Note: Welcome to this story! It's a little different than others in this series, as it deals with a real event. In 1608, Francesco, son of Duke Vincenzo Gonzaga of Mantua, married Margaret of Savoy. This story takes place at that wedding. Many of the people you will meet in this story are . . . well, analogues to their historical counterparts. If you're interested, I can give a list at the end, once everyone has played their parts.

In the reality of the story, Mantua is a bigger and more politically connected city than Verona is, and is ruled by the Duke as he appears in Verdi's Rigoletto, though the events of that opera are many years in the past. Mercutio and Valentine are related to a couple of the minor characters from Rigoletto, one of whom appears briefly in this story.

So . . . enjoy this tangled web, and I will meet you at the end!

1. My House And Welcome

A discreet tap on the door drew Mercutio's attention from the letter he had been composing. He placed the document aside and rose from the desk. "Come in," he called."

The door to the study opened, revealing little Orlando, who stood up straight so as to make himself as tall as possible. "Signior Mercutio, the Prince of Verona is come," he announced, his voice squeaking a little with suppressed excitement. Then he stepped aside as neatly as any dancing master, and Prince Escalus entered the study.

Mercutio gave a respectful nod. "Welcome, Uncle," he said, and cleared a stack of papers from the nicer of the two chairs that stood before the desk. "Will it please you sit?"

Escalus gave a wry smile. "Ay, though rising afterwards may not please my bones so well," he said as he settled himself in the chair.

Mercutio turned to Orlando, who was still presenting the very image of the attentive page. "Thou hast done well, Orlando," he said. "Thou mayst return to thy friends now." Orlando smiled, and scampered away.

Escalus watched him go with a faint, fond smile. "Thou hast trained him well," he remarked. "That lad will make a fine page to some noble gentleman when he is older."

Mercutio smiled. "Ay, Orlando is a bright lad, and a charming companion when he is in familiar company. He has blossomed in the time since he came here. But come, Uncle. Surely you did not come to the Innocents' Hospital merely to inspect lads for service. What is the news in Verona?"

"Ah . . ." Escalus took a deep breath, and refused to hold Mercutio's gaze. "The news is not from Verona, but rather . . . from Mantua."

"Ay?" Mercutio picked up his quill and twirled it in his fingers, willing his hands not to shake. In his experience, news from Mantua was never a simple matter.

"Duke Vincenzo Gonzaga has found a bride for his son Francesco," Escalus said, his tone conversational, but his eyes fixed firmly on Mercutio. "He would solemnize the marriage at the end of the month, and to that end, he has sent letters to his brother princes requesting the presence of their households at the occasion."

A cold lump of fear settled in Mercutio's stomach, and his heart raced. Suddenly desperate to maintain control of his demeanor, he gave voice to his thoughts as soon as they entered his head, not caring that it resembled the voice of madness, only that it gave him cause not to scream. "And you will take Paris, who is your heir, and Helena, who will grace his arm. That will be well. Dionisio is but nine years of age. That is old enough to travel, but think you that he is of age to attend the ceremonies? He is welcome to board here at the Hospital, an you would leave him behind; we have beds enough, and he may play with boys of his own age. Or Valentine may care for him. Silvia has adored him from the moment she set foot in Verona, and Dionisio may pass the time with his cousins -"

"Mercutio." Escalus held up a hand, and Mercutio made an effort and stilled his tongue. "Francesco is his father's heir, and his bride is of a lineage just as noble. Duke Vincenzo would have a merry crowd to celebrate his son's nuptials, and has requested the presence of the entire household to that purpose. Thou and Valentine are included in that count."

Mercutio swallowed a surge of panic and made one more attempt to reason with Escalus. "And if aught were to befall your household in Mantua? Surely you will leave one behind so that Verona may not lose our entire family in one disaster."

Escalus nodded. "Ay, thou hast the right of it, on both counts. I shall command Paris to leave Dionisio at home in the care of his nurse and his tutors, for he is Paris's heir even as Paris is mine."

Defeated, Mercutio slumped against his desk. "Uncle," he murmured, "I have no desire to set foot in Mantua."

"I know that," Escalus replied. "And until this day, I have not required it of thee. But Duke Vincenzo has made his wishes clear, and I would not refuse him in this matter. Thou art a grown man, Mercutio, and I would have thee carry thyself with the courage that befits thy state. After all, thou dost spend thy days in this house."

"My days only, but not my nights," Mercutio countered. "I have changed this house, and it is no longer what it was. The same cannot be said of Mantua."

"Mantua is what it is. Thou knowest well that there is no threat to thee in that city, living or dead. Thou hast never seen it, and no part of it can summon any memory that could fright thee."

Mercutio sighed. It was no use to argue the point further, for Escalus was his Prince as well as his uncle, and could use whatever force he wished to ensure that Mercutio complied with his wishes. Still, Escalus was his uncle as well as his Prince, and there remained the hope of one slim comfort.

"Uncle, may all the grown members of your household travel to Mantua?"

Escalus did not answer for a moment, and Mercutio wondered if he had asked too much. But then the corners of Escalus's mouth twitched, and a smile flitted across his jaw. "Ay, Mercutio," he said. "Thou hast naught to fear from thine old uncle. Duke Vincenzo has requested my entire household, but I determine the meaning of that. I count Benvolio in my household as well, and he will accompany thee even as Helena and Silvia travel with their husbands."

Mercutio could not hide a shudder of relief. "I thank you, Uncle," he said. "It will be a comfort to me."

"Then we will depart without quarrel," Escalus said. "A week from tomorrow, mark thou. We will remain in Mantua a fortnight to partake fully of the festivities."

"Ay, my Lord Uncle." Mercutio paused. "Might I ask what lady the Duke of Mantua has selected for his son?"

Escalus looked mildly surprised at the question, but shrugged. "He has chosen Margaret, daughter of the Duke of Savoy."

"A noble house indeed," Mercutio said. "Have you more news that I must hear?"

To his credit, Escalus took the hint graciously. "No more. I shall not keep you from your business here." He creaked to his feet, and Mercutio went to the door and called one of the boys to escort the Prince out.

Only after Escalus had left did Mercutio allow himself to collapse into his chair. His stomach churned, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes so that he would not weep, not in the Hospital where the children needed his strength. His heart fluttered, and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.

A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see that he had not closed it fully after Escalus had departed, and Cardenio peered into the study, his face shadowed with concern. Mercutio sighed. The damage was not what it might have been. Cardenio was more than half grown, old enough to see adult distress and not panic, and he was one of the boys whose scars were most familiar to Mercutio.

"Welcome, Cardenio," Mercutio called. "What dost thou require?"

Cardenio slipped into the study, but did not close the door. "I require naught of consequence, Signior Mercutio," he said. "I chanced to pass by, and I saw the Prince depart, and then I caught a glimpse of your distress. I am curious, I suppose. Is our home in peril?"

Mercutio stared at Cardenio for a moment, suddenly conscious of how he might look, disheveled and red-eyed from the turmoil in his heart. "Nay, Cardenio, no peril threatens thee or thy friends."

Cardenio relaxed and flashed a quick smile, then chewed his lip, not daring to ask the question that was written so plainly upon his face.

The unasked question gave Mercutio the courage to ask one of his own; after all, Cardenio was nearly grown, and Mercutio judged him old enough to answer. "Cardenio, what thinkst thou of this place, this Hospital?"

Cardenio blinked with surprise. "Why, it is my home," he said. "It is the place where I have been cared for and raised with unending love. Before I came here, I recall only that I was like unto a beast that knows naught but darkness and fear. Here, I have grown in the light and I am become nearly a man. I am to be apprenticed soon, and will go to dwell with my master, but this Hospital will always be the true home of my childhood."

Mercutio smiled at the image of the house that he saw reflected in Cardenio's speech. "I thank thee for thy words, Cardenio. Thou hast comforted me more than thou knowest."

"Signior Mercutio?"

"Ay?"

"This house was your father's?"

Mercutio nodded. "Ay, and I inherited it from him upon his death."

Cardenio pursed his lips for a moment before he spoke again. "I think . . . I think that I know things now that I did not know when I was a child," he said softly. "When I was very small, I saw that you and Signior Benvolio would leave us in the evenings, and I knew not wherefore, and I feared each night that you would not return. When I was a little older, I knew that you and Signior Benvolio would return each day, but still I knew not wherefore you left. But, of late . . ." his voice trailed off, and he looked uncertain.

Mercutio nodded for Cardenio to continue.

"Of late," Cardenio went on, "I have seen and heard things that perhaps I should not have known. I think . . . I think I know now wherefore you do not pass the nights in this house with us."

Mercutio kept his voice calm and even. "And what thinkst thou of thy newfound knowledge?"

"It pains me," Cardenio admitted. "I would that you had no sorrows, for you have been kind to us here."

"Thy compassion moves me," Mercutio said. "My sorrows fade when I see the peace that this house has given thee and the others. Fear not, Cardenio, for thy home will remain safe."

Relieved, Cardenio hurried across the room and embraced Mercutio quickly but fervently. Comforted by the gesture, Mercutio ruffled his hair a little before sending him on his way.

Cardenio's words bolstered Mercutio's heart for the rest of the day, but his troubles returned as night fell. After the evening prayers, Mercutio retired with Benvolio to their chamber. Without a word, Mercutio fled to the balcony that overlooked the interior garden, but even the scent of flowers in the fullness of spring could not cheer him, for the scent recalled to his mind another spring, long past, when he had feared that his world would end. Finding no sanctuary under the stars, Mercutio returned to the bedchamber. Benvolio sat on the end of the bed, waiting patiently for him. Mercutio paced the breadth of the chamber twice, and then a wave of terror hit him, and he dropped to his knees in the middle of the floor.

Benvolio hurried to his side and put his arm around Mercutio, drawing him just close enough to feel Benvolio's presence.

"Caro, wilt thou speak?" Benvolio asked. "Wilt thou share thy heart's burden with thy consort?"

Mercutio curled himself as small as he could, then slowly unfolded his limbs. He shifted so that he could rest his head on Benvolio's shoulder and breathe in his scent. "Thou knowest that we must travel to Mantua," he said.

"Ay." Mercutio had told Benvolio the bare bones of the matter that afternoon, and the Prince had spoken further of it at supper.

"I have feared Mantua for so many years," Mercutio went on. "After my father was banished, I knew two things. I knew that he could no longer touch me in Verona, and I knew that I would be at his mercy if ever I set foot in Mantua. Mantua is his city. And though he is dead these past eleven years, and his body sleeps in our monument where I may visit at any time to witness that he no longer lives, yet still I think of Mantua with dread. We have driven his ghost from his home in Verona, but what if it has returned to Mantua to haunt the last place he dwelled?"

Benvolio did not answer immediately, but stroked Mercutio's hair. The gentle, rhythmic touch was soothing, and Mercutio found that he could breathe normally again. "What else dost thou know of Mantua?" Benvolio asked after a few moments. "Hast thou other kinsmen in that city?"

Mercutio thought for a moment. "Ay. There are the Borsas. They are my father's cousins, and I believe that he lodged with him when first he was banished. There is a son a few years older than I. I recall dimly that they visited my father when I was small, though I do not recall much of the occasion."

"Dost thou desire to seek them out when we are in Mantua?" Benvolio asked.

"I fear that the choice is not mine to make. The Borsas attend the Gonzaga court, and I expect that they will be at the marriage festivities. I shall see my cousins whether I will or no."

"Perhaps they might tell thee of thy father," Benvolio said.

Mercutio's chest spasmed at the thought, and he choked as he tried to stifle a cry of protest. Benvolio tightened his embrace.

"Nay, calm thyself, caro," he said. "When thou wast a child, thy father was a monster larger than life. But to thy cousins, he was no more than a man. Perhaps we may persuade them to tell thee of the man, and thus transform the monster into a smaller thing."

"Am I so bold a knight that I can slay the fearsome beast?"

Benvolio chuckled a little. "Thou art bolder than thou knowest, caro. But thou needst not face this beast alone. I shall remain at thy side, and shouldst thou have need of me, I will be there."

Mercutio sighed, and wound his arms around Benvolio. "Thy kindness bears me up, and I am forever glad of my sweet friend."

"What better thing may I do in Mantua?" Benvolio laughed. "I shall be at thy side to love and care for thee, as any man would do for his beloved consort." He pressed a kiss onto Mercutio's brow, then rose from the floor, drawing Mercutio with him.

"Come to bed," he said. "I shall sing to thee a little ere we sleep, so that thou mayst recall thy present state even after thou dost pass into the realm of Mab."