Zorro Fights A Duel - Duel Esteban Sanchez

By the time Esteban Sanchez arrived at the inn on the plaza at Reina de los Angeles, the stage had been well set for his dramatic entrance.

Three hours before, a dusty rider had come off the highway to stop at the inn and announce the approach of his master, ordering the best quarters the inn could provide. The advance rider was not reticent about relating tales of his master's prowess.

"In Mexico, Señor Esteban Sanchez was the private bodyguard for a certain official of very high standing," the man reported. "To duel with my master means certain death. He slew so many in combat that it was thought best he absent himself for a year, so he came to Alta California, and has been residing in Monterey."

Esteban Sanchez was a name known to many around Reina de los Angeles. He had the reputation of being a wanton slayer. It was said he did more than protect and defend the man in whose service he had been in Mexico. He even sought quarrels, and when he could find none, made them himself.

The man's skill with a blade was well known. Certainly he was not a man to affront.

People began wondering what brought him to Reina de los Angeles, and whether he was coming solely to pick a quarrel with somebody and run him through.

[...]

Bernardo bobbed his head again, and withdrew. Don Diego lifted a goblet and took a sip of wine.

"Use great care tonight, my son," his father said. "This Esteban Sanchez is a scoundrel, but do not forget he is expert with a blade. He will not be like the others you have fought."

"I will use my utmost skill, my father."

"I will go to the chapel and say a prayer for you."

"I thank you, father. It is not in my mind to slay the rascal."

"If you do not, his wound will mend, and you will only have to fight him again at a later day. And once he is repaired, he will mistreat natives and peons as before.

"It would be worse than death for such a man were he so injured that he never could wield blade again," Diego said. "A slash in his sword arm at the proper place, and it would be done."

[...]

Bernardo bobbed his head and left the hut. Don Diego slipped on the black costume of Zorro, put on the mask, made sure pistol and blade were ready, and left the hut also.

There was a heavy mist in the air, and the few lights around the plaza were but yellow blotches in the night. Señor Zorro walked warily, listening to every sound. He slipped past the adobe huts of some natives, avoided the corner of the plaza, and finally approached the inn from the rear.

His thoughts were busy. Esteban Sanchez, he knew, whatever his character, was a swordsman of repute. This would be an affair where Señor Zorro would have to call on the last bit of his cleverness if he was to escape the ordeal unharmed.

"Crawl away, scum, and let me not see your face again!" Sanchez roared. "Go tell your friend, Zorro, that I have cuffed you! I'd cuff this Zorro also, did I only have a chance to get at the craven."

"You have the chance, señor!" a voice said at the door.

Zorro had witnessed the attack on the native, had left the window and darted along the wall of the building to the front door. He had pulled the door open, entered and closed it behind him.

But a man approaching the inn from across the plaza had seen the masked man in black as he had passed through the streak of light, and had turned to run to the presidio with the alarm, hoping to share in any subsequent reward.

There was swift silence in the room after Zorro's shout. The half-conscious native servant ceased whimpering and crawled slowly along the wall, his eyes agleam. The men on the benches in the corner and those at the gaming table acted as if suddenly turned to stone.

Esteban Sanchez braced himself against the adobe wall and bent forward slightly.

"You are the rogue they call Señor Zorro?" he demanded.

"I am Zorro. But no rogue, señor. Only a man who defends the helpless, such as the native you have just beaten. I am a caballero, señor, and you are not fit to cross blades with me. But men like you must be punished."

"And you expect to punish me, señor?" Sanchez asked, laughing.

"I should have no difficulty in doing so. You are an arrant coward, señor. You beat helpless men, and have slain a few poorer swordsmen with your blade. I have come here to meet you, taking a chance that you will not have me ambushed. I see one of your thugs in the corner."

"We'll fight fair!" Sanchez roared. "I'll slit you open, tear off your mask, see your face. Nobody is to interfere."

"I'll see to that, señor." Zorro replied. "I hold my pistol in my left hand as we fight, to use against any man who may try to attack me. Draw your blade, señor, if you have the courage."

The fat landlord was wringing his hands behind his counter. The men in the room got up quickly and flattened themselves against the walls. Esteban Sanchez gave a bellow of rage and whipped blade from scabbard, while Zorro silently drew his weapon.

The flickering tallow torches cast an uncertain light over the room. The floor of beaten earth was smooth. The blades met and rang.

The fight began!

Both Zorro and Sanchez were wary at the start, trying to feel out each other. Sanchez, however, was eager to have an end of it. His many victories gave him overconfidence. He moved in swiftly and began pressing the fight.

Zorro retreated slightly, turned, kept on the defensive until Sanchez' violent attack had spent itself. He learned the feel of the other's wrist, the strength of his swordplay. He backed away, turned aside, got to a position where the light was favorable for him.

Then, Zorro pressed the fighting in turn. His blade slithered and flashed in the light. He drove Esteban Sanchez toward a corner, and Sanchez found himself fighting desperately to ward off a fatal thrust.

Great beads of perspiration stood out on Sanchez' face and glistened in the light. His face became a stern mask. He knew that he had met his equal, if not his master, and for the first time knew a little fear.

"Fight, poltroon!" Zorro screeched at him from behind his mask. "Fight, hired murderer! You were sent to Reina de los Angeles to slay me, were you not?"

"Slay you I shall!" Sanchez snarled back savagely.

His attack was ferocious, but Zorro had expected it. He gave ground slightly, parried swiftly. The blades rang in a continual music. Then Zorro's steel darted in, went home, and Zorro gave a twist and jerked his red blade away. Esteban Sanchez reeled back against the wall, a cry of pain ringing from his lips.


"I could have slain you, señor," Zorro said, as he watched the others. "But it is better this way. You'll never use your sword arm again, señor. You have slain your last man with a blade. Your arm will be a useless, withered thing, its muscles ruined – "

The door was hurled open, and from the corner of his eye Zorro saw Sergeant Manuel Garcia with a couple of troopers behind him. The kitchen door was opened also, and Capitán Ortega appeared with a couple more. They had responded to the alarm by the man who had seen Zorro enter the inn.

"So, it could not be a fair fight – " Zorro began.

The soldiers crouched and started to rush from both sides. Zorro's pistol exploded, smoke belched, and a slug flew past the head of Sergeant Garcia and thudded against the wall. He hurled the empty pistol at Ortega, whirled and darted back, and sprang through the open window.

"After him!" Ortega shouted.

Outside, Zorro ran along the wall to where Bernardo was waiting on the mule. He gave a wild cry that sounded like one of defiance. Bernardo started the mule.

Tumbling out of the inn, the troopers heard the pounding hoofs. Ortega was shouting for them to get their mounts and pursue. In the rear of the building, Zorro slipped out of his black costume and put it against the wall for Bernardo to get later, put his blade beside it, then shuffled around the building to the front.

He emerged from the darkness and into the streak of light which flowed from the open door of the inn. His breathing was now back to normal. It was Don Diego Vega who appeared, his shoulders bent, his general attitude one of disgust with the world.

Don Diego stepped through the door and into the room. Sanchez was seated at the end of the table, and two men were trying to bind up his wounded arm. The soldiers had rushed out and away.

The fat landlord was rushing around, wringing his hands and moaning.

"What is the meaning of this turbulence?" Don Diego asked in a bored tone.

"Zorro has been here. He has fought with Señor Sanchez," the landlord wailed. "Right here in my inn."

Don Diego walked slowly to the table and looked at Esteban Sanchez' pale face. His lips were twisted with pain.

"For every good blade, there is a better one," Don Diego quoted.

He turned away and beckoned the landlord.

"Try to calm yourself long enough to attend to my humble wants, señor," he ordered. "I have come through the foggy night to get another jar of that special honey. Get it for me, so I may return home quickly and resume my reading. I have a new volume of poetry newly come from Spain. There is in it a delightful verse on retribution."


- Zorro Fights A Duel