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

WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY

Chapter Eight

Diego was half dozing when the guard noisily opened the door the next morning. He chose not to move. The guard looked around for the table and then seemed to remember what had happened to it because he came and put the food down next to Diego on the floor. He also deposited the water jug and some fresh rags next to him. Jerking his thumb up, the guard indicated that Diego was expected to stand up for inspection.

Although he felt terrible, he had enough grit left that he wanted to see if he could get up for himself. With an involuntary groan, he stood up and almost fell except that the guard caught him. The pain from his wounds was a roaring ache, which he felt down to his bones. Each movement was an adventure in pain as each cut on his body vied for his attention.

The guard backed off leaving Diego upright but swaying. He didn't see it, but the guard's face softened as he looked at the young man. Then it hardened again as he remembered he was a soldier and he did not dare empathize with his charge. Especially not in this instance. So he growled at Diego to get on with his meal and to hurry up and clean himself up because he had other duties to perform.

Diego ate his food mechanically. He knew he needed the nourishment to help him to be able to think and he would need all of the strength he could get. He was desperate to drink all of the water, but held back enough to treat his wounds. He had to be very careful as he worked because the slightest pressure would cause many of them to bleed again. He did not allow himself to count them, he only cleaned himself up as best as he could. The less he thought about what had been done to him the better. He concentrated on the fact that he had the nails and he would soon be able to work with them.

As he finished, the guard picked up the plate and jug and turned to go. Diego asked in a soft, dignified voice, "Please Señor. If you could leave me some water?"

The guard looked at him for a moment and left. Diego sat down by the wall and leaned back discouraged. Apart from the actual pain of his wounds, he also felt generally unwell. He knew he would be very thirsty before the guard came back in the afternoon. To his surprise, the guard was back in just a few minutes. He came in and put the jug of water down beside Diego, who sat up, and left without a word, locking the door behind him. He could be heard going up the stairs. Diego looked at the door for a long time. This small act of kindness was the first he had experienced in months.

He finally picked up the jug and drank more than half of the water before putting it down. Then he leaned back against the wall. The coolness of the stones felt good on his back. Something made him look up at the door in time to see the guard's face disappear from the window. Apparently he had come back to check on the prisoner and had done it so quietly that Diego had not heard him. This meant he had to be doubly careful if he was going to create his lock pick from the nails he had. He didn't dare let the nails be confiscated.

Speaking of which, he pulled loose the stone from the wall and felt around in the straw for the nails. Working quickly, and ignoring the pain each movement caused, he soon had one nail shaped to try and pick the locks on his on his manacles. His youthful interest in magic tricks was of immense help as he worked on the locks. Soon both of his hands were free. A smile broke out on his bearded face as he rubbed his wrists and reveled in even this small amount of freedom.

He wanted to explore his prison, but first he needed a way to hear anyone who approached his cell. It would not do for anyone to discover he could free himself from the manacles. Looking about him all he could see was some sandy dirt that had collected in the corners over the years. Wounds protesting, he got up and gathered several handfuls which he carried in one of the rags the guard had left. Taking a handful, he stuck his arm through the door window as far as he could and pitched it on the stairs as high up as he could. Then he dropped some directly in front of the door. Whoever came down those stairs would make enough noise no matter how softly they walked that he should have some warning. Well . . . it was the best he could do.

Looking out the door window around each side as far as he could, and even above him, Diego took in the layout of the stairway. He noticed that the beams for the floor above were exposed. It looked like there would be room for someone to squeeze in up there by using the torch holder beside the cell door to gain access. He didn't think anyone would stop to look up if they thought he had escaped.

That done, he began a systematic exploration of his cell. The outside window was far too high for him to reach. As he had discovered when he found the rock to use as a hammer, that a lot of the mortar in this place was old and crumbly. Even, to his satisfaction, the mortar around the hinges of the door. If he had the time, he could probably use the nails he had to dig the mortar away and pull the door loose. But he would rather not have to do that.

He felt his best chance to escape would be in the morning when the guard brought his breakfast. It only remained to be seen whether Monastario would leave him strong enough to attempt it. Purposefully he walked around the cell and performed some stretching exercises trying to limber up his sore and painful body. His many wounds caused him to become very stiff. His whole body protested, and there were times when he became dizzy, but he could not tell if this was from the blow to his head or from loss of blood. He steeled himself against his weakness grimly determined to hang on.

In the early afternoon, Diego heard the guard coming down the stairs. He quickly sat down locking the manacles back on. His skin crawled as he did so, but he mastered himself and lapsed back into an indolent state as though he had been there all day. He heard with satisfaction the sound the guard's feet made as he walked over the sand outside the door. He would not be caught by surprise now. Setting the food down, the guard leaned up against the wall with arms folded waiting for Diego to eat. To his surprise, a cup he was given contained some passable wine. Raising the cup, he saluted the guard who acknowledged the gesture with a nod. While he was eating, the guard took the water jug out and filled it, leaving the cell door open as he did so.

"Ah," thought Diego. "He becomes sloppy now that he thinks I am unable to do anything. Perhaps I will not have to spend my time attacking the mortar around the door."

The guard brought the jug back in and took Diego's cup and plate away. Locking the door he went up the stairs. Diego started to unlock his manacles again, but stopped as he was reaching for the pick, for he heard soft scraping noises on the stair. Leaning back, he closed his eyes to a slit and saw the guard looking in the door again. The sand had worked well. The guard looked for several long minutes during which time Diego did not move, pretending to be asleep. Soon the guard could be heard going up the stairs.

Diego decided to release himself again. As he walked slowly around the cell, he began to review what he could remember about Monastario's house. His ability to recall the layout of the building would be critical to his escape. As the sun set, he sat down and put the manacles back on and waited for Monastario and Escobar.

When they came, Diego pretended to be as weak as he was expected to be (which was not far from the truth) because he could not let Monastario see hope in his captive's eyes. Or the fire that burned in his heart now that he was able to work on a means of escape.

Escobar had brought a bottle of wine with him and he looked like he had already consumed another. He had difficulty sitting in the chair without leaning to one side. Monastario stood with his hands on his hips looking at Escobar with disfavor. Shaking his head he turned to Diego. "Again it is time for our engagement, de la Vega. Surely you will do me the honor of standing in my presence?" He motioned for the guards who came and roughly picked up Diego and removed his manacles. Neither one was the guard who had been bringing him his food. One of them placed another bamboo 'sword' in his hand. Diego just looked at it, not wanting to meet Monastario's eyes.

Monastario took delight in seeing what he thought was defeat already taking hold of Diego. It was so delicious to have this man, this Zorro, in his control. Every day he could hardly wait to come down here and humiliate de la Vega. It was all he could do to come down only once a day. But he did not want to hurry de la Vega's demise. He enjoyed savoring the feeling of superiority and the intense anticipation of the evening almost as much as the 'duel' itself. Escobar began to complain of the delay as he drank from the bottle.

"Crude man," thought Monastario. "But he is right. Let us begin." Poking Diego in the chest with the point of his sword, he said, "On guard, Zorro!"

Diego almost lost control as the point of the sword pierced his skin, but he forced himself to fight like a man resigned to his fate. He fought with skill, but as before, a bamboo sword was inadequate and he was soon receiving new sword cuts on top of old ones.

On and on it went, Monastario harrying Diego until he finally put his sword through the flesh of Diego's left arm just above the elbow. As he leaned over gasping and clutching the wound, Monastario brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of Diego's head sending him down to the floor.

Escobar crowed his delight. "More! More!" he cried. "Don't stop yet!"

Monastario gestured to the guards who came and pulled Diego up to his knees. He could see that he was only semi-conscious. "Throw some water on him," he said.

This was done and slowly Diego came around. He could hardly focus on the man in front of him. Monastario knelt down and grabbed him by the hair, holding him so that they could look into each other's eyes. A brief hatred shown out of Diego's eyes before he dropped them and would not meet Monastario's again.

Monastario was satisfied. Again he had humiliated de la Vega, but there was still a fire there that would enable his enemy to continue to fight on. Once that fire was gone and he had destroyed the heart of Zorro, then it would be time to end this and bury de la Vega here in this room. He signaled for the guards to drag Diego over to the straw pallet and to put the manacles back on.

Seeing that Diego was only semi-conscious and that he was losing a great deal of blood from the wound in his left arm, he ordered water and cloth to be brought and bound the wound himself. He would let de la Vega care for his other wounds, but he wanted to make sure he would be alive to fight another day.

Diego was not aware of Monastario's closeness or he would not have let him touch him, no matter what.

By this time, Escobar was propped precariously in the chair, in danger of sliding off. Monastario looked at him in disgust. He growled, "If I did not need you, you little weasel, I would bury you here with de la Vega." Picking up the bottle, he told the guards to carry Escobar up the stairs after extinguishing the torches. He saw to the door being locked himself. As he looked into the cell again, he could barely make out the still form of Diego as he lay on the straw next to the wall. Smiling evilly to himself, he turned and went up the stairs.