Surrender by Moonlight

  "There are some answers we need and you are going to provide them." The cold, relentless voice rang crisply in the small room. Dimitri looked at Cesar. "Your knife, please, Cesar."

  Without a word, Cesar handed him the wickedly glinting blade, sharpened to a razor edge.

  Dimitri balanced it on his palm and looked at the man. He could read the fear in the man's face, smell it as the man looked from him to the knife. "Now, who hired you?"

  The man licked dry lips but did not answer.

  Dimitri moved to stand in front of him, laying the point of the knife against the man's throat. "I will slit your throat with the greatest of pleasure if you don't tell me what I want to know."

  "I-I don't remember."

  "Try." The knife dug a little deeper and a drop of blood welled out and trickled down the man's throat.

  "I swear to you, senor—"

  "I don't believe you."

  "A-a man hired us. I don't know his name. We were to stir up the men, take them to the tax collector's house and grab the girl."

  "How did this man know the girl would be there?"

  "He said that she would. We were to take her and—" He trailed off, swallowing convulsively as he felt the knife press harder.

  "You were to kill her." Dimitri's voice was flat with fury.

  "I—yes, we were to kill her."

  "And the man who hired you. His name?"

  The man did not answer. Sweat poured down his face as he looked wildly at Dimitri.

  "His name?"

  The man writhed away from the knife. If he told the man's name, his death would be horrible. The don said he would string him up by his . . . The man shivered. But, if he did not tell, he would have his throat cut, here and now. And the knife pressed deeper. He did not know what to do.

  "His name? You have one minute to tell me."

  "I dare not tell you," the man burst out. "He'll kill me."

  "And I will kill you if you don't."

  The man believed him. It was there in the hard set of the Russian's mouth and in the glitter in his eyes. Regardless of what he did, he was a dead man.

  "Don Gilberto," the man blurted out.

  Dimitri was not surprised. It was the name he knew he would hear and he didn't show a flicker of shock. "Was he alone when he hired you? How did he find you?"

  "I have told you what you wanted to know. I dare not—"

  "You will answer all my questions. Is that understood? Now, where did he find you?"

  The man cast a hunted glance around and licked his lips again. "We were caught by the soldiers for stealing and—"

  "And Don Carlos Balsas, instead of whipping or hanging you, offered you a chance?"

  "But . . . you already know!" the man stammered.

  "It was not difficult. He and Don Gilberto offered you the money if you'd start the riot and kill the girl."

  The man nodded, too numb to feel much emotion. "That was the deal."

  "Why did they want the riot started? Was it to entice the girl there? You could have seized her easily enough without burning down a man's house."

  "I don't know. They didn't say. They said we were to go to that farm and stir the men to greater anger. They were already angry, you see, over the tax collector impounding the farm and it didn't take much persuasion to get them to go and threaten the man."

  "And one of you, given a description of me, tried to shoot me?"

  The man gulped. "Not me," he declared.

  Dimitri frowned. "You started the fire, then?" At the man's nod, Dimitri stepped back and handed Cesar his knife. "That's all I wanted to know."

  "Shall I kill him now, Don Dimitri?" asked Cesar with relish.

  "No, keep him here under guard. I may need him as a witness."

  The man glanced desperately from Dimitri to Cesar. "Y-you won't let Don Carlos have me? He'll . . . he'll . . ."

  Dimitri ignored the plea and headed for the door. "Guard him well."

  Cesar motioned the two men back inside and followed Dimitri out of the tack room. "Sir, this is not to be believed. Her stepfather trying to have her killed!"

  "I'm not surprised," Dimitri muttered, his eyes cold and implacable. "No one else could have hired those first two men. No one else has any reason to see the girl dead. It had to be Don Gilberto."

  "Does she know?"

  "I don't think so. No, I'm sure she doesn't but she'll have to know."

  Cesar watched his master stride toward the house and did not envy him the task of telling Senorita Leonor the truth.

  Sergei met him in the hall, holding out a brass key. "She's locked in, my lord. She's not very happy about it. And Andres is here. I put him in the study. He has an injured arm. I was preparing to take in some bandages."

  "Bring me some ale while I talk to Andres. Then I'll go up and see Leonor."

  Sergei hesitated. "Did the man talk?"

  "He talked. We were right."

  Shaking his head and fervently wishing himself back in Russia, Sergei lumbered off to fetch the ale and the linen.

  "Just a scratch," Andres told him cheerfully as Dimitri paused in the doorway and looked at his bleeding arm. "I was winged by one of the soldiers."

  "Sergei is bringing bandages. Was it bad, Andres? How many were hurt?"

  "I managed to persuade half of them to go home before the soldiers got there and the rest scattered when they arrived. Several got flesh wounds, nothing serious, and none were killed. Don Gilberto was furious. He ranted and raved and demanded that Don Carlos arrest them all but, by that time, they had silently dispersed in the dark and would have been back at their homes, swearing they had never left them by the time the soldiers could have looked. So Don Carlos and his men left empty handed and Don Gilberto went home, swearing vengeance on all the workers involved. But I'm sure he doesn't know exactly who was involved."

  "Did Sergei tell you about the two men who incited the riot?"

  "Ah, he told me part of it. You rescued Senorita Leonor, I gathered, and captured one villano."

  Dimitri related to him what the man had said. "Why would Don Gilberto and Don Carlos want them to incite a riot? The only thing I can get from it all, Andres, is that it would give them the excuse they've been waiting for to be even more severe. I didn't think they were of your people and I was sure of it when they seized Leonor and forced her away."

  Andres swore, long and steadily. Then he asked, "And what do we do now?"

  "First, you let your people know what has happened and make it clear to them that there is to be no further incident of any kind, no protest, no riot, nothing. They are to mind their own business, do their work and nothing else. Don Carlos is waiting for such a protest and he'll deal very harshly with them. Make them understand that. They will have to wait. Second, I cannot allow Leonor to return home. If I do Don Gilberto will try again. He has to. She inherits in two months and he's getting desperate. If she lives, he's ruined, his power gone.''

  "B-but where can she go? Are you going to keep her here?"

  "I'm not sure yet. But I don't want anyone to know where she is. If she vanished during the riot and no one sees or hears of her, he will think that his plan succeeded. That's her only safeguard now. What I want you to do is to get in touch with Paquita. Can you do that tonight?" When Andres agreed eagerly, Dimitri continued. "Have her bundle up a few, and I mean a few, clothes. Nothing that anyone would miss if her room was searched. Make Paquita understand that she is to pack nothing that would normally be in evidence, silver brushes or anything that Dona Juana would miss if she looked. Paquita is to smuggle those things, very carefully, out to you and then go on as usual. Whatever she would do normally, in this circumstance she is to do. As far as she knows, her mistress went to stop the riot and didn't come back. You can tell her only that Senorita Leonor is safe. She is to wait another hour, then report her mistress' disappearance officially to Don Gilberto himself. A nice case of hysterics would be in order, I think. Do you think she can handle that? If not, we must not t
ell her anything and Leonor will simply have to get along with what she's wearing now."

  Andres grinned. "Paquita can do it. She will indulge in a fine case of hysterics, I promise you."

  "Wait for her to deliver the clothes and bring them back here and give them to Sergei. Then get the message to your people to restrain themselves."

  "They want us to be blamed for the riot," Andres muttered.

  "Of course they do! I tried to warn you, when you were arrested in the pueblo at the fiesta, Andres. If they can blame these things on the peasants, then they can coerce the dons to go along with severe measures. And when Don Carlos is severe, everyone will suffer! No one, particularly not the workers, will have any freedom at all. You realize that, as military commandant, he has the legal power to put this entire region under military control? Can you think of any better way to seize the power he craves? He would be giving orders to us all. No, there are other ways, you know. If the Mexican revolution succeeds, then California will have to decide which way she will go: independent with Mexico or stay a colony of Spain. If she decided to remain loyal to Spain, Mexico may have something to say about that! It wouldn't surprise me if they said it with force! Do you think this colony could fight? How many soldiers would you say the governor has at his command? My best guess is less than five hundred. Would you put it at a higher figure?"

  Numbly Andres shook his head. He was at a loss for words.

  "Then," continued Dimitri, "who would resist the army Iturbide would send to take California? They could make a very good case of their right to it. Spain has always governed the province through Mexico and not directly. No, if we don't drive the dons to the point where they are forced to stand as royalists, I think the issue will be settled simply, peacefully and without violence."

  Andres met his gaze and tried to read what was there. "We?" he questioned softly.

  "We. I had never intended," Dimitri said wryly, "to become involved in this struggle. My home is Russia, not California. Yet, there has been nothing else to do but accept some role in this. I could complain that it has been thrust on me, but that would be unfair and untrue. I have spent too many years campaigning to run away from a fight now. This is my land. If it becomes necessary, I will fight for it. What we do now will determine not only the fate of this colony but the fate of my inheritance. So, I have a stake in it and that carries responsibility." It had taken Dimitri time to come to terms with how he felt, to decipher what was in his heart, but he had finally done so. He had joined this fight willingly, eagerly, glad to have something worthwhile to fight for. ''I will see it out," he added. "The dons are more than half convinced and the information I get from the north is that the landowners there are also moving toward the same decision. We can't afford to allow two greedy men, scheming their way to power, to ruin our plans, our hopes and our dreams. If we react foolishly, angrily, we will destroy what we have accomplished. So, make your people understand. It is time now for patience, not a show of force."

  Andres' dark eyes glowed with admiration. "If we have men like you on our side," he said simply, "then we know that we will win. I will do as you say and go to find Paquita."

  Dimitri stood on the porch and watched him ride away in the darkness, and as he turned back into the house, he smiled. It was good to have that hot-headed young man as an ally because he would be a dangerous enemy! He would have been surprised if he had known that Andres was thinking much the same thing about him!

  Dimitri paused and breathed deeply of the crisp air. It was chilly. He saw a light dusting of frost on the grass in front of the house. Perhaps the cooler weather would serve to cool tempers as well!

  He opened the front door and there was Sergei, bustling down the hallway with the ale and the linen. "You can take the linen back, Sergei, although I will take the ale. Andres is gone."

  "But his arm!"

  "It was but a scratch and had stopped bleeding. No doubt he'll prevail upon his Paquita to bind it up for him."

  "I'm sorry for the delay, my lord. Senorita Leonor continues to beat upon her door, demanding to see you. I did my best to soothe her but I fear I failed."

  "I heard and I'll go to her when I've finished my ale. I need to be revived before I present myself to her."

  Sergei grinned and handed him the tankard. At that moment a shot rang out in the yard. Dimitri thrust the tankard back into Sergei's hands and ran for the front door. A second shot echoed through the yard. Dimitri burst out of the house and ran for the stable. Men were milling around and he collided with Cesar. "What was that?"

  "Senor," Cesar panted. "The man managed to get loose and knocked down some of the guards. He was running across the yard. I think the other guard shot him."

  Dimitri bounded across the open space to where several men were gathered around a man lying on the ground.

  "He's dying, sir," the guard said.

  The man, blood pouring from his chest, muttered, "Better this than Don Carlos." There was a gush of blood from his mouth and then silence.

  Dimitri knelt and felt his throat but there was no answering pulse. "He's dead."

  "I'm sorry, sir," said the guard. "He got away and I-I fired. I missed so I fired again."

  "It can't be helped. Take the body into the stable for tonight and I'll deal with it tomorrow."

  As the men carried the body away, Cesar apologized again. "I stepped out to check the guards at the gate and heard the shot. I'm sorry."

  "It's not your fault, Cesar. Or the guards. I'd rather have the man dead than free. He can't tell anyone the girl is here. He preferred death to falling into the hands of Don Carlos."

  "From what I know, I can well understand. The man is a sadist. I'm sorry your witness was shot, however. Can we manage without him, senor?"

  Dimitri smiled humorlessly. "We'll have to, won't we? Don't worry; I'll think of something."

  He returned to the house dreading the coming interview with the impatient woman and the necessity of 'thinking of something'. Leonor would be difficult, that he knew. The truth would shock her and there was no way to soften it. He did have a plan, a plan he had already formed. They should be all right without the testimony of the dead assassin but having him would have provided another safeguard. Now there was nothing to do but persuade her to accept his plan and, being a realist, Dimitri did not like the odds against him. Leonor had a mind of her own! Yet he knew that the only plan that had a reasonable chance of succeeding was the one he had thought through. If only he could count on her to be reasonable.

  Leonor stared at the locked door and swore. "Mierda!" she said hotly. Even Dimitri would have been surprised at the word she used, one she had learned from the grooms, and would have reproved her for using it. But she was in no mood to care what Dimitri liked or did not like. She wanted to go home to Paquita's sympathetic care. The shocks and stresses of the evening had exhausted her physically and mentally and she longed to get away, to be alone, to come to terms with it all. She could not give way to her feelings in Dimitri's house. He would find her maidenly emotions far too amusing. Yet, how to escape? Sergei, obeying his orders, had locked the door and would not be persuaded to release her until his master came. Leonor stalked around the room, venting some of her anger by kicking a footstool out of her path.

  It was a pleasant room, tidy, simply decorated but comfortable. The dark wooden floor was highly polished. The draperies showed no sign of wear and were drawn against the chill of the evening. The wide bed was covered with an immaculate white spread and had begun to look more and more inviting.

  Then, suddenly, a sound at the door brought her around. The key rasped in the lock and the door opened. Expecting Dimitri, she composed her face in a mutinous pout but was surprised to see Sergei slide in a pitcher of hot water through the crack and push a small bundle after it. Then the door was hastily shut and locked. If Leonor had not been so angry, she would have laughed at his caution. Was he afraid that if he opened the door all the way she would force her way out? But she was cu
rious enough to go over and pick up the bundle. A clean towel was wrapped around a white nightshirt and a silver backed brush rolled out onto the bed. So, she was to spend the night here, was she?

  In a temper she hammered on the door. After a considerable pause, she heard lumbering footsteps approaching the door.

  "Yes, senorita."

  "Sergei, open this door!"

  "I cannot do that, senorita."

  "I demand to see Don Dimitri now!"

  "He will come when he is free, senorita."

  "Sergei!"

  "Are you hungry? I could bring you food, if you wish."