Never Bet Against The Dealer
Memories. Aljeandro Murrieta knew he was dreaming, but he didn't want to wake up.
The tiled inlaid square was crowded with a largest gathering that it had seen in its existence because the dons of the California territory had scheduled an announcement that confirmed the prosperity of the region.
Most of the crowd were commoners, but a few members of the lesser nobility had arrived as well, in lace trim, silks, and carriages, their servants helping them step down from the wheeled conveyances.
The scrawny, ragged boy crouched at the edge of one of the roofs that overlooked the square, impatiently fidgeting. He wanted to sweep all of these people out of the way so that he could better hear what the dons had to say. The only good thing about all these people and their fancy clothes and jewels was a opportune chance to steal a good haul of valuables. The weather of late had been especially hot and humid, and hardly a breath of air stirred the boy's lock black hair. Underneath his worn brown and black tunic he felt the sweat trickling down his spine, and plastering his clothes to his body like a second skin.
Alejandro Murrieta felt like he was melting away like the candle wax Father Jose burned in the chapel of the small church where they both lived and worked. The stealing and the lying was something that Alejandro believed the priest was not aware of, and he would have strongly disapproved; but Alejandro shrugged with a resigned, 'What the good father doesn't know about, won't hurt him.' he thought to himself.
Alejandro woke up. The mingled orders of dust, grit, and hay in the loft where he had spent the night, the aromas tingling in his nostrils. The dream of his boyhood had been a pleasant one, and one he was reluctant to let go. The only thing that ruined the pleasant feeling was the realization that his brother was no longer alive to share his thoughts with or their various misadventures and occasional triumphs when they took in a especially good haul.
Living on the edge, stealing and robbing, fighting and drinking. It was a good life until the Captain, whose name he had never learned. had taken it all away.
Now he had returned to the city of his youth on a manhunt for the man who had murdered his brother.
The gold cross that was the only tangible reminder of his brother hung flat and heavy on his chest. He rolled out of the hay, tugging on his battered black boots as he went. He passed the stables residents, a pair of matching sorrel horses, a few colts and a black stallion that caught his fancy. Alejandro knew that such a prize would be worth stealing but its owner would miss it immediately.
"Next time." he thought as he exited the stables and into the brightly courtyard with its mosaic inlaid tile floor. It was at the very instant that loud cries, followed by excited voices, and the unmistakable sound of gunfire distracted him from his wandering thoughts.
"The Fox! Zorro! He's alive, after all these years!" The shouting began with one lone person in the crowd and carried along like a river flowing, and soon it was picked up by the entire excited crowd. Alejandro looked up to where the noise and activity became concentrated, to see a man dressed all in black, black trousers, black flowing shirt, wide-brimmed hat, and black mask that covered his entire face, except for the eyes.
Alejandro decided to move closer, fingering the cross and the amulet that hung from his neck. It was the first in years that could remember where the amulet had come from or what it signified. He wanted to meet the famous, or depending on how you looked at it, infamous Zorro. Suiting action to words, Alejandro crossed the square, running and jostling elbows, ignoring the muttered protests of those who bumped into. Running up the steps that led up to the bell tower, he jumped across the distance, and unable to stop his forward momentum, skidded on the loose roof tiles, and collided with the legendary figure.
Who proved to be quite real, real enough to have the wind knocked out of him.
When both had recovered their breath, and had once more risen to their feet, Alejandro was surprised by not only the age of the old Fox, but also his strength. The older man grasped him both the loose collar of his old shirt and regarded with a pair of ice blue eyes. "Where did you come by that amulet, boy?"
"I did not steal it."
"I never said that you did."
"Some one gave it to me when I was a boy."
"In some ways you still are." The older man.
"I've been on my own for many years. I can take care of myself."
"So I have observed."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Indeed. But this incessant curiosity of yours," he thought for a minute. It seems we are at an impasse."
"You have the advantage of me, Sir." I only wanted to meet the famous Zorro in person."
"I am him, in the flesh as it were."
"I thought you were dead."
"Yes. Circumstances being what they were I wanted the world to believe that I was dead. Now I'm back."
"What do you plan to do now that you're back?"
"Get my revenge." And since you're here and you have that amulet, you are coming along with me."
"I am?"
Hours later, after a lengthy horse ride, the older man indicated that they were nearing his home.
"You live here?" Aljeandro muttered in mingled disbelief and wonder, gesturing around at the rugged landscape, not seeing anything resembling a house, or a house that contained such ordinary things as four walls of wood, or concrete, Instead the horses they road picked their way up a narrow stone pathway that criss crossed back and forth in a switchback pattern, terminating at the entrance to a limestone cave.
"Yes, I find it suits my needs quite adequately. And for the duration of your stay with me, it will be your home as well."
"I can't be Zorro forever, and I need someone to be my successor."
"There should always be a Zorro, but why me?"
"I've been watching you, and I think that with work, you could be the next Zorro."
"I don't have time for this, I have my own reasons for being in town, and I am seeking a man."
"What man?"
"A captain."
"Do you know his name?"
"No, but I know what he looks like."
"Why must you seek out this man?"
"Because he killed my brother, I must have my revenge."
"And without training or adequate preparation you encounter this nameless captain, you confront him, and you will quickly join your brother in death."
"I know how to fight."
"Do you know how to use a sword?" A slow calculating smile spread across the other mans lips, a light came into his eye, as he regarded the younger man. He wasn't seeing him as he was now, but as he could be.
"The pointy end goes in the other man." Aljeandro replied, removing his own blade from its resting place in his belt sheath, and lifting it out to demonstrate for his boyhood hero.
"This is going to take a while. Are you willing to work at it."
"Yes."
"Tell you what, I'll make you a deal, you train with me in sword fighting and various other arts, and then we both shall have our revenge. Are you prepared to work at it, work hard?"
"Yes."
"Then you promise to do exactly what I tell you?"
"I promise."
"Good. Then we may begin."
A large open area of the cavern had been given over a training area. In the center of the stone floor stood what looked like a giant bulls eye painted and carved into the center. "We start in the innermost ring, as you advance in your swordplay skills we move that much further into the outer rings until we complete the entire spiral. "Engard."
De La Vega drew his sword, made a courtly bow from the waist, and held the blade level with the ground and extended outward from his gloved left hand. Alejendro followed through, handling his sword right-handed.
Relying on speed, agility, Alejandro pressed forward, landing hammering blows on the older man's blade, and both surprised and irritated to see his blows skewed aside. "Refinement, my boy," De La Vega said, in midswing, "It is all about refinement."
They continued the give and take of swordplay the dim interior lighting of candles providing an odd half-shadow background to the fencing. The exchange of blows providing a ringing accompaniment to the music of the old man's old-fashioned phonograph playing in the background.
Alejandro pressed forward, his two-handed grip enabling to keep good control as he swung the sword in wide arcs. De La Vega leapt backward, seeing an opening in the other's defense. Aljeandro had a tendency to lean to far forward on the follow through and when he did he had his feet crossed beneath him.
Alejandro attempted a whistling arc with his own blade, angling the cut past the other's guard. He was getting angry, he thought himself a decent fighter, and something special when it came to sword play, but the old man was making him look like a fool. This was too much.
De Le Vega closed the gap that separated them only by the length of a drawn sword blade.
De La Vega's sword was at the younger man's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing like a child's yoyo, his breath coming in short gasps. He was in the midst of delivering yet another piece of advice when he wrinkled his nostrils, "Next step, take a bath."
Alejandro plunged into the water in the natural stone depression in the floor, one toe at a time. He felt as if the water itself were the enemy, completely oblivious to the amused and slightly mocking expression on the old man's face. The water was cold, and he immediately he wanted to step back and away from it. He reached up to undo the leather cord that bound back his long mane of black hair, so that it feel loose and in tangled ringlets down his back and shoulders. While he was doing that, the other sidled around him, out of his line of sight, and lightly shoved him into the water. Alejandro came up spluttering with shock from the cold and from frustration. "Why?"
"Come now, it's only water. "Immerse, bathe, and hold up your end of the wager."
"What now."
"You are getting stronger, that cannot be denied. However, now we begin a phase of your training that may be utterly beyond your reach."
"And what is that?"
Don Diego bent slightly at the waist and lowered his arm in a gesture that looked to Alejandro like the dipping of a swan's wing. "Charm" the older man whispered.
Alejandro looked down at his lanky, muscled forearms, then looked up again to meet the De La Vega's steady, ice blue calm gaze. "This is going to take a while."