With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls,
For stony limits cannot hold love out
Siena , A.D. 1340
ROMEO RAN THE WHETSTONE over the blade with long, careful movements. It had been a while since he had had occasion to use his sword, and there were specks of rust that needed to be ground off before he oiled it. Normally, he preferred to use his dagger for these kinds of jobs, but the dagger was lost in the back of a highway bandit, and in a moment of uncharacteristic distraction he had forgotten to recover it after its use. Besides, Salimbeni was hardly someone you stabbed in the back like a common criminal; no, there would have to be a duel.
It was a new thing for Romeo to question his own involvement with a woman. But then, no woman had ever asked him to commit murder before. He was reminded of his conversation with Maestro Ambrogio on that fateful night two weeks ago, when he had told the painter that he had a fine nose for women who asked nothing more than he was prepared to give, and that he-unlike his friends-was not someone to whine and slink away like a dog at a woman’s first request. Did that still hold true? Was he really prepared to approach Salimbeni sword in hand, and very possibly meet his death before he ever collected his reward, or even just looked into Giulietta’s heavenly eyes again?
Sighing deeply, he turned over the sword and commenced his work on the other side. His cousins were undoubtedly wondering where he was, and why he did not come out to play, and his father, Comandante Marescotti, had checked on him at least twice, not with questions, but with invitations for target practice. By now, another sleepless night had come and gone, and the sympathetic moon had once more been chased away by a merciless sun. And Romeo, sitting at the table still, wondered yet again if this was to be the day.
Just then, he heard noise on the staircase outside his room, followed by a nervous knock on the door.
“No, thank you!” he growled, as he had done many times already. “I am not hungry!”
“Messer Romeo? You have visitors!”
Now at last, Romeo stood up, his muscles aching from hours without movement or sleep. “Who is it?”
There was a brief mumble on the other side of the door. “A Friar Lorenzo and a Friar Bernardo. They say they have important news, and request a private audience.”
The mention of Friar Lorenzo-Giulietta’s travel companion, unless he was much mistaken-prompted Romeo to unlock his door. Outside in the gallery stood a servant and two monks in hooded cowls, and behind them, in the courtyard below, several other servants were stretching to see who it might be that had at last prevailed upon the young master to open his door.
“Come quickly!” He ushered both monks inside. “And Stefano”-he fixed an unforgiving stare on the servant-“do not speak of this to my father.”
The two monks entered the room with some reserve. Rays of morning sun came in through the open balcony door to fall upon Romeo’s untouched bed, and a plate of fried fish sat uneaten on the table, next to the sword.
“Pardon us,” said Friar Lorenzo, glancing at the door to make sure it was closed, “for intruding at this hour. But we could not wait-”
He got no further before his companion stepped forward, pulling back the hood of the cowl and revealing a most intricate hairdo. It was no fellow monk who had accompanied Friar Lorenzo to Palazzo Marescotti this morning, but Giulietta herself, despite the disguise lovelier than ever, her cheeks glowing with excitement.
“Please tell me,” she said, “that you have not yet… done the deed?”
Although thrilled and amazed to see her, Romeo now looked away, embarrassed. “I have not.”
“Oh, praised be Heaven!” She folded her hands in relief. “For I have come to apologize, and to beg you forget I ever asked you to do such a horrendous thing.”
Romeo started, feeling a twitch of hope. “You no longer want him dead?”
Giulietta frowned. “I want him dead with every beat of my heart. But not at your expense. I was very wrong and very selfish when I took you hostage in my own grief. Can you forgive me?” She looked deeply into his eyes, and when he did not reply right away, her lip trembled slightly. “Forgive me. I beg you.”
Now, for the first time in days, Romeo smiled. “No.”
“No?” Her blue eyes darkened, threatening a storm, and she took a step backwards. “That is most unkind!”
“No,” Romeo went on, teasingly, “I will not forgive you, because you promised me a great reward, and now you are breaking your word.”
Giulietta gasped. “I am not! I am saving your life!”
“Oh! And you insult me, too!” Romeo pressed a fist against his heart. “To suggest that I would not survive this duel-woman! You toy with my honor like a cat with a mouse! Bite again and see it limping for cover!”
“Oh, you!” Giulietta’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You are the one playing with me! I did not say you would die by Salimbeni’s hand, as you well know, but I do believe they would never let you get away with the murder. And that”-she looked away, still upset with him-“I suppose, would be a shame.”
Romeo watched her dismissive profile with great interest. When he saw that she was determined to be stubborn, he turned to Friar Lorenzo. “May I ask that you leave us alone for a moment?”
Friar Lorenzo clearly did not approve of the request, but since Giulietta did not protest, he could hardly refuse. And so he nodded and withdrew to the balcony, his back dutifully turned.
“Now why,” said Romeo in a voice so low that only Giulietta could make out the words, “would it be such a shame if I died?”
She took a deep but angry breath. “You saved my life.”
“And all I asked in return was to be your knight.”
“What good is a knight without a head?”
Romeo smiled and stepped closer. “I assure you, as long you are near me there is no ground for such fears.”
“And do I have your word?” Giulietta looked straight into his eyes. “Promise that you will not attempt to engage Salimbeni?”
“It seems,” observed Romeo, very much enjoying the exchange, “you are now asking me a second favor… and this one far more demanding than the first. But I shall be generous and tell you that my price is still the same.”
Her jaw dropped. “Your price?”
“Or my reward, or whatever you choose to call it. It is unchanged.”
“You scoundrel!” hissed Giulietta, struggling to quell a smile. “I come here to free you from a lethal vow, and yet you are determined to steal my virtue?”
Romeo grinned. “Surely, a kiss would not tax your virtue.”
She squared her shoulders against his charms. “It depends on who kisses me. I highly suspect a kiss from you would instantly void sixteen years of savings.”
“What good are savings if you never spend them?”
Just as Romeo was sure he had her ensnared, a loud cough from the balcony made Giulietta jump away. “Patience, Lorenzo!” she said, sternly. “We will be on our way soon enough.”
“Your aunt will surely begin to wonder,” observed the monk, “what manner of confession is taking so long.”
“Just one moment!” Giulietta turned again to Romeo, her eyes full of disappointment. “I have to go.”
“Confess to me,” whispered Romeo, taking her hands, “and I will give you a blessing that will never wear off.”
“The rim of your cup,” replied Giulietta, allowing him to draw her back in, “is smeared with honey. I wonder what dreadful poison it contains?”
“If it is poison, it will kill us both.”
“Oh dear… you must truly like me if you would rather be dead with me than alive with any other woman.”
“I believe I do.” He closed his arms around her. “Kiss me or I will most certainly die.”
“Die yet again? For a man twice doomed you are very much alive!”
There was another noise from the balcony, but this time Giulietta stayed where she was. “Patience, Lorenzo! I beg you!”