Through the Eyes of a Fox
Disclaimer:
See Chapter 1.
It breaks Don Alejandro's heart to hand over his burden to Sergeant Garcia, whose eyes bulge from his fat cheeks at the sight of the infamous outlaw separated from the night's friendly shadows. Most of the soldiers have gathered in the courtyard of the cuartel at this unexpected spectacle, and the mood is painfully jubilant. Many of these men lost hours of sleep and good mounts in the pursuit of the Fox and Alejandro has to fight back the urge to turn his horse about and shield the injured man from their unfriendly gazes.
Behind him, Armando cracks the outlaw's bullwhip, anxious for his reward and public admiration for his act. Alejandro ignores him as best he can and dismounts lightly, helping Zorro to the ground. As soon as the masked man's boots hit the dusty ground, his knees buckle, and it is only with Garcia's help that he does not pitch headlong to the ground.
"He has been ill-used, Sergeant," Alejandro murmurs quietly. "Treat him well and I shall reward you."
The usually loud and jovial man looks rather shocked at his quarry's condition, and the slabs of fat around his neck and face jiggle comically as he solemnly nods his head.
"I will certainly try my best, Don Alejandro."
"Good. I will be taking a room at the inn tonight. You could, perhaps, join me later for a drink?"
"Oh, I would be honoured, Don Alejandro. I will certainly be there!"
Alejandro is secretly glad that the large soldier has so easily fulfilled a greed. If he had thought it any use, he would have bribed Armando's men the night before in his stable, but they are all under their leader's cruel dominion, and he is most certainly a malicious and crude man, taking a perverse pleasure on bringing pain and despair upon others. Money, he is sure, is only part of what drove Armando Castillo into the bounty hunter trade.
As the current commandante, Santos Moncada, draws Armando into his own rooms, no doubt to negotiate payment of the reward, Alejandro watches Zorro being half-carried into his cell. Garcia lays him on the wooden bench gently, and carries away the keys on his belt. There is a certain relief to be found in the taking of such measures. The soldiers would of course be curious as to Zorro's identity and Garcia's stout-hearted following of army regulations forbids any notion that they would be allowed to torment the outlaw held in their cells. Unable to do any more at the present moment, Alejandro collects his horse and starts for the inn, watching sadly as the soldiers attempt to corral Toronado, who flails at them with hooves and teeth, his furious screams shattering the otherwise peaceful morning.
Outside the cuartel gates, curious locals are gathering, and when they see his familiar face, there is a babble of questions directed at him. Alejandro sighs, feeling much older than his years, and holds up a hand to stop the crowd's yells.
"I have just come from Santos Moncada. I am sure he would want me to inform you that the outlaw known as Zorro has been caught."
In fact, if Don Alejandro has any grasp of the man's character, he would very much have liked to announce that himself. A short, cringing man with an over-pronounced sense of his own importance, and it is a small consolation to rob him of that undeserved honour.
There is a shocked silence, at first. A very small child somewhere begins to wail, thin notes of plaintive grief which make his horse shift uneasily. Then cries of despair, of anger, shouts for Zorro's freedom, protests and desperate ideas. Alejandro bends under the weight of their anguish, and finds himself drinking heavily in the bar much earlier than he would do on a normal day, seeking to drive the pain ever deeper beneath the numbing alcohol. At some point, Garcia joins him, and he buys him jugs of wine, and then drinks some more.
Garcia tells him about the upcoming trial, of Moncada's urgency to see Zorro on the gallows before he slips through their fingers, of Toronado's seeming madness and his imprisonment in a closed stall in the soldier's barracks. Once Alejandro thinks he sees his son's manservant, Bernardo, in the crowd of bar patrons, but he is gone again by the time he thinks to take a second glance.
No doubt his ageing eyes are playing tricks on him. Not only is Bernardo many miles away with Diego at this moment, he would also never have shown such strong emotion in such a public place.
In fact, when Alejandro reflects, he's never seen Bernardo cry.
Author's Note: Thanks go to my reviewers Ida Mirei, vertigirl, Icy Waters, Slightly Obsessive and tahitiliz. I had hoped to end this little arc with this chapter, but my muse went "No! We shall have more chapters! MORE I SAY!" Don't mess with the muse. Luckily, I (finally) know how it will end. Hooray!
Until next time,
Taluliaka.