rejected when Diego first offered them. Diego smiled wryly. "We can
start next week. I think my time will be consumed for the next few days."
The lad nodded gravely, then gestured dinner was almost ready. Diego shook
his head, he wasn't hungry. The notion of sitting at the table with his father
and Señora Gomez filled him with shame. But then, what better penance
could he perform than having to spend time with the mother of the woman whose
death he had caused? "I had better put in an appearance," he said glumly.
Felipe sprinted up to the viewing hole, giving the all clear signal after
peering through it. Diego trudged up the steps to the tunnel.
Half an hour later, Diego pushed his food around his plate, noting his dinner
companions were doing the same. A somber mood hung over the table, the only
conversation trite observations about the meal and polite inquiries to pass
the salt.
Don Alejandro cleared his throat, disrupting the silence. "Emilia, I have
a question. . ."
"I am going back to Spain," she cut in, pulling her napkin from her lap.
"I cannot stay here in Los Angeles. I just cannot." Diego could see the pain
in her eyes, and understood she could not remain in the place where her daughter
had died. "I. . .I have a sister in Seville," she said. "I will leave as
soon as. . . as soon as it can be arranged."
The elder de la Vega's face was grim, but he smiled at the woman Diego knew
he had meant to ask to be his wife before the unfortunate events of the day
had turned their world upside down. "Of course," he acquiesced gracefully.
"I can take care of everything, if that meets with your approval?"
"Si, that would be fine." The señora got to her feet, as did
the gentlemen. "Excuse me. I must. . ." She did not finish her sentence,
instead hurrying out of the dining room. His father glanced at him, pain
and sorrow clearly etched into each line of his countenance. Tossing his
napkin onto the table, he, too, quitted the room.
Diego plopped back down into his chair. More sorrow, caused by his secrets.
When would it end?
Z Z Z
A month later, Victoria found Diego sitting in the courtyard of the de la
Vega hacienda. Don Alejandro had expressed his concern for his son during
his visit to the tavern the previous day and suggested she might be able
to cheer him up.
Looking at him, she doubted the elder de la Vega's faith in her. Diego appeared
to be utterly defeated, hunched over with his face in his hands. He wasn't
crying. . .was he?
"Diego," she said softly, walking up to him and placing her hand on his shoulder.
She must have startled him because he leapt to his feet, staring at her like
she was a ghost. "Victoria," he whispered.
"Your father sent me," she volunteered. "I have been wanting to talk to you.
. ."
"You know, don't you."
It wasn't even a question. "Yes," she confirmed, "I saw you with her at the
market one day and. . .
"I didn't mean for it to happen," he confessed. "I don't know what came over
me. It was like she cast a spell on me." He shook his head. "But that is
not an excuse," he added harshly. "I know what I did was wrong and I will
understand if you can never forgive me. I cannot expect you to when I can't
even forgive myself."
He sank back onto the bench as if he were both physically and mentally drained.
Victoria sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers. "You told me yourself
you are a man with. . .with needs." She could feel the warmth creep up her
cheeks.
"That is no excuse, either. I should be able to control those needs. That
I failed so miserably. . ." He pulled away, using his hands to hide his face
once more.
"Did you love her?"
He lifted his head. "What?"
"Did you love her?" she repeated.
Shaking his head, he said, "No, not like that. I mean, I grew fond of her,
but it was nothing like. . ." He stared at her, a curious light filling his
green eyes. "It was nothing like how I love you."
Victoria's mouth fell open. Oh, no, no, no. . . He couldn't be saying this.
He couldn't be. . .
"You are the woman I love," he declared. "It has always been you."
"But. . . But. . ."
"But you love Zorro and I'm just a fool." Lowering his head, he stared at
the ground.
"No, you're not. But how can you love me and still. . ."
"Men are pigs," he said, looking up at her once again, a wry smile on his
lips. "As you are so often fond of saying." He sighed wearily. "Tell me,
if Zorro did what I did, do you love him enough to forgive him?"
"I. . .I. . don't know," she stammered, surprised by his question. And disturbed.
"Zorro would never. . ."
"Are you sure of that? He is a man, with needs, just like me. Maybe he has
been as foolish as I have been? Do you love him enough to forgive him if
he slept with another woman?"
"I. . .I don't know," she said again. A thought hit her then. One which had
her narrowing her eyes. "Have you heard something? Something you're not telling
me?"
Diego got to his feet. "You don't even know who Zorro is. He could be anyone.
He could be a fool who was tempted and failed, just like me. Would you be
able to forgive him?"
"I. . .I don't know," she said for the third time. And honestly, she didn't.
She did love him, with all her heart and soul. But to forgive what should
be unforgivable? She just didn't know.
"Just remember, he's a man, just like me," he said. "Buenas tardes." With
that, Diego strode inside the hacienda, leaving her alone to dwell on his
questions. And to wonder why the answers meant so much to him.
Why would he care if she forgave Zorro or not? Why? Unless. . . No. She turned
to stare in the direction he had taken. It couldn't possibly be true. She
was just being silly. Wasn't she?