by Peter David
“How did that happen, if I may ask.”
Great sadness crept across her face. “He was in the navy, and his ship was captured by pirates. He died in battle with them.”
“Do you have any idea which pirate?” he said.
She nodded. “The pirate was foolish in that he did not dispatch all of the crew. A cabin boy hid himself in the ship’s nethers and managed to survive the assault. When they set fire to the ship, the lad made it to a lifeboat and was able to lower it and vacate the ship while it burned. He knew the name of the pirate.”
“Who was he?”
“Diabolito,” she said with a trace of dread in her voice. “Out of Cuba. The problem is, the Spanish throne turns a blind eye to pirate activities. I suspect the Kings have benefited handsomely, sharing in the plunder the pirates acquire in their raids.”
“Disgusting,” rumbled Don Alejandro. “The notion that our leaders would turn a blind eye to such activities … ”
“I suppose.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “But what can we do about it? Spain is what it is and we cannot influence it.”
“I don’t know I necessarily agree with you. There are people of influence with whom I am well acquainted. Perhaps they can … ”
“Can what?” Maria chuckled. “Overthrow the King? It’s nonsense, my dear Don.”
He sighed deeply. “Yes. I suppose it is. Were I a younger man or in Spain, maybe I could do something. But I am thousands of miles from the court, and an old man to boot.”
“Old you may be,” and now she squeezed his hand, having never removed it earlier, “but you still have a good deal of personal power. No, I am not suggesting you go up against the King. He is far too well entrenched. But do not lose sight of your vitality, Don Alejandro. You are a decent, strong man and should not forget how you can influence others.”
“That is very true.”
Before he could continue, Don Alejandro heard the sounds of horses’ hooves approaching the front of the hacienda. It was definitely not a lone rider. He could discern multiple hoof beats. At least two people, perhaps more. “Bernardo,” he called once more to the servant. “See who is joining us this fine day.”
Bernardo bobbed his head and hurriedly departed the room.
Maria seemed slightly concerned. “Were you expecting anyone today, Don Alejandro?”
“Most assuredly not. But one can never predict when visitors will swing by.”
“I hope it is not anyone who wishes you ill will.”
“Me?” He made a dismissive noise. “Who would wish ill upon me? I am beloved hereabouts. Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed. “It is likely my son, Diego! He has a home in the village but oftentimes comes out here to stay with me. I cannot wait for you to meet him. I warn you now,” he added, “he can seem a bit … affected from time to time. Rest assured, though, that if you encounter some manner of problem, he will readily be there to provide aid.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” said Maria.
Moments later Bernardo reentered the room. “Don Diego,” he said in his slow, labored manner, and then added, “and Captain Quintero.”
“Quintero?” That visibly surprised Don Alejandro. “What is he doing here?”
“Diego did not say,” said Bernardo.
Alejandro got to his feet, preferring to greet the captain standing. “Remain in your seat,” he said to Maria. “It is not necessary for you to stand erect.”
“Much thanks,” said Maria. She had out a fan and was briskly waving it at her face, generating a nice breeze.
Quintero and Diego entered the room, and Diego bowed upon seeing his father. Quintero, for his part, utterly ignored Alejandro. Instead all of his attention was on Maria. Somewhat to Alejandro’s confusion, Quintero actually looked pale, as if he knew Maria from somewhere and was appalled or frightened at her presence.
The idea was nonsensical, of course.
And yet …
“Diego, Captain Quintero … may I present the Lady Maria Garcia Lopez. Maria, this is my son, Diego, and this is Captain Juan Quintero, the head of military affairs in our district. Although,” he added, “it seems that he recognizes you.”
“Recognize? No, no,” Quintero said quickly. “She just … she bore a startling resemblance to my mother. A momentary bit of confusion, that is all.” He stepped briskly toward her, took her hand in his, clicked his boot heels together and kissed her suavely on the knuckles. “My lady. A pleasure to meet you.”
“And you as well, Captain,” Maria replied. “A very suave greeting.”
“I understand that you met Don Alejandro here under rather curious circumstances,” said Quintero. “I heard that he battled away a trio of robbers who were threatening you.”
She laughed merrily at that while Alejandro contented himself with a quick, amused chortle. “It was one man, not three,” she corrected the captain. “But yes, the Don did indeed battle for my honor, not to mention my bag,” and she held up her carrying bag as a reference.
“And then he brought you here,” said Diego. He was studying her with close curiosity. “To be an unescorted guest in his home.”
“Please, Don Diego,” Maria said scoldingly. “Do not tell me that you are one of those small minded individuals who would actually think that your gentleman of a father would somehow take advantage of a woman residing in his hacienda? Why, the notion is unthinkable.”
“Completely,” Don Alejandro assured his son and Quintero. “The thought could be no further from my mind.”
“I am most relieved to hear that,” said Quintero. “Please understand that, on the surface of the situation, people might become … suspicious.”
“Let them,” said Don Alejandro. “I do not care about the opinions of the ignorant.”’
“That is as it should be,” Quintero said. He cleared his throat and then asked, “Is there somewhere around here I could acquire something to drink?”
Immediately Maria was on her feet. “Allow me to conduct you to the wine cellar. Certainly there is no need to disturb your servant for this.”
Alejandro was about to do exactly that, but Quintero cut him off. “Yes, I would appreciate being shown where it is. There are some things I can attend to for myself.”
Maria and Quintero then hastened from the room, leaving Diego and his father alone in each other’s company.
Alejandro turned to his son then and said, “What do you think of her, Diego?”
“She seems nice enough,” Diego said carefully.
The caution in his voice was sufficient to trigger mild alarm in Don Alejandro. “What does that mean? ‘Nice enough.’”
It took Diego a few moments to summon his thoughts. “You just do not find it … suspicious?”
“Suspicious?” Alejandro clearly had no idea what his son was talking about. “What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
“The entire way in which you met. Some random man assaults her, and you were able to stop him.”
“Are you insinuating I am too old to triumph in a battle with some miscreant?!”
Diego raised his hands calmingly, hoping to subdue his father’s anger. “Not at all,” he said firmly. “You are all you once were and more besides. But the next thing you know, you are inviting her to stay here with you … ”
“She had nowhere else to stay!”
“Another coincidence?”
“Yes!”
Don Diego was clearly not swayed by his father’s emphasis, but he saw no point in dragging out the conversation. “Of course. Coincidences do happen in life.”
“They most certainly do!”
Cocking an eyebrow, Diego studied his father. In a low voice, he said, “And … how do you feel about her, father? I know you just met her today, but certainly she appeals to your emotions in some manner.”
Don Alejandro was taken aback by the question, but he was clearly not insulted. “Are you implying that I might have feelings for her? That I have forgotten your mother?”
/> “No, father,” Diego said gently. “But she has been gone for quite some time, and you have been alone.”
“Nonsense. I have had you.”
“Perhaps so. But men are not designed to live alone. And you have been doing so for years. Isn’t it possible encountering this Maria is prompting you to dwell on that which you have so willingly overlooked all this time?”
Alejandro did not respond immediately. Then, very softly, he said, “She is attractive, is she not?”
“Very much so,” said Diego. “Granted, you have just met her, and it would be far too soon for you to be considering sharing your life with her. But on the other hand, you certainly could not be blamed for it.”
“I suppose not.” He sighed deeply. “Even after all this time, whenever I look anywhere in this house, I see your mother’s ghost. This,” and he pointed at the mug in front of him, “is the glass she always preferred to drink out of. That chair over there is one she regularly liked to sit in. She haunts every aspect of the hacienda, and I suppose I am wondering … if I were to move on, would her ghost remain here, scolding me for not remaining faithful? Or would it go on to its own, well-deserved reward?”
“I have no idea, father,” said Diego. “Such matters are beyond my education. I am afraid you will have to discuss that with her.”
***
The moment Quintero and Maria were by themselves, he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around so she was facing him. “What are you doing here?!” he demanded.
Maria smirked in response, clearly not the least bit discomfited by his abrupt seizure of her body. “Is this how you say hello?”
“Answer my question!”
Her smile became wider. “You know why and how I am here. You heard the story.”
“And that’s all that it is: a story. Or do you seriously expect me to accept the coincidence of you showing up here?”
As it so happened, Diego and Alejandro were, at that very moment, also speaking of coincidence. That is a happenstance Diego might well have appreciated in its irony. But had Quintero known, he would not have been able to care less. “Coincidence does happen,” said Maria.
“Not with you, Maria. Never with you. Now tell me what you are doing here right now or I will go out there and reveal things to Don Alejandro about you that I very much doubt you will appreciate.”
“Fine,” she said, with her voice a heavy sigh. “You are right. It is not coincidence. Satisfied?”
“Anything but. What is your scheme here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Don Alejandro de la Vega, of course.”
“You think to wed him? Is that it?”
“He is the wealthiest Don in all Los Angeles,” she said. “That would make him the greatest catch. Why should I not avail myself of the opportunity?”
“That’s absurd. He has no interest in women beyond his late wife. Alejandro will have no attraction to you.”
“Yet he invited me here to his home. What does that tell you?”
“That he is a gentleman,” he said firmly. “He will not set so much as a single hand upon you. If you are expecting that you will be able to seduce him, you are very much mistaken.”
“Please allow for a simple reality, Juan: I know men in ways that you cannot.”
He tilted his head slightly in silent acknowledgment. Then his face darkened. “I am willing to take you at your word that you are interested in Don Alejandro. Do not, however, mistake me for believing everything you say. I am remembering the likelihood there are things you are not telling me. And if those things should run afoul of the way I keep order in Los Angeles, you will greatly regret it. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, Captain,” she said and tossed off a mocking salute.
“We have been away too long,” Quintero said. “We should return to the sitting room. After you,” and he gestured for her to precede him.
“You said you were going off to get a drink from the wine cellar, she reminded him.
“I will tell him I changed my mind. Get moving.”
She did so, but then she stopped, turned and said to him in an offhand manner, “By the way: our mother complains you do not write to her sufficiently.”
Juan Quintero grimaced at his sister. “I will attend to it. Satisfied?”
“Completely,” smiled Maria.
Chapter Five
The Spanish Ambassador
As Juan Quintero rode back to the pueblo, he could not keep his mind from wandering to his sister. He knew she was up to something. Something more than diddling with Don Alejandro de la Vega. He did not, however, know what. But he was willing to wait and see exactly what she was up to, and only prayed it would not somehow rebound to his detriment.
Before he could reach his office once more, however, Lieutenant Marietta came riding hurriedly toward him. It was clear Marietta had been ready to head all the way to the de la Vega hacienda and was plainly happy to see his ride had been truncated. “Captain!” he called. “Captain!”
“What?” said an irritated Quintero. “What is so urgent?”
“The lieutenant colonel from Spain is here!”
The response caught Quintero off guard. He had been expecting some manner of diplomat, that much was true. But a lieutenant colonel? “Who? What lieutenant colonel?”
“Rafael del Riego y Florez,” said Marietta.
This news stunned Quintero. He had never met del Riego, but the man’s reputation vastly preceded him. “Del Riego? You are sure?”
“Absolutely, Captain. A small boat came into our harbor with tidings of his arrival. His galleon cannot be more than a half hour out.”
“Then I shall greet him,” said Quintero. “Return to the pueblo and prepare for his arrival.”
It was some miles to the Palos Verdes peninsula, situated on the west side of the San Pedro bay. That was where Spanish ships typically docked, and Quintero assumed del Riego would not prove an exception. He maintained his horse’s speed, although the poor thing was starting to get tired the closer Quintero drew to the docks.
Quintero then slowed his mount because he could clearly see there was indeed a large Spanish galleon floating in the ocean some distance away. A small rowboat had been launched from it and the oarsmen were bringing it straight to the docks. Quintero could immediately discern which one was del Riego. He was perched on the back of the boat, studying the approaching shore in the way any army officer surveys someplace he is coming to for the first time: He was studying it as if he was preparing to wage a war against it. Del Riego was clearly looking for areas where riflemen could stake out territory and defend it against any incoming opponents.
Quintero had of course heard of del Riego. Indeed, what he had heard of him left him startled that del Riego was there as an ambassador of the king. There had been no love lost between the two men. Del Riego had been given the rank of lieutenant colonel and command of his own army as an acknowledgment of his past battles on behalf of the mother country. But from what Quintero had heard, del Riego was someone who firmly believed in the Spanish constitution, which Ferdinand VII had done away with when he came into power. So why in the world was someone who was so politically divorced from the king coming to Los Angeles as a representative? It just didn’t seem to make much sense to Quintero.
It does not have to make sense to you, he firmly reminded himself. You are just a captain, while this man will doubtless be a general one day. Do not be obnoxious in your questions.
He brought his horse trotting down to the dock and dismounted just as del Riego’s boat reached the pier. He snapped off a stiff salute to del Riego. “Lieutenant Colonel,” he said briskly. “Welcome to Los Angeles. I am Captain Quintero, the military head of the region.”
“Greetings, Captain. Lieutenant Colonel del Riego,” he said. Then he dropped his voice to a friendlier, personal tone. “But please, call me Rafael.”
“Absolutely,” said Quintero with genuine gratitude for the invitation to familiarity. “And I’m Ju
an.”
“Greetings, Juan.” Del Riego stuck out his hand and Quintero shook it firmly. He glanced at Quintero’s horse. “Your beast looks quite tired. Why not ride with me?”
He gestured toward a horse-drawn carriage that had just ridden up to the dock. “I made arrangements,” said del Riego.
“That’s an excellent idea,” said Quintero.
“Marcos,” del Riego said to one of his men. “Attend to the captain’s horse, would you, please?”
The man he had addressed as Marcos bowed immediately and took the horse’s reins from Quintero’s hands.
A few minutes later Quintero was leaning back in the stage, fully appreciating the lovely padded red seat cushions and the overall sense of luxury around him. He had to admit there was definitely some advantage to having copious amounts of money.
“So how is the king?” asked Quintero, having no idea how to start a conversation with such a renowned individual.
Del Riego appeared to study him thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts about the king?” he said.
Quintero felt a bit confused and didn’t attempt to hide it. “Why would my thoughts matter?”
“Because I need to know that, if I were to say something untoward, my comments would not reach his ears.”
“Ahhh.” Now Quintero understood. “So may I safely suggest that you are not a fan of Ferdinand’s.”
“Of course not,” said del Riego. “The man has abolished the constitution. This after he was originally unseated from the throne and only recently put back in place. How a ruler can be so blind to the needs of his people is beyond me.”
“I can certainly understand your ire,” said Quintero. “And I assure you that I share it.”
“I am very happy to hear that,” said del Riego. “One must find his allies wherever he can.” He leaned forward then and spoke in a low voice, as if he was worried someone may be overhearing him. “You may well be able to help me in this matter.”
“What matter?”
Del Riego glanced right and left, maybe thinking a spy had pasted himself against the side of the coach and was listening in. “My coming here to Los Angeles is not a coincidence, Captain. The king has sent me merely to examine our holdings, especially in light of the fact that the rest of the country has earned its freedom from Great Britain. He supposes it is only a matter of time until the government of America approaches California with the notion of joining their United States. Should that happen, and Spain loses its ownership and influence of California, the king would see that as a major loss. So he is interested in a report on exactly what is here.”
