"Measuring the de la Vegas"
Santiago wiped the perspiration from his brow as he stepped back and let Don Alfonso pick up his sword. The crowd gathered in the courtyard of the inn murmured appreciatively regarding the display they had just witnessed. Don Alfonso was quite a good swordsman, but obviously no match for the Magistrado. The caballero was not through however, and after he picked up his sword, he resumed his stance, waiting for the Magistrado to favor him with another round. Bowing generously, Santiago granted his request with a lightening fast opening. Don Alfonso met the challenge and they sparred back and forth.
Diego and his father stood with some of the others and watched the exhibition. The Magistrado had let it be known that he would welcome the chance to fence with anyone who wished to try their skills against him whenever he came to the tavern. He needed the exercise and the chance to maintain his skills. From what Diego could learn, the Magistrado never lost any of his matches, but no one seemed to mind. He remained a gentleman at all times and even took the time to give lessons and pointers to those who faced him. Many of the caballeros appreciated the help. They knew Santiago had trained with the best and were glad to learn from him. The Magistrado also held weekly classes at the cuartel, training the soldiers to become better swordsmen. Diego smiled ruefully at that notion. If he ever had to tangle with the lancers again as Zorro, he would have to be much more careful than before. The pueblo’s soldiers had been only adequate swordsmen up until now. With the extra training from the Magistrado, they could pose quite a problem. But that was something he would deal with at a later time. Right now, he just enjoyed watching the match.
As some in the crowd cried, "Bravo! Bravo!" at the fencers, Diego studied the Magistrado using his own knowledge and experience. He could indeed see why Señor Santiago had been able to defeat de Vida. He was fast, but not only fast, he was decisive. He seemed to be able to anticipate his opponent’s next move and then he would be there first, causing the man who faced him to remain on the defensive most of the time. He executed all of his moves flawlessly and precisely. Diego rubbed the back of his neck as he realized he could find no fault in any of Santiago’s moves. He would like nothing better than to be able to test his blade against that of the Magistrado’s. His blood quickened as he turned the idea over in his mind, imagining the moves he would make to counter the Magistrado’s. During his time as Zorro, he had honed his own skills beyond that which he had learned in Spain, necessity being the true mother of invention. He doubted that any of his former fencing instructors would recognize some of the moves he was able to make, which he had learned while trying to stay alive. Sighing within himself, he realized that more than likely, he would never have such a chance to fence with the Magistrado. Nevertheless, he watched the rest of the match with keen interest.
Beside him, Don Alejandro also watched the match with enthusiasm. He enjoyed watching a good bout of fencing whenever the opportunity presented itself. He knew that his skills were no match for the Magistrado’s, but his own blood rose as he watched. If he were only younger . . . . He glanced up at his son’s face for a moment and then looked back at the contestants. Then he looked at Diego again, more closely this time. He was surprised at the intense look on Diego’s face behind the smile he wore. It was almost the same look his face would have had if he had been Diego’s age. Was he recognizing some part of himself in his son at last? Diego then became aware that he was the one being watched and not the fencers. In a moment, so fast that Don Alejandro almost questioned what he had seen, the hungry look on Diego’s face was replaced by one of bemusement. It was almost as if his son had returned from being someone else.
"Ah, Father," Diego said, brightly. "The Magistrado puts on a good display, does he not? Though I do not see the necessity of so much activity, it does relieve the boredom of a long afternoon. Don Alfonso is going to be quite stiff and sore tomorrow, if I am any judge."
Swallowing his disappointment, Don Alejandro replied, "Sí, Don Alfonso will certainly need some liniment for his aching muscles." He turned back in time to watch as Santiago sent the man’s sword flying once again. Bows were exchanged and the two fencers came together as the Magistrado pointed out some of Don Alfonso’s weaknesses. Don Alfonso watched Santiago demonstrate a particular move and then tried to imitate him. Looking back at Diego who had turned to speak to another person in the courtyard, Don Alejandro wondered for the hundredth time what had happened to his son while he was away in Spain. Before that journey, he had spent time with Diego, teaching him the rudiments of fencing. The boy had loved the experience with the sword and was on his way to becoming a fine swordsman. Don Alejandro knew he had seen the potential in his son and had been sure that when Diego returned from Spain, he would have been an accomplished swordsman. That had been part of the reason he had sent for Diego on such short notice when Capitán Monastario was troubling the district. Also, with a few more years of maturity on him, Diego, being a de la Vega, should have been more than a match for any man. When Don Alejandro had been Diego’s age, he would have stood before the world and defended the de la Vega lands and honor with his life. No, he could not understand this son of his.
Out in the courtyard, Santiago finished with Don Alfonso and went to gather his jacket and scabbard from the table. He buckled the scabbard on and sheathed his sword. Carrying his jacket, for he was still warm from his exertions, he paused for a moment as he saw Don Alejandro looking somberly at his son. Diego was talking and laughing with a few other men as they turned and went into the tavern leaving the elder de la Vega behind. Don Alejandro watched them go, then pulled his hat up on his head and drew the string up under his chin.
Santiago approached Don Alejandro. "Señor de la Vega! So good to see you here today," he said. "I trust you enjoyed our little spectacle?" He could see Don Alejandro set aside whatever his thoughts had been about his son as he addressed the Magistrado.
"Sí, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro. "I have never seen a finer example of fencing here in this pueblo. My complements."
"Graciás, Don Alejandro." And now to probe. "I see that your son even consented to watch for a bit. Perhaps he is becoming interested in the sport? I would be glad to give him lessons."
"Er, . . . um, I do not believe that is his wish, Your Excellency," said Don Alejandro, clearly embarrassed. "His interests still lie elsewhere, I’m afraid."
"That is too bad," said Santiago, trying not to sound too condescending, but letting Don Alejandro get that impression. "A young man such as he should not pass up such an opportunity. But that, of course, is your decision and his to make. Will you join me in a glass of wine?"
Don Alejandro was in no mood to sit in a tavern with the Magistrado while Diego and his friends were having a good time across the room from him. He was already uncomfortable with the current topic and who knew whether or not the Magistrado would return to it? "Please excuse me, Your Excellency, but I do need to return to the rancho," he said. "I delayed longer than I should have for the chance to see you fence this afternoon. Con permisso?" Don Alejandro bowed and turned to leave.
Santiago narrowed his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips as he watched the elder de la Vega go out by the back gate of the inn. He had indeed found the sore spot in the de la Vega household. Putting on his jacket, he decided to go into the inn for some refreshment before going back to his own home. He found Diego, not sitting with his friends as he had expected, but at a table next to the fireplace, alone. There was something vulnerable about the young man as he sat there nursing a glass of wine. Perhaps here was an opportunity to probe the other half of the de la Vega family. He approached the table and Diego looked up.
"May I join you?" Santiago asked.
Smiling, Diego said, "Most certainly, Your Excellency." He motioned to the barmaid to come over.
"A glass of wine," said Santiago. As the barmaid left, he said, "I invited your father to join me for some wine, but he said he had to return to the rancho. He is quite a busy man, isn’t he?" To the barmaid, he said, "Graciás," as he tossed a coin to her for the glass of wine which she had set before him.
"Sí," said Diego. Although he did not feel like it, he clothed himself with his Diego persona as he said with a smile, "Father would not know what to do with himself if he did not have the rancho to manage."
"Like so many others I have met since I arrived from Spain, the land here has become his life’s blood," said Santiago.
"Sí," agreed Diego.
"Is it in your blood also, Diego?" Santiago asked, looking over the rim of his glass.
Diego looked sharply at the Magistrado. Was there more to this question than there appeared to be on the surface? Looking carefully at the Magistrado, he decided that there was not. He chided himself for being overly sensitive because of how he had acted with his father out in the courtyard just a few moments ago. He had been sitting here alone in the tavern thinking about his life as it was at the moment. He was becoming restless with his idleness. He wanted more. Hiding who he really was was becoming more difficult all the time. More so, it seemed, now that Zorro was idle.
Answering in the best way he could at the moment, he said, "I am a loyal subject of the King and am content to live on Spanish soil, be it here or in the mother country herself."
Laughing, Santiago drained his glass. "Well said, my young friend. With an attitude like that you would do well in His Majesty’s government. Those of us like myself, must be willing to be assigned to any post in His Majesty’s vast empire and call it home. Well, I must be going, Don Diego. I must look in on my wife before returning to my duties."
"I am sorry that I have not had the opportunity to greet your wife, Your Excellency," said Diego. "Is she faring any better under the ministrations of our good Doctor Avila?"
"No, I am afraid not, Don Diego. Her illness is such that there is very little to be done other than making her as comfortable as possible. The doctor has done his best, but he has nothing new to offer in the way of a cure."
"Please take to her my best wishes and tell her I still remember how she laughed at me when last we met," said Diego.
Santiago was surprised. "You know my wife?"
Diego smiled. "Sí, Your Excellency. It was some years ago. She was still wearing pigtails at the time."
Santiago returned the smile. "So you were just children when you last saw each other?"
"Sí, Your Excellency. If she is well enough, ask her about the burro who went to confession."
"Burro?" exclaimed Santiago.
"Sí," laughed Diego. "I must claim to be embarrassed with the telling, but perhaps it will bring a moment of happiness to Señora Gracilia to remember the story."
"I will ask her indeed," said Santiago. "I cannot wait to hear the tale myself. Promise me that if she is too ill to speak of it, you will enlighten me, Diego. I must hear this story."
"Agreed, Your Excellency. It would be my pleasure," said Diego bowing slightly.
Santiago took his leave of Diego and left the tavern. Well, the world is a small place, he thought to himself. It is only natural that Diego would meet Gracilia when Don Alejandro would have traveled to Monterey on business. A burro who went to confession. That is a story I would like to hear. Smiling to himself, he walked across the plaza to his house.
