Urbino's Departure

Once they returned to the house, the rest of the afternoon vanished quickly into evening.  Oreana disappeared upstairs with one of the de la Vega maids to pack up her things.  And while his father and Urbino spent nearly another hour in the study looking over maps and other documents, by the time the cook set out a light evening meal, no one seemed eager to burn this evening’s candles to the base.

Diego happily retreated to his room with Bernardo to discuss their immediate plans, first, of safeguarding Urbino’s departure, then, of bringing Don Guillermo to speak with his father.  Once they had convinced Alejandro that Urbino was in league with Marigál, and that neither of them could be trusted, then they would all have to figure out an expedient way of getting Guillermo and Diego to Monterey.  Bernardo was already quite amused at Diego’s suggestion that they just have themselves shipped, right along with Don Urbino’s horses—a plan that would almost certainly foil any kidnap attempt.

Beyond that point, neither of them could really foresee what might happen.  Once Marigál was exposed, his whole organization might simply fall apart, and that would be that.  But things would probably not be so simple.  Even if the rats deserted the sinking ship, that didn’t mean they could all be easily caught, at least not without help from el Zorro.  So he and Bernardo might still have to try tracking Urbino to the hostages, which meant traveling quickly from Monterey to San Diego.  Bernardo swayed back and forth, feigning a glazed look, clutching his stomach.

Diego laughed.  "We will be the ones to wish we could desert the ship, eh?" he said.  "But I think that once Marigál is out of the way, Urbino’s conscience will finally get the better of him.  He is not really such an evil man, Bernardo, though he may have done some very evil things."

Bernardo made his sign for Oreana, and Diego raised his brows, nodding thoughtfully.

"I think you are right, my friend.  Though she is the heretic, without her, I do not think his conscience would trouble him nearly so much."

The following morning, Diego came downstairs knowing exactly what he would do that day.  He had already sent Bernardo to saddle Tornado, and he didn’t think he would have any trouble finding an excuse to return to the mission that afternoon.  On the way home, he and Bernardo could simply pick up their passenger, dress him in some of Diego’s clothes and tell him that Diego would go another way, under Zorro’s protection.  But it didn’t take as long as breakfast for all those plans to evaporate.

"Well, my son, it is nice to see that you are up so early this morning," Alejandro smiled and patted his shoulder as he sat down at the table in the sala with a cup of coffee.  As the cook came in with a plate of food to set before him, he added, "There is much to do today."

Diego lifted an eyebrow.  "Well, actually, now that you mention it, I had planned on going to the mission this afternoon.  Padre Felipe had promised to lend me a book on the development of modern harmonies as they arose from the medieval liturgies of the Gregorian—"

"That will have to wait."  Alejandro tried not to look too impatient, though he couldn’t quite keep his eyes from rolling up.  "Or at least it can wait until after you have gone to arrange for the shipment of Don Urbino’s horses."

Now it was Diego’s turn to roll his eyes.  Would he never be rid of these bothersome little creatures?  "Uh–Father," he said, not making much of an effort to sound cheerful, "perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me why it is so vital to arrange to send these animals off today when Don Urbino himself won’t be in Monterey to receive them for at least another month?"

"Because if you go into town today, you will be able to make contact with a ship’s captain who has just come from San Diego on his way to Monterey," Alejandro replied.

"I see." Diego could already feel the inevitability of this new agenda setting in.

"You will also be able to pick up a shipment of oaken kegs from France," his father added.  "Don Urbino arranged to have them delivered to us before he left on this trip, but they did take a rather unexpected detour through San Diego, according to Capitan Parra’s message, which arrived this morning by way of Sergeant Garcia and his men.  The capitan was kind enough to see that the kegs were delivered to the inn, along with a wagon load of wines from Jerez.  But he will be setting sail tomorrow morning, so it would be wise to make our arrangements this morning."

"Very well."  Diego looked up just in time to see Bernardo enter the sala, looking cheerful, probably with the news that Tornado was ready.  "Oh, by the way," he added, "do you think I might be able to take Benito with me to into town this morning?  Bernardo has not been feeling well and I will need some help loading those wine kegs."

"Not feeling well?" said Alejandro.  "Why, he seemed just fine when I saw him earlier."

"Well, it seems to come and go . . . ." Diego motioned with his eyes toward the door, but Bernardo was already making his retreat, suddenly looking deathly ill, and perhaps not entirely for the sake of appearances.

Alejandro emitted a heavy sigh.  "I am certain that someone at the inn will be happy to help with that," he said.  "They are just empty kegs, after all.  Besides, Benito has already gone out with some of the other vaqueros to round up twenty-five or so head of cattle.  Don Urbino said he wants to see how we cure our hides when he returns so that he can assure his business associates of their quality, so we will need to start right away."

Diego nodded absently—"Of course"—as his mind raced through a thousand possibilities.  He knew Bernardo had also surmised that this errand might be the one from which he would not return.  Bernardo would follow him on Tornado, of course, but neither of them had the least idea how many men they would be facing, or where, or when.  He wondered if it was really just a coincidence that he would be obliged to take a wagon into town or if Marigál had somehow made arrangements for the wine kegs to arrive today.

Diego knew the countryside well, and even on a horse other than Tornado, he might have been able to evade a band of pursuers.  But in a wagon with two other horses in tow?  Perhaps one of the palominos would suffice, he thought.  Then, as he noticed Silvio and another servant carrying a large trunk out to Urbino’s coach, he wondered if there might still be some way to see that it got safely on its way.

"Did I hear you say, Father, that the soldiers were out this morning delivering mail?  It seems as though the commandante has them doing everything these days.  Patrolling for outlaws at all hours of the day and night, searching people’s houses."

"Oh, they are still out searching for Zorro," said Alejandro with an amused smile.  "But I hear that at least the commandante is now sending out only one squad at a time and relieving them at regular intervals.  As for the messages, the sergeant said that they had been ordered to patrol this area anyway, so they were not making a special trip."

"Well, I’m certain the sergeant is glad this will not become a regular part of his routine," Diego chuckled, weighing this new information carefully.  At least the chances of anything happening to Urbino seemed slimmer with all the soldiers around.  Perhaps Oreana really had been just overly tired and upset.  Nonetheless, he knew now what he would do.  He began with a visit to his father’s library to look for a book.

When she finally came downstairs, Oreana did not seem the least bit edgy, though she could not be persuaded to eat anything.  Urbino hovered over her anxiously, at least until his own breakfast arrived.  Then he took some time to praise the hospitality he had enjoyed, thanking his host profusely for having agreed to the loan of the de la Vega kitchen maid, a young girl named Marbella, to take over Teresa’s duties, at least for the next few weeks.

Marbella herself had volunteered for the task, Alejandro explained, since Oreana had been so kind as to offer to teach the child some of the finer points of the domestic arts.  In her hard brown little fingers, Diego was amused to see a copy of the Inundación Castálida by Señorita Juana Inés de la Cruz.

Then, suddenly, it was time for them to go.  Diego watched his father say goodbye—first to Oreana, then Urbino.  Then it was his turn.

"Señor.  Á dios.  Señorita.  Till we meet again."  He raised her hand to his lips.  "Oh, by the way.  The other day I noticed you reading this book.  I thought you might like to borrow it."  As she reached the steps of the carriage, he slipped it into her hand.

She looked a little surprised but accepted the book anyway.  "Are you sure you would want to part with it?"

"Oh, I am quite certain that I will be able to do without it for a few weeks anyway," he said, trying to press the smile from his lips, though I will expect it back by then.  "And I am afraid I will be a rather strict librarian.  If it is not returned, I may have to come looking for it.  It has a great deal of sentimental value."

Oreana looked down shyly and said a quiet "gracias."  But then, as she turned to take Urbino’s arm and step into the carriage beside Marbella, she looked up at him again, trying to say more in one final glance than even Bernardo could have managed.  But he already knew what she would have said, so he simply held her gaze until, clutching the book tightly, she mounted the step and disappeared.

As the coach pulled away, he watched after it until the dust on the roadway began to settle.  Then he noticed his father watching him.  The old man looked down and patted him on the shoulder, looking almost a little shy.  Diego simply shook his head, then went to help the stable hands hitch up the buckboard and tie Urbino’s horses onto the rails.

Out the window of the coach, Oreana studied the minute changes in vegetation as they turned north to follow the river.  Black willow, alder, buckwheat, sage, prickly pear, manzanita.  She knew them all.  Watching her, Urbino nodded thoughtfully to himself.

"What book is that?"

"Oh, just something I was reading the other day."  She offered to show him, but he shook his head.  It was a very thick book.  Then with a sigh, he also started watching out the other window.  Oreana fingered the raised lettering on the well-worn leather cover.  The crisp gilt-edged pages opened to a familiar passage:

Of whom it is folks say,
They to adventures go

The page had been marked with a heavy black satin ribbon, the end of which had been carefully cut sideways, almost completely across, so that, when she lifted it up, the three cuts opened to form a letter Z.  As she looked out the window, she bit her knuckles, trying not to laugh, trying not to cry.

As soon as he was out of sight of the house, Diego pulled the buckboard off the road and into a shady spot behind some boulders where he waited for Bernardo to catch up to him.  Soon he heard the quick hoof beats of a single rider approaching from the east, and within moments Bernardo pulled the stallion to a halt, dismounted in one smooth motion and handed him the reins.  There was no time to lose.

While Bernardo stashed a loaded pistol under the seat of the buckboard, Diego shrugged off his heavily embroidered jacket and smiled as the servant tried to make his hands stick all the way out its sleeves.  Then, while Bernardo donned the matching hat, Diego slid quickly into the black shirt and pants, tying the cape securely at his throat, and adjusted the mask over his eyes.  Finally, he pulled the black felt brim of Zorro’s hat down on his forehead, fastened the saber at his left hip, and swung up into the saddle.

As he slid a hand into one black glove and grabbed the other one from between his teeth, he leaned forward shifting his weight in the saddle as Tornado rose up on his hind legs.  Three days without any actual exercise had left the horse just about ready to explode with nervous energy.

"Easy, boy."  He patted the hard sleek crest of the stallion’s neck, but he didn’t have any real desire to quell the power surging beneath him.  They would both feel better for putting it to some good use.  "Head for the pueblo," he told Bernardo, nodding west.  " I will make quick work of this and rejoin you soon."

With a nod, Bernardo steered the buckboard carefully back onto the road, palominos trailing after, while el Zorro spun the rearing stallion around and tore off in the other direction, cutting off the roadway and up over a nearby ridge, leaving nothing but a fleeting black silhouette and a cloud of dust on the horizon.

Given his head, Tornado galloped flat out, tail high, extending his stride as far as he could over the uneven terrain, bounding over fallen trees and low growing chaparral with the ease of the wind he was named for.  Zorro almost hated to rein him in so soon, but he knew that they would both need those extra reserves of energy soon enough.  For now, all he needed to do was locate a few soldiers.  As he crested a hill that looked down over a large stretch of el Camino Real, he saw precisely what he had hoped to find: two soldiers—Garcia and Reyes, by the looks of them—on their way north toward the San Gabriel mission.

Tornado came down the hill behind them like a spring torrent and, stopping short in the center of the highway, spun around and reared up once more on his hind legs.  "Oh, Sergeant," said Zorro as his horse’s front feet touched down, "I understand you’ve been looking for me."

Reyes and Garcia looked at each other for a moment, wide-eyed.  Then they both glanced slowly back over their shoulders.  Then they looked at each other again.

"Zorro . . . ."

In all his time as a masked outlaw, Zorro had never actually fallen off his horse—at least not when Tornado was standing relatively still.  But he reflected that, if he ever did, it might well be from laughing at something like Garcia and Reyes as they tried to turn their horses around to chase him.  First, they turned toward each other.  Then they both turned out the other way but backed up, so that it must have been a moment or two before they actually managed to jerk the poor beasts’ heads around until they were both facing the same direction.  Once so aligned, the horses stood still, swatting flies with their tails, as patient as pack animals.

"Are you ready?" he grinned, catching his breath as Tornado tossed his head and pranced in a neat little half circle like a coiled spring winding even tighter.  Sergeant Garcia started to respond, but then, looking down at his own tired mount, he sighed heavily.

"Señor Zorro," he said finally, "what is it that you want from us?"

"Oh, come now, Sergeant, you disappoint me.  Surely on a morning such as this, you can’t tell me that the two of you would not be eager for a nice brisk gallop down this pleasant stretch of highway?"

"Oh, sí, Señor Zorro, said Reyes.  But our horses—I don’t think they are so eager, maybe."

"Please, Señor Zorro," Garcia added.  "What is the use of making our poor horses work so hard when we know that we are never going to catch you?  Why don’t you just tell us why you want us to chase you—unless, of course, you wish to surrender?"

"Very well," said Zorro, laughing and shaking his head at the two of them.  "But you will have to promise to do exactly as I ask, or I will tell the commandante that you were this close to catching me and that you deliberately allowed me to escape."

"Oh, please do not do that, Señor Zorro," said Garcia.  "We will do just as you say, provided, of course, that whatever you want us to do, it will not conflict with our military duties."

"That it will not," said Zorro.  "In fact, it will be quite in keeping with your duties.  If you go south along the highway until you reach the northern boundary of the de la Vega lands, presently you should come across a carriage bound for San Diego.  I would like you to provide it with a safe escort until it is well on its way."

Garcia brightened.  "Oh, but of course, Señor Zorro.  We would be most happy to do that, wouldn’t we, Corporal."

"Sí, a lot happier," Reyes agreed.  "And less dusty."

"Very well, then, Sergeant.  Corporal."  Zorro offered them an elegant salute from the brim of his hat.  "Until we meet again."  Then he relaxed his grip on Tornado and within moments he was gone.

Garcia watched him disappear over the crest of the hill, then sighed and urged his horse to move forward.  "Come on, Corporal."  As Reyes caught up to him, they posted into a slow trot.

"I wonder why Señor Zorro wants us to protect this particular carriage," said Reyes at last.

Garcia shrugged. "Who can say?  At least we do not have to protect it from him."

"But who else would be out here trying to rob it?" said Reyes.

"I do not know, Corporal."  The sergeant shook his head.  "Maybe the criminal that Señor Zorro helped to escape."

"But why would Zorro help him escape if he didn't want him robbing carriages?"

The sergeant thought about this question for a moment or two.  He was about to respond with the observation that, as a rule, he did not like to tackle such difficult questions so early in the morning when he noticed, just ahead of them, the figure of a man emerging from the undergrowth by the roadside, limping slightly, as though he were injured.  He was dressed in the garb of the mission Indians, his feet wrapped in leather moccasins.  At his side, in a leather sheath, he carried a huge skinning knife.  But he didn’t look like a Gabrioleño, exactly.  Nor did he act like one.  As they drew near, he waved to them.

"Sergeant," he said, "please come quickly.  There has been an accident."