NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!
WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY
Chapter Seven
In the late afternoon, the guard came back and brought the water jug and a plate of food. Diego awoke and realized he was very hungry. But more than that, he was thirsty. He tried to rise, but found that he was extremely stiff and sore. He could barely move. Stifling a groan, he staggered onto his feet. The guard had put the food on the table that he had pushed back over within Diego's reach. Diego drank gratefully. Then while he ate, he carefully felt around the table leg for the nails. If he had time, he might get one loose now. But it was not to be. The guard claimed he was tired of waiting and snatched the empty jug and plate, pushed the table back out of reach, and went out the door. There was nothing but silence after that.
The day drew to a close and Diego's cell grew dark. He grew tense with anticipation and dread. He did not want to go through another night like last night! He was dismayed that he had no choice in the matter and he was almost ready to jump out of his skin due to the emotional turmoil. He finally took strength in the knowledge that Zorro had always been able to beat the odds. Zorro had always been the victor in his encounters with Monastario, and Diego was Zorro was he not?
There was a sudden noise outside of his cell and he looked up. He could see the light from the torches as the guards came down. Soon the door to his cell was opened and they were lighting the torches in his cell. Diego, whose eyes were used to the darkness, was suddenly partially blinded. He threw an arm up to shield his eyes. The guards took up their positions. Diego forced himself to stand up. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders. He was afraid of the pain he must endure again tonight, but he would not let Monastario see that.
Monastario swept into the room pulling on his fencing gloves. He wore his usual ornate uniform. Escobar came in behind him and seeing the chair near the door, sat in it. He had a glass and a bottle of wine with him. Monastario stood, feet apart, hands on hips, looking Diego over from the floor up, taking in the blood stained trousers, the similarly stained shirt (that was carefully buttoned), and the unkempt beard.
He stopped when his eyes met Diego's. He saw defiance there. He smiled with wicked anticipation. He had not been disappointed. De la Vega would continue to fight tonight even though he already knew the outcome. It was this spirit that Monastario intended to dominate and break. But he did not wish it to happen too quickly. He had waited long for his vengeance and he did not want it to end prematurely.
"Come now, Señor Zorro. Let us have our evening's sport." He watched as the guards took off Diego's manacles and handed him the 'sword' of bamboo. "I see you are moving a little stiffly tonight. I hope that carrying my initial on your chest has not proved to be too heavy a burden?" He saw Diego's eyes flash. He had hit a nerve! "Maybe I should inspect my handiwork," he said as he took the tip of his sword and tried to push aside the fabric of Diego's shirt. His blade was met in a flash by the bamboo stick and was knocked away. "Ah, you want to fight do you?" Monastario exclaimed as he attacked.
Diego had been within a hairs-breadth of completely losing his temper. Then he remembered he had one goal above all others tonight, and that was getting the nails from the table. He had to accomplish that at least. So as Monastario attacked, he retreated until Monastario was directly in front of the table. During this time, he received several cuts by Monastario's sword because his reflexes were slowed by his previous injuries, but he kept on. Then in one great lunge he drove Monastario back and into the table bringing them down. The table broke up. Diego dove for the table leg just as the guards ran to help Monastario and while they were distracted, he found one nail loose on the floor and wrenched another free of the wood. Then the guards were on him, pushing him away. He managed to toss the nails into the straw of his bed unobserved.
Monastario was furious with Diego and the guards. Diego, for having maneuvered him into position and the guards for not having the foresight to remove the table. The malevolent look he gave Diego promised no quarter tonight. Monastario then proceeded to play Diego like an instrument. Eventually, Diego was cut up worse than he was the night before. Individually, none of the wounds were life threatening, but cumulatively they were taking a heavy toll. Soon Monastario had Diego beaten down to one knee. With a last blow he swept the remains of the bamboo out of Diego's hand. Escobar yelled, "Bravo," from the chair and raised his glass in a toast to Monastario who saluted Escobar with his sword. He turned back to Diego who, still on one knee, panted from the exertion and loss of blood. Using the tip of his sword, he placed it under Diego's chin and caused him to raise his head.
"Look at me de la Vega. Let me see if Zorro still lives in your eyes." Monastario peered closely. Although Diego was weak and withdrawn, there was still that extra something there. Monastario was pleased. Bit by bit he was eating away at the core of Zorro's being. De la Vega's spirit was dying a little each day. When it was dead, Zorro would be finished. If he wanted this delicious revenge to continue, he would have to be careful just how much he damaged de la Vega each night. Too much, and he might simply die from blood loss, never having been broken. That would never, never do.
He motioned the guards to drag Diego over to his bed and lock him in the manacles again. Monastario observed everything with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.
He leaned over Diego and said, "I own you, Zorro. Remember that. During your last days on this earth, I own you. No longer can you impose your will on me. I have escaped the justice of Zorro by my own cunning. The justice of Zorro is, like you, lying crushed at my feet."
Kicking straw in Diego's face, he left laughing heartily. The guards performed their usual duties and left Diego in the dark. He soon succumbed to his pain and exhaustion.
Sometime in the night, Diego awoke to the sound of someone moaning. He finally realized it was himself. He lay there in pain, unable to sleep. Monastario's last words kept ringing in his ears, until the only phrase he could focus on was "the justice of Zorro . . . the justice of Zorro . . .the justice of Zorro . . . ." The seeds of vengeance had been sown.