The Mark of Zorro (24 page)

“She is yours, if you play the game!” Don Alejandro said. “You are a Vega, and therefore the best catch in the country. Be but half a lover and the
señorita
is yours. What sort of blood is in your veins? I have half a mind to slit one of them and see.”

“Cannot we allow this marriage business to drop for the time being?” Don Diego asked.

“You are twenty-five. I was quite old when you were born. Soon I shall go the way of my fathers. You are the only son, the heir, and you must have a wife and offspring. Is the Vega family to die out because your blood is water? Win you a wife within the quarter year, young sir, and a wife I can accept into the family, or I leave my wealth to the Franciscans when I pass away!”

“My father!”

“I mean it! Get life into you! I would you had half the courage and spirit this Señor Zorro, this highwayman, has! He has principles, and he fights for them. He aids the helpless and avenges the oppressed.

“I salute him! I would rather have you, my son, in his place, running the risk of death or imprisonment, than to have you a lifeless dreamer of dreams that amount to naught!”

“My father! I have been a dutiful son!”

“I would you had been a little wild—it would have been more natural,” Don Alejandro sighed. “I could overlook a few escapades more easily than I can lifelessness. Arouse yourself, young sir! Remember that you are a Vega.

“When I was your age, I was not a laughingstock. I was ready to fight at a wink, to make love to every pair of flashing eyes, to stand up to any
caballero
in sports rough or refined. Ha!”

“I pray you, do not ‘Ha!' me, sir and father. My nerves are on an edge.”

“You must be more of a man!”

“I shall attempt it immediately,” Don Diego said, straightening himself somewhat in his chair. “I had hoped to avoid it, but it appears that I cannot. I shall woo the Señorita Lolita as other men woo maidens. You meant what you said about your fortune?”

“I did!” said Don Alejandro.

“Then I must bestir myself. It would never do, of course, to let that fortune go out of the family. I shall think these matters over in peace and quiet to-night. Perhaps I can meditate here, far from the
pueblo.
By the saints!”

The last exclamation was caused by a sudden tumult outside the house. Don Alejandro and his son heard a number of horsemen stop, heard their calls to one another, heard bridles jingling and blades rattling.

“There is no peace in all the world!” Don Diego said, with deepened gloom.

“It sounds like half a score of men,” Don Alejandro said.

It was—exactly. A servant opened the door, and into the great room there strode ten
caballeros,
with blades at their sides and pistols in their belts.

“Ha, Don Alejandro! We crave hospitality!” the foremost cried.

“You have it without asking,
caballeros.
What manner of journey is this you take?”

“We pursue Señor Zorro, the highwayman.”

“By the saints!” Don Diego cried. “One cannot escape it even here! Violence and bloodshed!”

“He invaded the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles,” the spokesman went on. “He had the
magistrado
whipped because he sentenced Fray Felipe to receive the lash, and he whipped the fat landlord, and he fought half a score of men while he was about it. Then he rode away, and we made up a band to pursue him. He has not been in this neighborhood?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Don Alejandro said. “My son arrived off the highway but a short time ago.”

“You did not see the fellow, Don Diego?”

“I did not,” Don Diego said. “That is one stroke of good fortune that came my way.”

Don Alejandro had sent for servants, and now wine mugs were on the long table, and heaps of small cakes, and the
caballeros
began to eat and drink. Don Diego knew well what that meant. Their pursuit of the highwayman was at an end, their enthusiasm had waned. They would sit at his father's table and drink throughout the night, gradually getting intoxicated, shout and sing and tell stories, and in the morning ride back to Reina de Los Angeles like so many heroes.

It was the custom. The chase of Señor Zorro was but a pretext for a merry time.

The servants brought great stone jugs filled with rare wine and put them on the table, and Don Alejandro ordered that meat be fetched also. The young
caballeros
had a weakness for these parties at Don Alejandro's, for the don's good wife had been dead for several years, and there were no women folk except servants, and so they could make what noise they pleased throughout the night.

In time they put aside pistols and blades, and began to boast and brag, and Don Alejandro had his servants put the weapons in a far corner out of the way, for he did not wish a drunken quarrel, with a dead
caballero
or two in his house.

Don Diego drank and talked with them for a time, and then sat to one side and listened, as if such foolishness bored him.

“It were well for this Señor Zorro that we did not catch up with him,” one cried. “Any one of us is a match for the fellow. Were the soldiers men of merit he would have been taken long before this.”

“Ha, for a chance at him!” another screeched. “How the landlord did howl when he was whipped!”

“He rode in this direction?” Don Alejandro asked.

“We are not sure as to that. He took the San Gabriel trail, and thirty of us followed. We separated into three bands, each going a different direction. It is the good fortune of one of the other bands to have him now, I suppose. But it is our excellent good fortune to be here.”

Don Diego stood before the company.

“Señores,
you will pardon me, I know, if I retire,” he said. “I am fatigued with the journey.”

“Retire, by all means,” one of his friends cried. “And when you are rested, come out to us again and make merry.”

They laughed at that; and Don Diego bowed ceremoniously, and observed that several scarcely could get to their feet to bow in return, and then the scion of the house of Vega hurried from the room with the deaf and dumb man at his heels.

He entered a room that always was ready for him, and in which a candle already was burning, and closed the door behind him, and Bernardo stretched his big form on the floor just outside it, to guard his master during the night.

In the great living-room, Don Diego scarcely was missed. His father was frowning and twisting his mustache, for he would have had his son like other young men. In his youth, he was remembering, he never left such a company early in the evening. And once again he sighed and wished that the saints had given him a son with red blood in his veins.

The
caballeros
were singing now, joining in the chorus of a popular love song, and their discordant voices filled the big room. Don Alejandro smiled as he listened, for it brought his own youth back to him.

They sprawled on chairs and benches on both sides of the long table, pounding it with their mugs as they sang, laughing boisterously now and then.

“Were this Señor Zorro only here now!” one of them cried.

A voice from the doorway answered him:
“Señores,
he is here!”

The song ceased; the laughter was stilled. They blinked their eyes and looked across the room. Señor Zorro stood just inside the door, having entered from the veranda without their knowing it. He wore his long cloak and his mask, and in one hand he held his accursed pistol, and its muzzle was pointed at the table.

“So these are the manner of men who pursue Señor Zorro and hope to take him!” he said. “Make not a move, else lead flies! Your weapons, I perceive, are in the corner. I could kill some of you and be gone before you could reach them!”

“'Tis he!'Tis he!” a tipsy
caballero
was crying.

“Your noise may be heard a mile away,
señores!
What a posse to go pursuing a man! Is this the way you attend to duty? Why have you stopped to make merry while Señor Zorro rides the highway?”

“Give me my blade and let me stand before him!” one cried.

“If I allowed you to have your blade, you would be unable to stand!” the highwayman answered. “Think you there is one in this company who could fence with me now?”

“There is one!” cried Don Alejandro in a loud voice, springing to his feet. “I openly say that I have admired some of the things you have done,
señor;
but now you have entered my house and are abusing my guests, and I must call you to account!”

“I have no quarrel with you, Don Alejandro, and you have none with me!” Señor Zorro said. “I refuse to cross blades with you. And I am but telling these men some truths.”

“By the saints, I shall make you!”

“A moment, Don Alejandro!
Señores,
this aged don would fight me, and that would mean a wound or death for him. Will you allow it?”

“Don Alejandro must not fight our battles!” one of them cried.

“Then see that he sits in his place, and all honor to him!” Don Alejandro started forward, but two of the
caballeros
sprang before him and urged him to go back, saying that his honor was safe, since he offered combat. Raging, Don Alejandro complied.

“A worthy bunch of young blades!” Señor Zorro sneered. “You drink wine and make merry while injustice is all about you. Take your swords in hand and attack oppression! Live up to your noble names and your blue blood,
señores!
Drive the thieving politicians from the land! Protect the
frailes
whose work gave us these broad acres! Be men, not drunken fashion-plates!”

“By the saints!” one cried, and sprang to his feet.

“Back, or I fire! I have not come here to fight you in Don Alejandro's house. I respect him too much for that. I have come to tell you these truths concerning yourselves.

“Your families can make or break a governor! Band yourselves together in a good cause,
caballeros,
and make some use of your lives! You would do it, were you not afraid. You seek adventure? Here is adventure a plenty, fighting injustice.”

“By the saints, it would be a lark!” cried one in answer.

“Look upon it as a lark if it pleases you, yet you would be doing some good. Would the politicians dare stand against you, scions of the most powerful families? Band yourselves together and give yourselves a name. Make yourselves feared the length and breadth of the land!”

“It would be treason—”

“It is not treason to down a tyrant,
caballeros!
Is it that you are afraid?”

“By the saints—no!” they cried in chorus.

“Then make your stand!”

“You would lead us?”

“Si,
señores!”

“But stay! Are you of good blood?”

“I am a caballero, of blood as good as any here!” Señor Zorro told them.

“Your name? Where resides your family?”

“Those things must remain secrets for the present. I have given you my word!”

“Your face—”

“Must remain masked for the time being,
señores!”

They had lurched to their feet now, and were acclaiming him wildly.

“Stay!” one cried. “This is an imposition upon Don Alejandro. He may not be in sympathy, and we are planning and plotting in his house—”

“I am in sympathy,
caballeros,
and give you my support!” Don Alejandro said.

Their cheers filled the great room. None could stand against them if Don Alejandro Vega was with them. Not even the governor himself would dare oppose them.

“It is a bargain!” they cried. “We shall call ourselves the Avengers! We shall ride El Camino Real and prove terrors to those who rob honest men and mistreat natives! We shall drive the thieving politicians out!”

“And then you shall be
caballeros
in truth, knights protecting the weak,” Señor Zorro said. “Never shall you repent this decision,
señores!
I lead, and I give you loyalty and expect as much. Also, I expect obedience to orders!”

“What shall we do?” they cried.

“Let this remain a secret. In the morning, return to Reina de Los Angeles and say you did not find Señor Zorro—say rather that you did not catch him, which will be the truth. Be ready to band yourselves together and ride. I shall send word when the time arrives.”

“In what manner?”

“I know you all. I shall get word to one, and he can inform the others. It is agreed?”

“Agreed!” they shouted.

“Then I will leave you here and now. You are to remain in this room, and none is to try to follow me. It is a command.
Buenas noches, caballeros!”

He bowed before them, swung the door open and darted through it, and slammed it shut behind him.

They could hear the clatter of a horse's hooves on the driveway.

And then they raised their wine mugs and drank to their new league for the suppression of swindlers and thieves, and to Señor Zorro, the Curse of Capistrano, and to Don Alejandro Vega, somewhat sobered by the agreement they had made and what it meant. They sat down again, and began speaking of wrongs that should be righted, each of them knowing half a dozen.

And Don Alejandro Vega sat in one corner, by himself, a grief-stricken man because his only son was asleep in the house and had not red blood enough to take a part in such an undertaking, when by all rights, he should be one of the leaders.

As if to add to his misery, Don Diego at that moment came slowly into the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, and looking as if he had been disturbed.