Ah, the bells begin their sad tolling—for a wedding for Veronica Montague, and after, for the twin funerals of Mercutio and Tybalt. I must to the Lord’s duties, though my heart is ashes.

God forgive all I have done.

God forgive what I must do next.

QUARTO
4

The next morning was the solemn mockery of a marriage for my sister, Veronica.

I had slept not at all; my body ached dully, my eyes felt rubbed in sand, and I was of short temper as Balthasar dressed me in my finest clothes for the wedding. Well, at least someone would be happy today, I thought, even if it was Veronica’s aged bridegroom; Veronica would be happy after the night’s work of pleasing him, because she would have shed House Montague and become mistress of her own estate, with her own funds to begin her social conquest of Verona. After today, I’d have little to do with the girl, and of that, I too could be glad.

“Balthasar,” I said, as he straightened the hang of my sleeves, “I would have you take a journey for me.”

“A journey, sir?” He brushed dust from my shoulder. I could not tell from his expression what he felt.

“To Mantua,” I said. “My cousin will have need of a servant, even in exile. Would you go, to watch after him? He is still in danger. Capulet’s reach is long, and it carries a dagger.”

“I would be most pleased to be of service, but I would hate to leave you,” he said.

I opened up the chest kept locked by my bed, and took out a bag of gold coin. “This is the last of the Prince of Shadow’s profits,” I said. “There’ll be no more of it. Take it, with my thanks. I shall see you once the clouds have lifted, and Romeo is back in the prince’s favor.”

“Do you think such will happen, sir?”

“I pray it will. The alternative is that I remain Montague’s heir for life, and how do I deserve such a punishment?”

“I cannot think of a reason, sir,” he said, and the gold disappeared, tucked within his doublet. “Shall I take a message?”

“Only that he should keep himself out of trouble,” I said, and allowed myself a frustrated smile. “Though history proves that seems impossible. I should tell you that he’s newly wedded, before he blurts it out in drunken sorrow.”

“Wedded, sir?”

“To Juliet Capulet.”

It was the sign of what an excellent servant he was that Balthasar hesitated only a little before saying, without any surprise, “I see, sir; that is a complicated matter indeed. I take it your grandmother does not know?”

“She knows,” I said. “I told her.”

“That must have been . . . eventful.”

“In truth.”