14. Stony Limits Cannot Hold Love Out
Benvolio spent the night sitting by the couch where Mercutio lay, holding his friend's limp hand and watching him to make sure that he still breathed. Towards nightfall, Sarah appeared with a few slices of bread spread with quince paste. "Eat this," she said. "Have no fear. It is no different from the food on the other side of the ghetto wall. You must keep up your strength if you intend to watch all night." Benvolio realized that he was hungry, and tried to remember the last time he had eaten. It had been noontime, at the tavern. He had eaten then, but Mercutio had not.
In the middle of the night, Solomon offered to relieve him so that Benvolio could sleep a little. At first, Benvolio was unwilling to give up his post, but Solomon persisted. "You will be of no use if you fall asleep on your own. I will wake you if anything changes." Reassured, Benvolio lay down on the floor beside the couch. Although he had never slept on anything but a soft bed, he was so exhausted from worry that he was asleep in an instant.
He dreamed of Mercutio, as he often did, but Mercutio was not dancing this time. He was running, or trying to run, limping and stumbling, crying out in desperation, though his cries made no sound. Somehow, Benvolio knew that Mercutio was searching for something, and that he would die if he did not find it. When he tried to go to Mercutio to offer him aid, he realized that he had no body. He was nothing more than an insubstantial mist, able only to observe Mercutio's frantic quest.
Benvolio woke from his dream with a sharp cry, after little more than an hour of sleep. Solomon tried to make him sleep again, but eventually gave up and allowed Benvolio to resume his solitary vigil. Benvolio spent the rest of the night deep in prayer. Alone, with no one to hear, his words eventually changed from praise of God to his love for the wounded youth who lay before him. The secret, kept and nurtured deep in his heart for so many years, spilled forth at last, and it was as if a festering boil inside him had been drained.
He pleaded with Mercutio to live, even if he never returned Benvolio's love. "I cannot live in a world where thou art not," he said. "If I were never to look upon thy face again, if I never heard thee jest or saw thy smile, I would die. If thou dost not live, my heart will break, and Verona will see two funerals that day."
Mercutio's hand in his was as cold as ice. Benvolio searched in the cupboards of the secret room until he had collected a handful of candles. These he lit and placed near the couch in the hope that they would provide warmth as well as light. Then he returned to his spot, picked up Mercutio's hand again, and tried to chafe some warmth back into it. Then he thought to warm it with his breath, and from there, it was only a moment until Benvolio bestowed a tender kiss on the palm and murmured, "I love thee, Mercutio Rinuccini."
Frightened at what he had done, Benvolio's body stiffened, but he still could not bear to release Mercutio's hand. In the candlelight, he thought he saw color returning to Mercutio's face, but he could not be certain. But then, Mercutio's fingers briefly closed around Benvolio's, and Benvolio's heart almost leapt from his mouth. He watched as Mercutio slowly swam towards consciousness, wincing at the grimace of pain that flitted across Mercutio's face even before he was fully awake.
After a few moments that seemed like years, Mercutio blinked and opened his eyes. His first pain-filled, unfocused glance struck Benvolio with the force of a bolt of lightning. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Benvolio raised Mercutio's hand to his lips and kissed it again, overjoyed at the renewed life within.
Mercutio turned confused eyes on Benvolio, and tried to speak, but nothing came out save a soft "Uh?" Benvolio started at his own daring, and sat up quickly, certain that he had destroyed something rare and precious even as it was returned to him.
He looked around for something to cover his embarrassment, and his glance landed on a pitcher sitting on a worktable. There was a little water inside. It looked clean enough, and Benvolio poured it into a goblet he found in a cupboard and brought it to Mercutio. He slipped an arm around Mercutio's shoulders to raise him enough that he could drink, and secretly rejoiced when Mercutio did not push him away. Mercutio managed a few sips from the goblet, and then turned his head aside. Benvolio set the goblet down and eased Mercutio back down on the cushions.
"Thanks," Mercutio said softly. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked around. "I am alive," he said after a moment, and disbelief colored his voice. "I remember . . . Tybalt . . . and Romeo was there, he – he seized my arm, and I . . . I am alive . . . "
Benvolio nodded, joyous tears blurring his sight. "Ay, thou art alive. Never have sweeter words been spoken."
Mercutio frowned. "Thy words amaze me," he said. "What am I to thee that thou dost hold my life in such high esteem? I am not Romeo, thy cousin, nor am I thy uncle or aunt, who dote upon thee as their own son. I am thy friend, and surely thou hast enough of those that one more or less would count no difference. If I had died, thou wouldst be none the poorer."
"There art thou mistaken," Benvolio said, taking Mercutio's hand in his once more. "Thou art neither cousin, nor uncle, nor aunt, and neither art thou merely friend. Thou art Mercutio, caro, beloved, the one whose death would mean my own. Since we were boys of thirteen years, I have known that I loved thee as I loved none other, maid or man, and I love thee still."
He had said it. He had spoken his deepest, best-guarded secret, handed the keys to his heart to the one person who had the power to break it beyond repair. The words could not be unsaid. Flustered, Benvolio pressed another kiss into the palm of Mercutio's hand, readying himself for angry words or bitter mockery.
But neither came. Mercutio simply looked at Benvolio, puzzled but not angry, and, just for an instant, his fingers brushed over Benvolio's jaw in what was almost a hesitant caress. Then his face twisted in agony, and Benvolio pushed aside his surge of joy.
"I am hurt," Mercutio moaned. "It is as if Tybalt's blade is still within me."
Benvolio gently pushed him back into the cushions. "Do not try to move, for thy wounds are still newly stitched and not yet healed. I will summon Eliezer, and perhaps he will know how to ease thy pain."
"Eliezer? The Jewish surgeon?" New confusion seemed to distract Mercutio from his wounds, and he finally looked around at his surroundings. "Am I in the ghetto?"
Benvolio smiled. "Ay. I knew no other surgeons, but I remembered thy tale. Thou art fortunate that he remembered thee as well. He saved thy life, and I am sure that he will wish to see thee awake now. Rest quietly, and I will fetch him for thee."
He stroked Mercutio's hair one last time, earning himself the ghost of a pain-filled smile before he went in search of Eliezer.
The Prince arrived as soon as the ghetto was unlocked for the morning. He had brought both Paris and Valentine with him, and Uncle Tiberio trailed in his wake. Valentine begged to be allowed to see Mercutio, and the Prince agreed, saying only that Paris should escort him, and they should not stay for too long. He detained Eliezer in the receiving room, saying that they would speak, but he turned to Benvolio first.
"You have my deepest thanks for your actions of yesterday, Benvolio," he said. "But for you, Mercutio would be dead. When first he came into my care, I was glad that he had such a friend as you, and I see that I was not mistaken. You will see him again, for I have no doubt that he will ask for you, but there are matters in your own house to which you must attend. Your noble uncle has come to escort you home."
Benvolio opened his mouth, to express his own words of gratitude, but his voice refused to work, and he bowed deeply instead. Uncle Tiberio laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Come, Benvolio," he said. "There is much that awaits thee at home, and I wager that thou hast slept and eaten only a little, if at all."
Benvolio nodded, with a sheepish smile, and allowed Uncle Tiberio to lead him out of the house. Weary as he was, he was not blind to the strange look that Paris gave them as he followed Valentine through the hidden door to the surgery chamber. He wondered briefly about that, but then decided that it was not worth the effort. Mercutio lived, and knew of Benvolio's love, and had not turned away from him. That was enough for now.
The first surprise that Benvolio had upon returning to his home was to see Signior Capulet and his wife arriving at the door shortly after he did. Uncle Tiberio greeted them somewhat stiffly, his formality masking his unease at their presence. The Capulets seemed as uncomfortable as Uncle Tiberio, which was to be expected. What was astonishing was that they were there at all, in the home of their most ancient enemies. Benvolio did not know what to do with himself, and managed a wary half-bow. Lady Capulet looked around, her manner suspicious but coldly polite. Signior Capulet smiled at Benvolio, as if desperate for some trivial matter to break the ice of their sudden truce.
"Ah, young Benvolio, is it?" Capulet said. "Thou didst cut a pretty figure dancing at my feast – was it but two nights past? It seems a hundred years since then."
Benvolio blushed, and dipped his head when Uncle Tiberio raised his eyebrows significantly at him. Benvolio remembered that he had told Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna that he and Romeo were going to a party, but he had neglected to mention the name of the host. But Uncle Tiberio did not mention the incident further, and Benvolio knew that that offense had faded into insignificance next to the events that had followed from it.
Uncle Tiberio ushered the Capulets into his finest receiving room. Aunt Susanna was waiting for them, and rose to make a polite welcome. Uncle Tiberio gestured that they should all be seated, then stepped briefly through another door.
He returned escorting Romeo and a young maid that Benvolio did not know. She was pretty enough, with large green eyes and long dark hair, and Benvolio vaguely recalled seeing her dancing at the feast. She clung to Romeo's arm, and he leaned in protectively over her. Capulet harrumphed, and Lady Capulet sat up very straight. Benvolio guessed that the girl was their daughter, Juliet, whom Romeo claimed to have married the day before. A gold ring shone on Juliet's finger.
"So it is true, then, what you have said," Capulet choked out at last. "They are wedded."
Uncle Tiberio nodded. "I had no foreknowledge of this, but when I heard the news, I sent word to find a witness to the marriage. My son gave the name of Friar Lawrence, who performed the secret ceremony, and the Friar himself confirms it."
That, at least, made sense to Benvolio. He knew that Romeo had maintained his friendship with Friar Lawrence even after they had ceased to attend the Latin school.
Lady Capulet turned to glare at Romeo. Her entire body quivered with rage. "How dare you?" she spat. "You entered our family's home, and stole the greatest treasure therein. We had sought to match her with the County Paris and secure an alliance with the Prince's household. Your thievery has robbed us of that chance. What penalty should be paid for this theft?"
Juliet looked up then, and smiled at her mother, though her eyes were troubled. "Sweet my mother," she said, "do not lay all the blame at Romeo's feet. What fault there is in this match is mine as much as his. I love him even as he loves me, and it was I who first uttered words of marriage."
No one knew quite what to say to that revelation. Benvolio caught Romeo's eye, and Romeo smiled helplessly, obviously smitten and unable to deny the truth. Benvolio thought he had an inkling of what had happened. After so many years of fruitless devotion to one or another of Verona's fair maidens, Romeo had finally found one who returned his passion. When he realized that, much of Benvolio's anger at Romeo drained away. He would still have words with his cousin later about Romeo's lies of omission and their consequences, of course. But after his words with Mercutio early in the morning, Benvolio found that he could not be angry with Romeo for the impulsive match he had made.
Lady Capulet was still shaking with fury, and turned to her husband. "Is there nothing we can do?" she asked. "Surely our daughter cannot be allowed to throw all of our efforts on her behalf back in our faces."
Signior Capulet scrubbed his hands over his face, then glanced from Romeo to Juliet. "They did not seek our consent, nor did they post banns," he said. "Signior Montague, did you discover any other witness to their marriage apart from the friar?"
Uncle Tiberio shook his head. "All was done in secret," he replied.
"My nurse was my aide in the matter," Juliet offered. "She bore messages between Romeo and me."
"Did thy nurse witness the ceremony?" Aunt Susanna asked.
Juliet bowed her head. "She did not. I asked leave to go to shrift, and I ran straightaway to the church."
"And had I known thy true intent, I would never have given thee leave," Lady Capulet said. Juliet laid her head on Romeo's shoulder and looked as if she was about to cry.
"Well," Signior Capulet said, "it seems as if this marriage, though heartfelt, is not entirely legal. Should you wish, Signior Montague, there are grounds for annulment."
Romeo and Juliet clung to each other, and a smile of triumph spread over Lady Capulet's face. Uncle Tiberio caught Signior Capulet's eye, and raised his hand to signal for quiet. "It seems to me," he said, "that we are presented here with a rare opportunity. For many years now, the Prince has begged us to find some way to make peace between our families. Perhaps our children have found the way that we have not."
Everyone looked at Romeo and Juliet. Romeo squeezed Juliet's hand, then moved to kneel before Signior Capulet. "Most honored Signior Capulet," he said, bowing his head, "I humbly beseech and petition you to grant me the hand of your daughter in holy matrimony. I vow in perfect faith that I will cherish her even as you have done."
Lady Capulet gave a contemptuous sniff and turned her head aside. Aunt Susanna put an arm around Juliet's shoulders, and Juliet leaned towards her, seeking reassurance. Signior Capulet and Uncle Tiberio exchanged glances. Uncle Tiberio shrugged and nodded, and Signior Capulet smiled.
"I do grant this petition, Romeo of the house of Montague. Thou hast my permission – though after the fact – to wed my daughter Juliet. Let this marriage serve to create a link and alliance between our two houses and bind us in friendship forever more. Rise, my son."
So saying, Signior Capulet pulled Romeo to his feet and kissed him on both cheeks. Aunt Susanna embraced Juliet, and Uncle Tiberio ruffled her hair and Romeo's. Even Lady Capulet managed a smile. Through it all, Benvolio sat frozen in shock at the sudden change in his world. For as long as he could remember, the house of Capulet had been the highest, most forbidden enemy. Now Signior Capulet and Uncle Tiberio were embracing as if they were long-lost brothers, and Romeo had caught Juliet -- his wife! -- in his arms and was kissing her hungrily. This maid, whom Benvolio had never met before this morning, was now as good as a sister to him.
Benvolio plastered a smile on his face and joined in the merriment. He allowed Romeo to knuckle the top of his head, and he embraced Juliet, though somewhat awkwardly. "My deepest congratulations, cousin," he told her, and was pleased to see her blush. "Thou and I will speak more of this later," he promised Romeo, and was equally pleased to see that Romeo suddenly could not meet his eye.
Mercutio would live. That thought completed Benvolio's good cheer. Romeo had found his true love at long last, and so had Benvolio.