7. Bit With An Envious Worm
On a Saturday evening towards the end of April, Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna summoned Romeo and Benvolio to the study after supper. The servant who delivered the message did so with a smile, and the boys marched into the study in full anticipation of good news. They were not disappointed. Uncle Tiberio met them with a broad smile.
"Romeo, my son," he said. "I trust thou hast not forgotten that the anniversary of thy birth draws near. Thou wilt be thirteen years of age next week." Uncle Tiberio was one of the men in Verona who had enthusiastically adopted the new-fangled notion of birthday celebrations, and the celebrations he threw were legendary.
Romeo grinned broadly. "I shall be even with Benvolio then." Benvolio had turned thirteen a month earlier, with little celebration or fanfare. However, Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna allowed him to share in Romeo's birthday celebrations. Benvolio was perfectly happy with this state of affairs, as his birthday usually fell during Lent and would have made for a poor feast. But he was always secretly pleased that Romeo never failed to remind his parents to celebrate both of them.
"Of course," Uncle Tiberio said, as he always did. "I would not forget dear Lucio's son, all the memory I have left of him and Floria. Well. Thirteen. It is quite an occasion, I would say. You are both growing quickly – perhaps too quickly for a sentimental old man such as myself."
Aunt Susanna delicately cleared her throat. Uncle Tiberio glanced at her and smiled.
"Ah, of course. My lady wife reminds me not to stray over far from the topic of our meeting. I propose a feast to celebrate the upcoming occasion. A week from today, shall we say, in the evening? We shall hire musicians, open our great hall for dancing. We shall invite those sons of Verona's worthies who are your friends. What do you say, hmm?"
"Oh, my noble Father!" Romeo cried in astonishment. Benvolio could not speak. They were to have a real, adult feast at last. This would be something to tell everyone at the Sunday club about. That thought led to another one.
"Uncle," Benvolio said softly, "Is Mercutio to be invited as well?"
Uncle Tiberio nodded soberly. "I have never cared for Rinuccini, but I do not begrudge your friendship with his son. Mercutio is as welcome in my house as any boy who is not a Capulet."
"I shall tell him tomorrow at Sunday club," Romeo declared. An idea crossed his mind, and his face lit up. "Oh, Father, may Mercutio stay the night? We do not see him nearly enough, especially since he stopped coming to school so early."
Uncle Tiberio raised one eyebrow. Benvolio guessed that he did not approve of the way Mercutio's father had pulled him out of school, though he had never said much about it. "I suppose he may," Uncle Tiberio said. "After all, you are old enough to learn how to entertain guests of rank. He may stay the night if his father gives permission."
That, Benvolio thought, was a rather large "if." But the prospect of having Mercutio for an overnight visit was appealing enough to be worth the risk.
Mercutio seemed excited about the birthday feast. His own thirteenth birthday had been in February, but Signior Rinuccini did not hold with the idea of birthdays, and Mercutio had always been fascinated with the celebrations that Uncle Tiberio held. "I would be honored to attend," he said, when Romeo invited him. "Especially if there is to be dancing."
"Canst thou stay the night as well?" Romeo asked.
For a brief moment, Mercutio's eyes glowed. Then he glanced across the square to where Valentine and his friend Proteus were tossing a ball back and forth. A frown briefly shadowed his face, and he chewed at his lower lip. "Such a celebration is surely of the very latest style. I suppose that one night would do no harm," he said, "but I must find a way to make my father agree."
"Oh, please do," Benvolio said. "We much desire to have thee."
Mercutio smiled. "I will ask him tonight. In truth, I do wish this visit as well. Can you both come to shrift at noon tomorrow? I shall meet you there and give word if I am allowed to come."
Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna were always happy to encourage devotion in their boys, and Abram escorted them to shrift on Monday. When they arrived at St. Peter's church, they found Mercutio kneeling in one of the side chapels, with Domenico at his side. Mercutio was trembling a little, and seemed to have difficulty meeting their eyes. "Go and make confession," he murmured. "I shall speak afterwards."
Romeo and Benvolio found the priest and made their confessions as quickly as they could, fearing what Mercutio's response would be. When they had finished, they made their way back to the side chapel. Mercutio had recovered himself somewhat, and gave them a brave smile. "My father has given permission," he said. "I may attend your feast, and stay the night, if I am still welcome."
Romeo grinned hugely and almost flung his arms around Mercutio, but a shudder ran through Mercutio's body, and he stopped. "That is wonderful news," he said. "Thou art more than welcome."
Benvolio was equally pleased, but restrained himself to a quick clasp of Mercutio's hand. It was as cold as ice. Briefly, Benvolio wondered what price Rinuccini had extracted in return for his extraordinary permission.
On Saturday, the Montague house was consumed with preparations for the feast. Romeo and Benvolio had their fencing lesson, and then received a small box of sweet kitchen scraps and instructions to stay outside in the garden until they were sent for. Through the garden gate, they could see the servants bringing in decorations. Later in the afternoon, a band of musicians arrived for the dancing.
"Where will we put Mercutio tonight?" Benvolio asked. He had moved to a bedchamber of his own several years ago, and it did not adjoin Romeo's.
Romeo thought for a moment. "I have an idea. My bed is larger than thine. I suspect that it is big enough for all three of us. Let us all share the same blankets."
That sounded like a grand plan, and Benvolio readily agreed. Abram came out into the garden and called them into the house. There, they discovered that they both had new suits of clothing for the feast, fashionably cut with the tight hose that all the young men were wearing. Romeo's was deep blue, and Benvolio's was a green so dark it was almost black. They dressed quickly, and ran out into the corridor to admire each other. The new clothes made them look quite grown up, they decided, which was only fitting for their first evening feast.
As the nominal hosts for the evening, they stood proudly at the door to welcome their guests. Many were their friends, children their own age, but Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna had invited adult friends and relatives as well, and Romeo and Benvolio resigned themselves to a certain amount of kissing and cheek-pinching from elderly aunts. Mercutio arrived in high spirits, ready to begin dancing as soon as he walked in the door.
For Benvolio, the party was a revelation. For the first time, he was at the center of events instead of playing on the sidelines. He was glad that he had gone to the Prince's dancing lessons, for he could hold his own in most of the dances. Romeo pointed out several young ladies and gentlemen, slightly older than themselves, who flirted as they danced, and Benvolio thought he saw two elderly relations brokering a marriage in a quiet corner of the hall.
The band signaled a galliard. Benvolio had already danced so much that his feet were beginning to ache, and he had never been expert at the galliard, so he helped himself to a glass of wine and found a place on the sidelines to watch the dance. Mercutio found a partner, a young lady whose name Benvolio could not remember, and hurried out to the dance floor. The band began to play, and the dance began.
Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was the music, or the sweets, or the sheer excitement of being part of an adult feast for the first time. Whatever the reason, Benvolio found that he could not tear his eyes away from Mercutio as he danced. Mercutio was happier than Benvolio had seen him in a long time, dancing his favorite dance, his entire body radiating his joy in the moment. A shiver went down Benvolio's spine, and he was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. The entire world seemed to narrow down to Mercutio's brilliant smile and his delicately prancing feet. Benvolio wished that this moment could endure forever.
Two of Aunt Susanna's sisters were talking behind him. "Look at Benvolio," Aunt Elvira said to Aunt Alessandra. "He is utterly moonstruck."
Aunt Alessandra chuckled. "Some fair young thing must have caught his eye," she replied. "No doubt he has fallen in love. He is growing so quickly."
Was that it, Benvolio wondered. Was the fluttering in his stomach and the tingling in his hands and feet really love? And had he really fallen in love with Mercutio, of all people? He had never heard of a boy falling in love with another boy, and could not fathom what one was meant to do in such a case. The dance ended, and Benvolio gazed across the floor at Mercutio's shining eyes and laughing face. He would worry about his problem later, he decided. Tonight, he would simply enjoy the feast and the wonderful, tingling feeling of being in love.
Hours later, after all the other guests had gone home, and Romeo, Benvolio, and Mercutio had all piled into Romeo's bed, the glow of the feast still had not faded. Mercutio snuggled down between his friends, his feet still twitching to music that had long since stopped. "I have never attended a better feast," he said. "Thank you for permitting me to stay."
Benvolio blushed, and hoped that it did not show in the dim light of the single candle in the room. "Romeo it was who thought of it," he admitted. Mercutio turned to smile at Romeo.
"Thank my noble parents in the morning," Romeo said. "They gave permission."
Mercutio's expression hardened. "As did my father. Well, I will not think of that. Tonight I am as warm and comfortable as if I rested on a cloud on a fair night in July."
"Are you abed, young sirs?" Abram walked quietly into the bedchamber, picked up the boys' scattered clothes, and draped them carefully over the storage chests. Then he went to the bed and pulled the covers up to the boys' chins before snuffing the candle and leaving.
The sudden darkness in the room brought home to the boys how worn out they really were. They wriggled one last time to find comfortable positions, and then began to fall asleep. Romeo dropped off almost immediately. Mercutio took a while longer, falling asleep in fits and starts. Benvolio wondered if he might be nervous about sleeping in a strange bed. Without a word, he moved his hand close to Mercutio's. After a moment, Mercutio laced his fingers through Benvolio's and was able to fall truly asleep.
Benvolio lay awake for a while longer, gazing at Mercutio's face in the moonlight and listening to his soft breathing. Despite the blankets, chills coursed through Benvolio's body, as if he were ill. But unlike a sickness of the body, these chills were pleasant, and even a little bit exciting, and Benvolio became ever more convinced that what he felt was indeed love. If it was, he decided, he would enjoy every minute of it, because he certainly did not want to end up like Romeo, endlessly mourning a beloved that he could not have, because that was silly . . .
At last, without fully realizing it, Benvolio fell asleep.
Some time later, he woke, aware that something was not right. Beside him, Mercutio lay awake as well, his eyes wide and glittering with terror. He still held Benvolio's hand, clutching the fingers so tightly that Benvolio could not wiggle them loose. "Mercutio? What is wrong?"
"Dost thou not hear?" Mercutio replied. "There are voices outside. They are coming here."
For a moment, Benvolio wondered if Mercutio had had a nightmare, but realized that he was correct. Several deep, male voices were arguing just beyond the door, and their voices were getting louder, as if they were approaching. Romeo raised his head, and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Who is that?" he asked. "What do they want?"
As if in answer, the door burst open with a bang. Mercutio cried out and pulled the covers over his head. Domenico, his family retainer, burst into the bedchamber, followed by Abram, and Uncle Tiberio in his nightgown.
"What is the meaning of this?" Uncle Tiberio bellowed. "What right hast thou to enter my son's chamber, sirrah?"
"Orders from my master, Lord," Domenico said, offering Uncle Tiberio a note. "Delivered by page directly. Rinuccini demands the return of his son, and I am come to fetch him."
Mercutio sat up, and scrabbled as far back towards the wall as he could. "No!" he cried. "He gave permission! He said that I might stay the night here, with my friends!" He pulled himself onto his knees on the bed, and turned to Uncle Tiberio. "I beg it of you, Lord, please do not make me go with him!"
A strange expression flitted across Uncle Tiberio's face. He turned sad eyes and a resolute jaw to Mercutio. "I am sorry, Mercutio," he said, "but I cannot disobey thy father's will in this matter. He is within his rights to call thee home, and I have no right to interfere."
"Father, no!" Romeo cried. He seized Mercutio's hand, but the gesture did not help. Domenico took Mercutio by the arm and hauled him over Romeo's body and onto the floor.
"Which are thy clothes?" he asked. "Dress thyself. Thou dost need only thy shirt and hose. The rest I will bear for thee." Slowly, Mercutio pulled off his nightgown and put his clothes on. Domenico gathered the rest of Mercutio's things and bowed deeply. "My sincerest apologies, Signior Montague," he said. "My master will recompense you for the disturbance. Come, Mercutio."
He put his hand on Mercutio's shoulder and steered him out of Romeo's chamber. Romeo and Benvolio watched them go, utterly silent with shock. Uncle Tiberio sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will speak to Rinuccini after Mass tomorrow morning," he said. "For disturbing the quiet of my house, I shall have him pay, whether or not his wife was sister to the Prince."
Benvolio clung to his cousin and waited for his heart to stop pounding. He had seen the betrayal and despair on Mercutio's face, and thought that, if he could have his say, a simple fine would not be nearly enough justice for that.
In the morning, Romeo and Benvolio rose and dressed themselves for Mass. They presented themselves to Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna for inspection with brave smiles on their faces, but Uncle Tiberio and Aunt Susanna were not deceived. "I am sorry for the disturbance of last night," Uncle Tiberio said. "I trust you are both well enough to attend Mass?"
Benvolio nodded mutely. Romeo glanced at his father. "Last night, we spoke among ourselves before we slept," he said. "Mercutio would have thanked you this morning, Father, if he were still here."
Uncle Tiberio smiled. "I trust that thou art correct. I am sure that Mercutio meant well, and I will accept these thanks as if he had said them himself. Now, come, we must not be late to church."
St. Peter's was full this morning. Benvolio was sleepy after staying up late at the party and the interruption the night before, and he found himself leaning heavily against Aunt Susanna. She did not seem to mind, and only nudged him a few times when the beadle passed by them. After Mass was over, the congregants dispersed. Benvolio saw that Uncle Tiberio had managed to corner Signior Rinuccini and was engaged in a serious discussion with him.
The boys in the Sunday club were already gathering to play under the watchful eyes of a pair of friars. Benvolio looked around, and spotted Valentine trotting around a corner into the piazza, cradling one wrist against his chest. Feeling sick to his stomach, Benvolio motioned to Romeo, and they went around the corner where Valentine had been. Sure enough, they found Mercutio there.
Mercutio looked dreadful. His face was as white as milk, and he leaned against the church wall for support, twisting his hands as if he would scrub all of the skin off of them. When he saw his friends, he put on a smile and moved to greet them, and they saw that he staggered, as if both of his legs had been injured. He seemed close to tears, though Benvolio had never known Mercutio to weep. Romeo ran forward to help him, but Mercutio pushed him away. "Please, do not touch me!" he cried.
Puzzled, Romeo obeyed. He and Benvolio stayed at Mercutio's side, but did not touch him as he slowly limped to the front of the church and collapsed onto the steps. He took a deep, ragged breath, then faced his friends.
"I had a lovely time at the feast last night," he said softly. "I think it was the best feast I ever attended. Thank you for inviting me."
Benvolio could not speak, but moved so that he sat as close to Mercutio as he could without actually touching him. Romeo thought for a moment.
"I am not accustomed to staying up so late," he said. "I am too weary to play today, and I would prefer to sit here and take the sun with my friends."
Mercutio smiled weakly at him, then curled his arms around his drawn-up knees and rested his head on them. Benvolio sat quietly next to him, experiencing yet another new sensation as the particular pain of being helpless before an injury to his beloved stabbed through his gut.