A Face From the Past
Disclaimer: This story was written purely to tickle my fancy. These characters do not belong to me.
Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the plaza in white light and silhouetting the dark figure that crept across the tiled roofs of a small pueblo. The man was dressed entirely in black. His face was partially hidden by a black mask and sombrero and a midnight cloak hung behind him. Black gloves and a Toledo blade completed the masked man's attire.
The dark clad figure lowered his frame to a window set in the wall of a small building. Glancing through the opening, the man saw a single candle on the desk, illuminating the officer who sat in the chair. With the stealth of a fox he slipped through the window and approached the man. He gently picked up the saber that lay against the wall and unsheathed it, placing the tip to the small of the man's back. "Hola, Commandante. Working late I see."
The man stiffened as he felt the point of the blade make contact with his uniform shirt. At the sound of the deep voice, he turned his head to glare at the man behind him. "Zorro! What do you want?" The Commandante demanded.
"Come now, Commandante. I thought you were smarter than that. You know why I am here." Zorro said, a grin spreading across his face.
The Commandante stared at the masked man. "I suppose you want me to lower the taxes. I simply cannot. I…we need the money to improve this pueblo."
"I am sure that is what you believe Commandante. Still, I think the people of this pueblo would like to decide if 'improvements' need to be made." Zorro pressed the blade harder against Capitaín Monastario's back. "I expect you will change your mind about the taxes. Don't you think, Capitán?" Zorro asked as he started to back away. The moment Monastario felt the pressure of the blade dissipate he spun around reaching for his sword. His hand found only air.
A low laugh reached his ears and he turned to see Zorro sitting on the edge of the window holding Monastario's army issued weapon. Zorro grinned at the man before him and saluted. "I enjoyed our conversation, Capitán. Perhaps we could continue it another time, but I think I would like to get home before the rains start." Zorro tossed the weapon on the wood planked floor and leapt off the window, his black cap sailing behind him.
The Commandante slammed his fist against his desk and swore to himself he would make Zorro pay for his humiliation. Never before had anyone dared to challenge him! He would make Zorro pay, he promised himself.
The streets of Los Angeles were bare, the drizzling morning forcing its occupants to take shelter. The tavern was full, those who lived outside of the pueblo scrambled into the warm building to escape the downpour. Don Fernando entered the tavern and surveyed the common room. A slight smile crept across his features as his eyes settled on two dons who sat at a table with their deaf-mute servant. Don Fernando quickly made his way to the table and greeted his old friends, "Buenas tardes, señores. Do you mind if I join you?"
Don Diego glanced at the man before him and nodded his head in greeting. Don Alejandro looked up to see the face of his friend, "Buenas tardes, Don Fernando. I would be delighted to have you join us. What brings you to the pueblo?"
"Oh, nothing too important. I went by your hacienda and Jose told me that I could find you in town."
"Is there something I can help you with?" Don Alejandro asked as he motioned to the serving girl to bring a drink for his friend.
"No, I just wanted to see a friend. The hacienda has been quiet since Anna Maria took Mercedes to visit her abuelos. I fear I have grown bored." Don Fernando said, nodding politely to the serving girl who sat his drink on the table.
Don Alejandro looked at his friend. He had the feeling he wanted to discuss something with him, but not in front of Diego. A plan came to Alejandro's mind, "you must dine with us this evening." Don Alejandro glanced at his son, "I will send Diego ahead to tell the cooks. I know it is raining, but it seems to have slacked off. I will not take no for an answer."
"Gracias, I would enjoy that." Don Fernando said. He wanted to talk to his friend and this would give him the chance. He smiled gratefully at the old Don, knowing he had sensed his friend's need to see him alone.
Don Diego finished his drink and motioned for his servant to follow. He was not looking forward to the ride home, but knew his father wanted to talk to Don Fernando alone. He nodded toward the two older men, "I will see you at home Father, Don Fernando." The two men watched Diego maneuver through the crowd trying to avoid the other patrons, his servant trailing close behind. Diego moved through the crowd easily and stepped out into the rain shrouded afternoon.
Don Alejandro marveled at how graceful his son could sometimes be. Although never awkward, his son rarely moved with assurance and speed. "I will never understand that boy." Don Alejandro sighed. He turned toward his friend, "What was it you needed to discuss with me?"
Diego walked into the humid afternoon. The rain had stopped, but the air was damp and hot. His clothes clung to his body and he knew the ride home would not be enjoyable. Diego walked up to his palomino and rubbed her neck. "Are you ready to go, girl?" In one fluid motion he mounted the light colored horse and waited for Bernardo to mount his chestnut mare.
A commotion near the garrison caught Diego's attention. Five soldiers, including Captain Monastario, were mounted and talking to large Sergeant Garcia. Diego nudged his horse in the direction of the soldiers, "Buenos tardes, señores. Where are you headed in such unpleasant weather?"
Captain Monastario turned to look at the man who had just spoken. He met the humored face of Diego de la Vega. Diego, he had to admit to himself, appeared the perfect caballero. He was polite and well-educated, his manners and willingness to help others making him a well-liked man with the Dons and peons alike. Diego was tall and lean, with strong shoulders that spoke of a noble background. His dark complexion and dark hair matched his clear hazel eyes to perfection. He sported a caballero's mustache- thin and well-kept. For a man who did little in life, Diego appeared fit. This had always set uneasy with Monastario. He had known men like Diego before, and while not necessarily fat, the men always looked weak. In appearance, however, Diego resembled a man of action. Monastario never understood why no one else ever noticed this about the quiet man.
Monastario did not especially hate this Don, but something about this particular man annoyed him. Maybe it was the fact that he was the son of Alejandro, and unlike his father, Diego showed his contempt with silent, disapproving glances. Monastario sometimes wished Diego would rant like his father. At least he would know where the man stood. With Diego, it was nearly impossible to know what the he was truly thinking. While his smile always appeared friendly, Monastario was certain he would sometimes catch a look a displeasure, or maybe amusement, in the man's sharp hazel eyes. His eyes were another mystery to Monastario. For a quiet, light spoken man, Diego's eyes always seemed fiery, as though they held all the man's passion. His eyes reminded him of someone else, but Monastario could not recall who.
Monastario's musing was cut short by the deep voice of his sergeant. "The capitán is going to Monterey for a month. I will be in charge until his return."
Diego smiled at the large sergeant. "Well," Diego said, his voice light with humor, "I hope you have a safe trip." Diego turned his horse and started toward the plaza gates. He turned in the saddle and smiled, "Do stay dry. It seems like there is more rain yet to come."
Monastario glared at Diego's retreating form. He would never understand Diego. Diego would never openly insult or berate him, yet he always managed to make Monastario feel like there was something more behind his words. He shrugged and turned his horse in the general direction Diego and his mozo had just taken. "Sergeant, I expect Zorro to be behind a cell door when I return. And try to keep everything in order."
Sergeant Garcia saluted and turned on his heels to issue orders. With his afternoon work completed, the sergeant headed toward the tavern door. He had barely made it up the steps when Corporal Reyes shouted at him from across the barracks. Sighing, Garcia cast one last glance at the inn and headed toward his corporal. A man's work is never done, the sergeant thought to himself.
TBC