2. The Steerage Of My Course
"Must you leave us?" Orlando asked, his voice wobbling a little. None of the other boys took the chance to tease him for this weakness, and indeed, Cardenio reached out and clasped Orlando's hand in his.
"Ay," Mercutio replied, "though it pains us to do so."
"The Prince has given us his command," Benvolio added, "and we must obey that command, even as you must obey your nurses and put away your amusements at the close of day."
The assembled Hospital inmates considered this analogy, but few of them looked convinced by it. Mercutio could not find it in his heart to feel anything for them save sympathy. "We shall not be far from here," he said, and his eye fell on a large scroll that had been a recent Christmas gift from Romeo. "Come, I have an idea," he said. "Let us go to the dining hall."
He picked up the scroll, and Benvolio and the children followed him to the Hospital's dining hall. Mercutio set the scroll down on one of the long tables, and the boys clustered around him, eager to see what the scroll contained. Mercutio slowly unrolled it, revealing a large, handsome map with the city of Verona placed in the center. He placed his finger on the little image. "This is Verona, where we live," he said.
Some of the smaller boys leaned closer to examine the picture. "It looks like a church," Sebastian said.
"Nay, a palace," his twin brother Benedetto replied.
"It is a representation only," Benvolio said with a smile.
Mercutio placed a second finger on Verona and slowly traced it south a short distance until it rested upon another small image of a city. "That is Mantua," he said. "It is half a day's travel away. We shall depart with the first rays of the dawn, and we shall arrive in Mantua in plenty of time for dinner."
"That is not very far at all," Orlando said.
"Nay, it is not," Mercutio said, "but it is far enough." He traced his finger along a line drawn in red on the map that separated Verona from Mantua. "That is the edge of the territory of Venice. Mantua does not have the relationship with the doge of Venice that we in Verona do, and its laws are different."
"How different?" Cardenio asked. "Do they not keep the peace in Mantua as we do in Verona?"
Mercutio opened his mouth to reply, but found that the words stuck in his throat. He knew little of the law in Mantua, save only that it had not prevented his father from preying upon children there.
"Mantua's law differs from ours in particulars only," Benvolio said quickly. "There are differences concerning what may be sold, and when, and how a son may inherit, and things of that nature. But Mantua is a city like any other, and its laws are intended to promote order and the public weal."
Mercutio flashed a grateful smile at Benvolio, then turned his attention back to the children. "So you see that we will not be very far away after all," he said. "We will remain a fortnight in Mantua, and then we will travel half a day and return to Verona, and we will tell you tales of our adventures."
Cardenio smiled. "We will ask Friar John to pray for your safety every day that you are gone from us."
"That is a kind thought," Benvolio said. "I am certain our journey will be all the pleasanter for your prayers."
Mercutio and Benvolio departed the Hospital at their usual evening hour, having received many farewell embraces from the children. Having seen the distress of those children at their imminent journey, Mercutio was not entirely surprised to find more distressed children at the palace. Valentine greeted his brothers at the door with a wry, weary smile upon his face.
"Beware," he intoned, "for you shall receive but one warning of the dire fate that lurks within."
Mercutio laughed. "And what fate is that, ragazzo?" he asked, though the sound of childish complaints from within already answered his question.
"Uncle has just given notice that Dionisio is to remain at home," Valentine replied. "Helena and Silvia have attempted to make him see sense, but he will have none of it, he thanks you kindly."
"And thus fortune doth contrive to make fools of us all," Mercutio said. "I would gladly have changed my place for Dionisio's, but Uncle stood firm in that as well."
Benvolio threw a consoling arm around Mercutio's shoulders. "Then, since fate will not be swayed, let us make the most of what we are given," he said. "Perhaps we may take some amusement from this drama, at least."
Mercutio smiled, and they followed Valentine into the palace. As it turned out, Helena was shouldering most of the burden of talking to Dionisio, who stood stiffly, his arms crossed forbiddingly over his chest, and his face set in a firm pout. Silvia had retired to the edge of the salon, and held her year-old son Girolamo on her lap while she watched Helena's efforts with some amusement. Girolamo's three-year-old sister Marietta sat at her mother's feet, petting the dog Fiducia. When she spied her uncles approaching, she squealed and ran to embrace them. Benvolio caught her and swung her up in the air to make her laugh, and Mercutio kissed her cheek.
"How now, Marietta," Benvolio said. "What fearsome quarrel have we stumbled upon here?"
"Dionisio wishes to go to Mantua," Marietta said, worrying a button at Benvolio's throat. "He has given Auntie Helena such a sauce." Her eyes went wide and her voice dropped to a whisper as she reported this naughtiness.
"That was unwise," Mercutio told her. "Auntie Helena will not be swayed by sauce. All of the best soldiers know better than to give sauce to the foe. But that is why little boys are not the best soldiers."
Benvolio set Marietta on her feet, then turned an amused expression on Mercutio. "And how long didst thou take to learn the lesson that thou hast so piously given thy niece?" he asked.
"Wherefore dost thou believe that I have learned it?" Mercutio replied with a grin. "I spend my days with children. I shall leave the soldiering to those with a taste for it."
No matter how cheerfully Mercutio spoke of the journey to his niece and nephews, he could not shake his own dread of it. Though he knew that it was futile, he could not banish the memory of his father's face from his mind, nor the portrait of a Mantuan child who had hanged himself in the shame of what Giacomo Rinuccini had done to him. That boy's burning eyes tormented Mercutio so that his throat closed and his stomach rebelled at the smell of the roast pigeon set before him at supper. But, mercifully, Escalus did not reprimand his lack of appetite that evening, even with so much as a pointedly raised brow.
The royal family retired early that evening so that they might depart just before dawn. Valentine bade Mercutio good night with a fierce embrace, and Mercutio's heart sank to feel his brother tremble in his arms. "Most likely we shall spend a pleasant fortnight, ragazzo," Mercutio murmured, pretending to courage that he did not have. "And whatever may befall us, thy children shall remain here where no harm may come to them."
"Marietta and Girolamo are safe," Valentine repeated. "That is all that is important." He tightened his arms around Mercutio one last time, then retired.
Mercutio remained in the corridor a few moments longer, then joined Benvolio in their bedchamber. Their trunks were packed, and a clean nightgown was laid out for Mercutio. Benvolio had lit the night candle and sat in bed waiting patiently for Mercutio. As Mercutio changed into his nightgown, his fingers grew numb, though at the end of May, the night was no longer especially cold. Nevertheless, the numbness spread throughout his body until he stumbled upon getting into bed. Benvolio quickly embraced him and pulled the covers over his shoulders.
"Thou art cold as ice, caro," he said.
"As the grave, belike," Mercutio replied. "My body feels strange to me, as if some other spirit has possessed it, and I am elsewhere."
"Flee not where I cannot follow," Benvolio said, and pressed his lips to Mercutio's. The kiss was firm but not invasive, and the taste and smell of his consort sent shivers of warmth through Mercutio. He clutched Benvolio closer to him, desperate for the solidity of the present moment. His wishes were more than granted when he felt Benvolio's prick begin to harden against him, and he squirmed closer to that proof of Benvolio's living presence.
"Take me," he murmured into Benvolio's mouth. "Slay the specter that haunts me, and anchor the vessel it seeks to steal."
Benvolio needed no second invitation, but stretched out on top of Mercutio, his kisses growing deeper and needier as they squirmed free of their nightgowns and set about establishing the corporeal reality of the moment.
The royal family set out just as the eastern sky began to blush pink. They were trailed by a retinue of pages and a cart containing their trunks. The journey was relatively easy, as Mantua maintained a certain amount of traffic with Verona, and there was a road between the two cities. The party halted in the middle of the morning at a small hamlet that was little more than a collection of shepherds' huts to stretch their legs and water their horses, and then continued on.
By the time they reached Mantua, it was just past midday, and the sun blazed overhead. Mantua was a larger city than Verona, and its population had swelled as visitors arrived from near and far to join the festivities surrounding the marriage of the Duke's son. Exhausted from the journey, Mercutio's first impressions of this dreaded city were of a maelstrom of color, people, and noise. His head spun, and a strange ache in his stomach nearly doubled him over his saddle horn. Benvolio quickly maneuvered his horse close to Mercutio's.
"How dost thou fare, caro?" Benvolio asked.
"There is a pain in my body, below my heart," Mercutio replied. "It slices me clear through to my spine."
Benvolio laughed. "Thou art merely hungry. We set out before dawn with only a short rest, and now we have arrived at a carnival where tempting delicacies are sold on the street. I wager that thou wilt return to life when we have arrived at the Duke's palace and had the chance to refresh ourselves."
Fortunately, it appeared that someone had anticipated their arrival, for the Veronese party was ushered into the Duke's presence almost as soon as they arrived at the palace. Duke Vincenzo Gonzaga was a large man, past his middle years, but still vigorous and full of the enjoyment of life. His voice was rich and sonorous as he welcomed Escalus to his court and embraced his brother ruler. He was no less gracious to the rest of Escalus's family, and his eyes drank in Silvia and Helena with a frank appreciation that caused Silvia to clutch Valentine's hand and drew a sour sniff from his Duchess, Eleonora.
"He is a powerful man," Benvolio murmured in Mercutio's ear, "if half the tales I have heard of him are true and her family have not yet found a way to curb him. She is a daughter of the Medici." He had no time to say more, for Duke Vincenzo's attention had left the ladies at last.
Escalus extended a gloved hand in Mercutio's direction. "May I further present our nephew Mercutio Rinuccini, and Benvolio Montague, our ward and beloved foster son."
Mercutio and Benvolio bowed politely to Duke Vincenzo. Mercutio allowed himself a small smile at his uncle's clever way with words. For it was true that the contract that had brought Benvolio to his bed eleven years ago could be read as an agreement of fostering, and indeed, some of the language had been drawn from such documents, though Benvolio had been well past the age at which most boys were fostered.
Duke Vincenzo smiled at the group. "You have arrived most fortuitously," he said. "Our son and his bride are due to arrive from Turin on the morrow. Quarters have been prepared for you, and we shall cause a light repast to be sent there. You may rest and take refreshment, and then you shall be our guests at a small banquet to begin at the hour of five."
"We thank you for your hospitality." Escalus bowed to Duke Vincenzo, and footmen appeared to show them out of the reception hall.
The Veronese had among them four rooms. The footmen bowed apologetically as they ushered Mercutio and Benvolio into a chamber that boasted a large bed with a truckle already pulled out and made up. "So many guests have arrived to celebrate Lord Francesco's marriage that we must make economy of space," one of them said. "Signior Rinuccini, I trust that you will see the need for your most honored foster brother to share your sleeping quarters." He looked so earnest that Mercutio could not help but smile.
"Ay, sirrah, I am well pleased with thy thrifty ways, and I commend thee most heartily to thy master." Behind him, Benvolio choked, and Mercutio did not dare to turn around to see his expression. Relieved, the servant bowed once more and hurried away. Mercutio waited until he was sure that the man was out of earshot before he began to laugh. Benvolio flung himself onto the bed, grinning broadly. He reached out and seized Mercutio's arm, and Mercutio let Benvolio pull him down onto the bed beside him.
Before they could make themselves comfortable, there was a discreet knock on the door, and Escalus entered, smiling indulgently at them. "I trust that the arrangements are acceptable," he said. "Still I would advise a certain discretion while we are outside Verona. My influence can shield you from some scrutiny, but not all. Therefore, take your pleasure, but be cautious as you do." He winked at them and left the room.
The large bed was deliciously soft beneath Mercutio's sore muscles. He could have lain there forever with Benvolio by his side, but Benvolio had other ideas. To Mercutio's disappointment, he hauled himself off the bed and went to investigate the covered tray on the table in the far corner of the chamber. The tray proved to contain a selection of fruits, nuts and small sweetmeats, and Benvolio carried it to the bed.
"If we take care, I think we may eat here, and none will be the wiser," he said, and offered Mercutio a dried fig. "This may soothe the pain in thy belly."
The fig was leathery, chewy and sweet, and Mercutio realized that he was indeed hungry. Lying on the bed with Benvolio's hand absently stroking his hair, he could eat and take pleasure in the food. He reached for another fig, and Benvolio caught his hand and kissed it on its way. Perhaps this sojourn would indeed be pleasant. Mercutio relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of the day and the savor of his food.
