25. Both To Impeach And Purge
Upon examination, Mercutio's inheritance from his father turned out to be substantial. Giacomo Rinuccini might have been a brutish monster in his own home, but in public, he had been a suave and shrewd businessman. The income from several business ventures and an assortment of land holdings lay in banks in Verona and Mantua, managed by stewards. The house he had bought in Mantua had been sold, as Mercutio had requested, but his house in Verona still stood, though it had been locked for six years. Benvolio realized, with no small surprise, that Signior Rinuccini had probably been one of the wealthiest men in Verona, certainly wealthier than the Montagues, and probably wealthier than the Capulets. Mercutio, as the older son, had inherited the larger part of this fortune.
"I will not touch Valentine's share," he said. "That will remain in trust for him until he has need of it. But as for my own share, I intend to increase that as much as I may."
"Why?" Benvolio asked. "What sort of project didst thou have in mind?"
Mercutio shook his head. "I do not yet know. But if it is to be on a large enough scale to atone for my father's crimes, then it will require equally large sums of money. I do not intend to be cut short in my plans for lack of funds."
Mercutio had a good head for mathematics, but knew almost nothing about the world of commerce. In order to learn what he must do to nurture his inheritance, he met with Signior Capulet, who had done business with his father and had been almost as successful at it. Capulet was delighted to see that Mercutio had developed an interest in his father's calling at last. Mercutio accepted the accolades and the instruction, but did not inform Capulet of the real reasons behind his sudden interests.
When he was not meeting with Capulet, Mercutio visited the ghetto, to confer with the sons of Eliezer Moreno on the matter of investments. Solomon, the elder son, was one of the ghetto's most respected moneylenders, and his brother Ephraim assisted him, though his heart lay in studying surgery from his father. Solomon listened to Mercutio's questions and advised him how best to invest the income from Rinuccini's land holdings and how to improve the holdings themselves.
"He tells me that I can nearly double the profits from the vineyards if they are better husbanded," Mercutio said to Benvolio one evening. "I shall send letters to the stewards tomorrow and ask their advice on the matter." His hands shook a little as he removed his doublet.
Benvolio took Mercutio's hands firmly in his and kissed them. "That is an excellent plan. But what is the rest of it?"
"What dost thou mean?"
Benvolio smiled. "Thou art trembling, caro, though I know that thou dost try to hide it. What is it that causes thee anxiety tonight?"
Mercutio looked down at his feet for a moment. "It is the house," he said at last. "I must decide what is to be done with the house where I once dwelled. In order to do that, I must go there and look inside the place. Benvolio, sweet friend, I have not set foot in that house since I was fourteen years of age, since I –" He pulled his hands free and ran them through his hair in nervous frustration. Benvolio reached out and drew Mercutio into his arms.
"He is dead, Mercutio. He cannot harm thee."
"I know. But I must learn to believe it." Mercutio wound his arms around Benvolio's neck. Benvolio held him close and considered the situation.
"Thou wilt never form an objective opinion of the house if thou dost go there alone," he said. "Would it be easier if I were to accompany thee?"
Mercutio nodded. "Thy assistance would be most welcome. I would ask Romeo to join us as well." He stood back a little so that he could look Benvolio in the eye, but did not break the embrace. "You have been my dearest friends since my memory began. I would show you the home of my childhood."
Two days later, Benvolio and Romeo stood by Mercutio's side as he unlocked the gate with the key that Escalus had given him. Despite the apprehension of the moment, Benvolio had to admit to himself that he was more than a little bit excited and curious. Mercutio had visited him and Romeo at their home several times during their childhood, but they had never seen his home. Benvolio did not blame Mercutio for this, now that he knew what had happened in that house, but he was curious to see the interior.
Just inside the gate, they came upon an orchard garden overgrown with weeds. A few gnarled pear trees bore unripe fruit, but peaches and cherries hung luscious and fragrant upon their trees. A slow smile spread over Mercutio's face when he saw them. He strode to the nearest peach tree and plucked three fat, ripe peaches. He gave one to each of his friends and bit fiercely into the third. Romeo and Benvolio glanced at each other, surprised to see Mercutio showing so much interest in something to eat.
Mercutio noticed their surprise, and smiled at them. "These trees were forbidden to Valentine and me when we were small," he said. "My father would beat us when we tried to taste the fruit. But now he is not here to see it." He ate his peach, and licked the juice from his fingers. Romeo and Benvolio laughed and followed suit. Thus fortified with sweet, forbidden fruit, Mercutio unlocked the main door and led his friends inside the house itself.
Benvolio did not know many of the details of Signior Rinuccini's banishment, but it seemed that he had left in a hurry, with no time to close the house properly. Romeo shook the heavy curtains covering the windows, then pulled them open. Daylight streamed into the receiving room, revealing rich appointments barely dimmed with time. The furniture stood, undraped and covered with a thick layer of dust, precisely as it had been when Rinuccini had left. The cushions and tapestries, shielded from the light, had not faded much, and the tables and chairs seemed to be in good condition.
"The furniture must be cleaned," Mercutio said, "but if I must sell it, I think it would fetch a good price."
"Wouldst thou sell everything in the house?" Romeo asked.
Mercutio shrugged. "I know not. But I know that, should I choose to do so, the furniture in this room would bring a rich sum. That is information that might be useful."
He led them out of the receiving room. They toured through various corridors and antechambers, all in varying states of neglect and disarray. Finally, they came to the private living space. Mercutio opened one creaking door, and a faint smile drifted across his face.
"This was the chamber I shared with Valentine," he said.
No one had tidied the place since Mercutio and Valentine had left it. The cover on the bed was mussed, and several items of children's clothing lay strewn over the floor. Romeo bent and plucked a doublet and a set of hose from beneath a chest. Mercutio smiled.
"So that is what became of that outfit," he said. "I favored it, but it was not among the clothes that my uncle's guards brought to the palace."
Romeo shook out the clothes and laid them on the bed. "I had forgotten how small thou wast as a child," he said. "Now I remember that there was a time when I was taller than thou."
"Ay, before I did grow into such a beanpole," Mercutio said, laughing a little. Benvolio put his arm around Mercutio's waist and laid his head on Mercutio's shoulder.
"Thou art the perfect height," he said.
Mercutio ran his fingers through Benvolio's hair and gave him a swift kiss, then gently pushed free. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Come. There is one more place that must be inspected."
He led Romeo and Benvolio down the corridor and stopped before one particular door. He put his hand on the door, but did not push it open. A shudder ran through him, and then another. Benvolio glanced at the old clothes, still in Romeo's hands, then at Mercutio. He put a tender hand on Mercutio's shoulder. "This is thy father's chamber, is it not?" he asked in a low voice.
Mercutio nodded. He swallowed convulsively, then opened the door in one quick movement, and led his friends inside.
The first thing that Benvolio noted was that, though Giacomo Rinuccini might have been a stingy man in some aspects of his life, he had indeed known how to spend money when the result mattered to him. Even beneath six years of dust, the bedchamber was impressive. Thick, rich tapestries hung on the walls, the chairs were deep and inviting, and the wood of the wardrobes glowed. The bed stood on a small dais. It was tall and imposing, draped in rich red velvet embroidered with gold thread. As in the boys' chamber, the covers were askew, confirming that Rinuccini had left Verona too suddenly to put his house in order.
Mercutio stood with his arms wrapped tightly around his body, as if he feared that he would fly apart otherwise. His eyes were wide, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps. Unwillingly, as if some outside force controlled his body, he approached the bed. Romeo and Benvolio followed him. They did not touch him, but Benvolio stood close by in case Mercutio collapsed and required aid.
Mercutio slowly reached out and touched something tied around one of the bedposts. Benvolio looked more closely at it and saw that it was a long, narrow thong of tough leather. He thought he could make out dark stains on the thong. Mercutio drew back and rubbed his hands over his wrists. Romeo peered at the thong and shot a questioning glance at Mercutio.
"For my wrists," Mercutio choked out.
Benvolio sucked in a shocked breath. "He bound thee?"
Mercutio nodded. "After I grew old enough to fight him. He did not care for resistance when he plunged his tool into my body." His face paled at the memory, and for a moment, Benvolio thought he might faint. But he regained control of himself swiftly, reached down and pulled back the bedclothes. All three young men stared in horror at a dark, brownish stain on the sheet.
"What," Romeo asked softly, "is that?"
"It is blood," Benvolio said. "Old blood."
Mercutio nodded. "It is my blood." He turned away from the bed and moved into Benvolio's arms, deep tremors coursing through his body. Benvolio held Mercutio for a few moments while Romeo stroked his hair. Without another word, they left the house and returned to the garden. Romeo cleared a space beneath a cherry tree, and they sat down on the grass. It was still a beautiful summer day, and the sun shone down to warm them. They did not speak for a while. At last, Mercutio looked up.
"I remember now," he said. "I remember the last night I spent here. My father was angry that night – I know not why – and he assaulted me more brutally than he had ever done before. I feared that he would kill me, but he did not. When he finished, he seemed satisfied, and freed my hands, though I was too sore to move. Then he spoke to me. He said that he had held off long enough, that it was time to train Valentine in this game. That was the word he used. I had shielded Valentine as long as I could, but that grace had run out. So I waited until my father slept, and then I crept back to our chamber. I roused Valentine and hauled him from the bed. That night, we stole out of the house, and I took my brother to the palace to beg asylum for him from the Prince."
Benvolio held him tightly. "Never before have I heard a tale of such courage," he said. "Thou art truly a man of strength and will, and it is my privilege to be thy companion."
Mercutio gave him a brief smile of thanks, then clasped his friends' hands. "I have decided," he said, "what I will do. Valentine and I were fortunate, for we could take refuge in the palace. But there are other children, such as those unfortunates in Mantua, who have no place where they can flee. I wish to create such a place. I will use my father's money to turn his house into a refuge for children who have no place to go."
Romeo smiled. "I have heard of such places. The Innocents' Hospitals in Florence and Bologna are well known."
Mercutio nodded. "And now Verona shall have one as well. This house that was my prison will become a home at last."
"Hast thou sufficient funds?" Benvolio asked.
Mercutio considered the question. "Not yet, but I can now begin to estimate my financial needs. I think I must sell much of my father's furniture, for most of it is not necessary in such an institution. But one piece I will not sell."
Benvolio thought he could guess which one, but he asked anyway. "What is that?"
Mercutio's eyes glittered. "My father's bed. I shall burn that."
"And we will help thee," Benvolio said, catching Romeo's eye. Romeo nodded his agreement, then reached up and began to pluck cherries from the tree for his friends.
Now that Mercutio had a goal in mind, he pursued it with the same energy that had driven him to seize opportunities and chances all of his life. When men of rank visited the palace in search of ways to ingratiate themselves with the Prince, Mercutio described the orphanage and hinted that a donation might attract his uncle's favor. He hired workers to clean and empty the old house, and sold wardrobes and weapon racks to buy simple beds for children. Escalus approved of the project and donated some of his personal funds to it, as did Paris. Valentine offered his share of the inheritance, but Mercutio turned it down.
"Keep thy money for now, Valentine," he said. "Perhaps one day thou wilt take a bride and have a family, and I would not impoverish thee before thy life can begin."
But the most startling donation of all came from an unlikely, but welcome, source. Shortly after Mercutio had begun to spread the word about the orphanage, a chest full of money was delivered to the palace, along with a letter addressed to Benvolio. The seal indicated that it came from Uncle Tiberio. Benvolio had to look twice at the seal to assure himself that he was seeing correctly, as Uncle Tiberio had not communicated directly with him since the night that Benvolio had moved into the palace. His hands trembled as he broke the seal and read the letter.
To my nephew Benvolio:
Word has reached me that Mercutio intends to found an innocents' hospital here in Verona, and that thou hast committed thyself to this work as well. I confess that I am surprised at this course of action, but I find myself deeply moved as well. So long have we been at odds over thy behavior that I had almost forgotten the depth of charity and affection in thy heart. I do not know that I will ever fully understand thy devotion to thy consort. However, I recognize the honor and integrity that becomes a true gentleman, and I see it clearly in thy dedication to this enterprise.
In recognition of thy finer qualities, and in honor of the man whom I am still proud to claim as my own nephew, I have sent thee a modest gift intended to further the cause of a home for the orphans of Verona.
Thy loving uncle,
Tiberio Montague
Benvolio read the letter out loud to Mercutio, almost overcome. It was not a full reconciliation, but now he knew beyond any doubt that Uncle Tiberio did not intend to shut him out any longer. "He has taken me back," Benvolio said softly. "I have a place in his heart once again."
Mercutio smiled, and embraced Benvolio. "Thou hast always had a place in his heart," he said. "He has remembered it now, but thou hast always had it. If he had truly cast thee out, he would not have permitted thee to come here to dwell with me."
Still holding the letter in one hand, Benvolio indulged himself and kissed Mercutio thoroughly, a slow exploration of lips and tongue that left both of them breathless and a little shaken.
"Let us deal first with thy uncle's generous financial gift," Mercutio said. "And then tonight we shall comport ourselves as befits a gentleman of honor and integrity and his devoted consort." His eyes shone with promise, and Benvolio's smile broadened. It seemed that the founding of the orphanage might heal wounds in more souls than Mercutio's alone.