O, Juliet Part 5

I would find a way. I would.

Chapter Five.

"Have you any idea what a spectacle you made of yourself?" Lucrezia was bristling as we put distance between ourselves and our chaperone, walking down to the Arno as our bearers set a simple picnic on the riverbank. On a normal day my friend and I would be strolling arm in arm, our heads together, sharing a story or a laugh. But this was no ordinary day.

And I was in no ordinary state of mind.

"What harm have I done?" I replied, more a retort than a question. "I spoke with intelligence of Dante in a Dante symposium."

"No, Juliet. Before a huge crowd of Florentines, you engaged quite pa.s.sionately in a dialogue with a stranger . . . about love."

To this I had neither answer nor retort, for it was altogether true.

"He was was a stranger, was he not?" Lucrezia asked, prescient distrust creeping into her voice. a stranger, was he not?" Lucrezia asked, prescient distrust creeping into her voice.

The moment of truth had arrived.

"No, not precisely."

"O, sweet Jesu." She turned me to face her. "Friend, what have you done?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Honestly, Lucrezia, there have been no improprieties." I couldn't help smiling to myself. "At least not yet." Honestly, Lucrezia, there have been no improprieties." I couldn't help smiling to myself. "At least not yet."

"Juliet!"

"You asked for the truth. Now you have it."

"Who is he?"

I was rendered silent again, antic.i.p.ating a further explosion at my answer, but there was no avoiding it. Lucrezia was searing me with her eyes.

"His name is Romeo."

"I know no Romeos. Is he Florentine?"

"His family is. He's been away at university. In Padua. Before that, he lived in Verona with his uncles."

"I cannot believe this. Next you will be telling me the size of his foot. How do you know this man?"

I swallowed hard. "I met him at your betrothal ball.We spoke for a time in the garden."

"Unchaperoned?"

"Yes, unchaperoned. But all we did was talk. Nothing untoward happened."

"How could 'nothing untoward' have happened that night if its consequence was your outrageous display this afternoon?"

"There is something . . . ," I said very softly.

"What?"

"There is something you should know about Romeo." Then I went quiet, paralyzed with trepidation.

"Tell me, Juliet."

"He is Romeo Monticecco."

Lucrezia grew suddenly flushed. She said nothing, but I knew her mind was working furiously. Then she said, "That disturbance at the ball. I heard it was a Monticecco whom our kinsman chased from the house."

"That was he."

"After you and he spent time alone, unchaperoned, in the Medici garden 'simply talking'!" you and he spent time alone, unchaperoned, in the Medici garden 'simply talking'!"

Defiance suddenly flared in me. "If you want the whole truth . . . something more did happen." I held Lucrezia's searching gaze. "Love happened."

My friend turned away then, confused and overcome. I gathered my thoughts, for I knew there must be further explanation.

"Oh, Lucrezia, I did not go seeking for this. It found me me." I went around to face her. She looked ill with worry.

"You laid yourself open for this disaster," she said, "refusing to be satisfied with the marriage your family arranged. Seeking private conversation with a stranger in a dark garden . . ."

"I stumbled in the ba.s.sadanza ba.s.sadanza. He took me out for air"-I was grasping for explanations-"but when we unmasked-"

Lucrezia groaned.

"When we unmasked, I discovered before me the most beautiful man, not only of face and form, but of mind. Oh, my friend, there was such . . . concordance between us. He seemed to know know me, and I him." I was lost in remembering that scented evening and spoke as if in a dream. "We met on the common ground of me, and I him." I was lost in remembering that scented evening and spoke as if in a dream. "We met on the common ground of Vita Nuova Vita Nuova and danced the sweetest dance there." and danced the sweetest dance there."

"Until you learned his name."

"He'd come that night to seek audience with Don Cosimo," I said, trying to make sense of things.

"And what could his business have possibly been? His house is deeply mistrusted by the Medici, and despised by yours."

"He came to make peace on his family's behalf."

"He was sent by his father?"

"I think he came of his own accord."

Lucrezia sighed heavily. I took both her hands in mine.

"Please, please do not judge me harshly."

Her eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Should I not judge you for using me without my knowledge today to help you meet your lover? You made me your fool."

"I'm sorry for that, truly I am! I've been wild with such longings since I met him. I have not slept except fitfully, and then I dream of him. And I dream in verse, words flowing into words, streams and rivers of them, and all with the theme of love. When I wake, I try to remember the poems, but they're gone, disappeared. And all I have left are memories of the feel of his hand, the sound of his voice, the shape of his lips. I remember every word spoken in the garden. Every syllable. And when I am not lost in memory, I'm raging against the Fates for having placed before me the perfect man, the ideal lover-and he is my father's greatest enemy!"

Lucrezia regarded me with a steady eye. "Juliet, forgive me. I have been hard on you when, indeed, the Fates have dealt unfairly with your happiness and future."

I felt tears welling with her words of sympathy.

"But you must think seriously about what you must do . . . and what you must not do. The more your father feels your rebelliousness, the harder he will make it for you."

Signora Munao called to us to come back to the blanket on the ground, now laid with our meal. Lucrezia waved her away.

"But"-I was growing agitated-"I desire Romeo. I want him in my bed!"

"Shhh!"

Signora Munao was staring at the pair of us, wondering about the commotion.

I tried to calm myself as I said, "Everyone knows that for a woman to conceive in the act of coition she, as well as the man, must be satisfied. Is that not true?"

"Of course it's true."

"I know that I will never be satisfied with Jacopo Strozzi. I can barely stand to have him touch my hand. So he will not give me children, and what is a marriage without children?"

"Juliet," she pleaded.

"So why marry him at all?"

"And what do you propose instead? Disown your family? Forget your blood? Run away with your lover? Live in poverty and disgrace?"

"Do you think I am not haunted every moment by those thoughts?"

Signora Munao was almost upon us, looking very cross.

"Just promise me you will not see him again before you marry. Please, I am your true friend, and I know that what you most desperately wish for will only bring tragedy down on your house. Promise me."

"Signorinas," our old chaperone snapped in an aggravated tone, "I am seeing a lack of decorum here. Raised voices. Flushed cheeks." She addressed Lucrezia: "Your mother and your husband-to-be would be most displeased if they learned of this public display. Now come and have your meal quietly and begin acting like the gentlewomen you are."

"Yes, signora," Lucrezia said.

"My humble apologies," I added, and we followed her back to the blanket.

In the end, I realized, I had promised Lucrezia nothing.

Chapter Six.

Here I lie in the arms of Love red robe trailing down O sweet G.o.d of Love lift me high let me fall let me drown in your sea in your sighs whispered now whispered soft as I die . . . I awoke from the rus.h.i.+ng river of verse to the sound of muted thumping. I opened my eyes but saw nothing save moonlight streaming in through my balcony window. Another thump . . . on that door. I awoke from the rus.h.i.+ng river of verse to the sound of muted thumping. I opened my eyes but saw nothing save moonlight streaming in through my balcony window. Another thump . . . on that door.

I rose, pulling a light robe over my s.h.i.+ft, and padded across the cool stone. The screech of the handle and hinge was loud in the silent night. The air that struck my face and breast was very soft, very mild.

With my first footfall outside I stepped on a fig. Saw half a dozen at the base of the door, fallen from an ancient tree whose several muscular limbs hung languorously over my loggia. The thumps had been figs falling on the door. The thought of that fruit made me crave one. A nearby branch was groaning with it, and I reached out.

A sudden darting hand s.n.a.t.c.hed my wrist and held it tight.

I shrieked in fright.

"Juliet! Do not fear."

I knew the voice at once. I looked into the shadow of the leafy limb and there lay Romeo, all spread along the length of it. He released his grip. I stepped back.

"You've been lying in wait," I accused, regaining my composure. "Throwing figs at my door."

"Guilty."

I was lost for words, an unusual state of affairs.

"Are you angry?" he said.

"No . . . perhaps worried you are deranged."

He laughed at that.

"Keep your voice down."

"Sorry."

"Should I ask why you're here?"

"Do you need to ask?"

I nodded.

"I find it useless trying to sleep," he answered. "I'm kept awake by thoughts of you."

I suddenly felt myself naked and pulled the robe around my thin s.h.i.+ft. His eyes were on me, unrelenting.

"You look like a wood nymph," I said. "Come down from there." I backed away and let him jump to the balcony. He was graceful as a cat. Now we were face-to-face. But there was no Medici ball up a flight of stairs here, nor a church full of Florentines surrounding us. We were alone.

"So my missiles woke you?"

I was unsure how to act. I felt I should be indignant at his overbold visit, embarra.s.sed at my state of undress.

Alarmingly, I was neither.