R+J
Act I. Scene 1
The First Death
The sound of steel clanging against steel echoed through the silent courtyard. Romeo and Balthasar were sweating and breathing heavily from their fencing practice. With a fast step to the side Romeo evaded Balthasar's swipe, circled around him and placed the tip of his rapier on Balthasar's left shoulder.
Balthasar froze, droped his sword and held up his hands. "I give up, Romeo. You win."
"That's because your sword is heavier than my rapier." Romeo backed away and continued his lecture on the best weapon of choice: "It's easier to evade an enemy when your weapon isn't too heavy."
Balthasar chuckled and bent down to pick up his discarded weapon. "I like a weapon that doesn't weigh as much as a toothpick A man like me has to keep up a reputation. And besides, a big weapon causes more damage. " With this Balthasar swung around and pointed the tip of his sword right at Romeo's chest.
At least that was the plan. Romeo though had moved just out of Balthasar's reach. "Balthasar, it's not about the size", Romeo said and with a movement so fast it seemed blurry to Balthasar Romeo had manouvered the sword out of Balthasar's grasp. With a loud 'slap' the flat side of the claimed sword landed on Balthasar's still outstretched hand. With a serious air Romeo continued: "It's all about the way you use it."
Balthasar rubbed his bruised hand shaking his head. "You might be a master-fencer, but you have a sick mind."
"And you are a sneaky bastard", Romeo replied.
Both men turned to leave when they heard whistling and footsteps on the cobbles. A man turned a corner and waved at them. Both men relaxed when they saw who it was. "Cousin!" Balthasar exlaimed. "How fare you?"
"Well, thank you." Abram replied. He turned his gaze to Romeo and nodded in greeting. "I trust you are well?" he inquired. Romeo nodded and changed from his sweaty shirt into a more comfortable linnen vest.(A.N.:What did they wear 18th century-ish? I have no clue!)
"Your father has been asking for you. You would do well to return home." Romeo thanked him and turned to leave. "Coming Balthasar?"
"Abram and I will see what drink can be found and what women can be searched. Therefore I bid you good night." Romeo waved and left.
The other two walked towards one of their favourite inns when a pair of drunk looking men wearing the Capulet crest on their shirts tumbled into their path. One of them drew himself up and asked in a menacing voice:"Who walks the streets of Verona?"
"It seems to be a miss-matched pair of fools" was Balthasar's reply. Angered the other Capulet spoke: "Jester, trying to be funny, eh? Who be you?"
"Balthasar and Abram, befriended to the house of Montague." Was Abrams measured reply. "And what does one call men like you?"
"Men like us shouldn't be mentionedby men such as yourselves, if you indeed can be called men, but that you may know the name of the man that will the last thing you see before the sun does drop today I shall overlook this. I am Sampson and this is my brother Gregory. We owe our obedience to the house of Capulet."
"And owe you do, for I see no other way that a man can answer to such a man as Capulet!" This angered Gregory and Sampson who quickly drew their swords. Abram and Balthasar willingly accepted the challenge and soon the four men were occupied with evading each others blows and landing some of their own.
Gregory, who apparently had drunk the most, toppled over and barely evaded Abrams blow. While Gregory was trying to get up again Abram had aided Balthasar and they were forcing Sampson into a corner. Abram was lashing out for a well-aimed strike when he gasped as metal seemed to appear out of nowhere from his stomach. With a muttered curse he fell to the ground. Gregory looked baffled at his sword that had ended up in Abrams back, but Sampson still had most his wits about him and he grabbed Gregorys arm, pulling him away from the crime scene.
Balthasar gave a strangled cry of dispair and held Abram. The last breath escaped the victims lips and he lay still. Balthasar looked up and caught a last glimpse of a Capulet crest vanishing into a dark alley.
An angry tear rolled down Balthasar's cheek as he held the corpse of his friend and mentor. With a sigh of dispair he slung Abram onto his shoulders and trudged off towards the quarters of the montague family.
'They will pay' was all he thought as he walked through the darkening streets of Verona as the sun began to set. 'They will pay dearly, indeed!'
Elsewhere'Do you have the vaguest conception under God what you have just done?" Sampson cried. He and Gregory had run as fast as their legs would carry them until they had reached his house where he was now fuming at Gregory, who was looking gloomier by the minuit.
"This is just the beginning, I can feel it!" Sampson continued. "We'll hear from them soon. And mark my words Gregory, we are in trouble!" With a quick glance over his shoulder at Gregory Sampson slumped down on a stool and sighed.
Gregory spoke up: "It's not like I was aiming, you know!" Gregory was trying to focus through the mist that was fogging up his brain. 'Maybe that last pint was one too much…' he thought.
"I wouldn't say that too loud you know? Telling the Montagues one of their best fighters was killed in an accident, by a drunk fool, might just make things worse" Sampson said.
"I agree." Sampson and Gregory frowned at each other. They hadn't seen the others lips move. As they were trying to figure out who had spoken a dark shadow jumped through a window and landed in the middle of Sampsons kitchen. The owner was so surprised he fell off his stool.
Tybalt spoke gain: "I am quite sure actually that it would be a very bad idea to point out anything to the Montagues. If they don't find out who killed the man there won't be any trouble."
Sampson had regained his composure. Gragory hadn't moved and was swaying sligtly, much the worse for drink. "There was another man, Balthasar I think. He knows who we are." Sampson said, tidying his mass of darkblonde hair. He wasn't surprised that Tybalt was sneaking around and listening in on conversations. He was called the Prince of Cats after all.
Tybalt bored his reprochful gaze into the other mans eyes. The candlelight threw strange shadows over Tybalts bronze skin, making his hazel eyes seem deeper set into his face. 'He looks pretty scary', Sampson thought. With a frustrated movement Tybalt pushed back his raven hair and spoke: "So let me sum up the situation. You start a fight in the middle of a street, give them your names, KILL one of them… AND YOU'RE DRUNK ALLREADY!"
The last part was said very loudly because Tybalt thought Gregory had fallen asleep. Gregory jerked upright and fell over his stool. He groaned as he hit his head on the floor. He decided he might as well stay where he was, because the chances that he would remain standing and alive for a few hours longer after Capulet found out about this were, effectively, equal to nothing. Since he was drunk and even on a good day this was a very long trail of thought for him to follow he felt tired. So he fell asleep.
His snores roused Sampson from his silent musing and he shook his head at Gregory's stupidity. He turned to Tybalt. "So what do you propose we do?"
Tybalt thought for a while. The silence became uncomfortable. Fainally Tybalt answered: "We can't repair the damage so we might as well tell Capulet."
Sampson shuddered at the thought of what happened to the other two who had started a serious fight with the Montagues and then told Capulet. "It would be terrible if Montague told him and cought him by surprise", Tybalt continued.
"So the other question is: Who will tell him?" Sampson opened his mouth to say something but Tybalt interrupted: "Before you ask, I won't. I for one don't have a death wish."
Sampson closed his mouth and considered the possibility of doing it himself. He then quickly dismissed the idea. Both men turned at the same time and grined at each other at the prospect of hearing the snoring figure on the floor report to Capulet.
'Poor guy' Sampson thought 'he's still so young…'