The Fuse
In this chapter the commandante meets someone and significantly overreacts.
The licenciado is amused. He shouldn't.
"I don't care. If you want to send these men to the gallows, you need to find better reason than that. It is just not enough. I won't prepare you the justification of the death sentence basing on such evidences," Pina threw at the commandate's desk the pile of papers he worked on the whole evening.
The nights were for Pina the time of anxious reflections, when he stirred for hours in darkness imagining the consequences of what he decided to do during the day, troubled by doubts, hesitation, fear…
Monastario, however, slept well and without dreams, so now he was as usual full of energy and new plans – and definitely didn't welcome Pina's dilemmas.
"Be careful, Licenciado. I am finding the aims, finding the reasons is your job. If you are not able to fulfil it… you are becoming useless," he stated slowly with unpleasant smile.
Pina didn't reply, only rubbed his temple. Then he quietly took the papers and started to flick them through once more. For someone who knew as much about Monastario as he… it was definitely healthier to be useful.
Monastario in the meantime leant on the window frame and observed the cuartel's yard. He saw Sergeant Garcia, wandering up and down near Torres' cell and unsurely trying to start the conversation with the prisoner. His attempts were in vain, as Torres only moved himself deeper into his confinement. The fat man just stood silently for a moment in front of the cell, and Monastario could imagine how pitiful his big face must have looked like... Then his shoulders slumped down, head lowered and the sergeant shuffled heavily toward the gate.
Monastario smirked. Garcia was stupid and clumsy, yet there was something in him that the commandante despised even more than his incompetence – namely his need to be on friendly terms with all the people around him. So, that fat fool lived many years in this cosy, warm pueblo and indeed everyone liked him… until Monastario took command. Now the common aversion that surrounded the commandante became also the share of his subordinate.
Suddenly Monastario straightened, seeing how Garcia led two men in caballero's suits through the yard.
"We have guests, Licenciado. I knew that nothing will keep Alejandro long from helping his dear friend," the commandante gloated at Pina with an ironic smirk and cast one more glance through the window.
De la Vega quickly neared to the cell to exchange a few words with Torres. His moves were decisive and energetic as usual and he was, of course, wearing the sword by his side… Good, very good. If he only touches the hilt… Monastario smiled almost joyously.
As for Alejandro's son – Monastario forgot to ask Garcia to remind his name – he appeared even more foppish and out of place than yesterday. The young man greeted Don Nacho too and looked around the cuartel in obvious confusion, as if he was seeing such building for the first time in his life. Well, most probably he was seeing the military building for the first time in his life. He stared at the stables roof so much, that he stumbled over the trough and would have certainly landed in the yard's dust, if Garcia didn't hold him in time. That boy needs a nanny! chuckled Monastario, now fully amused.
When the de la Vegas entered the office, Don Alejandro greeted the commandante with the short, reluctant nod.
"Capitán, I heard you met my son yesterday," he stated harshly instead of presentation.
Monastario curiously looked at the young man, wondering, how he will behave after all the calumnies that Alejandro must have told him about the commandante.
However, the young de la Vega didn't seem hostile or anxious. He even smiled to the commandante, though simultaneously he was blinking and fighting to suppress the yawn. In fact he was just… sleepy or bored… well, generally dissatisfied with the fact he has to be up at such early hour.
"My associate, Licenciado Pina," Monastario presented his companion.
"We also have met," Alejandro's son bowed politely, straightening some invisible wrinkles on his vest, "and we had the most interesting discussion I hope to continue. The licenciado is the enthusiast of painting," he explained to his father.
Don Alejandro watched the scene with slight confusion on his face. Hearing the last words of his son, he measured Pina with a glance clearly saying 'Enthusiast or not, you are no more than a crooked rascal' and waved his hand with impatience.
"Well, you may continue it later. Right now I came here in the matter concerning Don Ignatio Torres," he came to the point, turning to the commandante: "How long are you going to keep him imprisoned, Capitán?"
The young man meekly silenced, placing himself aside by the wall, his hands folded and sight aimed at the tips of his shiny shoes. Obviously, he didn't intend to participate in the conversation… and Monastario forgot the son, concentrating himself on the father. He sat comfortably behind his desk, ordered some papers on its top and only then replied, calmly but with rather impudent smile.
"As long as it will be necessary. Torres is accused of treason."
"Opposing your tyranny is not treason." Alejandro didn't sit, only rested his hands on the commandante's desk, leaning in his direction. "You are not the source of justice here, Monastario."
Monastario observed his tensed pose with satisfaction. Very good. He wants confrontation and I will give it to him…
"And you are not the one to decide about it, Senor," he stated glaring at the older man with irony.
"I am his friend. Besides, I am the member of the city council. You have no right to imprison whoever you want without our consent."
Monastario leant back playing with the ink-pot.
"On the contrary. Don't forget that your… council is under my supervision," he smirked scornfully and added: "I am granted the right to take all means necessary to ensure the security of this pueblo."
"It is not the security you want to…" started Alejandro leaning himself a bit more forward, when suddenly his son chimed in:
"Father, the commandante is right. Los Angeles is under military supervision," he stated very quietly, but Monastario didn't like his tone. It was too… watchful. He also didn't like the fact that Alejandro, surprised by his son's words, straightened and looked at him questioningly, for a moment forgetting about Monastario.
The young man raised the hand to his chin and continued smoothly, as if unaware of reluctant glances, both of his father and the commandante:
"Of course, I am sure that the capitán wouldn't dismiss the opinion of the cabildo… For the sake of the mutual relations he will surely take into consideration what we can tell him about our friend and neighbour… On the other hand, neither the council nor the alcalde or any of us, wouldn't like to compromise the safety of the community. So, if the capitán disposes with the proofs pointing that… Oh, and, by the way, what sort of proofs against Don Nacho do you actually have, Capitán?"
Monastario just looked at him blinking, surprised by the unexpected conclusion of this suave speech that put him off guard, so Pina quickly replied:
"The investigation is still in progress. We cannot reveal any details as there maybe others involved in the plot."
Young de la Vega narrowed his eyes and wanted to say something, but his father almost jumped, piercing Monastario with an indignant sight.
"Others? So, you want to get rid of all your opponents at once, Monastario? So that you could terrorize this land without anyone getting in your way? I will never let you harm…"
Perfect, thought Monastario seeing the outburst of the haciendado. He quickly stood up and neared to de la Vega, looking him straight in the eyes:
"You can do nothing," he accented, knowing well what was Alejandro's biggest weakness – he couldn't bear being helpless.
That was it. Alejandro tensed, leant forward and his eyes glittered in such a way, that even if Monastario was seeking the confrontation, he couldn't help the slight shiver.
"I swear to you, that…" he started with a changed voice when suddenly his son grabbed his arm, turning him aside, forcing him to move the sight from Monastario to his face.
"Father. Por favor. Be reasonable," he said quietly, in a calm, almost tender voice.
Alejandro looked at his son for a while… and slowly the fire in his eyes faded and his face softened, as he nodded a few times, giving up.
"You are right, Diego," he replied warmly with a smile that reflected his son's expression.
Monastario observed the scene keeping ironic smile on his face, yet deep inside…
Deep inside, he was curling with envy.
His own father only once looked at him with such expression and even then… No, no, it was not the time to snivel. Yet, it was bitter to witness now how this young… clown… who did nothing to earn the respect of his father... who didn't even finish these studies of his….
"Capitán?" the voice of the young de la Vega woke Monastario from his reminiscences, "Capitán, when you finish your… investigation… I am sure that you will present the proofs of your accusations to the council and alcalde?"
Monastario only nodded obliviously, not trying to return to his confrontation with Don Alejandro. That battle was lost… the only thing he could do was to prepare the next one.
"Young de la Vega was right. You shouldn't dismiss the opinion of the cabildo," said Pina, surprised with the silence of his employer that prolonged a good while after the de la Vegas left the office.
Monastario slowly moved the eyes on the licenciado and on his face appeared his usual malicious smirk.
"Oh, but the fop had a lot of excellent ideas today. For example, that no one would like to compromise the safety of the community, when it is endangered."
Pina shook his head.
"I am sorry, Capitán, but the fact that someone speaks against you doesn't mean that the safety of the community is endangered," he stated a bit ironically.
"And what if there would be an attack, not on me, but… on the cuartel? Wouldn't it be reason enough… the reason you wanted me to find?" Monastario smiled a bit wider… and Pina didn't like what this smile suggested… he didn't like it at all.
"The cuartel? You mean that someone could attack the cuartel?" he asked uncertainly.
"Not simply someone, but someone in vaquero's clothes... Someone we would recognize as one of Torres' vaqueros. Wouldn't it be reason enough to execute his master as… swiftly as possible? And when I hang Torres, Alejandro should lose the remains of his reason, even with this trim Guardian Angel by his side."
"How will you made someone attack the cuartel?" précised Pina, stiff with anxiety.
"I am not talking about the direct attack, only about a treacherous, mean action, aimed at… lowering our defensive abilities…" the commandante rubbed his hands and, seeing the confusion on Pina's face, added: "Well, if someone, for example would try to destroy our stock of gunpowder? Wouldn't it be dangerous enough?"
The licenciado jumped on his feet and, forgetting the usual distance between him and his employer, grabbed Monastario's arm.
"Gunpowder? You want to blow up the cuartel's gunpowder? Are you mad, Capitán?" Pina stressed the last word, reminding Monastario about his rank. "It is treason!"
Monastario bridled with irritation. Treason? What was that scribbler saying? Monastario's will was the highest law here, how could anything he does be considered treason?
And yet, through Monastario's mind flashed some uncomfortable memories of his superiors in Santa Barbara, the governor in Monterey, the military oath he took so many years ago…
He moved them aside with angry snicker. Governor! The only thing he cared about was shipping off the suitable share of taxes to Spain, as it granted him King's approval and certainty of his office.
As for the King… he probably couldn't even locate California on the map.
No, it was indeed the world of sheep and wolves and Monastario wasn't going to be the meek dog, guarding the herd for someone else's prey.
He shook Pina's hand away.
"Don't be silly, Licenciado. I am not going to destroy all the powder, only the barrels we keep to be at hand, in the storage near the gate. The rest is safely hidden in the cellar. As for the… political matters… do not worry yourself with it. I seek only legal advice from you."
Pina rubbed his temple and looked around, as if searching for some arguments that could persuade Monastario to give up this madness. Suddenly his eyes fell on the window and he stiffened.
"Someone's out there!"
Monastario grabbed his sword and rushed out of the office. However, as soon as saw the silhouette of the man sitting on the veranda under the widow, he relaxed and sheathed the weapon.
"It is only the servant of the young de la Vega. Don't worry, he cannot hear. Besides, don't you think he is a bit… weak-minded?" he observed pointing at the plump man, who, with maniac stubbornness, tried to settle some wooden toy, unaware of anything around him.
"I don't know, when I met him at the harbour, he didn't seem to be weak-minded to me," muttered Pina.
"And why this does not surprise me…" sighed Monastario and pulled the servant's arm, pointing him the gate of the cuartel. The man looked at him groggily and didn't move, so the commandante impatiently grabbed his collar and pushed him out of the veranda. He also tried to add a kick, but the servant was already running through the patio in the most ridiculous haste.
"The servant worth his master," Monastario showed his teeth in a wide smile and turned to Pina. "Now, go home, Licenciado, and rest. Tomorrow morning, after the most misfortunate attack on our cuartel, we will have the court-martial."
This is wrong, this is all wrong, it cannot end well, I don't want to be in it… panicked thoughts rattled in Pina's head as he exited the cuartel. He always used to follow one main rule in his life: do not mess with people that are stronger than you. Now, thanks to Monastario, he was in the conflict with the most powerful landowners in Southern California and soon, if the commandante proceeds with his insane plan, he will be guilty of complicity in the state offence.
And yet, the only thing he could do was to blunder further, hoping that Monastario's luck would be strong enough to save the heads of them both.
To calm himself down a little, he decided for a late breakfast in the tavern. At the entrance he hesitated, seeing one of the de la Vegas beautiful horses tethered under the building… but luckily inside he saw not Don Alejandro, only his son.
Pina sighed with relief and took place. Waiting for his order, he observed the young man who has just finished a chess match with the alcalde. The licenciado couldn't see who won, yet both men laughed and congratulated themselves in the best moods. Then the alcalde took de la Vega to other guests; some of them greeted him as the old acquaintance, some others presented themselves. The merry buzz of voices filled in the tavern, usually quiet at this time of day.
It seems that he doesn't have as many difficulties with adapting himself to the life in Los Angeles as Enrique predicted, noticed Pina obliviously.
Sergeant Garcia entered the tavern and Pina couldn't help but smile, seeing the dejected lancer mooning through the room, searching for some other soldiers… or more precisely, some other soldiers with money. Having found none, he slowly headed for the exit, when the young de la Vega crossed his way.
"Sergeant! You are leaving already? Please, won't you sit here for a while? We have a few years to make up for, don't you think?" he asked merrily, pointing to the table.
"Gracias... Señor de la Vega, but…" stuttered Garcia looking unsurely around, yet the young man only laughed.
"Since when do you address me that way? Please, Sergeant, sit with me and tell me, what…"
He was interrupted by one of the men accompanying the alcalde, Juan Peralta, who stood up and approached them with darkened face.
"Señor de la Vega… You have been away for a while, you may not be aware that some things have changed. We do not drink with soldiers."
The hurt expression on Garcia's usually so jovial face was visible even from Pina's corner. Yet, the fat man neither got angry nor defended himself, only mumbled, swirling in the direction of the doors:
"I didn't… I should anyway…" He would probably leave just leave like the beaten dog, if de la Vega didn't stop him, putting the hand on his shoulder. The young man turned to Peralta speaking calmly, though his voice changed a little:
"I know nothing about the soldiers. I am going to drink with Sergeant Garcia, whom I have known for many years… As for you, Señor, you may stay with us or leave, it is up to you."
Juan bridled surprised by the objection, but the alcalde pulled his sleeve.
"Sit down, Juan. When you have my years, you will learn to see behind the clothes one wears."
Having said that, the old man moved a little making the place for the sergeant. The tension faded as the men took their places, and soon the usual rumble surrounded the table, this time filled in with the deep bass of Garcia.
However, even if Peralta muttered some apologies toward the sergeant, he stared for a while very reluctantly toward de la Vega. The young man simply kept his glance, with slightly crooked head and narrowed eyes, until Juan gave up and lowered the sight to his glass.
"I was right. There is more in this man than meets the eye," whispered Pina to himself.
"Sergeant Garcia will take all the lancers on the night maneuvers. Only you and me will be staying in the cuartel tonight," said Monastario to Private Sepulveda.
The soldier nodded and curiously waited for the commandante to speak further, so Monastario continued:
"When the cuartel is empty, you will change into some vaquero's clothes. I have it already prepared for you. Then you make the fuse, lead it out of the storage with gunpowder – outside the walls of the cuartel, Torres cannot see you doing this – light it… and get back to your room. Whatever happens, first destroy the clothes. If anyone asks later, you had a very firm sleep that night. Well, actually you may say that you have noticed some of Torres' vaqueros lurking around the cuartel… but nothing more." Monastario finished and pierced the soldier with watchful glance.
Private Sepulveda grinned smoothly:
"I understand perfectly. Is that all?"
"No," Monastario cut him in a tone that made the soldier's knowing smile disappear in a second. "If you fail… or if you speak too much… you are as well as dead, do you understand?"
"Si, mí Capitán," replied Sepulveda with much more respect than before.
"Now that is all. Dismissed," finished Monastario.
No, it wasn't wise to introduce the soldier into the plot… But what else could he do? Monastario always followed one main rule in life: if you have to do something on your own, find someone else to do it for you. In case of failure you will have another to put the guilt on.
Besides, Sepulveda already knew much about Monastario. And Monastario knew much more about Sepulveda.
When the night came and Sergeant Garcia with resigned expression set off with the lancers for the maneuvers that should take the whole night, Monastario laid himself comfortably in a bed with a book. Since he saw young de la Vega with the lecture, he couldn't shake off the impression that there was something very… elegant about it.
So, he tried to read, though he couldn't concentrate, involuntarily tensed, waiting for the sound of the explosion. His sight ran over and over again into the direction of the window - it was getting darker and darker. Finally, it was absolutely dark.
And still nothing happened.
After two hours, Monastario couldn't bear it any longer. He threw the book aside and peeked into the yard.
Nothing, only darkness.
What was that fool waiting for? Surely everyone at the pueblo was sound asleep by now. The time was running away. What if Garcia will miss his bed so much, that he returns earlier on some excuse? Finally, Monastario gave up and exited the room. The storage with the gunpowder was situated near the small side doors that in the times of peace were usually widely opened, for the merchant with supplies during the days and… well, yes, for the merry girls during the nights. In the restless times like these, the doors were carefully barricaded with the pile of boxes and barrels. Private Sepulveda must have removed at least part of them to lead the fuse outside, yet Monastario didn't dare to use that way, in case it would be lit in the meantime. He exited through the main gate and carefully headed into the direction where the fuse should be prepared.
Indeed, it was. Even in the dim moon light, Monastario could see the cord on the ground. Yet, it was still not burning. The commandante spotted the dark silhouette hidden near the doors.
"What are you still doing here, you idiot?" he hissed. "Light the fuse and get away."
He almost turned back, ready to leave the place of explosion as soon as possible, when the dark stain he thought to be Private Sepulveda parted from the shadow of the wall.
"So soon? But we barely met, Capitán," sounded soft, yet mocking voice.
Monastario quickly moved in his direction – and his eyes widened as instead of Sepulveda he saw the man in a black cape and hat shadowing his face. Or, more precisely, the black mask on his face.
"Who the hell…?"
"Someone who has a few reservations toward your… strategy, Capitán," replied the shadow in the same tone as before and kicked the fuse lying on the ground. It was cut.
Monastario glimpsed at the useless string under his feet and then looked at the man in front of him more carefully, realising that the view was most unusual.
To start with, his face was covered. Monastario was used to the bandits hiding their features, but this time it was different. This time it was not the filthy bandana wrapped around the mouth, only the black, carefully cut mask hiding the upper part of the face.
And it was not only the mask. Everything else in the stranger was uncommon, starting from the cape flowing from his shoulders like a piece of the night, to his black shoes and soft gloves. Silk and leather seemed to shine in the moonlight with some strange glow.
Monastario shook his head, trying to think logically. Such costume must have cost a lot of effort. So, the commandante quickly reasoned, whoever was wearing it, must have prepared himself carefully, not for a one-strike attack, but for the long-time… campaign…
And he was so… black. Like the shadow. Like the night around them. Like some damned devil.
"And what the abomination are you?" the commandante asked slowly narrowing his eyes and making a step closer… though something in him wanted to make a step in the opposite direction…
"You may call me Zorro," replied the stranger with laughter in his voice, the white teeth suddenly flashing in the wide smile.
"The Fox? Catchy. I will remember to use it farewelling you at the gallows," hissed Monastario, slowly regaining his composure.
"You may not have that occasion, Capitán…" the masked man neared a little unsheathing his rapier. The moon light glittered on the blade and for a moment it looked like a silver beam.
That was at least something Monastario understood. He took out his weapon, as usual relishing the sound of the steel leaving the sheath.
Oh, yes, that was something he understood, that was something he loved. He lunged forward at the masked intruder and when the blades clashed, he almost closed his eyes with delight.
When the stranger effortlessly blocked his first stabs, Monastario even pleased, that it is not some clumsy vaquero only the real swashbuckler who will provide better entertainment. The commandante carefully controlled his attacks, decided he will not simply run the bandit through, only bring him to his knees… and rip this infuriating mask off with its owner still alive, helpless and begging for mercy.
His eyes shined at this prospect and he eagerly dived into the exchange of thrust and parries.
Oh, yes, this man was good. So quick, so agile and definitely well-trained. He moved through the darkness with admirable speed, only the glitter of his blade marking his position. That was a real entertainment indeed!
Monastario was so lost in his glee that it took him a long while to understand something is not exactly as it should be. Or rather, that something is quite wrong.
No matter what the commandante did, he couldn't corner his opponent into the disadvantageous position, force him to defensive fight or knock the sword out of his hand.
He is not getting tired. He is not making mistakes, Monastario thought with unpleasant surprise.
He was giving the best of himself, using the most sophisticated tricks he has ever learnt – yet it helped nothing. The shadow in front of him was parrying everything as effortlessly as at the beginning and his silver blade seemed to get more and more difficult to block.
Slowly the shadow of anxiety started to clench Monastario's throat. Now he would give very much for the occasion to simply run his opponent through.
A strong blow sent him to the ground and even though the commandante didn't drop his sword and jumped quickly to his feet, the anxiety turned into panic.
Once he first admitted a sting of fear, the wave of frightening realisations overran him immediately. Monastario understood that it is he who is getting tired. His fingers clutching too tightly the hand guard of the sword began to numb. His legs were too stiff, a few times he stumbled over the even ground. He had more and more difficulties with noticing the moves of his opponent and parrying his thrusts.
I will lose this fight, desperate thought crossed through his mind and he felt dizzy.
No, no, no. He has never lost a duel. He was the most skilled and practiced fencer in the garrisons of Monterey and Santa Barbara. He only had to gather his strength for one last effort.
And he did so. Even if something in him whispered he shouldn't attack right now, only calm down and concentrate, he tensed his muscles and lunged forward with all determination.
In the next second his hand was empty and he heard his sword hit the ground somewhere far behind him.
"How reckless. Childish mistake," reprimanded him his opponent and the laugher clanged again in his voice.
Monastario blinked and swirled, trying to locate his weapon, but the peak of the stranger's sword pressed to his throat kept him in place.
"Go to the cuartel. And make no sound," ordered the masked bandit and this time his voice was not amused only threatening.
Monastario clenched his teeth and slowly limped in the direction of the cuartel's gate, all of his senses concentrated on the cold touch of steel on his neck.
No, he didn't try to make a sound. In fact, he was rather relieved that they met no one on their way. Though the fear for his life made the cold drops of sweat appear on his temple, he would rather die than let anyone see him being led on the peak of the sword… like the helpless sheep.
Oh, damn, Torres. As soon as they entered the yard, Ignatio Torres jumped at the unusual view and clung to the bars. Monastario could swear that in spite of the darkness he saw the prisoner smile.
I will kill him, I will just kill him, with my own hands, I will kill them both, repeated Monastario, his cheeks burning with humiliation.
"Go into the cell," ordered the masked man.
Monastario realised that if the bandit intends to murder him, now is the moment, when no one, except Torres, can see them. Is it where his life will finish, in one of the cells in his own garrison? He imagined the lancers finding his body after they return… suddenly his legs refused to obey and he stopped for a moment just in front of the bars.
The man behind him grabbed the collar of Monastario's uniform and threw him inside the cell. Then he leant into his direction and spoke in a tone that suddenly made Monastario feel very, very cold.
"It is only the beginning. Watch your steps, Capitán, watch your hands, because I will be watching you… and if you will try to harm the innocent people for your ambitions... I will be somewhere in shadows waiting for you."
Monastario let out the breath he didn't know he was keeping. Once he understood that the stranger does not intend to kill him, all the humiliation and fury returned:
"You will regret it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I swear I will find you, even if you hide yourself under the earth, I will dig you up and make you pay."
"Capitán, and I swear to you, that you will not have to dig me up from the earth. We will meet again," laughed the masked man with his wide, a bit ravenous smile, turning the keys in the lock.
Then he ran toward Torres and said something quietly. Monastario heard only Torres' answer.
"No. Thank you, but no. I don't want his vengeance over my family and my land. My friends will help me… to get a fair judgement."
"All right, it is better that way," replied the stranger. "I will be watching over you. And I will find some way… to acquit you in the name of the law."
In the meantime, through the cuartel's ajar gate, slowly throttled a big, black stallion. He stopped at the middle of the yard, sniffed a few times and turned into the direction of Monastario. Then the animal looked at the commandante for a while with his big eyes and suddenly snorted. It really sounded like a chuckle.
"That was rude, Tornado," the masked man reprimanded his mount and jumped on the saddle. The horse reared and the rider, throwing the keys into the pile of straw and hay for horses, bowed into the direction of Monastario with mocking salute.
"Good night, Capitán!" he exclaimed merrily and galloped into the darkness behind the gate.
This time, Sergeant Garcia must have scrupulously covered the whole route the commandante chose for maneuvers, as the hours passed and the lancers didn't return to the cuartel. Monastario paced up and down through the small cell, clenching his fists, listening to the church clock striking one hour after another and, with each sound of the clock, finding new ways of killing the masked bandit.
No, hanging definitely wasn't enough.
After considering all interesting means of execution he heard about in Europe, like tearing with horses or stoning to death, Monastario, searching for some more sophisticated solutions, reached to the deepest resources of the religious knowledge he acquired during some rare church visits. For example, Apostle John was boiled in the copper with hot oil. The Saint survived it, but this… Fox shouldn't.
But where one could find the copper big enough?
About three hours after midnight, Monastario reminded himself about Saint Laurence who was baked alive on the fire grate and started to wonder if something like this could be arranged at the cuartel's yard.
There was also something in the martyrdom of Saint Hippolytus that worked on imagination, but Monastario couldn't recall the details.
Suddenly his considerations were interrupted by the clatter of horses' hoofs – Sergeant Garcia finally returned with lancers.
"Capitán?" he asked staring at Monastario as if he saw the ghost. "Capitán, what are you doing in the cell?"
"Don't ask stupid questions, baboso, only get me out of here!" shouted Monastario, infuriated by the merry chuckles among the lancers. "The keys are somewhere in the straw!"
"But why did you throw the keys into the straw, Capitán? With you inside the cell?" startled Garcia not making the slightest move into the direction of the straw pile.
"Find these keys!" yelled Monastario.
The lancers started to brush aside the straw, but without much success, even if Garcia encouraged them with hectic shouts:
"Hurry on, hurry on! All of you, search, don't stay aside! Help the commandante!"
Yet, the more lancers burrowed in the pile with their muskets, the more they seem to disturb one another.
"Perhaps I could get you something to eat in the meantime, Capitán? Or to drink?" asked shyly Sergeant Garcia. "We may have to wait till dawn, so…"
"Find. These. Keys. Baboso!" gnarled Monastario clenching his hands on the bars.
Ignatio Torres in the cell on the opposite site of the yard sat on the ground hiding his face in the hands.
"I know," suddenly proposed Corporal Reyes. "Maybe we could burn the straw? Then the keys should be easily found in the ashes?"
"Good idea, Corporal!" pleased the sergeant, yet then he hesitated. "But what if the keys melt in the fire? Do you think that the iron would melt, Corporal?"
"I don't know," replied Reyes with sleepy pensiveness. "I have never tried to burn the keys. We can try and see."
"All right," agreed the sergeant. "But providing they melt…" he interrupted and looked at Monastario: "What shall we do if the keys melt, mí Capitán?"
"Idiots!" yelled Monastario. "I will hang you the moment I get out!"
"In such case I am not sure if I should hurry with finding the keys," noticed gloomily the sergeant, but obediently moved into the direction of the straw pile.
Suddenly he froze hearing the quiet moan from the adjacent cell.
"It must be Sepulveda," observed Monastario. He forgot about the private till that moment.
Garcia quickly moved to the bars, trying to peek inside.
"He is bound and gagged, but seem to be otherwise unharmed. What happened to him?"
"I don't know, he must have been stunned," replied Monastario obliviously. "Just hurry with those keys, you stupid barrel!"
"Yes, we must see how is he," muttered Garcia, throwing anxious glances into the cell, where Sepulveda was closed.
"Oh. I found the keys," Corporal Reyes suddenly appeared by Garcia's side, handing him the metal ring.
The lancers quickly took care about Sepulveda, who with their help stood up, looking a bit groggily around. Monastario, as soon as he got out, corrected his uniform and took deep breath.
"Lancers, to horses!" he yelled. "We are going for a search!"
And we won't return until I get this black bastard, he thought mounting his white stallion.
The sun was already high when Pina went to the cuartel. Yet, Monastario wasn't there and the licenciado couldn't learn much from the two lancers left on guard. So, he went to the tavern and after an hour he already knew the details of Monastario's night adventure. He couldn't hide a small smile on his lips… The rest of the afternoon he spent between the tavern and his office, watchfully observing the cuartel, but only when the shadows on the plaza got quite long, did he see the blue jackets of the lancers arriving at the gate.
Pina quickly ran toward them.
"So, you didn't find him?" he asked Monastario, looking at the soldiers.
The lancers were so tired, that they barely had the strength to take care about their horses. Monastario seemed a bit better, but even he was rather battered, the stains of dust and mud dirtying his usually immaculately white uniform trousers.
"You heard already?" bridled Monastario angrily.
"Everyone did," the licenciado shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks to you."
He looked at his employer maliciously and added shaking his head.
"Bravo, Capitán. Bravo. After you have been asking in all haciendas for the masked bandit who calls himself the Fox for the whole day, no one at the pueblo speaks about anything else. Usually the bandits have to work months for such recognition and you gave it to him in one day. Bravo."
Of course the licenciado knew that Monastario's failures are also his misfortune, but some part of him couldn't help enjoying the confusion of the dashing capitán.
Monastario must have been in a really bad shape, as he ignored the taunts, only asked impatiently:
"What do the people say?"
"Some think it is the desperado from the mountains, with claim of vengeance against you. However, most of the people say it is the… oh, well, the protector of the poor, defender against your injustice… and so on," stated Pina rather obliviously. He didn't care for bandits, no matter how fancy aliases they chose.
"Any clues, and gossips, who might he be?" urged him Monastario.
"Apart from the opinion that he was sent by Heaven? No." Pina was getting irritated with the subject. "Now listen, Capitán, as for Torres' case, Alejandro de la Vega..."
"Forget Torres! Forget de la Vega!" the commandante finally burst out. "These old fools can wait for their turn! I want that man, that black rascal, I want him alive, so that I could…"
"Only that de la Vega was not polite enough to wait patiently until you decide it is his turn," interrupted him Pina. "In the meantime, while you were strolling through the countryside, he gathered the cabildo and they sent an official letter to the governor… saying that they fear for Ignatio Torres' life, as he is your private enemy and you arrested him without a reason… Don Alejandro came to inform you about it, but as you were not present, he talked to me."
"Alejandro knows what happened last night at the cuartel?" asked Monastario absently.
"He didn't in the morning, but as his son has been sitting in the tavern since siesta, he will surely bring him all the gossips. Anyway, does it matter? Did you understand what happened?" Pina almost jumped with irritation. "Don Augustin already rode to Monterey. Now you do need strong evidence if you still want to dispose of Torres. In my opinion, not one of these hot headed fools would get into such… neat idea, so I guess that it was that…"
"Don Augustin?" Monastario finally looked at the licenciado with some attention, "I will arrest him before he reaches the King's Road."
"You cannot arrest everyone," Pina shrugged his shoulders again. "Besides, I am afraid he had already reached it and I see that your lancers are in no condition to catch up with him."
The licenciado looked at the lancers again – it was hard to say who was more tired; they or their horses. Monastario for a moment seemed a bit unsure, but then he only waved his hand dismissively in the air.
"No matter. We will find some way to hang him in the name of the law," he stated with serenity that Pina definitely didn't like, especially because the commandante used the plural form.
A moment later, however, Monastario's face darkened and his eyes shined with rancour unusual even by him:
"And as for that damned disguiser, I will get him, I will kill him and he will rot under the graveyard's wall!" the commandante breathed quickly for a moment and added gloomily: "And I will get that horse of his too."
Pina stared at him for a moment.
"Could you just… calm yourself?" he asked quietly.
To his surprise, Monastario just nodded.
"I will deal with him in a few days. He is just a bandit. One more bandit, nothing else," he repeated much calmer. "Only that," he confided to Pina after a moment of consideration and hung his voice for so long, that the licenciado urged him:
"Only what?"
"He has a hideous smile," finished heavily Monastario.
This time Monastario welcomed the tiredness as it let him forget after the night's humiliation. Yet, when he entered his room, he understood he will not be able to sleep. So, the commandante decided to visit the tavern… drink some wine… watch this catchy dancer… and if someone smirks even once looking at him, he will arrest him on the spot and flog tomorrow.
Almost satisfied, Monastario walked to the tavern.
Yet, when he entered the sala, he froze at the door on the unpleasant surprise.
His table – his favourite table was occupied. Or, the more proper description would be - very occupied. At least dozens of guests crowded over him, so that Monastario had to crane his neck to see through the crowd, who was so bold – or so stupid – to take his place.
He noticed the ornate jacket of Alejandro's son, but it was not the young man who drew the attention of the other guests. It was his goofy servant.
The young de la Vega watched with boyish fascination, holding his breath as the others around them, when his servant built a house from the few packs of cards. House? It was a sophisticated construction, with walls, gates, towers, annexes of different size… After the moment Monastario recognised the cuartel, portrayed with thorough precision, just as it could be seen from the tavern's widows.
The construction was almost finished; there was only one card, a joker, left on the table.
The plump servant pointed to his master to do the honour of finalising the work. The young man bowed in comic way and took the card, adding it negligently somewhere at the side.
The balance of the construction was disturbed and all the cards, the whole so precisely prepared building, fell on the table in the total mess. The disappointed onlookers sighed and slowly returned to their places. However, though the trick had just failed, Alejandro's son and his servant curled with guffaw, as if something very joyous has just happen: the plump cripple with soundless chuckle and the young man with loud, contagious laughter.
"Jester!" muttered angrily Monastario and exited the tavern.
