ONE: With All Due Respect
With all due respect to Mr. William Shakespeare, the story he told about Romeo and Juliet wasn’t exactly accurate. First of all, I’m not a vulgar, spineless old woman. And second--well, I’d better begin at the beginning:
The day that I began my service to the Capulets is one that stands sharp in my memory. It was the first time in several generations that anyone in my family had to work. Once upon a time, my family, the Carafas, had been wealthy and titled. Our fortune was a casualty of the blood feud between the Capulets and the Montagues. Because Father refused to take a side in the feud, both families and their supporters boycotted his business ventures. There weren’t enough neutral people in Verona to make ends meet. We lost everything except our titles and our pride. To be honest, we had a surplus of pride.
Father moved us into cheap rooms in the poor part of Verona and worked hard to support us-too hard. His health deteriorated at a frightening rate, but only when he was completely bedridden did he finally stop working. When he first grew ill, Father forbade me to even mention the idea of looking for work. But as he grew more and more sickly, and the rooms where we lived became more and more shabby, even he could see that preserving our pride would only lead us to starvation. As the eldest, it fell to me to find work, even though I was a girl. Mother had to look after my little brothers: David, Giovanni, and Lorenzo.
“I don’t know where to start,” I murmured to Mother as I stared through the broken window to the crowded street below.
“The best you can hope for is a governess or nursemaid,” she said, sighing. “Seek out our kind, Elena--the noble families.”
“But the Capulets and Montagues control the nobility,” I objected. “What about the feud?”
She sighed. “There is no avoiding the feud, Elena. Not if we stay in Verona.”
“Why don’t we leave then? There’s nothing for us here,” I said.
Mother frowned. “You know how your father feels about that.”
I certainly did. Father was determined to reclaim our house and status here in spite of the feud. Bits of his tirades on the matter echoed in the back of my mind:
If we leave Verona, we admit that the Capulets and the Montagues have defeated us! Our family is the only one that had the courage to stand for a civilized existence. What do you think will happen to Verona if we leave?
Quite honestly, I didn’t care what happened to Verona, but part of being an adult-is knowing when to argue and when to keep your mouth shut.
Mother’s voice cut into my reverie: “Elena, I don’t think the Montagues’ and Capulets’ dislike of your father will extend to you. I doubt they even remember you, and they’ll pay you more than anyone else in Verona will pay you.”
“Father won’t like it,” I said.
“Well it’s not exactly my first choice either, love, but we won’t last much longer at the rate we’re going. I’ve done everything that I can.” She drew a deep breath, her forehead creased with defeat. “You’re our only hope.”
As usual, Mother’s logic was flawless. The large dose of guilt--technically pathos-- she added to it was just icing. I made myself as presentable as I could and set out for the Prince’s palace at the edge of the town square, where all the nobles gathered to do business. The commoners did business in the outdoor market that filled the square. It was a busy place, rife with dealings and discord of all kinds. The surrounding city was divided into two halves—the Montague half and the Capulet half. My family lived in the undefined and tempestuous middle area between Montague and Capulet territory.
The Montagues and Capulets were the two wealthiest and most powerful noble families in Verona. The feud between the two families went back for generations—I wasn’t really sure what started it, although there were plenty of theories. I’m not sure if the Capulets knew why they hated the Montagues, or vice versa. The feud was completely irrational, but it was tradition, so it persisted. To survive, citizens of Verona either took sides or tried to stay out of the way of both families. Father took pride in the fact that our family had never taken a side in the feud, even though it had led to our ruin.
I soon came upon the square, which was bustling pleasantly. Frantic, gaily-clad messengers darted through the crowd. Servants and workers gossiped in what little shade they could find. Flowery perfumes mingled with the smells of sweat and spices and dust. By dodging expertly through the crowd, I quickly reached the palace. To be honest, I was glad to be free of our crowded, shabby rooms, which only served as a reminder of what we had lost. There was something both familiar and alien about returning to the Prince’s palace. The palace was sprawling and exquisitely beautiful, a sharp contrast to the world I had left behind in the seedy borderland of Verona. Gold, silver, silk and marble sparkled in the richly-furnished, towering halls. I had to stop and stare at some of the gorgeous new paintings that the Prince had commissioned since the last time I’d visited. One wing held a massive fresco of the entire Greek pantheon. The hum and bustle of the courts was a different, more dignified bustling than that of the marketplace, carried out in higher accents by lords, ladies, and stewards. I stopped in the shadow of a gilded column, suddenly hesitant to plunge into the midst of the glittering assembly, painfully conscious of my own shabbiness. I was a drab bird indeed against this sea of color.
“Good morrow, Lady Carafa,” a gruff voice said.
I whirled around and nearly collided with a tall, thin man wearing an enormous periwinkle hat adorned with ostrich feathers.
“Your Highness!” I exclaimed, dropping into a curtsy.
It was Prince Escalus himself. He looked much older and more worn than the last time I’d seen him some years ago, but his sharp grey eyes still twinkled merrily in his grim-lined face.
“Tut, tut, child, don’t worry about formalities with me,” he said. “Your father is one of the best men in Verona and I consider him one of my most loyal friends. Is he well?”
“I’m afraid not,” I replied. For reasons I could never explain, my voice always sounded heartlessly matter-of-fact when carrying dire news. “His health has fallen with his fortunes. I’m looking for work.”
“That bad?” he asked, new lines of concern appearing in his face. “I’m sorry, child. I had no idea. I must go and visit him, sometime, if he’s well enough.”
I cringed inwardly, thinking how humiliated Father would be if the Prince saw with his own eyes how far our family had fallen. “I’m sure he would be honored, Sir,” I lied politely. I didn’t like lying, but the small lies of polite conversation are the grease that keeps the wheels of society running smoothly, especially in cutthroat places like Verona. Besides, Father would be honored that the Prince cared enough to come see him, if he could get past the initial injury to his pride.
“I consider it an honor to have him as a friend,” the Prince replied. “Your father’s character did not fall with his fortunes. Also, if you are in need of employment, I believe I can help you. That gentleman over there will be your best chance--the pompous-looking one in blue that’s chatting with Count Anselm.” He gestured slightly with a knobby, bejeweled hand towards the center of the room.
“But that’s Lord Capulet,” I said anxiously.
“He’ll treat you well,” said the Prince “I dislike the feud as much as any other rational citizen of Verona, but sometimes it can’t be helped. Besides, their old nurse just left them. She…grew weary of the feud. You’ll be just what they need.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, curtsying once more. As the Prince moved away, I bit my lip and remained where I was, unwilling to run headlong into what would surely be my doom. Surely no good would come of being caught up in the feud. Yet Prince Escalus was wise, and he agreed with my mother. Distasteful as it was, I followed their advice, weaving through the glittering crowd until I reached the Capulets.
“That ridiculous old woman!” Lord Capulet sputtered to Count Anselm, the ostrich feathers on his hat fluttering in frustration. “After all we’ve done for her, she’s left us! It’s nearly impossible to replace—“
“Excuse me,” I said, then curtsied and added “Sir. I understand that you are in need of a governess.”
“I am in need of a nurse,” Lord Capulet retorted. “Our old one, who had been with the family for nigh on thirteen years, has left us. Execrable old woman, but utterly irreplaceable.”
“Would you take me in her stead?” I asked before my nerve deserted me.
“You?” he repeated, peering at me incredulously.
“Yes, my lord,” I replied.
He looked me over, a faint frown on his lips as if I looked familiar, but he could not place me. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Elena Carafa,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “Carafa? Your father must have fallen far indeed to send his daughter out looking for work like a peasant.”
I winced. “Yes, indeed, my lord. He is very ill, and my brothers are mere babes.”
He scowled. “I need a nurse for my daughter, Juliet, who is just turned thirteen. How old are you, Lady Carafa?”
The sneering intonation of my title did not escape me. “Eighteen, my lord.”
“Hmmm…A bit young,” he said, stroking his beard and frowning.
“Have you found a nurse for Juliet yet, my lord?” a tall, thin woman with fading blond hair demanded—it could be no other than Lady Capulet.
“What do you think of her?” Lord Capulet asked, gesturing to me.
“Who is she?” asked Lady Capulet.
I pressed my lips together to suppress my resentment at being discussed like a piece of furniture. Get used to it, I told myself. Do you want to starve? This is your life now.
“Elena Carafa,” Lord Capulet replied.
“Carafa? Oh, then she’ll be perfect,” Lady Capulet said. “The family’s reputation is quite good—or good enough, at any rate. No money to speak of, of course, but since she comes from noble birth, perhaps she’ll set a better example for Juliet when it comes to, womanly graces, despite her father’ decision to give her a rather masculine education.”
“Perhaps so,” Lord Capulet agreed. “We’ll pay her the same as the other one, I suppose.” He stated an amount, and then added “As well as room, board, and clothing.”
I could hardly believe my ears. The money would be enough to keep my whole family fed, clothed, and warm, perhaps even with some left over to save.
“You’ll do,” Lord Capulet said, nodding. “Be at our house by noon.”
I nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Lord Capulet held up his hand. “There is one other thing. You will not be allowed to visit your family as long as you work for us. I don’t want Juliet influenced by any of your father’s radical ideas, one way or the other. Is that clear?”
With difficulty, I swallowed back the sharp words that rose to my mouth. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Quite clear, my lord.” I curtsied to both of them, and hurried away to tell my parents and collect my few belongings.
I ran through the streets of Verona, the time now pressing upon me. “Mother! I found a job!” I exclaimed, running into our rooms at last.
“Shh!” she said, putting a finger to her lips. “Your father’s sleeping.”
“Oh,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Sorry. Where are the boys?”
“Napping too,” she said, pressing a hand to her head as if the morning had been a particularly trying one. “What sort of job did you get?”
“I’m to be the nursemaid for Juliet Capulet,” I said. “Their old nurse left them.”
“Left them?” Mother repeated. “That’s most unusual. Nurses usually stay with the child all of their lives. Most strange indeed.”
“I…I gather it had something to do with the feud,” I said. “And...there’s something else. The Capulets won’t let me visit you as long as I’m working for them.”
“Oh,” Mother said. Her “oh’s” could speak volumes. Suddenly she looked much older than I remembered. “I expected something like that. In case you haven’t noticed--which I’m sure you have, as you’re very bright--the Capulets are horrible snobs and complete lunatics. Even their servants hate each other. Elena, you don’t have to do this. We’ll make it, somehow.”
It was so like Mother to have completely changed her mind from this morning. As much as I wanted to back out of it, I shook my head. We both knew what had to be done. “We’ll starve if we keep living like this. Father won’t get better without proper nourishment and a physician. The money will be enough to keep you and more besides. I know it’s dangerous, but we’re running out of options. I can do this. I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure myself as well as Mother. “Before you know it, Father will be well, and I’ll have enough money to buy our house back, or maybe you can convince Father to move out of Verona instead.”
She laughed sadly. “It doesn’t pay that much. Oh, Elena, this is not what I wanted for you--for your future.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe if I’d convinced Father to give in and pick a side--I don’t know.”
“You did the right thing,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”
She drew a deep breath and put on a small, brave smile. “What time do you have to be there? I’ll help you pack.”
“Noon,” I replied. “Thank you.”
I slipped into the narrow alcove--a shelf, really-- where I slept to fetch my possessions. There wasn’t much to pack. There were a few outgrown dresses from three years ago, so speckled with patches and jagged with extra hems that it was almost impossible to tell they had once been beautiful. The three books that remained from our vast, glorious library were also in my keeping: a book of Greek and Roman myths, a New Testament in Latin, and my journal, along with a few precious sticks of graphite and charcoal for writing. I folded the clothes with care and threw everything into a cloth sack—except the New Testament.
I handed it to my mother. “You’ll need it more than I will.”
“I’m not the one going into a feud,” she replied, handing it back to me.
“I’ve practically memorized it,” I said, handing it to her again with a halfhearted smile. “You’ll need something to read to the boys, after all. Maybe I should leave you the myths as well.”
“No,” she said. “Keep those, at least. You need something to remind you of home.” She straightened the tattered blanket on my bed and looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “I knew I’d have to say goodbye to you one day but I always thought it would be different.”
I hugged her. “You never know what will happen. Maybe someday the sun will shine on us again. Try not to worry about me too much.”
“I would tell you not to get involved in the feud,” she said, “but that’s impossible. Just be as prudent as you can. Always think for yourself. Remember, being one of the Capulets’ servants doesn’t make you a Capulet. You are a Carafa, and we love you. Remember that.”
I nodded, my throat growing tight with tears. “I will remember,” I said, giving her a quick, last hug. “I love you too.”
“Me next,” said Giovanni, pulling at my skirt. Apparently the boys had decided that their nap was over, for they were all clustered around my skirts. I knelt down and hugged Giovanni, and then David, and then Lorenzo. “Be good for Mother,” I said, kissing Lorenzo on the top of his curly head. “I’ll come visit soon.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of our apartment. Usually, I kept my emotions well in check, but the iron fist which held them at bay seemed to have melted in the summer sun. As much as I tried to pretend that things would be all right, I knew that I might never see my family again. By the time I had reached the end of the alleyway, I was crying, but I didn’t look back.
