Chapter II. In which El Zorro kidnaps a political prisoner
Looking at Monastario and Constancia madly kissing, Zorro could hardly restrain the desire to give Tornado a leg and let them sort it out by themselves. They found the ideal time for a date, damn it! And yet he could not bring himself to interrupt what he was watching. The Captain was sitting on the bed, still dressed in his uniform, and the petite girl in his arms, all in black, seemed burning with passion.
Well, Enrique was not mistaken: the Viceroy's daughter was not a prude, so if they had time, the date would not have been limited to hot kisses. Really, it was a pity that they would never be together: among other things, a marriage with Constancia would bring a lot of pleasure. At least at first.
Hearing a cough, Enrique broke the kiss and saw Zorro in the window.
"We need to hurry," El Zorro said hoarsely. Indeed...
Not at all embarrassed, his savior touched his temple with her lips; she told him to take care of himself and whispered that she would look forward to their next meeting. Frankly, Enrique had a soft spot for women who knew what they wanted, and therefore it was not surprising that he became excited by Constancia's words. His breeches, of course, could not hide the result of the excitement, but Enrique had no intention of being embarrassed. El Zorro should make sure that nature generously endowed Captain Monastario. Or Enrique should think "Don Diego" instead of "Señor Zorro"? Ah, who cares!
The bedroom window was small and located high above the ground, but it was not these circumstances that presented the difficulty. It was the fact that Zorro behaved awkwardly for the first time in Enrique's memory. Something seemed to constantly get in the way: when it was not the bandit's sword, it was his cape. Finally, Monastario managed to sit in the saddle, holding this clumsy man by the waist and the Fox carefully got his horse to walk.
The gates had been imprudently left unlocked, since the visit of the Viceroy's daughter was not expected to last long, and the soldiers of the garrison were always idiotas. Left without the command of Monastario, they, fortunately for the former Comandante, demonstrated the height of carelessness. This is what Zorro took advantage of, slipping between the gates as a black shadow before launching his horse into a gallop.
For sure, my señorita has already raised the alarm, thought the Captain, squeezing his hands tighter on Zorro's waist and enjoying the ride, the night, the freedom. He didn't let the euphoria get to his head, because the danger was not over yet. But even the fact that he was being saved from death by the brat de la Vega, also known as El Zorro, could not overshadow Enrique's joy.
Zorro probably enjoyed the chases, but they were lucky this time, as no one came after them. After meandering around for good measure, the rider quite calmy entered the territory of the de la Vega rancho. There was no clatter of dozens of hooves, nor spectacular jumps over a gorge. Enrique wanted to complain about being bored, but he bit his tongue just in time. Which of them, one wondered, was a young daredevil, and which was the Comandante, albeit a former one?
Now both of you are outlaws, even worse, accomplices, an inner voice quipped. Sighing, Enrique decided that it was ridiculous to continue to hate de la Vega. Besides, the young man was not such a nuisance when he was silent.
The black stallion slowed down to a trot, and his owner suddenly spoke.
"I... I was the young man you saved in Madrid. The Viceroy gave me your… my former Toledo blade this morning."
There was silence. "A flesh-eating knife with sweet, murderous wing keeps flying and shining around my life…"* hmm yes.
"So, it was you," Enrique burst out. After a pause, Monastario said thoughtfully, "Truly, my birthday will be an odd day..."
"Your birthday?" Zorro responded.
"Sí, it's tomorrow."
"Was Don Esteban going to execute you on your birthday?" the Fox was surprised.
"Oh, such a small detail wouldn't have stopped him," Enrique chuckled.
De la Vega fell silent. Then he predictably asked, "Are you really a supporter of Riego?"
"Are you, Don Diego, really the outlaw El Zorro?" Unable to restrain himself, Enrique, answered the question with a question, but immediately changed his tone. "I had the honor of talking with General Riego. His views are close to mine. I can't tell you more yet. Although, I must admit, the quiet life of a wealthy Californian landowner began to attract me. Sleep in a nightshirt instead of drawers, and most importantly, in a soft bed... Have you ever slept on the floor, señor? On the ground? Don't answer."
"But señoritas prefer officers to rancheros."
Enrique did not expect such an answer. Was de la Vega attempting to comfort him? The owner of that luxurious four-poster bed that Sergeant García loved so much had finally decided to hold his tongue? Commendable, commendable. But Enrique could not help the urge to pull the fox's tail.
"Are you jealous?" Monastario leaned towards Zorro's ear to speak more quietly.
"Not at all," Zorro lied confidently.
"Oh yes, you're a fan of Plato's philosophy..." the Сaptain chuckled.
"What do you mean?"
"It doesn't matter." Enrique backed down, realizing that, having gotten carried away, he had gone beyond the boundaries of decency. "I made a bad joke. Will you really open to me the secret of Zorro's Lair, señor?" he changed the topic, noticing that Diego made the stallion to walk, which meant they would dismount soon.
The usually depressing boulders and scrubs looked quite romantic in the moonlight. Although, perhaps, now Enrique would even like cacti.
"You will get there blindfolded," responded the Fox.
Monastario just snorted in response. Strangely, El Zorro had magically stopped annoying him. Was this—Heaven forbid!—sentimentality? But Diego de la Vega was no longer that boy with an admiring look...
Blindfolding Monastario's eyes with a strip of cloth, the Fox made him promise not to disclose the location of his hideout, after which, grabbing the Captain's hand, he carefully led him forward.
Enrique still didn't understand why the blindfolded performance was needed, because he remembered the way here, and then he realized, as they passed through some dense vegetation, that the entrance of the cave was mostly likely dissimulated to the eyes. When Monastario again had the opportunity to see, he was convinced that he was right.
Taking off his cape, de la Vega began to unsaddle his horse, and Enrique walked around the cave, examining it with curiosity. The puzzle was almost complete. Probably, Zorro's Lair was connected to the de la Vega family's hacienda by some handimade underground passage...
"Let's go, Captain," said Diego, and Enrique, looking at him, realized for the first time that he did not know the real Diego de la Vega. "Just Diego," that curious and desperate boy, became... who?
Walking up the steps, Monastario continued to think about this. Without a cape, hat and mask, the bandit disappeared, but instead of Don Diego, with whom the Captain's relationship was bad, someone both unfamiliar and familiar appeared. Enrique would never admit that he was confused. The real Diego was the señor in black—and the grown up boy from Monastario's past, which he had tried to forget, so as not to live by it, not to live in the false hope of returning to Spain...
In the bedroom, de la Vega hastened to hide his black suit under a robe and scarf. Aha! thought Enrique, but did not speak out loud about Diego's cunning side. It was bad enough that on Diego's chin was a crimson-blue mark from Enrique's punch during a fight in the tavern the day before. With any luck, Monastario would not have to leave right now, so it might be worth being, um, diplomatic. Moreover, judging by the look that the deaf-mute (or just dumb?) servant named Bernardo gave the guest, he knew about his master's plans to save Enrique and did not approve of them at all.
Frankly, Monastario could not understand the reason for Diego's determination. After all, he had not seen Riego's letter; Constancia could have lied so that the young man would give himself away. And why did he risk, bringing Enrique here? "Give me your word of honor," Madre de Dios! Diego's father would say with certainty that people like Monastario have never had honor. Either young de la Vega, as a true Spaniard and the grandson of an officer, had confidence in the military, or he was naive, idealistic and sentimental.
"Captain, I shall ask you to return to Zorro's Lair for a while," de la Vega continued, "so my servants may prepare a hot bath. Supposedly for me, but I hope you will not refuse to have it and rest in my bed. I'll spend the night in the cave. I have had to sleep on the ground before, believe me," he chuckled.
"Señor de la Vega, your courtesy will ruin you one day," assured Monastario, astonished not for the first time that night.
He had no doubt that if it weren't for his birthday, he would have had to spend the night in the cave.
"You said, Comandante, that this is just a mask under which hatred is hidden." Diego finally allowed himself irony, and Enrique suddenly realized how tired de la Vega had been in recent days. He even didn't notice that out of habit he addressed the Captain as "Comandante."
"Firstly, it's just Enrique, now," Monastario said as gently as possible, but considered it necessary to clarify everything. "Secondly, your good manners do not prevent you from disliking me."
"That's right," de la Vega yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "Although, I admit I have dreamed to meet my Madrid savior sometime in order to show him that I am no longer that awkward boy."
"Be afraid to dream, because dreams come true," Enrique purred, deftly opening the door leading to the secret passage, and at that moment thinking about his own dreams.
To him, who was enthusiastically exploring the Fox's "burrow," de la Vega's absence seemed very short-lived.
"The bath is ready, let's go."
Enrique reluctantly went upstairs, although he knew full well that he should get a good rest while he could. And, perhaps, it would be worthwhile to discuss their further actions with de la Vega right now, but Diego seemed completely exhausted, and Monastario decided to wait until the morning.
"If you had stayed in Spain, you would already be a colonel," de la Vega said thoughtfully.
"Probably," Monastario agreed, having no idea what was in this guy's head. But, indeed, a year ago Riego was just a lieutenant colonel, so... "But I would go to the end, and those who are ready to go to the end don't live long even here, do they, Señor Zorro?"
"But we are still alive, Captain," de la Vega smiled at him tiredly. "The water is getting cold, you should go on with your bath. I'll go to bed."
"Good night," Enrique smiled quite sincerely in response, unfastening his belt buckle.
After washing himself, Monastario found a fresh nightshirt and his Toledo blade on the bed. Weird birthday, he thought again, quite weird.
Enrique Sánchez Monastario had turned thirty. Falling asleep in Diego's bed, he thought that de la Vega could join the Liberal Triennium, and in California this restless boy would put the chestnuts in the fire**, and he, Enrique, would…
Notes
* The quote is from "A flesh-eating knife (Spanish: Un carnívoro cuchillo)" by Miguel Hernández:
A flesh-eating knife
with sweet, murderous wing
keeps flying and shining
around my life.
Tense, metallic beam of light
dazzling as it falls,
it pecks at my side
and in it makes a sad nest.
My brow, flowery balcony
of my early years,
is black, and my heart,
my heart has grey hairs.
** An English proverb. Start some unpleasant business; create a complex, dangerous etc. situation.