4. Strained From That Fair Use
An outbreak of plague hit Verona the year that Benvolio and his friends were ten. The summer was unusually hot, and many people feared that the heat encouraged noxious miasmas to spread around the city. The Prince ordered Verona quarantined. Most public buildings were closed, and none of the regular gatherings or entertainments were permitted, save only that the markets remained open so that people could obtain food. The Latin school closed, as did the boys' Sunday club that Friar Salvatore ran. For the entire month of July, Romeo and Benvolio stayed at home. Uncle Tiberio gave them the run of his library and tasked one of his clerks with seeing that Romeo and Benvolio kept up with their studies.
After the relative freedom of school and the Sunday club, both boys felt the weight of their confinement heavily. Aunt Susanna only rarely permitted them to go outside the house, even into the garden. Romeo spent hours sitting in a window and dreaming, while Benvolio retreated into his books. Much of the food that appeared on the table came either from the Montague gardens or from the great storage chambers below the house. As a result, the meals soon became repetitive and dull. However, the boys did not complain, for each evening, Uncle Tiberio would receive news of the city, and report the latest death tolls to the family. Staying at home, in isolation, might be dull, but it seemed to be the only way to survive.
At last, the epidemic died down, and the Prince lifted the restrictions on the city. The Latin school opened again, and even Romeo jumped for joy at the prospect of going out of the house and seeing friends again. Both boys skipped and ran all the way to school, and Abram laughed as he tried to keep up with them.
When they arrived at the door, they saw a crowd of chattering boys, all eager to share stories of what they had done for the past month. For once, there was no fighting between the gangs, and even Tybalt tossed a smile in their direction. He did not deign to speak to them, but his friend Petruchio told them that Lady Capulet had delivered stillborn twins during the plague month.
Mercutio wriggled through the crowd and greeted his friends enthusiastically. "I cannot believe it!" he cried. "School is open at last! It has been pure torture to stay confined at home this past month. I hope that I have not fallen behind in my studies. I started to teach Valentine his letters while I was home, and he can now read very short words."
Romeo laughed. "With thou as teacher, he cannot help but learn quickly."
Mercutio beamed at the praise, and then his face darkened. "We were spared the plague," he said, "but Uncle Aurelio and Aunt Niccola died of it. They were the parents of my Cousin Paris."
Romeo and Benvolio instinctively looked around in the crowd of boys for Paris, but he was not there.
"Paris will not come to school any more," Mercutio explained. "He has inherited Uncle Aurelio's title, and is now County Paris. He has an income, and Uncle Escalus has adopted him as his heir."
This was news. The Prince of Verona had never married, and Romeo and Benvolio had occasionally overheard adults at feasts speculating on the potential succession. Uncle Tiberio had said that Count Aurelio, younger brother of the Prince, would have the strongest claim to the throne, but the Prince had made no formal declaration of his will in the matter.
"Paris says that Uncle Aurelio's death frightened Uncle Escalus," Mercutio explained. "He says that Uncle Escalus wanted to make the succession formal in case he is taken before his time. Paris says that they will have a little ceremony at the palace to make the adoption legal, and Papa says that I must attend." He made a face at the thought.
There were many more questions that Benvolio wanted to ask Mercutio, but the door to the school opened, and all the boys fell silent at once. Instead of the merry face of young Friar Salvatore, a strange friar in his middle years emerged with the bell. His face looked kindly, but they did not know him. Benvolio clasped Mercutio's hand nervously. Mercutio gave a quick squeeze, then wiggled his hand free.
The strange friar smiled at the boys. "Come inside, young ones. Be seated. I will tell our sad tale when you are ready to begin lessons."
Still silent, the boys filed into the school and sat at their old desks, which somehow did not seem familiar. They took out their books and stared expectantly at the strange friar.
"I am grieved to tell you that Brother Salvatore was called to his eternal home," the man said quietly. "He ministered to the sick, and professed his faith in our Holy Father until his very end. It was his wish that this school should continue without interruption, and therefore I will teach you until a more suitable brother can be found to take over these duties permanently. I am Brother Lawrence. Now, I would ask each boy in turn to rise and tell me his name."
Gradually, the boys accepted Friar Lawrence as their teacher, and the rhythm of the school continued. Friar Lawrence knew a little French, and gave instruction in that language as well as in Latin, morality, grammar, arithmetic, and rhetoric. Benvolio studied French eagerly, as it was the language of the exiting romances of knights and ladies that he longed to read. Romeo responded eagerly to Friar Lawrence's manner, and worked hard at his studies to please his new teacher. Although he had no native aptitude for French, he became proficient in the language by dint of his intense studying. What surprised Benvolio was that Mercutio could not seem to learn much French at all.
Mindful of how much he had relied on Mercutio's assistance when they were learning Latin, Benvolio helped Mercutio with French as much as he could, but Mercutio did not make much progress. It was not that Mercutio did not want to learn French. He pored over the exercises until he chewed his lip raw in frustration. But some new hobgoblin in his mind seemed to prevent him from soaking up knowledge as easily as he had done before. His concentration wandered, and he had acquired a nervous habit of twisting his hands as if trying to scrub some invisible filth off of them.
Tybalt, naturally, seized every opportunity to mock Mercutio. One day, Mercutio decided to stay in the classroom during recess to study French verbs, and Benvolio offered to help him. They had made a certain amount of progress, when Tybalt barged in, with Petruchio and Salanio at his side. Mercutio started at the sound, and accidentally knocked his book to the floor.
"Mercutio, what is the French for dunce?" Tybalt laughed. Mercutio scowled as he leaned over to pick up the fallen book.
"Go away, rat-catcher. Go bother someone else in the yard."
"See how low thou hast sunk. Thou, who was Friar Salvatore's pet, now must stoop to asking help of a Montague."
Mercutio tossed his head. "At least I am still clever enough to know whom to ask for help. I would certainly never ask thee."
"Why dost thou still consort with those vapid boys?" Tybalt asked. Benvolio suppressed a surge of anger, but Tybalt went on without noticing. "Thy father, at least, has the sense to know that the real power lies in association with the house of Capulet."
Mercutio stiffened, and his voice became pure ice. "Tybalt, thou hast a face like the end of thy own pizzle, spewing filth into the world."
Benvolio froze, shocked that Mercutio would say something so crude. Tybalt drew back his fist, but Mercutio was quicker. He leaped from his seat and shoved Tybalt hard in the chest. Petruchio and Salanio rushed to aid Tybalt. Benvolio shouted for help, and then tried to pull Salanio off of Mercutio, earning a clout to the chin for his pains. Friar Lawrence rushed into the schoolroom, with Domenico, Abram, and Tybalt's retainers hot on his heels. Together, they separated the fighting boys. Friar Lawrence stared from one to the other.
"Jesu Maria, what noise is this?" he demanded. "Do I teach children here, or beasts?" Friar Lawrence's eyes sought out the one least likely to defy adult authority. "Benvolio, what in the name of holy Saint Francis has happened here?"
Benvolio squirmed under Friar Lawrence's steady gaze. Tybalt glared, as if daring Benvolio to place any blame on him. Petruchio and Salanio stuck their tongues out quickly. Mercutio stood with his arms wrapped around his thin body, staring at the floor. Benvolio glanced at the door, where he could see the other boys peering curiously into the schoolroom. He took a deep breath and tried to remember exactly what had caused the fight.
"Mercutio wanted to practice his French verbs," he said, "and I stayed behind to assist him. Then Tybalt entered, and threw harsh words at Mercutio, and Mercutio responded in kind."
"How did this turn into such a brawl?" Friar Lawrence asked. Benvolio looked around for help, in an agony of indecision, but no one spoke.
"Benvolio," Friar Lawrence said, "who began this fight?"
"Tybalt raised his fist," Benvolio whispered, "but Mercutio knocked him down ere he could strike."
Friar Lawrence let out a sigh, and then turned to the two primary combatants. Mercutio seemed to shrink down further under the friar's gaze. Friar Lawrence pursed his lips together for a moment, then took a step toward the boy. "Mercutio –"
Quick as lightning, Mercutio darted away, snatched up his book, and fled the schoolroom. Domenico took a moment to recover, then dashed out after his young charge. Friar Lawrence stared after them, then turned to Tybalt. "Thou hast no call to be cruel to one who cannot learn as easily as thou," he said. "Thou wilt stand in the corner and ponder thy wicked ways until I call thee to return. All the rest will take their seats. We will now turn to the words of Cicero."
Tybalt marched haughtily to the corner. Benvolio sat down next to Romeo. He tried to pay attention to the lesson, but he could not stop the thoughts that whirled in his head, whispering treacherously that Friar Lawrence's words had been unfair. Mercutio did not return to class for the rest of the day.
Benvolio knew that he had behaved properly by answering Friar Lawrence's questions, but he could not shake the cloud of guilt that surrounded him and gnawed at his heart all night. Mercutio would be punished for fighting, by his father if not by Friar Lawrence, and Benvolio could not help but feel that he had contributed to that punishment as well. Perhaps he should have laid all the blame for the fight at Tybalt's feet. After all, the fight would not have happened if Tybalt had not come into the schoolroom to taunt Mercutio. This was a subtlety that no adult authority could understand. Benvolio's last thought before he fell asleep was that he now knew exactly how Judas had felt.
He still could not muster a smile in the morning, not even when Abram surreptitiously presented him and Romeo with small handfuls of candied chestnuts, which he had begged from Cook to cheer the boys up. They put the sweets in their belt pouches to share with their friends at recess, and left the house to begin the walk to school.
Their normal route took them by the Rinuccini house. They never saw Mercutio there, since he was normally gone by the time they arrived, arriving at school early so as to snatch a few minutes to play before lessons began. But today, something was different. The house was alive with screaming. The cries of servants mingled with Rinuccini's enraged bellowing and the terrified shrieks of two boys.
Romeo and Benvolio stood rooted to the ground outside in horror. Even Abram, whose task it was to hurry them to school, stood still in shock. In the back of his mind, Benvolio had known that Rinuccini beat his sons to excess, but he had never allowed himself to imagine what that reality might be like.
"No, my Lord, not Valentine!" a maid cried within.
"Thief! He is a conniving thief just like his brother!" Rinuccini roared. One of the boys screamed. Feet pounded, and then the door flew open to reveal a maid with five-year-old Valentine under her arm. She thrust the boy at Abram.
"Take him. Take him to the school, or my master will kill him."
Valentine wailed and struggled, trying to run back inside to his brother. Abram held him fast. Something shattered within, and Benvolio had a brief glimpse of Mercutio, his arm caught in Rinuccini's grip, trying to pull free and escape to his friends. "Valentine! Papa, no!" he screamed. Rinuccini raised his arm, the maid shrieked, and the door slammed shut.
Valentine wrapped his arms around Benvolio's waist and sobbed. Abram hurried the boys away from the house. Benvolio lagged behind, trying desperately to make Valentine stop crying. "We will take care of thee, Valentine, thou art safe with us," he said. "We are Mercutio's friends, so we are thy friends, too, and we love thee. Friar Lawrence will be happy to see thee at school. Wilt thou not enjoy that?"
Valentine only wept harder. Benvolio fumbled in his belt pouch and pulled out a few candied chestnuts. He offered them to Valentine, and Valentine choked back his tears and stared at the treats. "Go on," Benvolio said. "Thou canst have them."
After only a moment of indecision, Valentine popped a chestnut into his mouth and sucked on it. Abram came and knelt down at his side, and stroked his hair. "There, now," he said. "Thou and I will sit in the back of the schoolroom and hear the big boys have their lessons, and thou mayst play with thy brother's friends after dinner."
"There are other boys only a little older than thou, Valentine," Romeo said. "I am sure that they will play with thee, too."
Valentine clutched Benvolio's hand and said nothing, still sucking his chestnut. Benvolio wrapped another chestnut in a handkerchief and gave it to Valentine. "That one is for Mercutio," he said. "Canst thou hold it for him?" Valentine nodded, and they resumed their walk to school.
Mercutio turned up at school the next morning, though he did not rush to greet his friends as he usually did. Romeo and Benvolio found him sitting on the stoop, his knees drawn up to his chest. He raised his head and smiled when he saw them, but his eyes were troubled.
"I thank thee for the chestnut," he said softly, "and for caring for my brother." His voice was rough, as though he had been ill, and they could barely hear him. Benvolio sat down next to him, and realized why. Mercutio's shirt was open a little at the neck, and Benvolio could see a ring of bruises all around his throat. Mercutio noticed his gaze, and nodded.
"Ay, they are from my father's hands," he murmured. "And others that thou canst not see. Please, do not ask me any questions, for it pains me to speak."
Romeo moved to embrace Mercutio, but Mercutio flinched away from his touch. Benvolio quickly patted his hand, and then the door opened, and Friar Lawrence called them inside.
Mercutio declined their invitation to play at recess. "I wish to speak to a priest, alone," he said.
Romeo frowned. "Friar Lawrence is here. He can confess thee."
Mercutio shook his head. "No. Not him." He turned, and headed for the main building of the monastery.
He was not gone long before a thin, hard-faced friar brought him back and deposited him in front of Friar Lawrence. "Have a care, Brother Lawrence," he said. "Thou wouldst do well to remind thy pupils that lying is a sin."
He spun on his heel and left the schoolyard. Friar Lawrence looked at Mercutio. He said nothing, but rang the bell to signal that recess was over. Mercutio walked stiffly back into the classroom and did not speak again for the rest of the day.
The day after that, Giacomo Rinuccini appeared at the school just as Friar Lawrence was about to call for the dinner break. "I thank thee for thy services, Holy Father," Rinuccini said, "but they will no longer be needed. From today, I will have my son educated at home. Come, Mercutio."
Mercutio rose from his seat. He said nothing, but his hand brushed lightly against Benvolio's as he gathered his books before following his father out the door.