Edict

                                        by Linda Bindner

“Now what?”  grumbled an irate Victoria Escalante.  She grabbed her serving tray in one hand to leave the other free to smooth the paper that Sergeant Mendoza had just finished nailing to one of the tavern’s outside support posts.  Several citizens preparing to enter the tavern from the plaza gathered near as she read aloud:

                                EDICT #1210

NO MAN SHALL WEAR A MUSTACHE OF ANY KIND IN THE PUEBLO OF LOS ANGELES.  CITIZENS WHO FAIL TO ADHERE TO THIS RULE SHALL BE

 FLOGGED.  OUTLAWS WHO FAIL TO ADHERE TO THIS RULE SHALL BE HUNG.  THIS EDICT TAKES EFFECT ONE WEEK FROM TODAY.

        “That is ridiculous,” Victoria stated in finality to Sergeant Mendoza as he gathered his nails and hammer.

        Mendoza jumped at her scathing tone, but turned it into an apologetic shrug.  “I’m just following orders, Señorita.”  He touched the brim of his uniform hat in salute and turned to go, but her voice stopped him.

        “I suppose the military is exempt from this new edict?” Victoria said, emphasizing the word ‘edict.’

        Mendoza’s salute turned to a show of discomfort.  “Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”

        “Oh?” said a nearby citizen.  “Who would?”

        Mendoza jumped again, then tried to hide his reaction by sounding authoritative.  “That’s for the Alcalde to decide.”

        Victoria’s expression turned scathing.  “Oh, so in reality, this is not for the Alcalde, but for everyone else.”

        The same citizen who’d spoken before smoothed his finger along his dark mustache.  “I happen to like my mustache.  What if I refuse to shave it off?”

        Mendoza tapped the sheet fluttering in the wind.  “The edict states that failure to comply means flogging.  All you have to do is read it.”

        “What if I can’t read?”

        A new voice said, “Then I guess you’ll have a week to learn how.”  Diego de la Vega appeared at the back of the crowd gathered near the tavern’s support post.   He carefully scrutinized the new edict.  “It says here that outlaws wearing a mustache will be hung.  That’s quite a punishment just for having facial hair.”

        “No,” Victoria noted in a tone of suspicion laced with derision.  “This edict sounds like it’s specifically meant for Zorro.”

        “Zorro?”  Mendoza leaned in towards Victoria.  “What do you mean?”

        “Zorro has a mustache,” Victoria said in exasperation.  “Either he shaves it off or…”

        “Phht!”  Diego drew his finger across his throat to pantomime cutting off his head.  “It’s the end of Zorro, the hero of the pueblo, the curse of the Spanish Empire, the scourge of the Alcalde, the…”

        “.. man with the fastest horse in the territory,” Victoria finished for him as if this was a perfectly obvious fact.  “No matter if he has a mustache or not, the Alcalde will never catch Zorro on Toronado.”

        “Unless he’s not on Toronado,” Diego said in a dire voice.

        “Hmmpf!” Victoria said with a snort.  “I still say that this is a ridiculous and obvious attempt by the Alcalde to put one over on Zorro, and he doesn’t have a prayer in heaven that it will work.”

        “Well,” Diego sighed, “whatever happens to Zorro, my mustache has one week to live before…”  And again he drew his finger across his throat then smiled and clapped Sergeant Mendoza on the back.  “I certainly don’t want to be flogged.”

        “Yes, the Alcalde might have to break a sweat if he flogs anybody,” Victoria said, scathing again.  She turned away to reenter the tavern and resume her serving duties.

        “Sergeant, hasta luego.”  Diego nodded at the military man, grabbed the reins of his horse Esperanza, mounted, and loped out of town.

                                                ZZZ

Six days later:

        “Everybody looks so…” Diego began.

        “... naked,” Alejandro finished for him.

        They gazed at the people in the plaza, particularly the men, all who had clearly shaved very recently, for pale upper lips that hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time greeted them at every turn.

        “Everyone that I see has complied with the new edict except for the one man in the upper military,” Diego muttered as the Alcalde left his office to confer with Sergeant Mendoza.  The Sergeant had an upper lip that was as naked as anybody’s, but the Alcalde still sported his silver mustache and goatee with an air of arrogance and pride.

        “Clearly this new edict isn’t for everybody,” Alejandro noted, brushing his lip that was free.  “This still feels so strange.  I haven’t been without a mustache since before I met your mother.”

        Diego felt his smooth upper lip and nodded.  “I know what you mean.”  He looked again at the unchanged Alcalde.  “I wonder how Zorro is taking this new edict?”

        Suddenly Alejandro chuckled.  “I wonder what Zorro is going to do about this new edict.”  He turned his smile on Diego.  “It probably means danger, specifically for the Alcalde.”  He gazed again at the still oblivious de Soto, shaking his head.  “This is a danger he invited on himself,” he said softly.  “And he doesn’t even know it.”

                                                ZZZ

Later that night:

        Zorro grinned to himself as he applied the rag soaked in ether to the Alclade’s mouth and nose, careful not to wake the sleeping man.

        “You’ll thank me for this someday, Alcalde,” Zorro whispered into the darkened room lit by only one candle.

        He set the rag aside and smeared soap onto the Alcalde’s face, liberally covering his prized mustache and goatee.  The drugged de Soto slept on.

        Zorro pulled the razor he had brought along out of his sash.  “It’s up to me to see that you comply to your own edict.”

        His hand as steady as ever, the first scrape sounded in the quiet room.  Zorro’s subsequent laughter sounded a lot louder.

        When it was all over, Zorro left a note on the Alclade’s bedside table:

YOU’RE WELCOME

- Z

                                                ZZZ

        The next day, a pale and groggy de Soto left his office, still fingering the cuts and abrasions to his hairless face.  Some of the cuts were still bleeding.

        “Ah!” yelled a delighted Alejandro.  “Welcome to the naked club, Alcalde!”

        De Soto didn’t look amused.  “This is all thanks to that menace, that Zorro!”

Chuckling, Diego shook his head.  “He just wanted to make sure you didn’t fail to comply to your own edict.”  He gestured towards the angry de Soto.  “He saved you from having to flog yourself.”

  Those gathered in the plaza laughed at the hairless man while Mendoza followed the Alcalde around, trying to mop up any blood.  The Alcalde pushed his hand away and angrily said, “I’ll get him if it’s the last thing I do.”  He stomped back into his office and slammed the door right in Mendoza’s mustache-free face.

Alejandro turned to his son.  “If I were Zorro, I’d start running right now.”

Still chuckling, Diego said, “If I were Zorro, I’d grow back my mustache.”

“Yes,” Alejandro said, smiling.  “I think Victoria will like that.”

Diego laughed appreciatively.  “Even if the Alcalde won’t.”

THE END