Chapter 11
by SueQ
“Diego de la Vega, your Excellency,” Capitan Mendoza announced.
“Let him in, let him in,” de Silva exclaimed before Basilio could say anything.
Soon Diego was standing before his grandfather’s old friend. Bernardo
waited just outside the door. The thing that struck him immediately was
the bright gleam in the dark eyes; a gleam that belied the crippled and
aged body that sat behind the desk. Diego realized that his father was
right; here was a man to be reckoned with. Once more he wondered
why this man, who was seemingly so powerful, would have need of
treasure such a treasure as sat in his cave. Mentally he shrugged.
Then Diego bowed and said, “My father has told me a great deal about
you, your Excellency. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You must
come visit our hacienda. In fact, it would be an honor for you to stay at
our rancho, instead of paying for a room here in the pueblo.”
“Sit down, my boy. Sit down. Mendoza, pour some wine for Diego.
” De Silva studied Diego with an unwavering gaze. “I appreciate
your kind offer, but most of my affairs are in the pueblo and, as you
can see, I am getting too old to go anywhere that is not absolutely
necessary.”
“What brings you to California, your Excellency after so many years,
if I may ask?” Diego ventured, deciding to quickly get as close to the
point of the old nobleman’s visit as he dared.
“Old business transactions, mainly. Also to see if this drier air would
be better to my old bones.”
“I am sure the latter reason has already been answered for you, your
Excellency,” Diego said with a smile.
“Yes, now if my business was as pleasant…” de Silva said, almost to
himself.
“Is there something I can help you with, your Excellency?” Diego asked.
“No, Diego, although I appreciate your kind offer.” De Silva gazed at the
young man thoughtfully. One part of him, his paranoid part, wondered
why Alejandro’s son was so interested in his affairs. The other part of
him scoffed and chided himself for his overactive imagination. Basilio
had told him of young de la Vega’s seeming placidity, and he could see
some of that in the way he sat in languid ease, slowly nursing the dark
red wine in the tiny goblet. But there was something else, something the
old man couldn’t quite put a finger on. No matter.
“Excellency, I was wondering if maybe you or Señor Basilio could help
me with something that I found this morning?” Diego asked innocently.
“If we can, Diego. What is it you want to know?” de Silva asked, leaning
forward in his curiosity.
“As my servant and I were riding into the pueblo, we spied something on
the ground sparkling in the sun. Of course, we were curious and stopped
to investigate. This is what we found. I am hoping to locate the person
who lost these. They appear to be very valuable.” Diego held out the two
small pieces of jewelry. The sunlight filtering through the window was
caught in the heart of one of the gems and sent out again in multi-colored
rainbows that defied description. All of the occupants of the room stared in
awe at the dancing colors on the walls of the room.
“Let me see that,” de Silva demanded harshly. Diego handed the necklace
to the old man, observing his Excellency surreptitiously through half closed
eyes. He watched de Silva study the piece. The man’s eyes seemed almost
linked to the jewelry, as though he couldn’t tear them away from the delicately
formed golden necklace. There was a hungry gleam, the shining of ecstasy
enlightening his face. “Exquisite! A masterpiece! Such rare beauty belongs
only in the hands of those who can appreciate it,” the old man murmured. His
gnarled fingers lightly, lovingly caressed the piece of jewelry. Without taking
his eyes off the jewel-encrusted piece in his hand, he said, “Give me the other
one.” Diego complied, thinking he understood the why of de Silva’s desire for
the treasure. It was the same desire that he supposed drove men to pay
exorbitant prices to acquire any masterpiece ever painted or sculpted.
Just the idea of ownership of something rare and beautiful was enough to
drive some men to plunder and steal. Only in de Silva’s case, that desire
seemed to be multiplied a hundred-fold.
After admiring both of the pieces de Silva finally asked, “Where did you
say you found these?”
“Near the road from our hacienda.”
“On de la Vega property?” de Silva asked, looking up and staring into
Diego’s face. Mentally, the caballero shuddered. He understood exactly
what his father had said about this man. He could see total ruthlessness
in the old man’s face. De Silva would get this treasure, no matter what
the cost, no matter who was in the way.
“Si, your Excellency. It is most mysterious. The pieces seem to be more
exotic than what is produced here in southern California or even in Europe.
I could not help but wonder if they are from South America,” Diego said
nonchalantly.
“That is a possibility, my boy,” the old man said guardedly, his mouth
forcing itself into a warm smile. But the smile contained no warmth.
“I will keep these and we will make inquiries. I will let you know what
we find out.”
“Gracias, your Excellency.” Diego took his leave only partially satisfied.
Basilio had been like a statue, but his eyes had never strayed from the
two golden objects in de Silva’s hands. In the administrado’s eyes,
however, was a jealousy, a disappointment that it had not been himself
who had found and handed over the treasures, and reaped the benefits
of de Silva’s gratitude.
When he left the commandante’s office, Bernardo fell into step behind
him, eagerness and curiosity shining in his eyes, but Diego said nothing.
In front of the tavern, the two men gathered the reins of their horses and
mounted. Diego was still silent. Suddenly the mute turned and looked
over his shoulder, shuddering. He felt that someone was watching him,
someone who boded them both ill. He only saw Sergeant Garcia watching
him from the tavern door, a smile on his lips. Bernardo ignored him. Turning,
he motioned to his young master, but don Diego was already riding out
of town. He set his heels to his horses’ side to catch up. But all the while,
the feeling persisted, even as they rode toward the hacienda.
Garcia watched the two men ride away, wondering at the serious look
of the little one. Bernardo was worried about something. Remotely,
the sergeant mused over what might cause the mute such anxiety, but t
hen he shrugged and walked across the plaza toward the cuartel.
The first mile out of the pueblo rolled past quickly, but still Bernardo
was unable to get his master’s attention. The palomino kept up a very
fast pace. Suddenly, as they rounded a bend in the road, a barricade
of branches and logs blocked their way. Both men brought their horses
to an abrupt halt. Over the confused snorting and prancing of their mounts,
Bernardo heard the hissing noise of a rope. Turning, he saw a loop,
seemingly floating in the air, almost obscenely languid in its progress.
But the imprisoning strands settled quickly enough around his shoulders,
and he was jerked out of the saddle.
He noticed that Don Diego had been similarly dealt with, but as he
struggled on the ground, Bernardo noticed that his master had been
able to leap to his feet and was engaging the first of the men who
were rushing them from the rocks.
Diego recognized some of the men as those working for Mondego.
In chagrin, he realized that he had made a very costly mistake. He
had underestimated the blue-eyed man’s resolve. He may have also
underestimated the mercenary’s powers of deduction. That Mondego
hated him was a given, that he planned to use him for some sinister
purpose was very likely. At any rate, Diego knew he couldn’t let himself
be captured. It was instinctive; a wrenching, gut feeling that transcended
anything that he had felt before. To be captured by Mondego was death.
Now was his best chance to elude the blue-eyed man. With his eyes
darting all around him, Diego was able to plan the best escape route.
He hoped that Bernardo could follow his lead.
Even with the loop around his shoulders, Diego was able to grab the rope
with both hands and jerk it toward him. The two men trying to pull him
off his feet, were themselves pulled to the ground. Loosening the knot
as he ran toward another man, Diego simply slammed himself into his o
pponent and continued his run toward the rocks.
He glanced around, hoping that Bernardo had been able to make an
escape as well. A blow to the pit of his stomach brought him back
to his own predicament. Gasping for breath, he shrugged off the
loosened rope and grabbed one of his assailants by the collar
shoving him to the ground. Another received a fist just below
the jaw and collapsed in a heap. Yet another began drawing his
pistol, but in two steps, Diego was at the man’s side, jerking the
pistol out of his grasp and, in one smooth motion, laying it against
the man’s head. Flipping the weapon in mid-air, the caballero grabbed
it by the barrel and used it against any who came into his reach.
Remotely, he heard Mondego’s voice behind him, screaming
instructions to his men. Finally he reached the rock near the side
of the road and shoved the pistol into his banda. Another of Mondego’s
hiree’s was before him, this one a monster of a man, every bit as big
as Sgt. Garcia. But where Garcia tended toward fat, this man was
heavily muscled. Diego dodged to one side, but the man was much
quicker than his bulk would indicate, and quickly blocked his way.
Thinking and moving in almost the same instant, Diego threw himself
to the ground at the man’s feet, rolling hard and knocking his antagonist
to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, the caballero felt the steel hard grip
of the man’s fingers around one ankle. He struggled to stay standing
while using his eyes to search for a weapon to use against his captor.
As Mondego’s hired kidnapper began dragging him, Diego grabbed a
fist-sized stone and taking one step back toward the man, slammed it
down on his head. Suddenly the vise-like grip became slack and Diego
slipped further into the rocks as several of Mondego’s men rushed after
him.
Diego ran through the maze of boulders and scrub brush, twisting and
turning, scrambling up and down arroyos, but always he kept himself
close to the place of ambush, slowly doubling back. Finally he found
himself near the road. Mondego and several of his men were standing
over the bound, but conscious form of his manservant. Watching
carefully, Diego was able to determine that Bernardo was all right,
but as he had feared, the mute would not be able to escape without
help.
“Señor Mondego, the men are scouring the hills between her and
the Rancho de la Vega. There is no way that he can escape capture,”
one of the men said.
“You idiot. We were all talking about how easy it would be to capture
this ineffectual son of Alejandro de la Vega, but look what happened,”
Mondego stormed.
“Señor, who was to know that he could defend himself so ably. But I
assure you, he will not escape. The men will capture him shortly.”
“No, we cannot count on that. But he is on foot. It will take several
hours for him to reach his hacienda. We can deliver word of young
de la Vega’s capture to his father, and get what we want before the
pampered whelp makes it home. I want Zorro. I want that treasure.
Don Alejandro will have the means to get word to the former and then
we will have the latter,” Mondego hissed. “I will not sit idle on the
assumption that the men will succeed.”
“Do you want me to deliver the ransom note, senor?”
“Yes, and he will be part of the note,” Mondego said, pointing to
Bernardo. “The old man will know we mean business when the
mozo’s dead body is delivered to him.” Mondego pulled a scrap
of paper from his pocket and a long knife from its sheath. “Here,
slit his throat. I have no ink. The demands will be written in blood.
There will be no doubt….”
Diego almost gasped at the horror of Mondego’s plan. He saw
Bernardo’s eyes darting for a second in their fear, but never fixing
themselves on the blue-eyed man’s face. Even under this horrendous
threat, the servant was playing his role, trying to look nonchalant,
unknowing of his fate. Diego had to do something, and do it quickly.
There was a noise coming up the road from Los Angeles. There was
a closer rustling from among the rocks behind him. His mind came
up with ideas and he drew the pistol from his banda.
**************end of Part Eleven*****************
