The Hostages

Holding the lantern precariously in one hand, Zorro dropped lightly onto the cavern floor and looked around.  Just as he had in the blacksmith’s shop, he felt an eerie chill creep up his spine looking at such a familiar scene, knowing that he had never actually seen it before with his own eyes.  Outside, just beyond the iron bars that covered the jagged mouth of the cavern, thirty or so paces away, he could hear the dim roar of the ocean and the faint voices of the men camped on the beach below.

He didn’t know exactly how it had come to him that the tunnel at the rear of the cave would eventually surface inside the mission, but he was sure it would.  He only hoped he wouldn’t have to test this belief.

Such tunnels didn’t bother him as much as they might have if he hadn’t been used to using the one under his own house, but this one hardly looked so inviting.  It seemed to descend quickly, probably down to where some underground stream had cut a channel through the solid rock.  It also seemed to shrink, so that someone his size would probably not be able to stand up straight in it for very far.  It had been reinforced with timbers, of course.  But even so, a good solid earthquake, say the size of the one that had leveled the San Diego mission ten years ago, would probably crush its ribs like a cheap bamboo parasol.

As a soft gust of damp ocean air made the lantern flicker, he raised a gloved hand to shield the light and turned toward the front end of the cave, trying not to let his boots echo too loudly on the hard, gritty rock, since he already knew he wasn’t alone.

Within just a few paces, the cavern opened out on either side of him into deep alcoves that had been closed off by more iron bars.  On his right, as he lifted the lantern, he saw a young man in a corporal’s uniform who had already risen from a pile of hides and matted fleece to grip the door of his cell.  But the soft voice on Zorro’s left quickly drew his attention the other way.

"Señor Zorro.  I knew you would come."

"Are you the outlaw called el Zorro?" asked Esquivel.

"Of course he is," the boy insisted.  "I told you, he came here with my sister.  Isn’t that right, Señor?  Did you bring your big black stallion?"

"I take it, then, that you would be Arturo Venancio?"  As the boy nodded earnestly, el Zorro acknowledged Esquivel’s question with modest but gracious bow.  "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Señor," he said to the boy.  "And yours, Corporal—?"

"Esquivel.  Enrique Esquivel of the Presidio de San Diego.  Señor Zorro, these men are not inquisitors; they are kidnapers and extortionists.  They’ve been using the military.  They kidnaped the son of a wealthy hacendado from Los Angeles; I do not know where he is.  And this boy and his sister, well, it seems you know them.  The other one, there, in the cell with the boy—he is the son of a man whose rancho was near the Mission Dolores.  I think he needs help."

"My sister Ané—she was here," Arturo added as Zorro put the lantern down and bent over the lock.  "She tried to help him, but they came and took her away.  His name is Alonzo, Señor.  Alonzo del Valle."

As he slid past the creaking cell door, remembering Don Guillermo, Zorro tried not to wince at the thought of what he might find this time.  But the man who lay curled up on a mangy hide against the rock wall at the back of the cell looked relatively unharmed.

He also looked a lot like his father, Zorro thought, the curly brown hair, the wide forehead, the dark eyes, the long aquiline nose.  Only after kneeling down beside him did Zorro realize that something was indeed wrong with him.  The dark eyes were as dull and lifeless as clay tile, the face blank, mouth open.  Except for the color in his cheeks and the barely visible rise and fall of his sides, he may as well have been a corpse.  "Señor," said Zorro, bringing the light a little closer.  "Señor del Valle."

"He will not answer you, Señor Zorro," said Arturo quietly.

"Well, what is the matter with him?"  Lifting the lantern, Zorro reached for the young man’s shoulder.  "Is he hurt?  Is he bleeding?" But before his gloved fingers came to rest, del Valle let out a horrible sobbing cry and shriveled away.

"He won’t let you touch him either," Arturo said.  "Only my sister."

More than a little surprised, Zorro got to his feet.  "Did she say what they did to him?"

"No, Señor."  Arturo shook his head.  "She would not tell me."

This boy, too, looked a lot like one of his relatives, the outlaw thought.  Apart from the fine hair, so dark it was almost black, his delicate features were Oreana’s, and they probably made him look a bit younger than he was.  But it was plain from the look in his dark blue eyes that he was old enough to share Zorro’s suspicions about what Marigál had done to his cell mate.  And it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about either.  Zorro made a conscious effort not to let the boy see the anger that had begun to boil up inside him, just as he knew Arturo was making an equally heroic effort not to let on how frightened he was.

"Come, let’s get out of here," said Zorro.  Patting the boy on the shoulder, then waving him out into the central part of the cave, he crossed to Esquivel’s cell and deftly opened the lock.

"But we cannot just leave him here," Arturo protested.

"I do not intend to leave him," Zorro said gently as he held open the door for Esquivel.  "But I think I will need help.  He won’t come quietly.  Your sister—they took her through there, eh?"

"Sí."  The boy nodded toward the entrance to the tunnel at the rear of the cave.  "I think it leads into the mission."

Zorro nodded.  "I think so too.  At any rate, it looks as though I will find out.  But first, we must get the two of you away from here."

Esquivel had walked back toward the rear of the cavern and stood, now, beneath the trap door, waiting to boost the boy up into the shaft where the ladder was bolted.  "I never thought that I would be so indebted to an outlaw," he said.

"Save your thanks, Señor," said Zorro.  "We are not out of here yet.  Nor will we get very far that way."  Then he motioned them to follow as he headed for the front of the cave and set to work on the lock that fastened the big iron gates at its mouth.

"But there are five or six guards down there," whispered Esquivel.

"I know," said Zorro.  "And I do not want them pursuing you, or even reporting your escape to anyone."  The corporal started to ask Zorro how he meant to deal with that many men, but then, as the outlaw glanced up at him, he thought he knew.

"Very well," he said, thinking that even if Zorro was being a bit overly optimistic about their chances, they may as well go down fighting.

"I can help, Señor," Arturo whispered.

Zorro nodded.  "Yes, I believe you can," he said; "you can stay right here and keep watch.  If any more soldiers show up— "

Arturo rolled his eyes, knowing he was being humored.  "All right," he sighed and took up a position just inside the gates.  "But I can help," he added as Zorro and the corporal slipped out.

Below them, they saw the campfire around which six soldiers were gathered, talking softly and laughing from time to time.  Edging out onto the shallow ledge that formed the path down to the beach, Zorro froze against the cliff face as a few pebbles trickled out from under his boots and down the side of the cliff.  But no one looked up.  When he was almost directly above the men, he motioned for Esquivel to move closer to him.  Then, exchanging quick glances, they jumped.

At least one of the soldiers never knew what hit him.  Zorro grabbed him and tumbled right through the fire with him.  He hit his head on a rock, which Zorro then picked up and used to knock out a second man who dove on him.  Esquivel was trading blows with a third man, but Zorro was already on his feet.  So when that soldier staggered back, the outlaw grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and slammed his head into that of a fourth man.  Both of them crumpled in a heap before him.

A fifth soldier drew his saber, but Zorro didn’t even bother.  He knew these men were taking the edge off a beating not meant entirely for them.  Still, it felt remarkably good to duck under the awkward slash of his opponent’s blade, then grab the startled lancer by the silver-buttoned front of his dark blue uniform and punch him hard, several times, until his knees buckled.

Turning around to face the last one, he was even a little disappointed to find that Esquivel had already taken care of him.  Surveying the carnage around him, the corporal raised an eyebrow and shrugged.  "No wonder they’ve never caught you," he said.

Rubbing his knuckles, knowing they would probably be bruised, Zorro returned the shrug, then bent to grab the man at his feet and heave him over his shoulder.  "Not yet," he said.  "But let us get these men out of sight anyway.  I have no desire to tempt my fate."

Esquivel nodded, then bent to shoulder another of the unconscious guards.  As they bore them and then the next two up the narrow path and laid them out on the floor of the cell that had formerly been Esquivel’s, Zorro added, "You know they’ll probably accuse you of treason."

"Like they accused the señorita of sorcery," said Esquivel dryly.  "I will take my chances."

Zorro smiled.  "Just see that you don’t take chances with the boy," he said.  Then he noticed that Arturo had already slipped out the gate and down the path onto the beach where he was now gathering up the smoldering bits of firewood Zorro had scattered, replacing them carefully in the pile.  But then as he bent to stir the fire, he suddenly paused, holding up his hand, and Zorro froze too, right at the mouth of the cave, as Esquivel came to stand behind him.

Below, two of the guards were still sprawled near the campfire, and Zorro didn’t think the two soldiers who had just appeared over the crest of the hill to his right could fail to notice either them or the boy, even though they seemed to have their hands full already.  And once he saw who they were escorting down the hill, he could only shake his head, letting it come to rest in his hand.  If they had caught Bernardo, they were probably anticipating a jail break, and once they saw it was in progress, they would be impossible to ambush or even catch before they raised the alarm.  Soon every soldier in the mission would come running.

Esquivel sighed.  "Maybe they’ll try to put the boy back in his cell.  If they come up here— "

"Would you?" said Zorro.  "If you saw this gate unlocked and four of your men missing?"

"No," the corporal smiled, "but I have seen some lancers do some pretty stupid things."

Zorro couldn’t help but return the grin.  He was starting to like Esquivel more all the time.  Slowly, he began to ease himself out onto the ledge again, thinking that if Tornado was anywhere nearby, the boy and the corporal might at least be able to get off to a good head start while he and Bernardo stayed behind and took their chances.

He was about to whistle for the stallion when, looking down, he realized that Arturo was nowhere in sight, as if he had simply vanished into thin air.  By now the soldiers had noticed their comrades, but rather than guessing what had happened, they seemed puzzled, for it looked as if the two fallen soldiers were no longer sprawled on the ground.  Instead, they seemed only to be relaxing, one man resting his forearms on his knees, the other leaning casually against a nearby driftwood log.

Zorro squinted out toward the bay, just beyond the limits of the campfire’s glow, thinking that if he didn’t know what was going on, he too might have been frightened by the faint sound that began to rise just barely above the hushed roar of the distant surf.  It sounded almost like a human voice, and it might have been calling for help.  But then again, maybe not.

Barely able to contain a chuckle, the outlaw glanced back at the corporal, motioning with his eyes toward the sound, then glanced down at the soldiers, who, naturally, had begun to move away from it, back toward the cliff.  They had even let Bernardo go once they saw their comrades weren’t just napping.  Even Bernardo needed a moment or two to sort out what had happened by the time Zorro and the corporal stood, one on either side of him, brushing sand from their clothes, having leaned his former captors against the other two unconscious soldiers.  But the look in his eyes wasn’t entirely one of relief as he and Zorro exchanged a quick glance.

"Who are you, Señor?" said Esquivel.

Bernardo shrugged helplessly, pointing to both his ears and mouth, shaking his head.

"He is deaf and dumb," Zorro observed.

"I can talk to him, Señor Zorro."  Arturo seemed to materialize at the edge of the light, as if he had stepped out of a fog bank.  "There are many different tribes of Indians where I live," he said, "and they all speak different languages.  This is the only way to talk to them all."  He raised his hand toward the servant in an obvious greeting, then made a few quick gestures that Zorro didn’t quite follow—though Bernardo clearly did.  He responded reluctantly, hesitantly, but in kind.

"He says his name is Bernardo," said the boy.

"That is right," Zorro nodded, thinking it best to step in.  "He is the manservant of Diego de la Vega.  He and de la Vega have been helping me track these kidnapers."

Esquivel frowned and cupped his chin thoughtfully.  "Of course," he said.  "You know, I did have the feeling once or twice that we were being followed."  Then he nodded, pursing his lips.  "So you know Señor de la Vega then too.  But do you know what happened to him? That Englishman, Endicott—he meant to accost the señorita.  She said he killed one of my men, but de la Vega was blamed.  Did he get to safety?"

"He did," said Zorro.  "And now it is time for you and the boy to do the same."  But he wasn’t surprised to see that both the corporal and the boy looked a little disappointed at this suggestion.

"Can we not also stay and help you, Señor Zorro?" Arturo pleaded.

"You can help me more if you go," said the outlaw.  "Without hostages, Marigál cannot keep me at bay.  But I also need credible witnesses to his crimes, or I cannot really stop him either."

"You don’t intend to kill him, then?" said Esquivel.

"I would prefer to see him brought to justice."

"Justice?"  Esquivel bent to pick up one of the unconscious soldiers.  "You’re not really much of an outlaw, are you," he said.  "Have you ever actually committed any serious crimes?"

Zorro heaved another lancer over his shoulder and followed Esquivel up the side of the cliff.  "This is an odd question to ask me after we’ve just assaulted nearly a whole squad of soldiers and helped a sorcerer escape from jail," he grinned as they stretched these two men out beside the others.  "But then, I suppose it does depend on your point of view. One man’s outlaw may be another man’s hero.  Just as one man’s sorcerer might be somebody else’s curandero," he added, noting the faint smile that spread across Arturo’s lips as he helped Bernardo drag the last two soldiers a little closer to the base of the cliff.

"Fair enough," said Esquivel.

They quickly proceeded to lock up the two remaining soldiers.  Then they saddled a couple of horses from the stables.  By this time, the moon had just risen over the eastern horizon, and Esquivel announced that he had decided to return to the San Diego presidio.  "Are you sure you want to go back there?" said Zorro watching him swing easily up into the saddle.  "What makes you think the soldiers will take your word against Señor Marigál’s?  After all, they did order you to help him in the first place."

"I have to believe that my superiors are interested in justice and truth, more than just following the letter of the law—or overlooking their own past mistakes," the corporal replied.

Zorro held the head of Arturo’s horse, giving the boy a gentle boost when his leg didn’t quite reach the stirrup.  "You have a lot of faith in these superiors," he said with a faint grin.  "But do not let them know the boy is with you until you are certain it is justified, eh?  I do not wish to find either of you back here again."

Esquivel nodded.  "Nor do I," he said.  "But If they refuse to believe me, I do not know where else we might go, for all California will soon be in a lot of trouble if we don’t put an end to this ridiculous witch hunt."

"That is the truth," said Zorro.  Then patting the boy’s leg, he added, "Take care, joven.  And do not worry about Señor del Valle.  Your sister and I will see to him."

"I know, Señor."  Looking down at him from atop the horse, Arturo now seemed a bit older somehow.  He made a quick little gesture with his fingers, which Zorro didn’t think was meant for Bernardo at all, then added, "May la Señora protect you."

"And you," the outlaw replied as he watched the boy and Esquivel disappear into the night.  Then he turned to Bernardo and said, "Well, that was close.  It seems that Marigál keeps capturing hostages just as quickly as I can release them.  Did they find the palomino?"

Bernardo shook his head.  He didn’t think so.

"Well, then you go find him," said Zorro.  "And stay with him.  Bad enough that Marigál knows you’re here.  I do not know how I would have explained your presence to my father without him starting to put Diego and Zorro together.  I barely got rid of him as it was.  Whatever prompted you to show yourself, anyway?  You know that when I need your help I will tell you."

Bernardo squirmed and shrugged.  He looked very uncomfortable.

Zorro’s eyes widened a little.  Then he covered his face with the gloved palm of his hand, shaking his head.  "Oh no," he sighed.  "I do not believe this.  I might have known he wouldn’t leave."

Bernardo followed him anxiously around in a circle as Zorro rolled his eyes up toward the brim of his hat and, with a sigh, let his arms fall helplessly at his sides.  "I suppose they took him inside the mission."

The servant nodded, then raised his eyebrows into a question.

"Well of course it’s a trap," the outlaw snapped, clenching a fist to punctuate the remark.  "Señor Marigál knows I am out here; he probably thinks I will enter the mission through that tunnel, and by now, he may well have surmised the true value of the bait he is using.  But what choice do I have?" he asked as he brought the fist to his lips.  "He now holds hostage two of the people I care most about in all this world."  Softening as he saw how Bernardo was looking at him, Zorro added, "He nearly had all three of you."

Bernardo blinked hard, then looked away.

"I have to stop him," said Zorro.  "And I will have to do it without you, my friend.  As it is, if I were somehow forced to choose between saving her life or my father’s . . . ."  He sighed heavily, "I think I would prefer being tortured.  I cannot even consider adding your life to the list.  You will not risk being captured again—no matter what happens.  Do you understand?"

Bernardo looked away, shrugging noncommittally.

"Oh, no," said Zorro.  "I mean it.  Your task here is finished."  As he spoke, he went back into one of the stalls and, grabbing a bridle off a nearby peg, led out another saddle horse.  Then he deftly wrapped the reins around its neck, pulled off its halter and stuck the bit between its teeth while lifting the crown piece over its ears, nodding for Bernardo to bring him one of the saddles from a row of saddle trees standing against the wall.  "Do not argue with me," he added, going over to get the saddle himself when Bernardo hesitated.

Bernardo studied him helplessly for a moment as his masked friend heaved the saddle over the animal’s back, tightened the cinch and turned to wait beside the stirrup.  Then, reluctantly, he came to stand beside the horse, but he made no move to get on it.

Finally, Zorro shook his head.  "If the authorities in San Diego do not believe the corporal," he said, "then I need you to look after the boy.  You must make sure he escapes.  Take him back to his family, if you can, and then you must get yourself out of danger as well.  Do not go directly to the hacienda.  They’ll be expecting that.  Go to the cave.  Then, in the room behind my bedroom, in a box beneath the stairs, you’ll find enough money to get you to Spain.  There’s a letter as well, and some instructions.  You will not be rich, but— "

Seeing that Bernardo was nearly in tears, he sighed and added, "Well, did you think I never thought about such things?  We both knew it might come to this, no?"

Wincing sideways, Bernardo nodded.

"Besides," Zorro added, patting his shoulder, "it hasn’t happened yet."

Bernardo tried to smile.  Then, allowing himself a greater liberty than he knew any servant should ever take, he caught his friend by the arm, and, as Zorro pulled away, only to wrap the arm around him, he let himself be drawn into a quick hug before he turned, jumped into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks.

Watching him go, Zorro also tried to smile.  "Now, if you do not follow my orders," he said as though Bernardo could still hear him, "I will have no choice but to fire you."