"Gentlemen," Mercutio said, sizing up the situation. "It does not bode well for Montague to fight Montague." I scooted into the corner, trying to disappear.
"If you touch her again, I'll kill you," Troy threatened. Benvolio gasped for air.
Mercutio calmly placed his hand on Troy's outstretched arm. "You must release your grip, sir."
"I want him to swear he will not touch her again."
"He will reply if you release your grip." Mercutio patted Troy's arm. Troy released his grip and stepped back.
Benvolio rubbed his neck, then narrowed his eyes. "I don't have any intention of touching her again. She is all yours."
All yours? I'm not anyone s! But I was trembling so hard I couldn't speak, let alone defend myself.
"There, that is settled." Mercutio patted both men on the back, though neither relaxed his stance. "Seems there has been far too much drink tonight."
"Yes," Benvolio said through clenched teeth. "Too much to drink." He straightened his clothing and left the linen closet, without a single glance my way.
Mercutio frowned. "There goes a hotheaded fool. I'm glad to see you are both in one piece. Not everyone survives an encounter with Benvolio."
Mercutio returned to the courtyard but I stayed in the corner, still dazed. Troy knelt on his good knee and closed my borrowed shirt. I couldn't bear to look at him. "Don't say I told you so," I pleaded, my eyes filling with tears.
"Mimi, I would never say that." He reached out to touch my arm, but stopped short. "I'm sorry."
I tried to compose myself. I brushed dust from my pants, trying, as well, to brush away the sensation of Benvolio's groping hands. Troy had saved me again. I looked into his green eyes. "I ... I..." Stammering was all I could manage. What was I trying to say? Was I going to blame myself by saying that I shouldn't have kissed Benvolio? Or was I going to say something even more stupid like I shouldn't have worn pants in a time when women's butts were hidden beneath heavy skirts? Troy wrapped his arms around me as I fought back tears. "I... I should have poked him in the eye. They always teach that on Oprah."
"I should have poked him in the eye, too," Troy said, trying to ease the tension.
We sat that way for a bit. His hug was comforting, as if I had been wrapped in a towel fresh from the dryer. I no longer felt lemony clean. I wanted to jump back into the tub and wash Benvolio's saliva from my neck and face. "How's your leg?" I asked.
"Better. I think you did a good job. I could use some Tylenol, for the pain, but it's not too bad."
Romeo peered in. "What happened?" He noticed my tears before I could wipe them away with my sleeve. "I went to the kitchen to get some bread for our journey. Did I miss something?"
"No. Everything's fine," I said. Troy and I got to our feet.
Romeo opened his mouth, about to say something. Then he cocked his head toward the doorway. "Did you hear that? It sounds like fighting."
"Capulets!" a voice cried.
We stepped out of the linen room. The sleepy house had erupted in chaos. Servants in nightgowns scurried past, clutching each other in fear. A group of guards almost knocked me over. "The Capulets have attacked," one of the guards cried. "To the front gate, men!" Romeo dropped the bread and dashed across the courtyard. Troy and I followed him until we reached the portrait hallway. We stopped beneath a towering painting of some long-dead Montague and watched as Romeo charged out the front door.
"We can't go out there," Troy said. "The Capulets are looking for us."
"But I haven't told Romeo that Tybalt is looking for him, too." The long-dead Montague stared at me with a down-turned mouth, judging me, blaming me, for the mess I'd made. "Tybalt wouldn't be looking for Romeo if I hadn't yelled his name out the window. What if Tybalt's out there?"
"Tybalt and Romeo are supposed to fight." Troy's voice was steady and calm. "Romeo will kill Tybalt like he's supposed to and we'll all be better off. Then we won't have to worry about him trying to kill us."
Of course things would be easier without Tybalt constantly threatening to arrest and execute us. But what were the chances that Romeo would actually succeed? While I wouldn't shed a tear for Tybalt, I had come to like Romeo. I had never met anyone who was so honest about his emotions. "But what if Tybalt kills Romeo?"
"That's not the way it happens. Just let things fall into place so the story can get back on track." Troy leaned wearily against the wall. "I'm begging you. Enough with the 'Mimi to the Rescue' thing. It's a story. Let it end."
A servant ran past and raced up the marble stairs just as a man in a long, orange and black robe appeared at the top step. "What's all the noise outside?"
The servant jumped up and down as if his feet were on fire. "Lord Montague, the Capulets are attacking."
"Damn them to hell!" Lord Montague bellowed, reaching for the banister. The servant took the old man's arm and helped guide him down the stairs. Montague, fair and thin like his son, counted each stair as he awkwardly made his way down them. "Hurry, man," he told the servant, stumbling when they reached the floor. As the servant guided him toward the front door, Lord Montague took no notice of Troy and me, his eyes staring blankly into space.
"He's blind," Troy whispered. "But Lord Montague isn't blind in the play."
"Exactly. Now do you get it? This isn't the play," I said, throwing my hands in the air. "Shakespeare's been completely erased. Face it, Troy. Nothing's predictable. It hasn't been since we arrived. There's no way of knowing if Romeo will kill Tybalt or the other way around." Shouting erupted outside. "I've got to see what's going on. Come on." He followed me up the stairs to Romeo's room. Romeo's door stood wide open. Once inside, Troy closed it and slid the bolt.
We leaned across the sill of Romeo's window. A full moon floated in a cloudless sky, casting soft white light on the scene below. For the first time since arriving, the surroundings felt artificial, as if I sat in a box seat, staring down at actors on a stage. Yet the Wallingford troupe had never achieved this gut-wrenching level of tension.
Lord Montague stood on the steps, flanked by his guards. Servants nervously crowded near the entryway. "Where have they gone?" he demanded.
"We know not, sir," a guard replied. "Mercutio and Benvolio took off after Tybalt, along with Benvolio's men."
"And my son?"
"He followed."
"Did he take a sword?" Montague asked. "Tell me, man, did Romeo take a sword?"
The guard looked down at his feet. "No, sir. He said he was going to try to persuade them to cease fighting."
"Send out the troops!" Lord Montague began to pace, wringing his hands and cursing. "I'll not have that lovesick boy killed by Capulets!"
"Halt!" one of the guards ordered, peering into the distance. "Who goes there?"
Benvolio emerged from the shadowy end of the street, carrying a body in his arms. A cascade of Fire Engine Red hair swung with each heavy step. Benvolio laid Mercutio's body at Lord Montague's feet. "Mercutio is dead, my lord," Benvolio said, his face clenched with anger. "Killed by Tybalt Capulet."
"Where is my son?" Montague asked desperately. "Where is Romeo?"
"Romeo lives." Troy and I let out huge sighs of relief. Benvolio addressed the gathered crowd of servants, guards, and woken townsfolk. "Romeo tried to stop the fighting. He pleaded with Tybalt but Tybalt lunged and slew Mercutio. As honor dictates, Romeo grabbed Mercutio's blade and pierced Tybalt's heart."
"He fought? My son fought?" Lord Montague smiled with pride and puffed out his chest. Then his stance deflated and he reached out, waving his hands. "Benvolio, come to me. I must speak to you in private."
Troy and I hid behind a curtain as Benvolio led Lord Montague to a spot just beneath the window. "Were there Capulet witnesses?" Lord Montague asked.
"Yes. Tybalt's men. They have taken the villain's body back to Capulet House."
Lord Montague clutched Benvolio's shoulders. "Then Romeo has broken the prince's law."
"Tybalt was a murderer," Benvolio said. "Romeo did
his duty by avenging Lord Mercutio's death."
"The prince does not care about the circumstances. It is only a matter of time before Romeo is arrested for Tybalt's murder and executed. Where is he?"
"He is ashamed of his actions. He is hiding."
"Go to him. Tell him that he must leave Verona immediately. Tell him that I will publicly declare him forever banished to buy some negotiating time with the prince." His voice cracked with emotion. "Tell him I have never felt so much pride and that I love him. Tell him this."
"Yes, sir."
"My heart breaks tonight, Benvolio."
"As does mine."
"Come on," I whispered to Troy. "We've got to get to Romeo."
Twenty-two
***
"Men at some time are masters of their fate."
Benvolio had a head start but I had already guessed where Romeo was hiding. By the time we reached Friar Laurence's church, Benvolio had delivered the bad news.
"Banished," Romeo said, clutching Mercutio's bloodied sword. "Never to see Verona again."
"Never. Your father has commanded it."
"Mercutio is dead. Dear Mercutio." Romeo spoke softly. "Our friend is dead, Benvolio. Dead."
Troy and I stood just inside the sanctuary, keeping a discreet distance. I had come to rely on the Montagues for a sense of security but that had been shattered. Benvolio had turned against me and Romeo had joined me on Verona's Most Wanted list. We shared the uncertainty of homeless-ness, uprooted by forces beyond our control. Crazy, inconceivable forces unleashed from a tiny vial of ashes.
Friar Laurence wrung his hands and gazed sympathetically at Romeo. "Holy St. Francis. What a tragedy."
"Before Mercutio died, he cursed both the houses," Romeo said. "A plague on Montague and Capulet, those were his last words. He died because of our hatred."
"He died because Tybalt was a bloodthirsty monster," Benvolio snarled.
"Mercutio is dead and I am banished, never to see Rosaline again." Romeo hugged the sword to his chest.
"Banishment is far better than execution," Benvolio pointed out. He peered through one of the windows, then moved to another. "They'd not spare an ounce of mercy."
"Yes, my child, far better than execution."
Benvolio checked another window. "No sign of pursuit. But the prince and Lord Capulet will search, come morning light."
"I am a murderer," Romeo said. The sword fell to the floor. The clank of metal echoed off the stone walls and made my heart skip a beat.
Benvolio smacked his palm on the sill. "Forget about that woman," he said angrily. "You must leave immediately." He untied a coin pouch from his belt and handed it to Romeo. "Take this." Romeo stood lifeless, staring into space, into the unknown future. "Take it! You must leave now."
"I'll hold it for him," I said, stepping forward. Though it sickened me, I didn't look away when Benvolio handed me the purse. I held my chin up and met his espresso eyes with a determined glare. Troy stepped forward as well, his body tensed like a lion ready to pounce--like a guy ready to protect me.
Benvolio did not flinch or back away, keeping his gaze steady. "Lord and Lady Capulet will not forget your exile, Mimi. You are also in grave danger. I suggest you leave for Manhattan immediately and take Romeo with you." He raised his voice, as if he wanted everyone to hear, even the church mice. "Romeo acted honorably when he avenged Mercutio's murder. So, too, shall I act honorably by apologizing to you, Mimi. I am sorry for having treated you most unkindly."
"Unkindly?" Troy still sounded furious.
I didn't tell Benvolio that I accepted his apology because the feelings of betrayal were still fresh, but I appreciated the gesture.
Benvolio strode to Romeo's side and embraced him. "Go, cousin, and may this bloody feud never cross your path again." He unsheathed his sword and hurried from the church, the heavy door slamming behind him with an imposing finality. I knew I'd never see him again.
"Good riddance," Troy hissed.
"Benvolio speaks the truth. You must all leave before dawn's light," Friar Laurence advised.
There seemed to be no way around it. Troy could no longer argue that the story had to get back on course. Staying meant certain death for Romeo and me. Troy wouldn't be welcome back at Montague House, not with Benvolio running the show. I was filled with fear and uncertainty. Leaving Verona was now our only option, but what did leaving mean? Would that bring an end to this crazy adventure or were we doomed to stay in this world for the rest of our lives? My mother and aunt were probably sick with worry. How many days had passed? I couldn't remember.
"Where will we go?" I asked the friar.
Friar Laurence stuck his hands into the sleeves of his brown robe. "Do not go east toward Venice. There are too many Capulets there. Avoid the papal states as well, for the Capulets have loyal allies. You could go to England, but the journey would be long."
"Juliet would hate England," I said. "Women weren't allowed to be actors in England. I mean, aren't allowed."
The friar scratched his bald spot. "Since Troy's wound may slow you down, I suggest you venture west to Milan and possibly hire a carriage there, or buy passage on a merchant's wagon. Or you could travel south to Genoa, then take a boat to Spain. I know not which way is less dangerous."
"This just totally sucks," Troy said, sitting on one of the benches. "How are we supposed to get home? Running for our lives across Europe can't be the way."
"I know of no roads to Manhattan," Friar Laurence said. "And God has not provided you with another charm."
A conundrum that we couldn't wrap our brains around, the way home eluded us. We had gone back to the cobbler's shop but had found no magic portal. Verona's only quill merchant had never heard of William Shakespeare. Even if I had wanted to, events had strayed so far from the original story line that there was no way of putting them back on course. Neither of us said what we were thinking--that there might not be a way home. Ever. Plague, giant rats, bad shoes, and sleeping in barns were about to replace leading roles and number one hits. My old, faraway life, the one that had tormented my heart and soul, seemed so benign. At least no one in Manhattan was trying to execute me!
An image of Lady Capulet's face, with that creepy plucked forehead, loomed in my mind. "We'd better get going," I said. "They'll look here for sure." Romeo continued to stare at the church wall. His feelings had consumed him, again. I tucked the coin purse into my boot. "Romeo, come on," I urged. "We still have to get Juliet. She's relying on us." Troy started to say something but I didn't want to hear his objections. "It's Romeo and Juliet, Troy. Remember?"
For the zillionth time since our arrival, Troy totally surprised me. "I think you're right. We shouldn't leave her behind." He shrugged. "She's a nice girl."
"We can't wait for tomorrow's wedding," I decided. "Juliet has to take the potion tonight. Romeo, are you with us?"
The friar took one of Romeo's delicate hands, clutching it between his own. "My son," he said gently, looking into the vacant eyes. "Today you took a life and that is a great sin, even if it was a murderer's life." A single tear rolled down Romeo's soft cheek. "But God, in His wisdom, has given you an opportunity to redeem your soul by helping to save another's life. Juliet needs you, my child. Go, and God will watch over you."
"Redeem my soul?" Romeo lifted the friar's silver cross and kissed it. Then he turned and looked into my eyes. "If I am to be banished, then I welcome any and all refugees of this feud who wish to join me." He picked up Mercutio's sword. "Let us go and rescue Juliet."
The friar hurried to his room, stuffing a bag full of things he said we'd need. "Your letter!" he exclaimed, stumbling back down the stairs. "I could not find it. Tybalt's men must have taken it when they searched."
"If the Capulets read that letter, they'll know I lied about being a Capulet."
Friar Laurence swung open the front door. "All the more reason for haste."
We slunk along the back roads like the criminals that we were. Romeo carried
the friar's bag. Despite Troy's limp and the friar's short steps, we made good time. I could have run a marathon with all the adrenaline that pumped through me. Fortunately, we didn't encounter anyone, just more of those delightful, well-fed rodents. As we hurried, I filled Romeo in on the sleeping potion plan. He didn't say a word, and appeared to be deep in thought. I could only hope that he had been listening.
Like Montague House, Capulet House was a frenzy of activity. The Capulet guards had gathered at the front and were brandishing their weapons and cursing the enemy. They weren't actually beating their chests but were close to it. "The Montagues must die!" one of them shouted as a jug was passed around.
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