by Sue Pearce
Almost four years ago a young, impressionable, naive Diego de la Vega arrived in Madrid the busy and intellectual capital of Spain. Diego was sent by his father to attend the famous university there. Alejandro expected that his young son, a mere boy, would learn the ways of a true caballero and return to Los Angeles an accomplished swordsman. He also expected that Diego would become an intellectual man of means and distinction ready to take on the affairs of a successful rancho in the new land of California. The father had high hopes for his son for he would be the next in line to become haciendado of the rancho de la Vega, one of the wealthiest in all of California. The name "de la Vega" was known by many far and wide and the family was respected by all who ever heard the name.
Diego, an only child who's mother had died when he was only 10, for the last 8 years had been raised only by his father. As a little boy he was playful and imaginative, always engaging in games of sport and challenge. He never took the easy road, preferring to get into trouble by his inquisitive nature rather than to sit idly by and watch the world revolve around him.
So this bright young man arrived at the university full of promise and potential, seemingly ready for anything this new world would send his way. But Diego was not really ready for what he found. The idealistic young boy quickly ran straight into jealousy and prejudice, hate and fear. This he had never known before. He met these vices with the same approach he had always used on the hacienda in California--with a headstrong, defensive attack, bold and daring and unwavering. Yet this youth of the early 1800's was still green and tender and his attack was lacking in discipline and control. These were skills he had yet to learn, and he would begin to learn these lessons the hard way.
Diego was a successful student. He applied himself to his studies with the same enthusiasm he gave to any subject and activity he felt was interesting, advantageous, or worthy. Thus Diego was good at everything he tried. He failed at nothing. It was not long before he was receiving recognition from the teachers and professors for his work and especially for his fencing skills. And it was not surprising then, that his success would invoke a certain amount of jealousy among the students. What he did not realize, however, was how easily jealousy turns to hate and how cruel and harmful that can be.
There was a handful of the older students who quickly came to resent this new young Californiano who outshone them in every field.
"Who does he think he is?" they would complain among themselves. "De la Vega!" They would snort. "That name means nothing to us. We must bring him down from his arrogant and lofty position." They then began to wage a campaign against Diego, finding opportunities to taunt and tease him and call him names, which Diego tried to ignore.
But these tauntings cut deeply into his soul and he would immediately react in anger, ready to fight and defend himself. It was, after all, a matter of honor. They had no right to treat another human being this way. It had nothing to do with being a de la Vega. Their behavior was just plain rude and cruel. Diego's quick defensive responses began to get him into trouble, for he soon found himself engaged in fistfights with these bullies. One by one he would meet them in minor skirmishes that usually left his opponent lying at his feet and sometimes bleeding. This did not entirely sit well with Diego, who did not like being the cause of another man's pain.
Diego had been attending the university for about 3 months when he walked into one of the classrooms to find the boldest of these "bullies" whose name was Juan Sebastian, picking on a newly arrived student. The teacher was nowhere to be seen.
"Senor, Sebastian," Diego confronted this young man. "Was it so long ago that you do not remember how it felt to be the new student?"
Sabastian looked up and glared at Diego. "Ah-h-h, Senor de la Vega! You have something you wish to say to me?"
"Si," Diego walked over to the table. Juan Sebastian was sitting on top of the table right in front of the new student so that he was blocking his view of the front of the classroom. He was also seated right on top of the student's study book. As Diego approached the table, Sebastian jumped off and stood facing Diego--arms bent at the elbow, fists clenched, ready to swing at the slightest provocation.
Diego, on the other hand, had his arms at his sides. But his fingers clenched and unclenched as he too prepared for the worst. His jaw was set firmly and he swallowed hard. With some apprehension, he managed to speak in a calm voice, "Senor Sebastian, I do not want to fight you. But I cannot allow you to continue this way."
"You will not fight me, eh? And that makes you a coward!" Sebastian took a step toward Diego and brought his fists up closer to his chin in readiness to strike.
Diego's voice rose as he said trying to control his anger, "Those are your words, Senor!" He took a step towards Sebastian. A light of fire now gleamed in Diego's eyes as he met this challenge.
The students in the classroom all backed away instinctively, including the one Sebastian had singled out.
"Ha! You cannot win against me, Californiano!!" This man was, indeed a good deal heavier than Diego, in spite of the fact that Diego was at least 2" taller than he was.
A second later the bigger man lunged at Diego, swinging his right arm and just missing a connection with Diego's jaw. Diego, who had anticipated the strike, moved quickly to his left, then swung around behind his opponent. Sebastian again moved forward at Diego, who again jumped out of his way. But this time, Sebastian's left arm grabbed Diego and pulled him down to the floor. Sebastian smacked Diego hard on the jaw with his right hand.
Diego only hesitated for a fraction of a second at the force of the blow. He jumped up and backed away to catch his breath, while the other man also rose to his feet.
Now Diego was fully angered. The two men just glared at one another for a moment. The room was filled with a hushed silence, waiting for the next move. When it again came from Sebastian, this time Diego made the connection to his jaw from his right hand, then his left. The man fell to the floor at Diego's feet, stunned.
Diego again backed away. Suddenly the door opened and another student walked in. Juan Sebastian dragged himself to he feet and stood up rubbing his jaw. "You have not seen the last of me, de la Vega!" he snarled as he stomped out of the room.
Rubbing his own jaw, Diego took his seat at the table and opened his book waiting for the class to begin. None of the students said a word. But the new student smiled warmly at Diego as he took his seat as well.
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A week later, Diego received an anonymous letter inviting him to come to a certain tavern for a drink with an admirer--one who wished to discuss his potential with the sword. Something inside him was telling Diego not to trust this invitation. But Diego was young and had not yet learned to really hear these inner voices. He had yet to learn how to "read" his gut feelings. He was also very curious. So he accepted the invitation and went to this tavern.
The tavern, El Oso Sediento, (The Thirsty Bear), was located in the poor part of town that Diego never had occasion to visit. He would not normally have chosen to do this were it not for this invitation. He decided that it might be wise to put on his scabbard and sword for this excursion--not knowing what to expect.
His formal training with the sword was just beginning and most of the time he did not wear it. Students did not wear them during classes unless it was for fencing class or practice.
Now as he rode down the darkened streets in this depressed neighborhood, he was glad for his foresight in coming prepared.
Diego opened the large heavy wooden door to the tavern and entered a new world. He had never seen a place so dark and dismal. The dim light from the few candles in sconces located on the outer walls of the room hardly furnished enough light to see where one was going. Of the ten or twelve tables scattered across the center of the room, only a few had candles on them.
Every table was filled with rough looking men of all shapes and sizes, each one dressed in simple clothes of dark and somber tones. The lack of color in the room struck Diego at once.
There were only a few women present in the room and they stood out conspicuously to Diego. Their behavior was not what he would expect from a senorita. Their shrill voices carried above the din as they laughed and giggled in response to the attentions of the men around them. They were dressed almost as slovenly as the men were, in clothes that invited the luring stares of every male in the room.
Loud and raucous laughter filled the room as both men and women alike freely poured beer and ale down their throats. The aroma of alcohol had struck Diego the moment he entered the tavern and now his eyes began to sting from the thick smoke that clouded the room. He made his way to the bar and found an empty seat there. As his eyes began to adjust to the atmosphere in the room, he scanned the tables looking for a familiar face. He wondered who had sent the message inviting him to this crude and unappealing place.
Now he heard a particularly loud bellowing laugh that he recognized. Looking to his left across the room, he saw Juan Sebastian and his group of bullies sitting at a table, speaking loudly and obnoxiously, taunting and teasing a small balding man of about 35 years, dressed shabbily in very worn clothes. He had come to the table to pick up a tray of dirty mugs and cups, for it was his job to take them to the kitchen and wash them. He was making hand motions and gestures to these ruffians, trying to communicate that he had to get to work.
Diego watched the scene for a short while, determined that he would stay out of this affair. It would be better not to get involved given his unfamiliar and tough surroundings. But the more he listened and watched the harder it became to see this terrible scene. Unable to stand by idly and ignore this improper and cruel behavior any longer, Diego came over to the table and said, "You should not treat others so badly, senors! Leave this poor man alone."
"What business is it of yours, de la Vega?" They shot back angrily. These young men had had too much to drink and were emboldened by its influence. And in point of fact it was they who had sent the note to Diego with the intention of picking a fight with him. "De la Vega! Do you know this dumb simpleton?" Juan Sebastian asked loudly.
"I do not need to know this man to know that I must bring an end to your improper behavior, senor. I think you had better leave this man alone." Diego stated, calmly looking Sebastian in the eye.
"And what will you do about it?" He shouted, rising from his chair and grabbing his sword from its scabbard.
Quick to defend, Diego drew his sword as well. The little mute man became agitated and backed away from the table. His eyes reflected his concern that these two men were about to fight because of him. Yet there was little that he could do but await the outcome of this tense situation.
"All right!" Sebastian yelled, "Outside! We will fight outside!"
Diego and this young man went outside and around the corner into the dark and dirty alley next to the tavern. The tavern employee followed along behind timidly, anxious to see what would happen next.
"En garde!" Sebastian shouted, taking the preliminary stand, left arm raised, right arm holding his sword out in front of him.
Diego took up his position with an air of confidence in spite of the fact that his training in swordsmanship placed him about two years behind Sebastian. His father had shown him some of the basic moves when he turned 16 and he had practiced a bit over the last few years. But his real training was just beginning and there was much for him to learn. Being such an apt and athletic pupil gave him an advantage over many of his peers, but this duel with Sebastian might be a challenge.
The sword fight began with the two young men being somewhat evenly matched although Diego was a little quicker on his feet. Being a heavier and larger man, Sebastian did not have the long legs and lithe body that Diego had. That fact alone quickly gave Diego the upper hand.
But suddenly Diego found himself surrounded by swords, as the entire group of hoodlums ran to their leader's defense. This was a break from tradition and entirely against the rules of dueling. This did not matter in the least to these young men who were not above cheating and lying in order to succeed.
Flashing steel swirled around Diego as he jumped, twisted, and turned to avoid their contact. But there were too many of them, at least 8, swarming around Diego like bees.
He felt a sharp stabbing pain in his right arm, then another on his leg. Next came a blow on his head from the right side as the hilt of a sword struck its intended target. At the same time he felt an even greater pain starting in his left shoulder. He struggled to remain on his feet, but with such acute and intense pain as he was experiencing, his head soon began to swim and the forms of his attackers around him moved out of focus.
He fell to the ground with a thud. Just before losing complete consciousness, he heard laughter and that familiar voice saying, "I told you, de la Vega! Perhaps now you have seen the last of me! Ha Ha Ha!"
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Twenty-four hours later, Diego struggled to regain consciousness. He had never felt such intense pain. It tried to knock him out again, but he fought with all the will he could muster to stay awake. "I will not die!" he tried to cry out, but it came out only in a mumble. He lay there, eyes closed, focusing all of his attention on putting aside the pain and coming back into the conscious world.
"I will live!" he thought to himself. "I will live!" He felt a cool, dampness on his burning forehead. It was such a welcome feeling that it helped him concentrate more fully on the task he had set to himself--that of regaining and remaining consciousness.
"Oh, blessed relief!" he thought. In a short while he was able to open his eyes again and this time they focused on the face of a man standing over him. The face was very vaguely familiar. Who is this man, Diego thought. I know this face. I have seen it before.
The man began to shake his head up and down as if to say, "Yes, Yes!"
Diego began to realize that he was speaking out loud. But the face in front of him remained silent.
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Throughout the next three days and nights, Diego fought with all his concentration to stay in the land of the living. Every time he found consciousness, he saw that same round and smiling face looking at him with concern. Not once did he ever hear a word come from this man, but Diego "heard" the messages he was sending: "You will live, senor. It will be all right!" -- silent messages of encouragement and caring.
The ministrations and medications the silent man was giving Diego began to have their desired effect and little by little Diego found the strength to stay awake for longer periods of time. He was even able to drink some of the warm liquid that was offered to his lips by this man who was ever at his side. The intensity of the pain was being treated by some sort of herbs that he was given.
During his wakeful periods, Diego came to know the nature of his wounds. He obviously had sustained a concussion from the blow to his head, which was causing his disorientation and lapses in and out of consciousness. Aside from various cuts and bruises, he had a large gash in his right forearm from the first slash of sword. His left leg was torn with a 2" cut in the back of his calf. But the most dangerous and and painful injury came from the hole in his chest 3 inches down from his left shoulder where a sword had penetrated at an angle. He was lucky that this wound was high enough on chest that it missed his heart.
Diego had no idea how the little man did it, but he seemed to know exactly what to do for his injuries as well as for the pain. He was using herbs and a poultice on the cuts and whatever it was he was continually asked to drink was obviously helping immensely.
Soon he was able to move enough to turn his head so he could assess his surroundings. It was a small room, not very well to do and very sparsely furnished, but still as neat and clean as possible considering its location next to the horses' stalls, for Diego could very clearly hear their stomping and their whinnies.
With his improved sensibilities, Diego quickly realized where he had seen this man who was nursing him back to health with such devotion. This was none other than the dishwasher from the tavern whom the bullies were teasing just after Diego entered on the night of the fight.
The reason for his continued silence was now clear to Diego--he was dumb, a mute, and could not speak if he wanted to. Diego began to talk to this man. Since he had nothing else he could do and to help sharpen his dulled wits, he told him all about himself: how he had come from Spanish California not far from the pueblo of Los Angeles to the university here in Madrid. His father owned one of the largest haciendas and cattle ranches in California. He was looking forward to his studies here, but couldn't understand the hostilities he was encountering from these other students.
"Narrow-mindedness and jealousy does not make sense to me," he confided.
He found the mute man to be very intelligent and responsive to his conversation. He even began to make signs and gestures back to Diego, especially in answer to any questions Diego would pose to him.
To begin with, Diego found out that this man's name was Bernardo, for it was written on a piece of paper that the "little man" had in his pocket. He used this paper at times like this where he had to let someone know who he was. He worked in the tavern washing dishes and in return the tavern owner allowed Bernardo to live in this small shed behind the stables. He led a meager existence, but seemed to somehow maintain a somewhat positive and happy attitude, in spite of the mistreatment that he often got due to his handicap.
"I am indebted to you, Bernardo, for coming to my aid. They left me there to bleed to death! I would be dead now if it were not for you!" Diego told him with gratitude.
Bernardo shook his head and tried to make his message clear. "No, you defended me, and that is what got you in trouble. I must thank you!"
"Those fellows were looking for trouble. They have been after me for months and they would not stop until they had me. Now perhaps, there will be an end to it." Diego said hopefully. Bernardo could only shake his head doubtfully.
As his health improved, so did Diego's disposition and his itchiness to get back to his studies. He also wanted to get back to fencing. That duel had really helped him to see that he had much more to learn. Up to this point he thought himself to be a pretty fair swordsman. But now he realized how much he did not know. When he got back to it, he would throw himself into the lessons and practice with renewed vigor and determination. Now he knew many of his faults.
First of all, he was not fast enough. He would have to work on that: speed and quick wits to elude the opponent. Then he needed to stop being so trusting. Expect anything and everything from your opponent. Then, too, he had to learn how to fight more than one blade at a time. That was his ultimate downfall. Too many swordsmen coming at him from all sides!
He winced now as he recalled the feeling of the point of the sword entering his flesh. Never again did he wish to have that experience, so he would have to learn how to defend himself properly, especially when more than one swordsman was coming at him at the same time.
He could see that, in such instances, a strict adherence to discipline and control would be needed in order not to fall prey to another's taunting and teasing. Control of emotions was imperative to success in a duel. Giving free reign to anger, hate or fear only weakens your stand.
As his days in Bernardo's humble living quarters continued and stretched into weeks, Diego's relationship with this little man grew into a close bond of consideration and caring. When Diego was finally well enough to leave and go back to his studies, he had come up with a plan. He had become so attached to Bernardo that he did not want to part company with him.
The night before he was to leave to go back to the university, Diego said to Bernardo, "I have a proposition for you, my friend! I hope you will take this seriously in the spirit I offer it. There will be a mutual benefit for each of us in this plan. Bernardo, would you do me the great honor of coming to work for me? I could really use you as my mozo. I do really need someone to look after me!" He laughed lightly.
Bernardo was looking quite surprised at Diego. He pointed to himself with a questioning look. "Me? You want me?"
"Si--you--and just you!" He looked carefully at Bernardo who seemed hesitant. Diego wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. Was his hesitation connected to pride? This certainly was not an offer of charity. Over the few short months since he had first come to Spain Diego had come to see how much help he could use and the last few weeks had helped him to see it even more clearly.
His discussions with Bernardo on a multitude of subjects had helped give him an increased awareness of the value in clear communications. Diego was also gaining a new perspective on life. Bernardo's unique outlook was changing the way Diego looked at things. He was becoming a confidante to Diego who found it easy to share almost anything with this man to whom he owed his life. The fact that this man could not speak, punctuated Diego's creative thought process and helped him to think through his ideas before acting on them.
And Diego really could use the help in the everyday organization of his life. Add to all of this that Bernardo was just plain fun! He made Diego laugh. Diego was a spirited young man who was finding life becoming more difficult and more serious. He could be in danger of losing his youthful exuberance if he did not stay in contact with that basic down-to-earth joy that, despite all of the adversity Bernardo had faced in his life, he had never lost. Diego admired Bernardo for this quality.
"You know, I really do need you, Bernardo." Diego told him with a smile. "You should see my living quarters! But even aside from that, I have come to cherish this time we have had together. You have been such a help to me, my friend. And I do mean friend. I feel very close to you and I think you feel the same do you not?"
The two men looked at each other with mutual admiration in their eyes. The younger seeing a man of quiet strength and courage, the elder, seeing a youth that longed for a place of fulfillment and accomplishment, a cause to believe in and strive for.
"You need not give me an answer now, Bernardo. Think about it for a while." But each man had an idea of what the answer would be.
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That night Diego went into the tavern for a drink. While Bernardo worked in the back room, Diego found an occasion to speak to the tavern owner who was able to give Diego more information on Bernardo's past.
Bernardo was born in a small town about 20 miles from Madrid. His mother worked as a servant for a wealthy landowner. He never knew his father and his mother never talked about him. It was supposed that he was one of the vaqueros that passed through the town, seeking work on a rancho for a while and then moving on when the spirit moved him.
Bernardo spent much of his time alone due to his disability, for none of the children on the rancho could understand what he was trying to communicate. Once in a while the children were encouraged by their elders to play with Bernardo, but the situation usually ended up in frustration for the other kids and tears on little Bernardo's part.
Fortunately, the landowner and his family were sympathetic to Bernardo's plight and made sure that he was well cared for. They discouraged the teasing that often goes on with children and so it was kept at a minimum.
His mother loved him dearly and wanted the best for her young son but was unable to provide very much for him. Try as she may, she and Bernardo never quite fit in and they often kept to themselves in their quarters. The exception to this was the fact that his mother was versed in the ways of herbal medicine and was often called upon to help one of the sick children or servants on the hacienda. Bernardo was always there to help his mother in these times and soon came to know how to help others in the same way. (Now Diego could see how Bernardo knew what to do for his wounds. He had done excellent work!)
As he got older and the other children on the hacienda were learning to read and write, Bernardo was left behind as no one quite knew how to teach him. This saddened his mother for she knew how important these skills would be. She herself did not have these skills and therefore was not able to help Bernardo.
One day a new padre came to the pueblo and when he found out about this poor "lost" little boy, he took it upon himself to find a way to teach Bernardo the basic reading and writing skills. Miraculously, he succeeded to a modest degree mostly because he was of a temperament and character that Bernardo warmed to. They found that they could communicate well with each other. Bernardo was a bright and inquisitive student and soon found his way to catch up with the other children. He even learned how to communicate more successfully with them as he grew older.
At the tender age of 13, his mother died, leaving him alone on the rancho. By now he was dong odd jobs for the patron and was able to stay on for a few years. When he was 16, however, the landowner and his family sold their rancho and moved away from Madrid for they had fallen on hard times. All of the servants were forced to seek other places of employment. This left Bernardo on his own not knowing what to do.
He made his way into Madrid and eventually found odd jobs here and there. He found that his inability to speak not only made it difficult to acquire jobs but made them extremely difficult to keep. He began to encounter the prejudice and fear that seems to accompany the lack of understanding humanity has for persons with disabilities. Bernardo learned what it was like to be hungry and alone. But he learned a greater strength of character on the streets of Madrid and eventually he found his way to the tavern where he was given the job of clean up and dish washing in return for a place to sleep in the shed. The tavern owner was kind enough to him although he still left Bernardo feeling alone and a little lost. After a while he discovered he was fitting in a little better. Now he lived a life that, while not being of a high quality, was at least tolerable.
Bernardo had always had an indefatigable spirit and found he could smile through any adversity. He was proud to be able to say he had gotten this quality from his mother, "God rest her soul."
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Diego was touched by Bernardo's story. Such strength of spirit impressed the young caballero who had faced his own demons when his mother died. He too had had to learn to rise above adversity and loss.
He had a very close relationship with his mother who had a romantic heart and a deeply loving soul. His father, though also loving Diego deeply, was not as affectionate and unfortunately spent much more time with his business to help him through the loss of his wife.
Diego, then, spent more of his time out on the hills riding his horse and challenging imaginary banditos. When he came "of age", Alejandro felt Diego should have the benefit of the training that the best school in Spain had to offer.
So he was sent to the university at Madrid and here we was, sitting in this poor and dirty tavern praying that Bernardo would accept his offer and come to live with him as his personal servant, his mozo.
Diego smiled as he watched Bernardo come and go from the barroom to the kitchen and marveled that this man could also smile back at him through the grime and the grease that had become his lot in life.
"You deserve much better than this, my friend," he thought to himself. "And I shall do all that I can to see that you get it!"
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That night, upon returning to the shed, Bernardo's tiny humble home, Diego looked at this man with a greater sense of caring than he had ever felt before. Understanding about his past gave Diego a greater appreciation for his friendship.
These two men now looked at each other in mutual admiration. Bernardo had found in Diego a kind and caring confidante of his own. He had never known any man to speak to him with such intelligence and affection, not since that padre so many years ago who first taught him to read. Diego gave Bernardo the opportunity to be himself, no prejudices, no condescending attitude, just unconditional acceptance and love. He could not walk away from that. He could not let Diego walk out of his life now that they had found each other.
Bernardo smiled warmly at Diego and with the look on his face Diego automatically knew what he was saying.
"Good, Bernardo!" Diego smiled too. "Tomorrow I shall make the arrangements and you will come to live with me at the university." Diego was feeling like this was the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time. He and Bernardo were going to have a great time together.
