Zorro had been looking over his shoulder to make sure that the lancers were still chasing him and was surprised to see them turn back. Pulling Tornado to a stop, he turned him around and galloped after the lancers. He had to do something to make sure that they did not go back to the cuartel before his father and the others arrived. Across the distance he called out, “Sergeant Garceeeaah!” The lancers paused and turned towards him. As he came closer, still just out of pistol range, he called out again, “You call yourself soldiers and yet you are afraid of one man! Are you also afraid of the dark?”
Sergeant Garcia was insulted. “We are not afraid of anything!” he yelled back.
“Then why do you turn and run?” called Zorro as Tornado pranced beneath him.
“We merely follow orders,” the Sergeant called back to him.
It looked like the Sergeant and the lancers were going to continue back to the pueblo if Zorro didn’t do something drastic. So he called out, “This I do not believe. You’re a big, fat, pig. Too lazy to ride and too afraid to fight!” He hated calling Garcia a pig. He was truly developing a fondness for the portly soldier. But he was trying to insult the man enough to get him to chase him again, or at the least, delay the soldiers further so that they would not return to the cuartel. His father’s life and the lives of the other Dons were at stake.
Sergeant Garcia was very hurt by Zorro’s accusation. He sputtered as he said, “Just wait! Just wait then, Señor Zorro! Some day I will show you I am not the kind of big, fat pig that is afraid to fight! I am the kind of big, fat. . . .pig . . .” He trailed off as he realized what he was saying. While he thought about what else he could say, Zorro became impatient.
Seeing that his words were having no effect, Zorro pulled his sword and brandished it, crying out, “I challenge you!” He was willing to take them on singly or all together in order to keep them from leaving.
Sergeant Garcia knew that they had already taken too much time with Zorro. No matter what insults or challenges he hurled at them, they must return to the pueblo and complete the Commandanté’s plan. In frustration, he turned his horse and signaled his lancers to follow him. Ignoring Zorro, they rode off at a gallop.
Zorro was puzzled as he sheathed his sword. Never had the lancers given up their chase so quickly. He patted Tornado on the neck as he thought. “The only explanation is that they are onto the plan,” he said out loud. “We’ve got to warn them!” Urging Tornado into a run, he galloped after them. His only hope now was to reach the pueblo ahead of the Sergeant and his lancers.
Lying low along the stallion’s neck, he urged his friend on. Tornado responded by simply flying.
*********
After the Sergeant and his men rode out after Zorro, Monastario stood there with his hands on his hips surveying the disarray in the cuartel caused by the outlaw. All of the lancers were out of position, and the Torres women were standing at the bars of their cell watching him. Their unwavering gaze made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Through clinched teeth, he ordered two of the foot soldiers to take the women from their cell and hold them prisoner in his personal quarters.
This would accomplish several things. First, when the dons rushed the cuartel, the women would not be where they were expected to be. This would sow more confusion among the dons. Second, it would keep them from being hit by a stray bullet if shots were exchanged during the ambush. He needed these women alive for now. And third, and most importantly, he would not have to endure their ceaseless stares. He ordered the lancers back into their concealment and took up his position on the porch in front of his quarters taking care to keep to the shadows. Soon everything was quiet and the waiting began again.
In the plaza, a lone rider came into the pueblo from out of the darkness. Looking sharply about, Don Alejandro could see no one but the town crier. The old town crier that he saw standing by the central well as he rode his horse slowly over to the cuartel gates was none other than Don Miguel. He was playing the part of the town crier in order to keep watch. He not only carried a lantern, his staff was in reality a lance and his robe concealed his sword. The two men nodded to each other.
Don Alejandro dismounted and walked up to the sentry. He said, “I know it is late, but I must see the Commandanté. It is urgent.” He was gratified to see how quickly the sentry relayed his message to the soldier inside the cuartel. He looked around as if disinterested so as not to alarm the sentry to see if his compatriots were in place. He saw that they were assembling quietly, some riding in on their horses, some coming in their carriages. Keeping calm, he stood his ground in front of the sentry.
Inside the darkened cuartel, the soldier was reporting to Capitán Monastario who remained concealed on the porch. “All right,” he said. “Open the gates. But make sure nothing arouses their suspicions until they are well inside. Sergeant Garcia and his men should be in position for the trap. But I want none of the Ddns taken alive. Let them die like the traitors they are. Now go quickly!”
The soldier hastened to the gate. As he waited, Monastario savored the thought that soon he would be rid of his most troublesome enemies. The last oppostion to his rise in power and his accumulation of wealth would be crushed tonight. With the exception of Zorro, of course. Gripping his drawn sword tighter, Monastario vowed to himself that it would only be a matter of time before even he too would be eliminated.
The soldier went to the cuartel gates and opened one side. Seizing the opportunity, Don Alejandro grabbed hold of the other gate and pushed it open also. Waving to those gathered in the plaza to follow him, he rushed into the cuartel. All of the other dons ran to join him shouting and brandishing their weapons.
Before they could enter through the gate, Zorro was upon them. He came riding around the corner of the cuartel shouting and waving his arm. “Go back! It’s an ambush!” he cried. He pulled up in front of the Dons, Tornado adding his voice to the warning by neighing loudly, his presence keeping them from going on.
“Go back!” Zorro cried again. “It’s an ambush!” The dons decided to heed Zorro’s warning and turned back, scattering across the plaza. Zorro looked around for his father and saw that he was already inside the cuartel. Without conscious thought, he spurred Tornado through the gates even as they were being closed by the soldiers. The soldiers were torn between trying to decide whether to close the gates to keep Zorro in or opening the gates to let Sergeant Garcia and his lancers enter. This left an opening. Quickly dismounting, Zorro turned Tornado loose.
“Outside, Tornado!” he ordered and the black stallion ran through the opening just as the lancers rode into the plaza from the far side of the pueblo.
Don Alejandro had drawn his sword as soon as he had run in the cuartel, ready for anything. He was looking back through the open gates for the rest of his friends when he saw El Zorro ride up on his great black horse crying his warning. Looking around, he realized that he was alone in the cuartel. Choosing not to think about his dire position, he resolved that he would go down fighting. Never let it be said that Don Alejandro de la Vega gave up without a fight. Suddenly, the man known as Zorro was beside him, sending his horse outside the gates. His heart was filled with admiration for this dauntless fighter who had thrown in his lot with him. The face of his son, Diego, flashed before him, but he shook it off. There was fighting to be done.
The sentry charged him and he managed to knock the man out with the hilt of his sword as the soldier was distracted by Zorro’s presence. Then his head snapped up as he heard the Commandanté shout, “Lancers attack! This is an order. Surround the prisoners!” From everywhere lancers began running towards them.
Brave he was, but to stay was folly, and Don Alejandro knew it.
Zorro turned to him and said, pointing him to the carriage, “Over the wall, quickly!” and helped him climb up on to the driver’s seat of the carriage. Zorro then drew his sword and turned to defend Don Alejandro’s back.
Everything was happening so fast. Don Alejandro climbed onto the roof of the carriage and then onto the roof of the stable. He spared a glance back into the cuartel yard and saw Zorro, sword flashing in the torchlight, as he fought off the soldiers.
“How magnificent he is!” was all he had time to think. He did not notice that Monastario was watching him, nor did he see as the Commandanté drew his pistol and began climbing up onto the carriage himself. Quickly, Don Alejandro made his way over to the wall. He paused at the thought of leaping such a distance but clinched his jaws and prepared to jump.
Zorro was on the ground beside the carriage, fighting for his father’s life. He had to give him the chance to get away. He suddenly noticed Monastario standing upon the carriage with his pistol pointed at the spot on the roof of the stable where his father would be.
Before he could do anything, he heard Monastario growl, “You will not escape me this time, Don Alejandro!” as he fired his pistol. Its report echoed through the cuartel.
Zorro watched in horror as his father was struck. For the next few moments, everything seemed to happen in slow motion and all sounds faded away. His father bent over as he clutched his side.
Monastario stood with his arm still extended, the smoke from his pistol curling upwards. Never giving up, Don Alejandro struggled as he tried to climb over the wall to make his escape. He ended up clinging weakly to the top of the wall. Then he seemed to lose consciousness and disappeared as he let go and fell to the ground outside the cuartel. Monastario let the hand holding the pistol fall to his side, a smile curling the corner of his lips. Zorro knew nothing but that he must get to his father.
The clamor of the soldiers suddenly claimed his senses once again and brought him back to himself. He was being surrounded. He fought the lancers like a demon, sending many of them flying. He leaped up on the carriage and had to take on Monastario who was standing his ground with drawn sword on its roof. Zorro was not in the mood for a prolonged duel, so with a few powerful blows of his sword, he soon had Monastario off balance and leaning on the roof of the stable for support.
A few more powerful blows sent Monastario flying off the carriage roof to land in the pile of straw below. He recovered quickly; however, and shouted to the lancers, “Pull the carriage away!”
Zorro was still on top of the carriage and the soldiers began pulling it away from the stable so that he could not jump to its roof and make his escape. “Pull! Pull!” cried Monastario exhorting his straining soldiers. For a moment, Zorro found himself trapped, but then the soldiers pulled the carriage a bit too far. Taking an enormous risk, Zorro gathered himself and leaped from the carriage, his cape streaming out behind him, to land on the stairs leading up to the second story of the lancer’s barracks.
He was instantly pursued up the stairs by the soldiers, but he was able to beat them back with his sword. There was a lot of shouting. Monastario could be heard among them shouting, “After him! You’re letting him get away! Shoot you fools, shoot!” A musket was fired in his direction, hitting the post just in front of him. Zorro chafed at the delay. He must get to his father. He was sure that his father had been shot.
Giving the soldiers on the balcony one last shove which tumbled them down in a pile, he ran over to the corner of the balcony next to the stables. He had to get out of the cuartel. Monastario was urging his lancers on. “Shoot! Shoot!” he yelled. Zorro then saw the rope for the flag pole and grabbed it, climbing onto the rail of the balcony.
Another musket was fired, splintering the post just above him. Despite charging lancers and firing pistols, he launched out on the rope, swinging for the roof of the stable. He landed lightly and ran for the wall. Musket balls whistled past him. He could hear Monastario yelling in his frustration, “Quick, pursue him!”
At the top of the wall, he whistled for Tornado. Before he jumped, Zorro’s jaunty nature exerted itself, and he had to offer a taunting salute to Monastario. Even in his hurry to join his father, he took a moment to enjoy the discomfiture of the Commandanté who was stalking back and forth fuming and shaking his fist in Zorro’s direction. But he could delay no longer. Leaping to the ground, Zorro landed beside his father and reached out tenderly to support the older man who was bent over and leaning against the wall. He did not have time to assess the wound, but he could see that his father was in pain.
Tornado came galloping up, and stood while Zorro helped Don Alejandro up into the saddle. He leaped up behind and swung Tornado around, heading for the hills. He knew that his pursuers would not be far behind. Tornado was a strong stallion, but even he could not carry two people at the speed needed to outdistance the lancers. He would have to use all his wits as El Zorro to lose them in the hills.
Back in the cuartel, there was bedlam. Sergeant Garcia was shouting, “To horse lancers! Open the gate!” But then he thought better of it. He remembered what happened the last time he had tried to give that particular order. “No, wait, wait!” he countermanded. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Meekly he asked Monastario who was glowering in his direction, “Is it all right, mí Capitán if we open the gate?”
All Monastario could manage to say was, “Get out of my sight!”
Sergeant Garcia decided to take that as a ‘yes’ answer, so he saluted and said, “Sí, Commandanté! Mount up lancers! Follow me!” He turned and ran to his horse. Soon he and the lancers were in pursuit of Zorro. They rounded the corner of the cuartel just in time to see the black figure of Zorro on his horse disappearing into the trees in the hills behind the cuartel. The quarter moon had risen, giving them a little bit more light to work with. They were able to keep Zorro in sight between the trees from time to time, just enough so that they could follow him. The Sergeant wondered why Zorro was going so slowly, then he realized that there were two men on the one horse. Zorro’s horse was carrying Don Alejandro as well as Zorro. His blood quickened. This could be the chance they were looking for.
Urging his lancers to ride even faster, they closed the distance. “Call me a big, fat, pig will you?” he murmured under his breath. This time he had no orders to return to the cuartel. This time he would run El Zorro to the ground.
Zorro could hear the hoof beats of the soldiers pursuing him. Tornado was still willing beneath him, but he could hear the strain the great stallion was under by the way he was breathing. He guided Tornado up and over a small hill, momentarily hiding them from the lancers. Quickly, he turned Tornado aside and went behind a dense thicket of trees and held his breath. Luckily, both he and his father were wearing black capes. With the both of them thus covered and Tornado being black as well, they should have a fair chance of not being seen in the darkness as the lancers galloped past. It seemed that Tornado understood what was wanted of him because he stood very quietly as Sergeant Garcia and the lancers rode past their hiding place only a few feet away. Soon the soldiers were out of sight even though he could still hear them.
The soldiers soon pulled up and milled around searching for some sign of their quarry. “Aghh! He is no where!” exclaimed the Sergeant in disgust as he realized that they had lost Zorro.
Quickly Zorro dismounted and helped his father, who was barely conscious, to get down. He laid his father gently on the ground, leaning his head and shoulders against a big rock. He had to create a diversion for the lancers. Thinking fast, he cut a large forking branch from one of the trees.
In the near distance, he could hear the Sergeant as he said, “He must be hiding somewhere in the rocks behind us. Follow me!” Zorro knew they would be back shortly. Working as fast as he could, he placed the forked end of the branch over Tornado’s saddle with the cut end pointing up. Taking Don Alejandro’s black cloak, he draped it across the branch and placed his father’s black hat on top. In the dark, it would look like a man was in the saddle.
Don Alejandro roused up enough to watch Zorro through his pain. He wondered afresh just who this man was who had risked his life to rescue him. He had heard of this El Zorro, The Fox, but had never seen him until tonight. The man was fearless and handled himself and his sword well.
Don Alejandro watched as Zorro spoke to his stallion. “Go Tornado. Lead them away from here.” He admired the way the ebony horse obeyed his master’s spoken commands without hesitation, galloping off on his mission. He studied the man who stood before him. The mask and cloak hid much, but it could not hide his broad shoulders or his height. In the soft moonlight, Don Alejandro could see how much a man this Zorro was as he turned back towards him. A man built to wield the sword. But he was also a man of crafty intelligence as he had outwitted Monastario and his men time after time, and had made it possible for Don Nacho to escape in order to go for help.
There was a presence to this man that few men had. There was something almost familiar about this man of shadows, but he could not quite draw out what it was that haunted him. Despite what he could do, his eyes closed as he momentarily faded out again.
The soldiers were crashing aimlessly through the brush, but soon spotted Tornado and his ‘rider’. “There he goes!” cried Sergeant Garcia taken in by the hastily constructed manikin. “After him!” Tornado ran easily ahead of them. Without the weight of a rider, it was no problem to stay in front. Soon he had taken them far away from where his master was staying. When the soldiers tired of chasing him, he would circle back to the cave and get the rub down and the extra oats that was his due.
