3. Wedded To Calamity


Escalus spent much of the next day brooding in his chambers, turning over his encounter with Pino in his mind and searching for some way to make use of what he had learned. But he could find no answer that did not involve revealing his own involvement in Verona's secret world of ganymedes to Cesare. Such a revelation had occurred only once in Escalus's life, when Aurelio had come upon Escalus and a servant burrowing furtively beneath each other's clothing in a garderobe. Aurelio had laughed it off and promised never to reveal his brother's secret proclivities, but Escalus had still burned with shame for weeks following the event. And should Cesare find out, he reminded himself, he might well burn with actual flame.

His foul mood deepened over the course of the week. Every time that he caught sight of Donatella sorting through her clothes and jewels with her nurse, studying a book of prayer, or chasing Paris as he toddled in the garden, he thought of wounded Pino and the unfortunate Maddalena, and black rage descended upon him.

Donatella was not blind to her brother's sudden fits of mood, and made special efforts to soothe him. Escalus did appreciate the invitations to shared prayer or wine and the evening sessions of part-singing around a table, but even those pleasures took on a melancholy tinge.

"Wilt thou not tell me of thy troubles, brother mine?" Donatella asked him one evening as they sat together in the garden after vespers.

Escalus shook his head sadly. "There is naught that can be done to relieve them, poppet."

Donatella frowned, then leaned over to poke her brother in the shoulder. "If thou wilt not speak, then I am forced to speak for thee." She considered the issue for a moment, and then her face took on an impish expression. "Thou art distressed at the thought that thy dearest poppet will marry in a fortnight and a week, and that she will leave thee all alone with none but Aurelio and Niccola and Paris for company."

In spite of himself, Escalus smiled a little. "Thou dost not stray far from the target," he admitted. "I will miss thee."

Donatella giggled. "Well, stop there! I am to be married, not executed. When I am the lady of my lord's house, thou wilt be welcome at whatsoever hour of the day thou willst come to visit me."

Escalus wished with all his heart that Donatella's fantasy might be real, but he feared that it was destined to remain little more than a dream. "Beware of the promises that thou dost make rashly," he said. "Perhaps thy lord husband will have his own wishes in the matter."

"But thou art my brother," Donatella said. "Surely there can be no taint of impropriety in a visit with my own brother."

Her words seemed cool and rational, and Escalus might have been convinced if he had not spent that evening with Pino. Try as he might, he could come up with no reply that did not either give away his suspicions about Donatella's future husband or sound as though he had been reading too many outlandish tales. He gave a sigh, then smiled at her. "Perhaps thou hast the right of it, then," he said. "Perhaps I am nothing more than a doting brother who will miss his little sister terribly when she becomes a married lady."

Donatella put her arms around him, and he held her for a long time, wishing that he could protect her forever.


In a growing state of desperation, Escalus sought out Aurelio's advice later that evening. He did not divulge all of his suspicions, for he feared the looseness of Aurelio's tongue, but he did give the bare bones of the matter, and the fact that his suspicions had been aroused by an encounter with a boy whore.

"Ah," Aurelio said. "I see where thy problem lies."

"Hast thou any counsel in this matter?" Escalus asked him. "I cannot see how it is to end. If I make this encounter known to Father, then I will surely lose my life. But if I hold my tongue, then I know not what will become of Donatella."

"Perhaps nothing will become of her. Perhaps Signior Rinuccini is a man such as those who visit the stews to release their fouler passions, that they might act as courtly gentlemen in the confines of their own homes."

Escalus let out a snort of laughter. "I do not believe that, and neither dost thou. Come, how may this ill-starred marriage be prevented? We must discover a plan."

Aurelio thought for a while, gazing into the dregs of his wine, as if an answer might be lurking at the bottom of the cup. After a few moments, it seemed that he had indeed found some inspiration there, for his eyes suddenly sparkled. "Thy problem is merely that thou hast heard testimony from a boy," he said, "but how if thou couldst present a woman to tell the same tale?"

"The whore Maddalena is dead, and cannot tell any tale."

"She cannot be the only wench that the Signior has covered in his time," Aurelio said. "Thou must merely find another such harlot to tell the tale."

It was brilliantly simple, and Escalus had to marvel that Aurelio had thought of it. All the same, there was one aspect that gave him pause. "Thou know'st my peculiar foible," he murmured. "Dost thou think that I could . . . with a woman . . . even for Donatella's sake?"

Aurelio laughed out loud at that. "God's balls, brother, I am not telling thee to tumble the wench thyself! Thou need'st only ask her for her tale, as thou didst with that boy of thine. Look, I will help thee, for I am not unfamiliar with the pleasures offered by the bawds of this fair city."

Escalus could not quite stop a sigh of relief, but quirked an eyebrow at Aurelio anyway. "Does Niccola know?"

"Nay, she does not, and she will never know, an I have my say in the matter. I have kept thy secret; be thou so good as to keep mine."

It seemed a small enough promise, in exchange for Aurelio's help, and Escalus made it without a second thought, for Donatella's safety and his own.


Aurelio proved as good as his word. The next evening, he informed Escalus that he had sent the word privately around the stews that those women who had encountered Signior Rinuccini were wanted at the palace for a private conversation. "It may cost thee," Aurelio warned, but Escalus brushed that away.

"It is only gold," he said, "and there is plenty of that." It would not even be Cesare's money. As the heir to the city, Escalus drew a small stipend of his own, and he had inherited a small property just outside the city walls from his mother, which provided a few extra ducats for his comfort and entertainment. Try as he might, Escalus could not see a flaw in the plan. For once, it seemed that Aurelio had actually managed to come up with something practical. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.


Escalus's good mood lasted for two days. He had not heard from any of the whores in the city yet, but he assumed that they would find a way to send word to him before too long; Aurelio had made sure to mention the financial reward for any woman who responded to the call. His heart lighter than it had been in quite some time, Escalus once again set out to join his friends for a night of drinking and other entertainment.

As he strolled through streets warmed by the golden glow of evening, Escalus allowed his mind to wander a little. He wondered what had become of Giambattista's little flirtation with Aldo. Aldo did not love often, but when he did, he fell hard, and Escalus smiled a little as he tried to imagine how the young, fluff-headed Giambattista would respond to the kind of earnest blandishments that Aldo produced when he was in the grip of love. So absorbed was he in this image that he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings, and thus nearly fainted from the shock when a large, gloved hand came down upon his shoulder.

"A gentleman should take more care when walking the streets of Verona in the fading light," came a voice with a light, almost mocking tone. "But if a natural such as yourself chooses to walk in this district alone, with no men at your back, then by my troth, he has earned whatever return he may get from his foolishness."

The hand on his shoulder steered Escalus to the wall. As he moved, he saw the tall, elegantly dressed figure of Giacomo Rinuccini emerging from the shadows. Rinuccini's pale eyes bored into Escalus's, and there was a curious expression on his mustachioed face. He was taller than Escalus, and broader, and in the fading light, Escalus could see that Rinuccini was older as well, a man of at least thirty years. "Good even, sir," Escalus said, secretly pleased that his voice remained calm and steady. "Do you have some pressing matter that you wish to discuss?"

For a moment, the only answer was a slight increase in pressure as Rinuccini leaned a little harder on the hand pressing Escalus against the wall. Several small bones in his back ground painfully against the stone, and Escalus was about to warn Rinuccini of the foolishness of such an assault against his person when Rinuccini spoke first.

"A rumor has reached me that a selection of bawds known to ply their trade in this fair city have received a summons, bidding them appear at the palace and disclose certain of the privy matters of their trade." Rinuccini's eyes narrowed, and his voice grew soft and silky with threat. "This rumor cannot possibly be true, for I cannot imagine that such a wise gentleman as yourself would be so foolish as to try to disclose my secrets, careless of the greater secret that I guard."

"The greater secret?"

Rinuccini bared his teeth, though the expression was not quite a smile. "Do not forget, Master Escalus, that I have seen you in the same tavern where you saw me. I speak true when I say that, should you attempt to make use of the knowledge that you would gain from pressing my whores, I will be forced to divulge to the Prince your father precisely how you came by that knowledge, that it was not through a female bawd."

"You would not dare."

"Perhaps. But you would not dare to put it to the test."

Something inside Escalus shriveled up in shame, for he knew that Rinuccini had indeed divined his great weakness. He hoped that his sudden surge of panic did not show in his eyes.

"I have spoken with the Prince," Rinuccini went on. "The banns have been posted. In three weeks' time, I will claim the Lady Donatella as my bride. And you will hold your silence and continue your life, furtive and secret though it may be. I trust that we understand each other, being gentlemen of noble breeding and fine bearing."

Though shame blazed through him, Escalus kept the expression on his face neutral, and gave only a silent nod of acknowledgement. Almost instantly, the crushing pressure of Rinuccini's hand against his shoulder was gone, and Rinuccini touched his hat in a gesture of mocking respect.

"God be wi' you, sir," he said, and walked away into the lengthening shadows. Escalus waited until the man was gone from his sight before stumbling to the gutter and vomiting up the fine dinner he had just eaten. When he finished, he wiped his mouth on a handkerchief, turned around and returned to the palace. Somehow, the prospect of carousing with his friends had lost its charm tonight.


For a while, Escalus clung to the slender hope that Rinuccini's threats were mere words, that he could manage to warn Cesare in time and with adequate personal protection. But no matter how hard he and Aurelio tried, they could not persuade a single whore to speak to them about Rinuccini, much less appear at the palace to give testimony to the Prince. Aurelio could not fathom why his plan had failed. But Escalus, who had not mentioned his encounter with Rinuccini to his brother, suspected that the man had made threats against Verona's whores that outweighed the promise of a monetary reward.

Cesare spent the remaining time arranging the details of his daughter's wedding, which he shared with Escalus in the evenings. Rinuccini had a magnificent house in the city, and had spent considerable time and money to equip it with all the luxuries for its future mistress. Donatella would bring a substantial dowry to the marriage, and in return, Rinuccini's business connections would show special favor to the royal house of Verona.

"A laudable transaction," Escalus said. "Your business acumen is the equal of any of the merchants in our city, Father."

Cesare did not seem to notice the mild rebuke, but laughed approvingly. "Ay, that is one of the secrets to good governance, my boy. In days of old, a Prince might rule by the grace of God alone, and none could gainsay him. But these are modern days, and a ruler must speak the language of those he would command, the language of the ducat and the scudo."

A week before the wedding, a large caravan arrived in Verona from Mantua, carrying various relatives of Giacomo Rinuccini. His cousins, young Marullo and an older man called Matteo Borsa, who attended the court of the young Duke of Mantua, conveyed the Duke's greetings to Prince Cesare, while Matteo's son Claudio, a sharp-eyed boy of four, claimed Paris's beloved hobby-horse as his own, and refused to share the toy no matter how hard Paris wailed.

Somehow, in the midst of this confusion, Escalus found time to spend a few moments alone with Donatella the night before the wedding. There was not much that he could tell her, since his words would change nothing and accomplish nothing beyond terrifying Donatella. He did assure her of his eternal devotion. "Even after thou art become the mistress of the House of Rinuccini, thou wilt still be my own poppet," he said. "If thou hast any need or any desire, thou hast but to ask, and I will see it granted."

He had no time to say any more, for Donatella's nurse escorted him away, saying only that the bride needed her rest that night.

The next morning, Donatella donned a fine new dress of sky-blue velvet, and a large procession of family and friends accompanied her through the streets of Verona to St. Peter's church in the great piazza. Cesare had not permitted Susanna, Lady Montague, to attend her playmate, for fear of sparking accusations of favoritism from the Capulet family. However, he had permitted another of Donatella's friends, a merry, black-eyed girl by the name of Floria Piave, to serve as the chief among her maids for the day, for, though her betrothal to Lucio Montague was a matter of public record, she was not yet married into that household.

Despite Donatella's nerves, she maintained a regal composure during the brief wedding ceremony itself and the Mass that accompanied it. Afterwards, Giacomo Rinuccini escorted his new bride and her family to his house, where a sumptuous feast awaited them.

Though he was relieved to see that Donatella would live in comfort and plenty, Escalus found that his parting from her was painful, and he did not even try to dispel the cloud of gloom that settled about him as he went to bed that night brooding on his failure.