22. Through Lovers' Brains
As Benvolio had guessed, no one made any serious demands of them on that first day. After they rose and dressed themselves, Mercutio helped Benvolio unpack his trunks. Benvolio spread a runner that Aunt Susanna had embroidered for him over the clothes chest. He thought of how it had looked in his old chamber at home, and a lump swelled in his throat. Some small noise must have escaped, for Mercutio came to him and awkwardly put an arm around his shoulders.
"I am sorry that thy uncle did deal so harshly with thee," he said. "I cannot believe that he cast thee out so suddenly. He always seemed to dote upon thee as much as he did with Romeo."
"It is difficult," Benvolio admitted, leaning into Mercutio's embrace. "A week ago, I was as a son to him. Now I am little more than a stranger."
"Perhaps there is still hope," Mercutio offered. "Thy uncle surely cannot forget all his care of thee in a week. Perhaps, after a time, thou and he might reconcile."
"I hope thou speakest true," Benvolio said. He slid his arm around Mercutio's waist and laid his head on his shoulder. "But whatever fortune awaits, still I have thee, and that is a great comfort to me."
"I hope I may prove worthy of thy speech." There was a noise at the door, and Mercutio looked up. "How now, Valentine?" he said. "Did I not teach thee to knock?"
Benvolio turned around and saw Valentine lounging in the doorway. Valentine attempted a knowing smirk, but it turned into a genuine smile on his face.
"I came merely to say that there is food on the table, should either of you care to partake," he said. "Unless you have filled yourselves with the food of love instead."
Mercutio strode over to his brother and knuckled his head affectionately. "Thou art an impudent boy. Must I place a chair before the door?"
Valentine rolled his eyes. "Thou hast not done that since first we came to dwell here."
"Well, perhaps I must do it again," Mercutio said, laughing for the first time since Benvolio had arrived at the palace.
"There will be no need for that," Valentine replied. "I shall not call thee to dinner every day. I came here today to ensure that thou art well, and to greet Benvolio." He moved to embrace Benvolio much more firmly than he had the night before at the feast. "How dost thou fare?"
Benvolio smiled. "Well, I think. It is disquieting to be sent away from one's family so abruptly, but Mercutio thinks that we may yet be reconciled."
"Even if thou art not, thou hast found a family here," Valentine said, "though it be a poor, fragmented thing assembled from cast-aside scraps and orphans. I shall be glad to call thee brother, in my heart if not in the law."
Over the course of the next few days, as he shadowed the Prince's secretary to learn his new tasks, Benvolio had ample opportunity to observe the family he had joined. He found much that he had not expected, that was concealed from the rest of Verona. The first observation he made was that Mercutio had told the truth about the Prince's tendencies. Sometimes Benvolio heard strange, heavy footsteps echoing in the corridors at night, and he would encounter an unfamiliar man the next morning, in the hours before the Prince received petitioners. Often, Escalus would be with the stranger, and Benvolio found that he could interpret the glances they shared quite well.
As Mercutio had promised, the Prince kept his nephews in comfort and style, but did not pay much attention to them otherwise. Paris, as the heir, received more notice than his cousins, but even that was confined primarily to business matters. As for Mercutio and Valentine, when they were not with tutors, they were left to their own devices. As a boy, Benvolio remembered, he had been a little bit jealous of Mercutio's freedom to do what he pleased. Now, as a young man, he recognized the neglect for what it was, and marveled that Mercutio possessed any capacity for affection at all.
Paris had done what he could with his cousins, but he was only five years older than Mercutio, and had never been able to display anything resembling parental authority. Between Signior Rinuccini's mistreatment and Escalus's silence, the task of caring for Valentine had fallen to Mercutio. Benvolio now had access to the Prince's financial accounts and those of Verona itself, and he marveled that, in such a wealthy city, two sons of a noble house could have been left to raise themselves on the streets.
While Benvolio learned the art of assisting in the governance of Verona, Mercutio and Valentine continued their lessons with tutors, attempting to patch the holes in their fragmented educations. Valentine was quick to soak up history, poetry, rhetoric, and philosophy. Mercutio, though he retained his old skills at mathematics, did not learn at nearly his brother's pace. It was not for lack of trying, since Benvolio often found him poring over a book long after the tutor had departed for the day.
"I cannot concentrate on books," Mercutio said. "Once I could do that. I remember that I used to read quite long passages in the Bible when I was small. But that skill is lost to me now."
"Perhaps thou canst yet regain it," Benvolio replied. "Would it help thee if we read a book together on occasion?"
The suggestion proved more profitable than Benvolio had anticipated. He had often read books with Mercutio during what he thought of as their courtship, and Mercutio appreciated the revival of a pleasantly remembered activity. The evenings spent sitting close together on the same bench, or sprawled over the bed not only improved Mercutio's concentration, but also helped him acclimate to longer stretches of close physical contact.
After their nervous and awkward first encounter on the morning after Benvolio's arrival, Benvolio had hardly dared to lay a desiring hand on Mercutio again, and had reverted to his old pattern of gentle kisses and caresses. But as he grew accustomed to being held, Mercutio responded more eagerly to loving touches. After a while, he allowed himself to fall asleep at night in Benvolio's arms. Slowly, they began to explore each other's bodies and learn the arts of physical intimacy in earnest.
Soon, it was the middle of July again. Once more, the summer heat settled over Verona, but Benvolio marveled at the differences between this summer and the summer before. Capulets and Montagues still did not often speak to each other in the streets, for old habits were not easily broken, but there had been no heated confrontations, and the air was blessedly free of that wariness and tension. Signior Capulet once again opened his house for his old accustomed feast, but this year, both Romeo and Benvolio received proper invitations.
Valentine and his friend Proteus planned to attend the feast in masks, but the rest of the royal household did not. Benvolio wished that he could sweep in grandly with Mercutio on his arm, as Paris did with Helena, but he contented himself with greeting Signior Capulet bare-faced, as he had not been able to do the previous year. Capulet's skills as a host had not diminished, and the hall was as lively as Benvolio remembered it. Mercutio's eyes sparkled, and he immediately rushed off to join the dancing.
After a moment, Benvolio spied Romeo, and made his way through the crowd to talk to his cousin. Juliet, in her seventh month of pregnancy, had grown too large to dance comfortably, and had settled herself among a group of her friends. Romeo hovered at his wife's side, not quite willing to spend the evening dancing without her. Benvolio bowed politely to the young ladies, and embraced Romeo.
"Last year, thou didst play beggar at the door. Now, thou art a son of the household," he said, grinning. "Is that not a wonder?"
Romeo laughed. "Ay, one such as I feared would never come, yet dreamed of nevertheless."
"Wilt thou not dance? Or has thy newfound flock captivated thee?"
Romeo glanced at the group of young ladies surrounding Juliet, listening with rapt interest to a story she was telling in a hushed, animated manner. He rolled his eyes and gave Benvolio a wry smile. "Half of them are betrothed now, and the other half will be so before the year is out. Juliet, to them, is the voice of Lady Wisdom herself, and they hang on her every word concerning marriage and the course of this pregnancy."
Benvolio nodded, in a show of understanding. "Let us hope thy lady has naught but flattering words to say about thee. But come, this is women's talk, and they have no need of thee at the moment. There is nothing to stop thee from dancing." He propelled Romeo out onto the dance floor just in time for a sprightly branle.
Later, during a galliard, Benvolio found himself on the sidelines, a drink in hand, talking easily with Helena. He was amused at how easy it was to talk to her now that she was married to Paris and he shared Mercutio's bed. "Are thy feet weary already?" she asked.
Benvolio smiled and shook his head. "I was never very good at the galliard," he said. "But Mercutio excels at it, and I enjoy watching him dance."
"Then thou hast no care for the lady he is currently squiring around the floor?"
"Why should I care?" Benvolio laughed. "She will not be the one in bed with him after the feast is over."
Helena giggled, and swatted Benvolio lightly on the arm. "Thou art generous indeed. I think that is why I loved thee, once."
This was news to Benvolio. He took a swallow of wine to cover his surprise and regain his wits before he replied. "Didst thou truly love me?"
"Ay, for a while. I dared not speak of it, for thou art a Montague, and I am niece to the Capulets. I had heard that thou didst have some interest in me, though that cannot have been more than a rumor."
"It was and it was not." Benvolio pressed his lips together, not quite sure how to explain to Helena how he had used her name. "I tried to love thee, more than I had ever tried to love a woman before. But my heart was not in that game. I am sorry if I raised thy hopes overmuch. I would never wish to shame thee."
"No shame," Helena said. "Though I am flattered by the attention, I am glad to have a lord who loves me for what I am. And," she added softly, so that only Benvolio could hear it, "I am glad that Mercutio has the same." With that, she kissed Benvolio lightly on the cheek and went in search of Paris.
Romeo invited his friends to a feast of his own a fortnight later to celebrate Juliet's fifteenth birthday. The group of youths who had spent their days together in the square was slowly dissipating, as marriage or new responsibilities claimed them. Vincenzo was betrothed, and Pietro had begun to contemplate the priesthood. Salvatore did not attend Romeo's feast. He had disowned his former friends upon learning the true reason that Benvolio had accepted an apprenticeship in the palace. Romeo had declared that he was not sorry to see Salvatore go, that he had never cared much for him, and that he would support his cousin over the son of his father's client, but the issue still rankled in Benvolio's heart.
Juliet, a little rounder and a little pinker in the cheeks, accepted her birthday guests as graciously as ever. She made pleasant conversation, sharing bits of news that she had received from her nurse, and showed off a new bracelet on her wrist.
"Tybalt gave it to me," she explained. "He said it was in part a birthday gift, and in part in earnest of the child to be, for he will not be here when it is born."
"Why, where has he gone?" Mercutio asked.
"He left for Padua this morning," Juliet said. "Father has sent him to the university there to study law."
Mercutio laughed. "That is the very thing! Tybalt was always quarrelsome, and now he will have a respectable forum where he can quarrel for the rest of his days and grow wealthy from it as well."
Benvolio laughed along with the rest, but that night, he lay awake, brooding.
"There is something weighing on thy mind," Mercutio said. "What troubles thee?"
"It is naught of great importance," Benvolio replied. "Go to sleep, and do not worry about me."
"It is Tybalt, is it not? He will have the university education that thy uncle denied thee."
Benvolio sighed. There were times when Mercutio could read him all too well. "Ay. It would be a lie if I said that I did not envy him. He was an indifferent scholar, and it does not seem just that he should be the one to go to university."
Mercutio nodded in the gloom. "I am sorry," he said. "Thou didst not ask to come here."
"It is not thy fault. If anything, the fault is mine for kissing thee with no thought for our safety. But I suppose I have not lost much. Had I gone to university, I would have studied in hopes of obtaining a position similar to the one for which I train now. And I have thee as well,caro, and that is a considerable benefit."
As Benvolio had hoped, Mercutio recognized his cue and moved into his arms with a kiss. Benvolio embraced him tightly, then held him as he drifted back to sleep. He himself remained awake for a while longer, holding his lover close. "It should truly have been thee going to university," he whispered, but Mercutio did not wake.
On the seventeenth of September, Balthasar rushed to the palace, bearing an urgent message. Juliet had been delivered of a healthy son, whom Romeo had named Marcello. The news that there was a child born to the formerly feuding houses spread quickly around the city, and there was much rejoicing, as the citizens now truly believed that the feud had ended. Marcello was christened at St. Peter's church on the Sunday after his birth, with Friar Lawrence conducting the ceremony. Juliet's cousin Rosaline stood as godmother, one of her last public acts before she was to join a holy sisterhood. Benvolio stood proudly as godfather, but Mercutio had politely declined to share the honor, out of deference to Uncle Tiberio.
"Thou shalt have the honor when our next child is born," Romeo told him. "Thou hast always been dear to me, and thou art no less Marcello's uncle than Benvolio is."
So it was that, on the christening day, Benvolio held his cousin's infant son in his arms as Friar Lawrence carefully poured the holy water over his brow. The baby fussed a little, but quieted when Romeo reclaimed him. Benvolio vowed solemnly to help bring up the little boy in grace, and promised to care for him in the event that he was orphaned.
As he spoke, he noticed Uncle Tiberio looking at him. When he had made his final promise, Uncle Tiberio smiled, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. It was not much, but Benvolio knew now that the door between himself and his family was not completely closed.