NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!

WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY

Chapter Five

Monastario was elated. Everything had worked perfectly. He could see by the shocked look on Diego de la Vega's bearded face that he had not known until just this moment that it was he who had brought him here. De la Vega seemed speechless. It was a delicious moment and he savored it to the fullest. Turning to his companion he said, "I believe we have had the desired effect eh, Señor Escobar?" and he laughed maliciously.

Felipe Escobar, who had been an emissary of the king in California, was also smiling with pleasure. "Yes, my dear Capitán, you have pulled it off brilliantly. Look how he remains dumb like his mouse of a servant!"

Monastario walked up to Diego until they were face to face. "Diego de la Vega, in California I was denied the satisfaction of seeing you revealed as Zorro, the fox. But I have brought you here to me in Spain where I will be recompensed for my loss. I declare you to be Zorro, the outlaw and I am going to be your judge and executioner." He raised a clinched fist. "You humiliated me too many times, de la Vega and I intend to exact my vengeance upon you here in this place."

Diego knew it was useless to deny he was Zorro to these people. His charade was over with them. He almost decided it would be better to remain silent and let them believe what they would, but his pride and honor rose to the surface.

He looked levelly back at Monastario who had such a triumphant look on his face and said, "Zorro was only born out of the necessity to fight your tyranny in California. He brought your malevolent ambitions into the light and put a stop to them. Any humiliation you suffered was created by your own hand, by your own stupidity."

Diego found himself on the floor, having been struck hard by Monastario's fist. "Pick him up," he growled and the guards leaped to do so. They held Diego for a moment until he shrugged them off.

"I see you are as witty as ever, Señor Zorro. But you see, it will avail you nothing for I am in command here. Oh, you thought you had defeated me in California. But I knew many men who owed me political favors and they were able to return me to Spain, restored to my former position, with all of the power my office holds.

"Señor Escobar, here, has also made arrangements for his future. He thirsts for revenge for the loss of time and money, and the humiliation he also endured at your hands. You are far away from anyone who can help you this time; not your father, or that false servant of yours. Pretending he was deaf was a masterstroke of genius, I must admit. It took me a long time to discover that about him. But it made so many things clear.

"You are alone here, Diego de la Vega, with only your tormentors for company. Come," he gestured. "I have had some quarters prepared especially for you." He motioned for the guards to push Diego out into the hall where on the left there was an office with a large desk and an ornate fireplace and on the right, a little further down, was a iron bound wooden door in front of which they stopped. Escobar trailed along behind.

Unlocking the door, a guard preceded Monastario down the stairs with a lighted torch. Pushed, Diego followed. He was unconsciously twisting his hands in the handcuffs as though trying to wrest them off. He tried to resist going down the stairs, but the guards forced him on. At the bottom of the stairs was a landing just big enough for all of them to stand while another door was being opened. The guard who had led the way lighted the torches on either side. This door had a barred window in it and was locked from the outside.

Once inside, Monastario ordered the guard to light all four of the torches in the square room, which was about thirty feet on a side with the walls being made completely of stone. It had high ceilings and only one window to the outside, high above their heads. Next to a rickety table and a sad looking chair, some straw was piled on the floor beside the far wall. There was a blanket on the straw and on the blanket rested manacles and chains.

"Take a good look, de la Vega. This is where you will spend the rest of your life, however short that may be." He watched to see Diego's reaction.

Diego was aware that he was being watched, so he controlled the revulsion he was feeling just looking at the manacles. His helplessness in this situation had robbed him of any remarks he might have made. So he just stood there and looked at Monastario waiting for the next move.

Monastario laughed. "You will never know how long I have dreamed of having you here, de la Vega. That you are rendered speechless pleases me greatly. I endured enough of your sharp tongue in California. And now we will begin the night's entertainment. Guards! Take off those handcuffs and his jacket and give him his 'sword'."

Diego suffered to have this done and looked questioningly at the bamboo stick he had been given. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"Why, defend yourself, Señor Zorro" said Monastario sarcastically. He had drawn his own sword and suddenly lunged at Diego who parried out of instinct and avoided being cut by the narrowest of margins. "Ah ha! You now see the game we play. You will defend yourself because you must, but your defence will not last and I will prevail!" Monastario crowed.

"Then I will not fight you," said Diego lowering the 'sword'.

"Oh yes you will!" and to prove it Monastario hit Diego with a flurry of moves. Diego hated to admit it, but Monastario was right, he would defend himself. With only a bamboo stick he held Monastario at bay, but he knew it would not last long. Monastario stepped back and waived his sword in front of him, toying with it, as he said with a knowing grin, "I see you no longer feel the need to hide your skill from me. Only a master swordsman could have lasted against me armed as you are. Am I right?"

Diego acknowledged Monastario's assessment by saluting with his 'sword'. Monastario executed a mock bow and began another round of attacks. Slowly Diego's 'sword' began to splinter and he could not defend himself adequately. He began taking cuts from Monastario's blade.

At each cut, Monastario cried "Ah ha!" in triumph. In time, Diego was cut in more than a dozen places and blood began to color his white shirt red as his wounds accumulated. Still he fought on. In desperation he could do nothing else. At last, the bamboo 'sword' gave way and splintered useless to the floor. Diego found himself backed up against the wall with Monastario's sword at his throat.

"Guards, hold him," he commanded and waited until the heavily breathing, bleeding Diego was held fast. Then with his eyes locked on Diego's and a sneering smile on his face he took his gloved left hand and ripped Diego's shirt open. He could see fear in Diego's eyes, but also defiance. "Good, it will make this all the much sweeter," he thought.

So swiftly that the blade in his hand became a blur, he slashed a large letter 'M' on Diego's chest. Escobar could be heard clapping with approval in the background. Monastario stepped back.

Diego thought he was on fire. The agony of pain from his chest threatened to make him black out and his legs gave way. Gasping, he hung there between the guards. He eventually pulled himself together enough to look up at Monastario who was watching him and swinging his sword absently.

"That is to pay you back for all those 'Z's' you cut into my uniforms, my walls, my doors, my cuartel. The humiliation of it! Well, Señor Zorro, you will go to your grave with MY initial cut into your body . . . and your soul!"

And with that, Diego in uncaring fury, lunged at Monastario who slammed him in the head with the hilt of his sword. Diego was knocked unconscious.

"Put him in irons," said Monastario. The guards pulled Diego onto the straw pallet, placing him face up, and the manacles were locked on each wrist. Monastario used the tip of his sword to push Diego's shirt aside so he could admire his handiwork. He was well satisfied with this first encounter. He turned to go.

"Señor Escobar, I have some excellent wine upstairs. Come and tell me what you think of our little fencing exhibition tonight," he said.

They exited the room and the guards extinguished the torches and locked the door on the way out. A small, weak beam of moonlight shone on the seemingly lifeless form lying on the straw.