A quiet night such as this was a rare occurrence in Verona recently. Montagues and Capulets skirmished daily but though some blood was shed there had been no more deaths since the funerals of Mercutio, Tybalt, Romeo and Juliet.

Darylus was not quite drunk, just enough for a pleasant sense of well-being until pressure on his bladder sent him to a narrow gap between buildings. It smelled as if others had used the space for the same purpose. As he finished his business he heard a step on the cobblestones and peered out at the street. A youth approached, moonlight revealing smooth skin, dark tilted eyes and a shiny cap of straight black hair as unlike Darylus's weathered face, blue eyes and unkempt brown hair as it was possible to be. Darylus had not met him but he had heard of him.

The hour was not late but the street was empty for the moment and Darylus was in the mood to taunt an enemy of his House. He stepped out silently to lean against the wall but the youth had good ears and stopped, hand on hilt.

"The foreign Capulet," Darylus's drawl gave insult, as he intended.

The youth looked closer. "The country Montague," he jeered, pulling his rapier.

"Put up your blade, I don't fight boys." Darylus was inclined to play a bit but would not break the uneasy truce between their Houses.

"I'm not a boy. Are you a graybeard to call me such? If so, I'll not fight an old man."

"I can give you ten years, two inches in height and two stone in weight."

"So 'tis true that Montagues exaggerate themselves. I see but five years more, one inch and one stone."

"Just as true that Capulets underestimate their foes."

The youth grinned suddenly. "Mayhap we could meet midway. We have no quarrel with each other now that our Houses are to be united."

"We should drink to the forthcoming alliance."

"I'll stand the reckoning."

"Allow me. 'Tis well known that Capulet pockets are near to empty."

"Not mine. But it's as well each to pay his way. A truce means not that either side wishes to be indebted."

"Agreed."

"I'll have your name, sir?" the youth asked.

"Darylus Dixonia. And yours?"

"Glennio Rhee."

Glennio put away his rapier. Darylus hoisted his crossbow and fell into step. Together they strolled to the nearest tavern.

Darylus regretted already his words about Glennio Rhee's foreign appearance. If uttered now, he would say them in admiration.

Though each knew it not, the admiration was mutual as Glennio's thoughts took a similar path. He had never thought to meet a Montague he could esteem and had anticipated an ill-bred boor when Darylus Dixonia spoke. That might still be true but Glennio found him intriguing in spite of his manners. The man looked as much a weapon as the weapons he carried: a sword, a dagger – more than one Glennio suspected – and a balestra.

The tavern was dim but better lit than the street and Glennio saw that Darylus's clothes were shabbier than the usual Montague finery and his flagon of ale cheaper than the carafe of wine Glennio ordered.

"I mean no insult but it seems we are both opposites in our Houses."

"Aye. Montagues raised themselves to become a family of consequence but I am not of that branch."

"What is your connection?"

"A country Montague, as you said. My mother was cousin to Lord Montague. She married a man of small means and left Verona."

"Was a cousin?"

"She and my father are both dead many a year."

"We have that in common." Glennio paused. "But Montague claims you?"

"Even though he felt my mother married beneath her, he invited us for feast days and my brother and I fostered with him for a time when we were boys. Dixonias are not prosperous or polished and Montague thought we should have a taste of city life. I suspicion he wanted to be sure he could call on our sword arms in this feud with the Capulets. He summoned us to Romeo's funeral and bade us stay awhile."

"From where do you hail?"

"A village called Beneford. It lays three leagues south by east."

"And what occupies you there?"

"Merlet and I have our father's smallholding. We are self-sufficient for crops and animal flesh, and we hire out to the local landowner. Those wages see to any other needs. But what of you?"

"Our stories are similar though our circumstances are not. The Capulets are an old and honored line but their fortunes have fallen. My mother was cousin to Lord Capulet. My father was a merchant from the Orient who traded along the Silk Road. His wealth made him an acceptable suitor but the family was relieved when they removed to Venice after the wedding. I joined my father's business. I, too, fostered with the head of my House. In my case Lord Capulet is less interested in my sword arm than my purse strings."

"No doubt he'll wed you to a maid who comes from money or power. A Capulet connection is sought after."

"As is a Montague match. Does Lord Montague plan to marry off you and your brother?"

"Nay, he knows he may command our family loyalty but we are too rough for the ladies of Verona. I would refuse in any case. But few ladies would refuse you."

"I would refuse them. A marriage bed and a female in it are not to my taste."

"It seems we have something else in common."

Glennio already thought Darylus a man made for war. Observing the bulge in his breeches, he knew him a man ready for other pursuits. But now was not the time to explore such matters.

"Your brother does not drink with you?"

"Not this evening. He was off to find his ladylove."

"That sounds promising. She does not mind a rough country cousin of Montague?"

"No doubt she will mind when she knows of Merlet's existence. My brother saw her in a carriage this afternoon and was instantly smitten."

"Ah, romance! But if he knows not her name, how does he find her?"

"The carriage entered the Prince's courtyard. Lord Montague had need of us so Merlet could not tarry but he went back this evening to gossip with the guards and learn who she is."

"The Prince's sister arrived home this afternoon from her visit to Arragon. Surely he is not enamored of Princess Isabella?"

"Nay, we know few faces in Verona besides our Montague cousins but the Prince and Princess are two of them. Isabella is dark, this lady was fair. But the carriage displayed the Princess's crest."

"A lady-in-waiting perhaps. Servants would not ride in the crested carriage."

"Ladies-in-waiting are not servants?"

"Oh, no. They serve the Princess but as close companions. Lady-in-waiting is an honored position for gentlewomen."

"That is above my brother's touch. I'd best find him before he does something foolish."

"I'll join you if I may."

"Should we be seen together?"

"How better to show that even minor members of the Houses of Montague and Capulet have laid aside our differences?"

A/N: For the chapter title I made a slight change to the quote 'Ill met by moonlight' from A Midsummer Night's Dream.