Chapter Twelve - Tornado's Crown
Part One
“Oh, saints in heaven!” Clementia exclaimed. The dozen Zorros continued to shout and wave their swords furiously until the cuartel gate slowly began to open.
“That looks like Don Alejandro!” Rufino shouted, pointing at one of the Zorros, the one with the white beard seated on a brown mare that looked suspiciously like Princessa. “And there is another Zorro on Sirocco!” He waved, jumping up and down. “Don Carlos! Don Carlos!” he cried.
“That looks like Uncle Francisco’s gelding,” Consuelo said, pointing at another of the Zorros astride the numerous prancing horses.
“No, Rufino!” Elizabeth said, grabbing her young brother-in-law before he could race across the plaza to get closer to the action. “Stay here!”
“But I want to see what happens!” he shouted, pulling away from her and running as far as the well. He climbed up onto it and stood on its edge, watching what happened next.
The commandante himself emerged, and looked around to see the chorus of Zorros standing before him. Lancers emerged as well, opening the gate fully. “We are here for Don Diego,” one of the Zorros said sternly.
“And what if instead I arrrrrrrest all of you?” Vilaro asked. “I do not care if there is one Zorro or ten, I have enough lancers to take all of you and throw you into the jail with Don Diego!”
A Zorro pulled his sword, another pulled out his pistol.
“You will not take us without a fight!” another of them exclaimed.
“I think that is Don Miguel!” Clementia whispered loudly.
“Oh, I believe it is!” Doña Corinna said, sounding rather proud of her husband.
“They all look rather handsome, as Zorro,” Consuelo observed.
“They look ridiculous!” Clementia replied.
“I think they are only trying to help Diego,” Elizabeth said, feeling deeply moved. She now suspected that Phantom was hidden nearby, handled by the watchful Bernardo, and that before long the real Zorro would be on his back.
“I wonder if Demetrio is there,” Clementia said, looking hard at the cluster of riders in black.
“Surely not, he is in the military!” Rosaria said. “But my Juan, he is there,” she added proudly.
“You knew about this?!” Elizabeth asked.
“We helped make the costumes,” she nodded. “But Don Alejandro made us promise not to say a word,” she added.
Why did he not tell me? Elizabeth wondered. Usually Alejandro had his reasons for doing things. She looked back at the crowd of Zorros at the gate, still arguing with Vilaro. The costumes were clearly makeshift, a black shirt here, a dark blanket transformed into a cape there....but what they lacked in the elegance of the original they more than made up for in solidarity and determination.
“You will all brrrrreak this up immediately or I shall thrrrrrrow all of you into the cell beside Don Diego’s!” Vilaro shouted at them all, sticking to his point.
Elizabeth squinted, an idea forming in her mind. She looked around to see that the crowd had drifted slightly to the side of the wide open cuartel gate. “Clementia,” she said, grabbing her friend’s arm.
“What?”
“I am going to try to see Diego!” Elizabeth said. “Keep my aunts occupied!”
“Elizabeth!” Clementia whispered furiously, pulling her aside. “You cannot get past all those lancers and all those...Zorros!”
“Si, I can if I slip through the little door beside the gate, look, it is open,” Elizabeth said, nodding in the direction of the gate.
Clementia looked, and indeed the usually-locked door was swung open, left that way by one of the lancers who emerged when the fracas began. She could see that Elizabeth was determined. “Make him take his shirt off!” she said. “It will solve everything! Diego will get out and all the Zorros can go home, including mine!”
“Demetrio is on the ground beside the commandante!” Elizabeth replied, pointing at the crowd. Indeed the good sergeant had emerged from the cuartel and was standing with Vilaro.
“Well he would be on one of the horses if he could!” Clementia exclaimed. “And my father is there! I see his horse!”
Elizabeth waved at her to go back to the group on the porch, which Clementia did. Then Elizabeth slipped out of sight, around a corner to work her way across the back of the plaza and alongside the cuartel wall, hoping to slip past the commotion and into the garrison yard. Perhaps she could encounter Bernardo along the way, for he surely had Phantom tethered nearby.
Diego was lying on his back staring at the dark ceiling of the jail cell when the ruckus in the plaza began. He heard the shouts and sat up, wincing as the ache of his arm kicked in. He saw the lancers racing towards the cuartel gate, and then watched as Vilaro charged out of his office, also heading to the opening gate. He got to his feet and stepped to the front of the cell, grabbing the bars as he had so many times for the last three days, wondering what was happening now. The hollering continued. Beyond the open gate he could see a crowd of horsemen waving weapons as Vilaro. He realized there were what appeared to be capes flowing off the riders.
“Oh, no,” he said aloud. “Surely not....” So this is what you were up to, he thought, remembering his father’s counsel not to do anything. Alejandro, probably abetted by Carlos, had concocted an act of such brazen solidarity amongst the dons that Vilaro would have to back down. Diego tried to count how many riders were out there; he could see at least seven and knew there had to be more. He banged his head against the bars, wishing he could kick himself. He should have seen this coming. He shook his head, groaning.
“Diego!” he heard a voice. He looked up to see the last person he expected, that being his wife, scurrying towards the jail cell.
“Elizabeth go home!” he exclaimed, looking to see if any lancers had seen her slip in.
She got to the cell and tried to reach in, leaning her face up to try to kiss him. Her palm reached the side of his face and she felt the heavy stubble of his emerging beard.
“Liz!” he whispered loudly, not lowering his head to meet her lips. He squeezed her hands in what she immediately knew was not a tender, welcoming grip. “Go home! There is great danger here!”
“Are you all right?” she asked him, half hurt and half anxious, and thoroughly not caring what was going on behind her.
“Yes of course I am, I have done nothing but sit here for three days!” he answered.
“Your arm?” she whispered.
“It is fine!” he said indignantly, feeling rising anger at her recklessness. As usual, she had no idea what she had walked into.
“Where are the keys, I will let you out,” she said.
“Reyes has them!” Diego snapped, nodding in the direction of the gate. “Elizabeth, please! They will come back here any second!”
“I wanted to see you,” she told him miserably.
“You must go!” he said to her sternly. “Go!”
At that moment, new shouts rose up in the plaza, a number of men and a few women yelling, “Zorro! Zorro!”
Diego shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the jail bars for a moment again. “I do not believe this,” he muttered.
Elizabeth turned around to see the astonishing sight of El Zorro. He was in his full costume and astride the gallant Phantom, arriving at a full gallop. He tore through the crowd at the gate, passed the other Zorros, and rode into the cuartel. He leaped off the horse and raced for the jail cell. Lancers followed, as did Vilaro. The commandante was drawing his sword. Behind them all came the other Zorros, mostly on foot.
“Get out of the way!” Diego cried, reaching through the bars and yanking Elizabeth away from the door.
Elizabeth was so dumbfounded that all she could do was stare, her mouth half open, at the sight of El Zorro in action while Diego stood behind bars. It was dark out, but truly whoever this man was looked for all the world like the Zorro she knew – tall, commanding, a small mustache above his lip, the mask perfectly placed and covering dark, sparkling eyes.
“Thank you, Señor!” Zorro cried, drawing his pistol and taking aim at the jail cell lock. “I am not as famous for the accuracy of my shot as I am for the efficiency of my sword!” Then the pistol fired and the jail door fell open.
Diego stepped out into the garrison yard to see Vilaro and the lancers coming towards them.
“Use my horse!” Zorro urged him, waving at Phantom. “And kindly take your señora, I will have my hands full here for the moment.”
Diego grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and dragged her to the horse. He boosted her up onto the stallion and then jumped on himself. While he was doing that, Zorro faced several lancers with his sword, disposed of them rapidly by knocking their weapons from their hands, and then found himself face to face with Vilaro. For a moment, everything in the garrison yard was still.
Looking sideways, Zorro saw Diego still sitting on the horse, Elizabeth behind him. He flashed his bright smile and saluted.
“Gracias, Señor Zorro!” Diego called to him.
Zorro laughed merrily and then jumped forward, starting the duel with the commandante. Phantom neighed loudly and rose up on his hind legs, then dropped back to all fours and raced out of the garrison yard, carrying Diego de la Vega to his freedom.
The duel was spectacular but brief, for Vilaro once again demonstrated his ineptitude with his sword in allowing El Zorro to pin him to the edge of the horse trough, knock the sword from his hand, and shove him into the water most unceremoniously. Zorro saluted with a laugh, then raced up the stairs, hauled himself onto the roof, and with another laugh and a wave, disappeared across the roof and out of sight on the far side of the cuartel walls. A cheer rose up amongst the other Zorros and the townspeople who had watched the proceedings.
Pulling his own hat and mask off, Alejandro de la Vega planted himself in front of the soaked commandante where he sat in the trough. “I do not believe you have any more need to see my son’s arm,” he said. “You have just seen him in plain sight with Zorro.”
“With a lot of them!” Carlos Matteo chimed in, joining them and pulling his own hat and mask off.
“Never have I seen so many Zorros!” Sergeant Garcia said, offering a hand to help Vilaro out of the trough. “I always thought there was only one, but now he has multiplied!”
Vilaro shook himself off after regaining his footing. He looked up to where the surprise Zorro had disappeared across the roof. “And did you arrange his visit, too, Don Alejandro?” he snarled.
Alejandro grinned. “I can only say that I wish I had!” he answered.
Vilaro shook his arms again. “This accurrrrrrrrsed pueblo!” he shouted. Then he walked towards his office, once again defeated but also, he knew, no longer faced with the problem of what to do with Diego.
Everyone headed back for the plaza once it was clear that the commandante was not going to chase after Zorro. Alejandro offered to buy a round of drinks for the other Zorros at the Tavern, including the Sergeant in his generosity.
“I wondered if he would appear one night, to rescue Don Diego,” Garcia said as they walked towards the Tavern. “And I must say, Zorro did quite well with his sword, given the shot he took only a few nights ago.”
“He certainly did,” Alejandro agreed. Under his breath, he let out a sigh of relief. His plan had not entirely worked, but it did not matter. He wondered, who on earth, and how on earth, the man behind the mask had done what he did, and how it he appeared on the mighty Phantom.
It was not until they were close to four miles out of town, more than half-way home and very much alone at a rocky place on the road, that Diego pulled Phantom to a stop. His heart was pounding and his arm hurt. Elizabeth’s arms were wrapped around him tightly as they galloped, but once they stopped, she let go. Then he felt her forehead lean into the center of his upper back.
“Diego,” she said weakly.
He reached around and took her hand. He lifted it to his face and kissed her palm. He held it to his lips, smelling the skin on her wrist and realizing how much he had missed her.
“Diego, who was that?” she asked.
“Do you want to get off for a moment?” he asked her.
He felt her nod into his back. He dismounted and lifted her off the horse, then walked the animal to a place behind the rock. Even Phantom seemed out of breath.
“I think we all need a moment to clear our heads,” Diego said. He looked at his wife, who was standing before him, her head lowered. “Elizabeth,” he said. “What got into you?” He reached for her and pulled her against him, his hand pressing her head into his shoulder gently.
She started crying, mostly from relief. “I just wanted to see you, I wanted to know you were all right, I thought I could get the keys....” she blubbered.
“It is all right, we are almost home,” he said to her, holding her closer. “But darling that was reckless, you could have been hurt.”
“I was not thinking about anything like that,” she wept, overcome with relief of being with him again and feeling his arms around her. She continued to cry briefly, and then realized something. “You stink,” she said into his shirt.
He laughed. “Si, I think I should, I have not taken my shirt off, much less had a bath, since the last time I saw you!”
She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together, and then looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. Her hands coming to his face. “This I do not like, either,” she said, rubbing her hand on his scruffy cheeks.
“Oh? Then I suppose it is a good thing I have not tried to kiss you?” he teased. “Perhaps you would like to trade me in for that other Zorro?”
Her arms came up around his neck and she hugged him fiercely, and kissing his cheek. Then she said, “ow, no,” and then kissed both his cheeks again. “Though I am grateful to that other Zorro for showing up, whoever he was.” She looked up into his eyes. “He was very convincing.”
Diego smiled and nodded. “Si,” he said.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You knew!” she exclaimed, looking into her beloved’s eyes.
He continued smiling.
“Then who was it?” Elizabeth asked. “Here you were plotting and planning and I was so upset and afraid about your arm....” she sighed.
He lowered his head and gave her a long kiss on the lips. “My arm is fine,” he whispered. “It will be sore a while, but it is fine.” He kissed her again. He kissed her yet again. “How is Esperanza?”
“She looked everywhere for you when we came home this afternoon,” Elizabeth answered. “Diego, who was that? And where has he gone?”
He kept his hands on her shoulders, looking into her face and realizing suddenly how very much he had missed her company. “He is already out of the costume and gone, sweetheart,” he said. “Let us say that it was someone who felt he owed me a good turn.”
“But how did you....” she started.
He stopped her with another kiss. “Do not ask so many questions,” he laughed softly when he was done. “Let’s go home.” He squeezed her tightly for a moment longer, then let her down and gave a low whistle to Phantom. The horse came instantly. Diego patted his nose, as did Elizabeth.
“You have had an interesting night,” Diego said to the horse. “Seeing all those Zorros, and giving a ride to one you are not used to, and then taking me and my pretty señora home....”
“I have long wished these horses could talk,” Elizabeth said, as he helped her up onto the stallion. This time he mounted behind her, his arms coming around her, one holding her close and the other holding the reins, as they rode the rest of the short way home. Though she was still full of questions, Elizabeth asked not one. Instead she simply let her back rest on his strong chest and kept her hand over his where he held her close as they rode home.
Their first task was to return the white horse to his canyon. Bernardo appeared as they were dismounting, from inside the cave, as if he were expecting Diego. He seemed surprised to see Elizabeth as well.
“Where on earth have you been?” Elizabeth asked, sliding off the horse.
Bernardo shrugged innocently and pointed at Diego.
“Helping, no doubt,” Elizabeth said, knowing full well she would get no explanation from either of them.
She looked at Diego. He took her gaze but said nothing, instead half-smiling and running his forefinger down her cheek.
“Go upstairs, sweetheart,” he said. “Tell Maria to draw a hot bath for me. We will be busy down here for a little while.”
Elizabeth sighed and nodded. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly, and then went upstairs.
An hour later, he entered their bedroom looking and smelling considerably better, his hair combed, the stubble gone from his face. Elizabeth was sitting in the bed waiting for him, her hair tumbling down onto her shoulders.
“I stopped in to see the baby,” he said, pulling the covers on his side of the bed back. He chuckled. “And she still recognizes me.”
“Oh? She was awake?”
“After I picked her up.”
“Diego! You should not wake her!” Elizabeth scolded.
“I am sorry, I could not resist, I had to see her pretty eyes. She blinked at me, smiled, and mumbled ‘Dahdee.’ She went right back to sleep as soon as I put her down. Elizabeth, she has grown. I cannot believe how much.”
Elizabeth smiled up at him. “Si,” she said. “Every day.”
He blew the candle out and took off his robe.
“Re-light the candle, I want to see that arm,” Elizabeth said, reaching for him.
He sat still for a moment, letting her touch his arm.
“You have already re-bandaged it,” she murmured.
“Si, Bernardo was very fussy with me. It is not bothering me much now. You can see it in the morning, though I do not think you will like it, it is still rather ugly.”
She kissed the bandage lightly. Diego stroked her head gently. Then he slid under the covers, settling on his back and then taking his beloved into his arms, though being careful to keep her nestled on his good side.
“I just want you to be all right,” she sighed. “In the last year you have been stabbed, poisoned, your horse was killed, and you have been shot. I have had enough of it.”
“So have I,” he agreed.
She pushed her nose into his collar bone and sniffed. “You do smell better,” she commented.
He snorted. “I hope so! I have rarely enjoyed a bath as much as I did tonight.” He gave her a squeeze. “Speaking of horses, Father told me that yours has returned.”
“Si,” she said. “Tethered to a stake in the garden. I wonder where she went and who brought her back. If I did not know better I would say that it was a Zorro-like thing, the way she appeared out of nowhere.”
Diego was strangely silent.
“Are you ever going to tell me who that was? On Phantom?” Elizabeth asked.
For a moment he remained quiet. He had known all along that Elizabeth would want answers. “You have a blind spot when it comes to recognizing Zorro,” he said, more to himself than to her.
She jerked up instantly. “That is not fair!” she exclaimed defensively.
He tried to bring her back to his chest but she kept herself upright.
“Liz, let’s not fight, we have not seen each other for several days,” he said softly, taking her hand in his. “Does it matter who it was?”
“There are only a few people who know that you are Zorro,” she said. “And that was not Bernardo or Windha...” she stopped, her eyes widening in the pale light. “Oh,” she said. “Of course.” She shook her head. “Yes, I am blind at times,” she murmured. “I did not even recognize his voice.”
Now he succeeded in pulling her back into his arms and holding her gently against him. “We are in a more complicated world now. Perhaps it needs an extra Zorro now and then,” he said to her.
“No one is Zorro except you,” she said.
They lay there for a little while in silence, for neither of them knew what else to say. Finally Diego spoke. “I have always felt that he would make a good Zorro, if he would only let his better judgment rule his impulses.”
“Did your father know?”
Diego chuckled softly. “No, actually, he would not tell me what he was up to and I would not tell him what I was arranging...so our extra Zorros more or less collided.”
Elizabeth giggled too. “It was really quite a sight, darling; you missed the best of it from where you were sitting. Poor Vilaro. He was nearly trampled by Zorros. His worst nightmare.”
“Oh, do not feel badly for that one,” Diego said. “He needed an out and we all managed to give it to him, though we were rather uncoordinated about it. He could not have kept me in much longer without worse consequences than a band of overage Zorros at his gate.”
They were quiet again for a little while. “I wish the Mexicans would send us someone else,” Elizabeth sighed.
“Mmmhmmmm,” Diego agreed.
She lifted her head from his shoulder, to see that his eyes were closed and he was drifting to sleep. How exhausted you must be, she thought. Three nights in that stinky cell on that hard cot. She kissed his collar bone and then put her head back on his shoulder. She knew that sleep might not come to her right away, but having him home and asleep beside her was reason enough to stay right where she was.
Diego slept deeply until dawn. He woke up slowly, his consciousness returning little by little. The first thing he sensed was warmth, and the softness all around him. He was on his back in his own bed. He could feel Elizabeth’s warmth; she was burrowed next to him, her hand resting on the center of his chest, the silky hair on her head nudged against his right arm. The ache in his left arm was the least since he’d been shot four days earlier. His eyes opened and he could see the pale beginnings of light creeping through the shutters. He took a breath and moved his head slowly, looking at Elizabeth’s head low on the pillow next to him. He lifted his left hand and rested it over hers where it was planted on his chest. She stirred slightly, snuggling closer to him. Then her hand moved as her entire arm came across his chest.
“Are you awake, señora?” he asked softly.
She made a sound that told him she was still mostly asleep.
He smiled, stroking her arm where it rested across him.
She lifted her head. “Did you sleep all right?” she asked, half-asleep, her hair falling into her face. She pushed it back so he could see her beautiful forehead and cheeks.
“Si,” he said.
“How is your arm?”
“It is better.”
“Good,” she sighed, resting her head on his chest. “I am still sleepy.”
“We had a long sleep,” he teased her. “It is dawn. And we blew out the candle quite early last night.”
“Mmmmm. You must be hungry. But we have so much sleep to catch up on.”
“Si....” he agreed. “We have other things to catch up on, too.”
Elizabeth lifted her head again and looked into his eyes. “When your arm is healed,” she said.
“It feels pretty good right now,” he told her, his finger coming to her face. They could now see one another from the early morning light creeping through their shutters.
She leaned over him, her face close to his. “How good?” she asked.
A light tapping started on their door.
They exchanged a frown and then Diego said, “Who is it?”
Again the knocking occurred.
“It has to be Bernardo,” Diego said, getting up and reaching for his robe. “Ow,” he said, as he put it on.
“What can he want at this hour?” Elizabeth asked, also rising and reaching for her robe.
The knocking repeated. Diego went to the door and opened it. Indeed, Bernardo stood there.
“What?” Diego asked.
Bernardo pointed in the direction of the barn and then at Diego and into the room, indicating Elizabeth. Then he pointed at the barn again.
Diego’s eyes widened. “Blanca,” he said.
Bernardo nodded. He pointed at the barn again.
“Quickly, darling, put some clothes on,” Diego told his wife. He dismissed Bernardo and hurried to dress himself. “I believe Blanca must be in labor.”
Elizabeth gasped and yanked open the wardrobe door, pulling at things and finally finding a house dress. They scurried around one another hurriedly, pulling on enough that they could then rush across the balcony, down the stairs, across the patio, to the barn, arriving finally at Blanca’s stall. Two vaqueros were on hand, and the mare was in the straw.
“Is she all right so far?” Diego asked, stepping into the stall and leaning over to touch her.
“Si, Don Diego, she will deliver any time,” came the reply.
He checked her further and then looked at Elizabeth. “The foal is positioned right,” he said.
The mare gave a heavy groan and then whinnied miserably.
“I know how you feel,” Elizabeth told her, leaning over the fence to try to watch what was going to happen.
The mare groaned again and waggled her legs, shifting her weight slightly in the straw. Then the miracle started. For as they stood there watching, the new life began to emerge. Diego leaned over and tried to steady Blanca with a few encouraging words, but his eyes barely left her where the foal was making its first appearance. It took only a short time for the wet, sticky, leggy little mass to end up lumped on the straw beside its mother. The birth finally completed when the placenta followed, and soon thereafter Diego stepped back, his eyes never leaving the new little animal on the ground, as Blanca pulled herself to her feet with a disagreeable snort.
“Go to your baby, Blanca,” Elizabeth said, her eyes full of tears. “Clean up your baby.”
The foal was still such a quivering mass of darkness and birth goop that they could not tell what color it was or if it was male or female. Diego came out of the stall and put his arm around Elizabeth. She could tell that he was shaking. She looked at him briefly and could see that he was containing himself desperately, eager to find out who was on the ground. She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“You can go,” she told the vaqueros, who looked quite tired. “We will stay here and make sure they bond.”
Gratefully, the two men headed back for their quarters and a little bit of sleep.
Diego and Elizabeth stayed and waited. Blanca, with another snort, leaned over and sniffed at the little thing in the straw. The foal tried to move and then lay still. Blanca shook her head and whinnied, backing away from it. Elizabeth tensed and Diego squeezed her. “Give her a minute,” he said softly.
The foal made a little sound, lifting its head. It was still covered in all the goo.
Blanca took a tentative step forward and sniffed at it again. Then she buried her nose in it. Then she gave it a lick. Then her huge pink tongue began licking it furiously, cleaning it up. She snuffled as she worked, cleaning the foal’s head and face, then its body, working her way down to its limbs. She kept nudging it as she licked. The foal wiggled and scrambled a little as this process continued, starting to unfold on the ground. It seemed to be nearly all legs, splayed everywhere in the straw.
Diego kept shaking. Elizabeth kept his hand tightly in hers, and found herself in tears again as she watched the miraculous sight. It took Blanca close to 15 minutes before she seemed satisfied with her clean-up job, and then she started nudging her new offspring insistently. She managed, in her licking, to position herself between Diego and Elizabeth and the foal. They could therefore only partially see what was happening, though it was clear that mother wanted baby to get on its feet. Blanca kept snorting encouragement, and then stood back a little. For a few minutes the tiny foal struggled. Moving to the other side of the stall, and as the sun burst onto the horizon, Diego and Elizabeth saw the long, spindly legs reach out. Slowly the foal pushed itself off the ground until finally it stood, wobbly and looking very surprised, was on its feet. Elizabeth felt Diego’s arm tighten around her. The foal looked up at them and gave them a little sound. Then it turned to its mother.
“Oh,” Diego said softly. Then he sniffed.
Elizabeth looked over to see that tears were in his eyes.
“I have to find out,” he said to her. Letting go of her, he bent down to look at the foal’s underside. It was now right beside its mother, still wobbly, trying to find her teat.
Diego stood up, putting his hand over his mouth and letting his tears flow. “Oh, Liz,” he said. “It is a colt. A black colt.”
Elizabeth nodded, burying her face in his chest as they put their arms around each other. In that moment, all the loss of Tornado’s death overwhelmed them again, and at the same time they felt as if they were in a moment of rebirth. As they long suspected she might, Blanca brought a son of Tornado into the world. So they cried together, mourning Zorro’s great black stallion one last time, and at the same time feeling joy, as the morning light poured into the barn.
 |
 |
 |