Chapter Eight - The Missions
The arrangements for the transfer to Monterey were detailed, between Diego and Alejandro’s financial transactions and the household organization that was needed for a long journey and extended stay. Alejandro would travel with Diego, Elizabeth and Bernardo, but would stay only a week or so, while the others planned to remain for six to eight weeks depending on how long it took to settle the purchase. All told, a week passed before they could get underway.
It was on this journey that Elizabeth learned for the first time of her husband’s immense popularity among the friars along the Camino Real. Each new mission had a community of generous, good-natured priests, all of whom doted on Diego. Many had known him since he was a small boy at his mother’s skirts. She imagined that Diego’s mother, Matilde, had been revered among these men for the way they now welcomed her son.
The priests had rich tales of Zorro as well. His history of interventions on their behalf from the Spanish soldiers and various outlaws that had attacked or otherwise harassed them in recent years was well known to anyone who traveled the great north-south California road. The most vivid stories swirled around the long running battle between the greedy, scheming Capitan Monastario and Zorro. It was a feud which had finally ended not by the sword, but by pure humiliation when Monastario managed to "expose" Zorro’s real identity as that of Diego de la Vega. The idea was utterly laughed out of town, and with it so was Monastario. He had been decommissioned by the Viceroy and returned to Spain, never to be heard from again.
"California has never had such swordfighting, not before and not since," Padre Angelo said over dinner in San Buena Ventura on their first night of travel. "Do you remember, Diego, those duels between Zorro and the Capitan?"
"I heard about them, of course," Diego said. "They seemed quite evenly matched."
"I saw them twice," Alejandro interjected. "And you are right, it was grand dueling. It was Monastario who inspired Zorro’s appearance, you know. We had never heard of Zorro until Monastario began his campaign of oppression among the people."
"So that’s when Zorro appeared," Elizabeth said. "I never knew."
"Whoever he is, he would not tolerate the injustice," Brother Angelo said. "And to this day, he fights for justice for all of us. I sometimes wonder, how does this man set his life aside to do these deeds? Where did he come from, and what backbone makes him continue?"
"He must come from a fine family," Elizabeth remarked.
"You have met him, yes?" Brother Angelo said to her curiously.
"Yes, several times," she said demurely.
"We’ve heard he has taken a liking to you," the Brother said, teasingly. "Diego, you had better keep an eye on your wife." He winked.
Diego smiled. "I owe Zorro several debts," he said, "for getting Elizabeth out of trouble."
"Which she seems to court!" Alejandro added.
The dinner went on cheerfully, with more stories of the bullwhip fights, dueling, and horse chases between Monastario and the Fox. Brother Angelo topped everything with the story of the night Zorro upset the orange carts to stop the soldiers from chasing and capturing the latest refugee from Monastario’s injustices. "Remember that, Diego?" he howled, "You were here that weekend. You helped us refill all the carts after Zorro was gone! You were always helping us clean up after him!"
Elizabeth took it all in with great delight, so much so that Diego finally had to put a stop to the tales, announcing that she was enjoying all this talk of El Zorro a little too much.
It was at this point, as everyone was retiring, that Elizabeth found something far less to her liking about this mission and, as it turned out, the ones that lay ahead. The brothers led Diego in one direction and her in another for the sleeping arrangements, putting her in a tiny cell with a rock-hard bed on the far side of the compound from where her husband was taken. She was so visibly dismayed that Brother Angelo had to pat her on the shoulder comfortingly and say, "We are monks, after all, Senora, and we need not have too much around us to inspire our imaginations."
Two more days of travel, and two more nights of separation, caused Elizabeth great distress. By the third morning of the journey she could barely contain herself. At the mission of Santa Barbara, Diego was walking towards the common room for the morning meal when he felt her hands at his back. He turned around and she threw herself into his arms.
"Elizabeth, not here, not now," he said.
"I missed you last night," she said, clinging to him and kissing his cheek.
"Elizabeth, please!" he said, trying to pull her off. "We’re among all these friars!"
"I don’t care, they can’t make me not kiss my husband," she said.
He finally got her onto the ground just as a trio of priests walked by. Diego smiled and nodded at them. "Good morning," he said.
They smiled back, looking from Diego to Elizabeth and back to Diego. "Good morning, Don Diego," one said. "Senora." They continued towards the common room. Once they were past, Elizabeth threw her arms again around his neck.
"Darling, please!" he said, again, trying to pull her away.
"Let’s find somewhere private," she suggested.
"We’re in a mission!" he answered.
"They’re all eating breakfast," she said, "Let’s go to the chapel, no one will be there..." she grabbed his hand and began leading him in that direction.
"We’re not going to the chapel! Not for that!" he laughed, pulling her back. "We’re expected at breakfast too."
"I don’t want breakfast, I want you," she said, again pulling him towards the chapel.
"Elizabeth, no," he said. He put her arm through his. Another priest came walking towards them. Diego smiled and nodded. "Padre," he said.
"Don Diego, Senora," the priest replied, nodding back pleasantly.
"Diego..." she wheedled, tugging at his arm.
"Elizabeth, the chapel isn’t for...."
She opened her mouth to finish his sentence but he put his hand over it quickly, looking around "Shhhhhh!"
This made her laugh, for she could see she was getting to him. "Don’t be stuffy," she said.
"I’m not being stuffy! I’m being respectful!" he said indignantly.
"You’re being stuffy," she said.
He took her elbow. "We are going to breakfast," he said, steering her towards the meal room.
She stopped in the path. "You don’t want me," she said.
Diego rolled his eyes. "It’s not that I don’t want you!" he said.
"Yes it is," she said, tears in her voice.
"Oh, don’t," he pleaded, taking her arms. "Don’t cry. I do want you, but this isn’t the place..."
"Then where is the place?" she asked. "You don’t want me!" she cried into his chest.
"Oh, I do, I do," he said, holding her. Another pair of priests came by, and Diego waved them on. "I do," he said again.
"Then let’s go to the chapel," she said, the tears mysteriously gone.
He frowned. "Do you just turn those off and on like a water pump?" he asked.
Tears welled up in her beautiful ocean eyes again as she looked up at him.
"Oh, no," he said, "please..." he pulled out his handkerchief. "Here, don’t..." he led her to a bench under a tall pepper tree and sat down beside her. The bell at the common room began ringing, signaling the beginning of the meal. He looked around again and saw no one, so he held her face up to his and kissed her.
"Don’t cry, little kitten," he said softly. "We have all our lives ahead of us to love one another in a thousand ways."
"I need you now," she moaned, pressing her head into his shoulder.
"Sweetheart, we’ll find a way, but not right now, all right? Let’s go eat something," he said.
"I’m not hungry."
He sighed, pushing her hair behind her ears. "I can’t force you to eat," he said, "but we have a long journey ahead of us, and you’ll wish you’d eaten by 10:00. We must reach Santa Ines tonight."
"Diego," she said pleadingly, "I hated sleeping by myself last night, it was an awful bed, my back hurts..."
"Do you imagine that I don’t miss holding you in my arms all night long?" he asked softly in her ear. He ran his finger slowly up her arm, which made her shut her eyes and lean against him. "Come have breakfast," he said, kissing her cheek. He stood up, taking her hand. "Let’s do this one day at a time. Today, we’ll eat breakfast."
Two more days followed, and they found themselves in the same situation at each stop. Elizabeth’s irritability increased noticeably and she complained more and more about her back, blaming the hard, cold beds she found herself on each night. On the third morning Diego insisted that she ride with him that day, rather than alone on her gray mare. Just the chance to be physically close to him put her into a better mood, though it slowed the party down. Don Alejandro observed all of this with a mix of amusement and annoyance, at one point commenting privately to Diego that it would be good for everyone once they had the missions behind them.
Diego could not have agreed more. Early in the journey he was excited about seeing all of his old friends along the Camino again, and he took tremendous pride in showing off his pretty new wife. But by the evening that they reached San Miguel Arcangel, Elizabeth was looking decidedly wilted and Diego was himself weary of the long night hours away from her. Perhaps it was holding onto her all day long on the horse that did it, but in any case he found himself suddenly quite unhappy at the prospect of another night alone among the padres. When they went their separate ways that night, Elizabeth looked up at him with a face of such misery that he felt his heart would break, but surrounded by the brothers he could only kiss her head lightly and walk the other way.
Lying in the darkness that night, unable to sleep and worrying over her, Diego suddenly got up and put on his clothes. Making his way down the unlit hallway, he exited the building and went to the stable, where he knew Bernardo was sleeping. He entered, to find his servant on a pallet in the straw, asleep. He lit a candle, went over, and shook Bernardo’s shoulder.
"Bernardo, Bernardo, wake up!" he said.
The servant opened his eyes and sat up.
"Do you know where they have Elizabeth sleeping?" Diego asked.
Bernardo frowned, shaking his head.
"But did you see the direction they took her in?"
Bernardo nodded, pointing in the direction of the chapel.
"The chapel?" Diego asked.
Bernardo gestured beyond it.
"There is a little building back there," Diego said. He patted Bernardo’s shoulder. "Thank you. Go back to sleep."
Bernardo pointed at himself and made a walking gesture with his fingers, then pointed to Diego.
"No," Diego said, "you don’t need to come with me. I should think that all these years of being Zorro should allow me to find her silently enough."
Bernardo waved at him, and lay back down.
Diego went back outside and walked towards the chapel, memories of his childhood visits to this mission suddenly sweeping in. He could almost hear his mother’s voice, calling for him when he would disappear in his explorations of the place. Lost in thinking about her, he was pulled back to reality by the unexpected sound of a pair of monks emerging from the chapel. It was a moonless night, so he easily stepped back into a shadow and watched them pass without being seen himself. Then, taking a narrow path behind the chapel, he walked through a tiny garden that led to the graveyard. He felt a shiver as he walked through it, and remembered how, as a small boy, he had feared the place and how his mother had had to put her hand on his shoulder and walk beside him to get him to pass to the other side. He spied a small outbuilding and, walking up to it, peered in a small window. A candle was burning, and he saw Elizabeth lying in a narrow little bed, almost the size of a child’s bed, under a thin blanket. She was wearing her clothes.
He went to the door and opened it, looking in. She sat up instantly and when she saw him she got up and came straight to him. "It’s so cold in here," she said, keeping the blanket around her shoulders.
"They put you in a potting shed?" he asked, rubbing her back as he held her to him.
"This is the worst yet," she said, shivering. "They said it was all they could do, so many others are here tonight. They were very apologetic, but..."
"Elizabeth, you’re freezing!" he exclaimed. "Darling, I had no idea. You can’t sleep here." He looked over at the tiny bed.
"I hurt all over," she said.
"So do I, now," he said. He opened the door and walked her outside, keeping his arm around her and keeping the blanket on her.
"Where will we go?" she asked.
"I don’t know," he said, "but from now on I’ll find a way for us to be together. At least I know I can keep you warm." He walked her back towards the chapel, and remembered something. "Let’s go in here," he said. He led her to the altar and turned her to the left, then rattled a locked door leading into the sacristy. "Well, the padres still keep their chalices locked away," he said. He reached up and began feeling above the doorframe.
Elizabeth went to sit in the front pew, watching him. He felt all around the doorframe, and then went behind the altar and felt around below it.
"Diego, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Searching..." he said, "...for something I once found..." he felt on the floor, "...when I was a boy." He touched a loose stone and lifted it, and found what he sought. He stood up behind the altar, waving a key.
She laughed. "Darling, that is one place where you look out of place," she said.
He looked around. "Here?"
"Si. Behind the altar."
"You don’t think I would make a good priest?"
"I think not."
"A life of prayer and administering the sacraments of Our Lord? You don’t think I could do that?"
"A life of celibacy?"
Diego raised his eyebrows. "Celibacy?" he repeated.
"Of course, at the rate you are going, it wouldn’t be a big adjustment. You are living like a priest already."
He came around the altar and sat down beside her on the pew, tossing the key up and down in his hand. "Not for much longer," he said. "At least, not if this still leads to where it used to."
She grabbed the key in midair. "A magic key," she said.
"Si," he took it back from her, and then took her by the hand and led her again to the doorway. He slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened and they entered the sacristy, with its shelves and cupboards and table and sink. He lit a candle.
"My," said Elizabeth, looking around at the gleaming silver and lifting a silver chalice that sat on the table. "The brothers should keep this locked up," she said.
Diego shut the outer door, pocketing the key. "Now, for the next trick," he said, feeling under the table. "Ah, the padres are predictable!" He produced another key. "Tradition!" he said, kissing it. He moved past her, and put the key into a tiny hole in what appeared to be a narrow cabinet. The lock turned and he opened the door, saying, "bring the candle" to her. Then he stepped through the narrow opening, and she followed. He pulled the door shut, and held the candle up, saying again, "ah, tradition."
Elizabeth looked around his shoulder and saw that they stood in a small, windowless room. Several pallets were laid side-by-side on the floor, covered with thick blankets. "Oh, my," she said, wonder in her voice. She looked at him. "How did you find this?"
"When I was little, I hid in the sacristy sometimes and I saw one of them go in here. I thought I could slip out while he was gone but he caught me and after a stern lecture he brought me in here to let me see it. I had to swear I’d never tell another soul."
"Uh oh," she said.
"Well, that was over fifteen years ago," he said. "Surely I won’t be punished now!"
"But, what is it?"
"They keep it to hide from Indians."
"Indians?" Elizabeth said, somewhat incredulous. The priests were known for their interest and kindness to the native people in this area.
He shrugged. "That is what he told me!"
Elizabeth took the candle from him and put it on the floor. "Is it truly private here?" she asked.
"At this hour," he said, "I think we are all right, though they will be up early for the first services and then they will be in an out of the sacristy. They don’t come in here."
He led her to the row of pallets, and pushed two of them together. "Still looks narrow," he said, frowning. He dropped to his knees and tried to arrange things more suitably. "Lie down, senora," he said, helping her as she sat and they lay back. He put a blanket over her, looking down into her face. "You look so tired," he said. He kissed her cheek. "Close your eyes," he said, stroking her face.
"I feel like I am being tucked in, the way my mother used to tuck me in," Elizabeth said, settling into the blankets. It was the softest thing she’d lain on in days. She closed her eyes. He lay down next to her. She felt his lips on her cheek. "You’re always so warm..." she said, feeling herself drift towards sleep.
He pressed his lips against her cheek again, and then looked down at her. He smiled, at the same time shaking his head. "I think my celibacy is going to last a little longer," he said softly. He traced the line of her jaw with his finger, seeing that his dear wife had gone sound asleep. "I had no idea," he whispered to her, "that it could be like this."
He propped his head on his hand, taking in the sight of her in the candlelight. She had fine features and the most exquisite skin he’d ever seen, much less touched. It was, he knew, the skin of an Englishwoman, though with the hint of olive in the shade of her complexion. The color of her hair was as hard to describe as her eyes. It was a medium shade of brown to begin with, but there was so much chestnut in it that in the sunlight it glinted with golden reds, and in the candlelight it was almost soft copper. Her cheekbones were high, signifying her noble Spanish heritage, and beneath her hard jawline was her long, inviting neck. Then there were those arresting blue-green-gray almond-shaped eyes, hidden behind her closed lids. Depending on the light, her eyes changed from pale gray to a deep ocean blue-green, and nearly everything in between. It was her eyes that had stopped him short, and forever, the first time he saw her face six months ago.
Only six months? Diego could hardly believe that six months ago there had been a day before he had met this girl, and all the days before it when he had no idea of her existence. Now half a year later she was the source of whatever made his heart continue to beat. He could not now imagine his life without her, and wondered what reason he’d had to awaken in the morning before he first set eyes on her. He settled beside her, putting his arm around her. He could not believe his good fortune. Truly she was a gift from heaven. Perhaps she was a holy answer to the best of his efforts as Zorro. Or perhaps it was nothing but luck. Wherever she had come from, he hoped with all his heart that for whatever remaining life was granted to him, he would cherish her and have her always by his side. He kissed her cheek again, and then closed his eyes.
After a silence, she softly said, "You are a sweet man, Diego."
"You’re awake?"
"Barely," she whispered. "And not for long." She made her purring noise.
A light sleeper, Diego heard stirring in the chapel before the first light. He left Elizabeth sleeping deciding to wait until the first service was over and the friars were gone to try to slip out of the chapel. Partway through the service, which was audible through deep cracks in the walls, Elizabeth stirred.
"Is it time to get up?" she asked.
"No," he whispered. "They’re having their pre-dawn prayers, then they’ll sing, and eventually they’ll leave. Then we can get out."
"Can I go back to sleep?"
"Yes. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Warmer."
"Good."
"Diego?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you come here, when you were little?"
"I came to all the missions. My mother brought me."
"Why?"
"She rode up the Camino each year to visit her sister in San Francisco, and she would bring horses to the missions. Father would never part with any of our cattle, but he would let her give certain horses to the padres. She would bring me with her. That’s how I got to know all of these men."
"What an adventure, for a little boy. To ride up and down the Camino Real."
He smiled. "I took it for granted. It happened every year from when I could first remember anything."
"Is your aunt still in San Francisco?"
He shook his head. "She died, soon after my mother."
"Tell me about your mother. You never speak of her."
To this, Diego said nothing. Elizabeth waited. Still he said nothing. "Diego?" she said.
"Shhhhhh," he told her. "They’re going to start singing in a minute."
"Diego, tell me about your mother." Again, he said nothing. She sat up. "Why won’t you talk about her?" she asked.
"What is there to say?" he asked, a foreign tone in his voice.
"What was she like?"
"She was..." he started, and then stopped. Elizabeth tried to see his face, but without the candle lit it was too dark in the room.
The padres began to sing in plainsong, and the sound filled the little room to the point where further conversation was impossible. They waited until the singing was ended, and then heard the men filing out. Diego got up and went to the door, awaiting their final departures. He lit the candle. Then he helped her up and they spent several minutes rearranging and straightening the palettes so that it looked undisturbed in the room.
"Come," he finally said to her, reaching for her hand. He pushed the door open, and they stepped back into the sacristy. He locked the door and returned the key to its place under the table. Then he opened the door into the chapel, and again replaced the key after locking the door behind him. Then he guided her quietly out the chapel door and into the dawn air. "It will be a while before any food is laid out," he said. "Let me take you up to a hillside I used to play on, come."
He led her around a winding path away from the mission and up onto a hillside, and stopped at a great rock. The view was expansive, looking across low mountains. They sat there for a while in silence, as the sun began to push towards the eastern horizon and the light grew.
"I can’t talk about my mother," he said quietly.
"But..." she started.
"I really can’t," he said. "I never have. I never will." He shook his head, his eyes on the place where the sun would rise in moments. "She died. She’s gone."
Elizabeth looked at him, and saw for the first time where the part of him that she felt she could not touch came from. "You must miss her very much," she said.
He looked down, and then back at the dawning sun. He said nothing more. She went over to him and took his hand. "There’s the sun," she said. "I suppose they will have bread laid out by the time we get back."
"Yes," he said. "And I will be ready for it."
"Diego," she said, "is Zorro....where did Zorro really come from?"
He looked at her quizzically. "You know that story. I was studying in Spain and my father wrote to me and told me to come home, because of Monastario. I had to find a way to fight him that was indirect. The answer was El Zorro."
"I know," she said. "But Zorro’s mission, to help the people....that comes from a deeper place in you."
"Perhaps," he said.
Elizabeth took his hand and led him back towards the path. They walked back down in silence, and found their way to the mission’s common room where the first meal of the day awaited them.
They resumed their journey as soon as Alejandro was up and ready to travel, and the ride that morning was unusually quiet. At midday they stopped in a cypress grove to eat a meal the friars from San Miguel had sent along.
"Ow," Elizabeth said, as Diego reached up and helped her off the horse.
"Still hurts?" he asked.
"I don’t understand it," she said, reaching for her lower back after her feet found the ground.
"Here?" he asked, massaging the place she had touched.
She put her head into his chest. "Yes," she said. "Oh, Diego, I’m tired."
He frowned, putting his arms around her. "This just isn’t like you." Diego looked about, to see his father and Bernardo standing on a rock some distance away, admiring the vista that lay ahead. "I have an idea," he said. "Wait here." He walked away from her, across to where Alejandro and Bernardo stood. Elizabeth watched as he spoke to them, pointed up the road, talked more, and then came back to her.
"What?" she asked.
"We’re going on ahead," he said. "There’s a place to stop just a few miles ahead."
"Oh, not another mission," she moaned. "Is there another secret room to hide in?"
"No," he smiled. "This isn’t a mission. It’s an inn, with great wide beds and huge outdoor bathtubs." He kissed the top of her head. "We’ll stay a few nights while my father goes ahead and begins his work in Monterey. It will be that honeymoon we never had." He smiled at her, and added, "well, except for that one day up in the mountains."
She smiled back at him. "That was a good day," she said.
And so they went on to the El Rey Inn, where a hot bath was drawn for them immediately. Elizabeth’s back was tended to, and for three days they talked little and comforted one another much.
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