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Chapter One – Verona in Autumn
Prologue
Verona – 1381
‘Oh faithless apothecary, thy drugs are false!’
Romeo bows his head, the weight of grief too much to bear. The vial tumbles from his hands, empty but for an empty promise. He slumps against the tomb wall, exhausted by his unwanted survival.
‘I feel nothing. No blessed embrace of death, no reunion with my love. I lie here in a cold tomb and yet I live. Juliet is beside me and yet we are apart. But wait – I have my dagger still. Our love will not be denied.’
Romeo draws his knife with unsteady hands. In the lantern’s dull light the razor edge gleams with wicked glee. He does not care as he presses it to his lips.
‘A kiss I give you, for your potency cannot be denied. The blacksmith was honest in his art, though his compatriot cheated me as he cheated death. Soon my wife and I will be together once again, but before your cold embrace, a kiss for my love.’
He brushes Juliet’s cheek. The shock of seeing her this way is as numbing as the chill air. For one moment Romeo wonders if the poison was indeed true. The cool touch of Juliet’s cheek is not so awful to bear; as though death has already half-spread its wings over him and warmth is but a fading memory.
That small flicker of hope quickens his heart however and stills the notion. Amid the silence of the tomb Romeo feels it beating in his chest; strong and regular for all that he would wish it to stop. In that moment he knows the poison has failed for certain. He bends to kiss Juliet but pauses an inch away. So close now, as lovers in the darkest hours should all be. At gentle rest with the tiniest kiss of the other’s breath on their skin. Romeo finds his own caught in his chest, locked in the cage of his body.
Even veiled by darkness, the lines of her face map perfectly against the image engraved on his heart. He finds himself transfixed, as he was the first moment he saw her. A beauty only glimpsed but seared into his most vital of organs by love’s unyielding heat. He brushes one errant curl of chestnut hair back before placing the gentlest of kisses on her lips.
Still he finds it hard to believe. Despite the letter he received, despite the funeral robes and tomb itself. Her pale skin lacks the spectral hue of the dead, her lips the stiffness of an empty vessel.
‘She could be sleeping still,’ Romeo moans. ‘Death itself cannot rob her of the beauty God granted.’
His hand tightens around the grip of his dagger; resolve stiffens his arm.
‘My heart torments me. I know she is dead these several days, for all it could be a mere moment ago. My guilt punishes me. For those I have killed I am cursed to imagine those I love still alive. Will I see dear Mercutio look on from the doorway now?’
Romeo looks up as though the ghost of his friend is indeed there, then flinches and touches his fingers to his cheek.
‘Even the wind mocks me,’ he says at last. ‘It caresses my cheek like a lover’s breath. One last cruel cut from a world that justly blames me. It is not sweet Juliet’s breath, though. My madness does not extend so far, for all that this final act will seem more kindness than cruelty.’
He leans back then stops. ‘I speak too soon, perhaps I am mad indeed. I would have wagered my life upon her lips parting there.’
Romeo shakes his head and reverses the knife.
‘But it is madness only, of that I’m certain. Come, my final friend, cut this tattered soul free. I should have cast weapons aside long ago, before good men died, but this last life taken will only improve the world it departs. I pray my death serves God’s Earth better than my life ever could.’
Just as he raises the knife there is the faintest of sounds. Romeo’s hand trembles as though the blade hungers for his blood. Madness or not, he heard something more than the lament of the wind. There – again, a sound. A tiny huff of breath. A twitch of the folded cloth on her chest. Romeo gapes and the knife clatters to the ground.
Again his madness breathes and takes greater hold of his mind. Again Juliet’s chest seems to rise and her lips part. Romeo stumbles backwards, a faint cry lost in the pit of his chest, but still he hears it more clearly than ever – the drawing of breath.
‘What sorcery or sickness is this?’ Romeo whispers, crouched at the side of the sarcophagus and clinging to the edge like a child. ‘Can I not even go to my death in true fashion? Must there be some final torment visited upon me?’
The breath rises and becomes a wheeze, a cough. Then, like the blessed light of God shining upon the world, Juliet’s eyes flicker and open.
‘Is it true? Do my eyes deceive me or is my love returned to life?’
In response Romeo receives a twitch of the cheek then a wan smile. Juliet moans and tries to move, but only feebly until Romeo dives down to gently gather her up.
‘Oh my sweet, oh my love – is it really true? Speak, I beg you, Juliet. Am I mad or blessed beyond words and reason?’
‘Romeo,’ Juliet whispers, ‘you came.’
‘Came? I…’ He finds himself unable to finish. Instead he simply stares at the girl in his arms – as struck and smitten as that first sighting of her.
‘Where is the friar?’
‘Friar?’ Romeo says. ‘I am alone. I came to see you one last time. And yet Death’s cold heart cannot bear to steal such a jewel from the world.’
‘Death?’ Juliet winces and tries to sit up but is defeated until Romeo helps her. ‘Did Friar Lawrence not send you word?’
Romeo shakes his head. ‘He? I received nothing.’
‘Then how did you know?’
‘Juliet, my sun and stars, I came here to die alongside my wife in her undeserved tomb!’ Romeo gestures to the dagger lying in the dust. ‘I knew nothing. I came to join you in death, rather than feign to live when such life was without you.’
From outside there is a sudden clatter of boots and voices. Romeo snatches up his dagger and rounds the tomb, but Juliet touches a shaky finger to his arm.
‘Hold, my heart, do no more harm.’
Romeo flinches as though stung by a wasp. ‘Harm?’ he whispers in the voice of a man hell-bound. ‘I… it is too late for that.’
The knife falls once more and he points towards the entrance of the tomb, unable to speak. As Juliet struggles to turn and see what lies there, the voices grow louder and closer. Even in his dazed state, Romeo recognises them – Friar Lawrence and his own servant, Balthasar. Before he can summon words they appear at the doorway and stare first at the corpse at the threshold, then in wonder at Juliet.
‘What blood is this that stains this place of peace? Oh merciful Jesu – Count Paris, he is dead. Romeo, is that you? Did you kill this man here?’
‘I did,’ Romeo says. ‘It is my sword lying stained with his blood. Are my hands not stained also?’
‘What happened?’ Friar Lawrence glances back over his shoulder. ‘How did you come here this night? Did my message reach you some other way or did angels guide you?’
‘Grief guided me, or so I thought.’ Romeo turns back to Juliet and takes her hand. ‘Now I wonder though. Fortune has intervened in ways I never dared hope.’
‘Then… No, no more. I hear voices, there is no time for talk. Come with me, you must away both of you.’
‘Away?’
The friar takes Romeo by the shoulders and comes little short of shaking the sense back into him. ‘A cousin of our prince lies dead and the watch surely follows on his heels!’
He waves Balthasar forward and slips Juliet’s arm over his shoulder. The two of them help her to her feet, still weakened by feigned death.
‘Romeo, your sword!’ Friar Lawrence hisses. ‘You may yet be forced to win your freedom. I cannot condone violence, but Balthasar and Juliet are innocents in this and I have seen watchmen do bloody harm on all present at a crime.’
‘My sword? No, I’ll touch it no longer – the blade has only ever brought me hurt. Never again will I wield such a weapon. If I must surrender myself and announce my crimes to stay hasty hands, I will do so. The guilt is mine alone, but I will not add to it unless God himself commands.’
‘Guilt or innocence, they will take you if they find you and all love’s work be undone.’
‘Let us be quick then,’ Romeo declares. ‘I will carry Juliet, she cannot run yet.’
He sweeps Juliet up in his arms and so burdened seems to stand taller than before. With the friar and Balthasar in his wake, Romeo steps out through the entrance and casts around for the watchmen coming.
‘Some wondrous angel’s hand has intervened to offer us a second chance,’ he says as they set off through the gloom. ‘Let us be bold and grasp that hand before it is withdrawn.’
‘To my last ounce of strength,’ Juliet agrees.
‘You must both go into exile then, for Romeo cannot stay. I will see you on the path,’ Friar Lawrence says, leading the way with lantern held low to avoid betraying them. ‘Then I will return and explain all to your families. Perhaps the same angel will help persuade your parents into sense and ending their feud. For the sake of Verona and their offspring now united, Montague and Capulet must be reconciled.’
‘It is in God’s hands now,’ Juliet whispers. Let the stars favour us this night.’
Verona in Autumn – Tom Lloyd
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