Dario’s death spread a cold gloom over the rest of winter. After his funeral, the Capulets did their best to forget that he had ever existed. I helped in the kitchen as often as Juliet would spare me. Often, Juliet would join us on the sly, partly because the kitchen was the warmest room in the house, and partly because she was lonely and bored. Grief thawed Cook a little. She apologized for her treatment of Juliet, realizing that the girl had no control over what had happened to Dario. Eventually, Cook even undertook the challenge of teaching Juliet some rudimentary cooking skills.

“She’s the worst student I’ve ever had, but it occupies my mind,” she said to me one day. “But once Juliet learns, she doesn’t forget. I’m afraid she’s going to have to get along without me, though.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I can’t stand it anymore, Miss Elena,” she said. “Being in the same rooms, expecting Dario to come through the door…There’s too much darkness here. I’m going to Venice. My sister and her family live there, and she wrote telling me of another household that needs a cook. I’ve got to get away from this place.”

True to her word, a few weeks later she collected her wages and left. Juliet missed her terribly. I missed her, but I was glad for her sake that she had left this city of bloodshed. Lord Capulet was predictably cross. A replacement must be found at once. On the threshold of spring, all three Capulets and I returned to Prince Escalus’ palace in order to find a new cook. Prince Escalus’ sumptuous halls were as bustling as the last time I’d entered them. Upon entering, Juliet spotted Rosaline and rushed over to exchange greetings and gossip. I followed at a respectful distance, fearing to get too close.

“How goes it, Miss Carafa?” Prince Escalus inquired, coming up beside me. He had a peculiar expression on his face, as if guilty of some mischief.

“As well as can be expected, Your Highness,” I replied with a curtsey.

He glanced at Juliet and her companions. “Perhaps your mistress and the other young ladies would care for some refreshment? Down that hall in the second room on the left I’ve had some treats set out for them to enjoy. I’m certain they would appreciate it if you retrieved them.”

“As you wish, your Highness,” I replied uncertainly. I gave a quick curtsey and hurried to follow his instructions. It was really rather peculiar that he should send someone else’s servant instead of his own, so I was on my guard as I entered the room and closed the door behind me. When I turned around, Benvolio Montague was leaning against an ornate table filled with sweets, calmly eating one of the pastries.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I was speechless only for a moment, uncomfortably aware of how fast my heart was beating. In vain, I tried to squash the sudden warm delight welling up inside me. “You…arranged this?”

He grinned. “Let’s just say that I have friends in high places.”

“How did you know that I would be here?” I demanded.

“How do you think I’ve survived this long? I do my best to know or at least guess where the Capulets are at all times. It’s fairly simple, really. Humans are creatures of habit.”

“I see,” I said, crossing towards both Benvolio and the food, telling myself that it was because I was hungry.

“I recommend the pastries, by the way,” he added. “The Prince’s cooks are excellent.”

I took one from the plate farthest from Benvolio. “They smell wonderful.”

He stepped closer to me. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t see you before, but I’ve been tied up with my business.”

“Business?”

“Yes. Money is power, you see. Most nobles these days are businessmen first and noblemen second. It isn’t easy with the Venetians running a monopoly on practically everything, but I do fairly well.”

“What sort of business?”

“A little bit of everything. Cloth, books, finery, food, weapons--anything profitable. Sometimes it’s a little risky, but no more so than living in Verona. I actually supply the bookstore in Verona.”

“You do?” I asked, smiling in spite of myself.

“Oh yes. One of the many perks of business. The best part is that it gives me an excuse to travel. It’s incredible out there—so many new things are being created and discovered.”

“It must be wonderful to be outside of Verona,” I said enviously.

“You have no idea! Of course, it’s not all sunshine and butterflies. There are plenty of cutthroats out there, from the peasants to the palaces, but at least they haven’t all sworn to extinguish my family line. It makes a difference, you know. They use violence for more practical purposes, generally. I don’t condone it, but it’s easier to deal with. They’ll usually take money over blood. Living can be rather expensive sometimes,” he added, chuckling. “Once, when I was leaving Venice, I was arrested by the Doge’s men. Apparently one of the men who had joined our train was a Venetian glassmaker-- they’re forbidden to leave Venice, because they don’t want anyone to learn the secrets of Venetian glass. We managed to convince them that we were all stark raving mad, and they let us go!”

“How did you do that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It was fairly simple. I prattled on about elephants in the room, dragons roaring outside, and a chandelier crashing to the floor. My friend disagreed with me, proclaiming that it was not a chandelier but the moon itself. We went on arguing about equally impossible adventures, and started handing out imaginary objects to our captors. At first they were confused, but they quickly became terrified, because they couldn’t control us. They sent us on a trading ship to Byzantium, where we made a miraculous recovery.”

“Byzantium? You’ve been everywhere!” I exclaimed.

“Not quite everywhere,” he replied. “Have you ever been outside of Verona?”

“A few times, before we--before things changed,” I said.

Before I knew what was happening, conversation and laughter were flowing freely between us. Our talk ranged over the wide world, in and out of books, from deep-set beliefs to shallow fripperies. Somehow, we found our way back to Verona, to a question I had meant to ask earlier:

“Why in the world did you come back here when you hate it so much?”

He sighed. “For several reasons. It was partly to annoy my parents. I’m an embarrassment to them because I’m against the feud. My business is also based here, or was at the time. After the feud started going stronger, I decided to move it to Genoa. I also received a letter from Prince Escalus requesting--or commanding--my presence here. He has this idea that somehow I can stop the feud. He also wanted me to keep an eye on Romeo and Mercutio. I don’t really know why, aside from the fact that Romeo doesn’t have a whole lot of brains and Mercutio is far too smart for his own good. So, here I am,” he said, spreading his arms wide with a flourish.

“Wait—the Prince thinks that you can stop the feud?” I asked.

“Yes. Sometimes I wonder if he’s crazy too. Do you think insanity is contagious? I’ve thought through it over and over and I can’t see how to end it without something earth-shaking and awful happening.”

“That wouldn’t really improve the situation,” I said. “So you are trapped here, then.”

He shook his head. “If things get really desperate I can escape. I’m too proud to beg the Prince for freedom. He would just give me a long lecture about how much I’m needed here and then I’d feel like a rotten human being. Do you think it’s terrible to wish to leave?”

“Terrible? No! I think it’s perfectly sane and normal. If it is terrible, then I’m worse than you because no guilt would keep me from leaving Verona if I were free to go. I hate this place! It’s so beautiful on the outside and so rotten on the inside,” I said. “These last few months have been awful.”

“Because of Dario?” he asked, his jaunty manner evaporating.

“Yes,” I said.

“Was he…anything to you?” he asked.

“No. He was Cook’s husband. I’ve never spoken to him.” I swallowed nervously. “Did you—did you kill him?”

He shook his head gravely. “No. I wasn’t there.” He glanced anxiously at the door. “Mercutio killed him.”

“Your friend?” I was horrified.

“Yes,” he said. “I should have been there—maybe I could have calmed him down. But it might just have ended up with him getting killed instead.” He stared down at the floor tiles. “I have a friend, Niccolo Machiavelli, who lives in Florence. He believes people are too depraved for mercy and kindness to be effective. The only peace we’ll get is the kind that comes with a canny, ruthless leader.”

“What do you believe?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes, I almost think he’s right…but then someone comes along who proves him wrong.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Someone like you,” he said. “So what do you think?”

Once again, I was taken aback. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since someone asked my opinion about anything that mattered.”

“Ah, so that’s the real problem with Verona,” he said, with a small smile.

“It’s something I’ve thought about, of course, because I’ve always respected the Prince, but he can’t fix the problems here any more than we can—do I have to answer you right away, or can I think about it first?”

“Of course it doesn’t have to be right away,” he said.

“What else does your friend Machiavelli say about feuds?” I asked.

“He says that a prince can play the two sides against each other to keep himself in power.”

“Well, that doesn’t help us at all,” I said. “I suppose you could banish both families from Verona, but I’m not sure that would fix the problem. Arresting the principals might work—Tybalt, Mercutio, your uncle. The only trouble is that they control most of the business of Verona. My father thought the problem was economic. He thought if he could assemble a group of businessmen to bankrupt both families, that might put an end to it.”

“But what do you think?”

“I think the problem is that these are all outside solution, and the problem is on the inside—in their hearts,” I said. “How can you make a heart stop hating after so long? Maybe…maybe if I thought about it more, but do you really think we can do anything about it?”

“The Prince has made it my business to think so,” he said grimly. “Which I’ve used as an excuse to hide in the bookshop and do research when I’m not working. It feels childish, sometimes. I have to go home when I’m hungry.”

“No, actually I think it sounds rather wonderful. I wish—”

“You should join me sometime,” he said. “I can get you started on your own research, if you’d like.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even be here! Why am I even listening to you?” I said, suddenly appalled with myself. I heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. “I think insanity must be contagious. I must go.”

“I suppose you must,” he agreed with regret. “Don’t forget the pastries,” he added, handing me a silver tray. “I’ll be at the bookshop Friday afternoon.”

I took one last pastry from the tray. “I shouldn’t join you.”

“But you will?”

“I won’t,” I said firmly. “I’m sorry. The Capulets won’t even let me see my own family. Think of what they’d do to me if they knew I was seeing you!”

“They don’t let you see your family?” he said. The tone of astonishment and sympathy in his voice made me realize how long it had been since I talked to someone who actually cared about me. “That’s horrible cruel. Why do you stay with these people?”

“Because I won’t have any family if I don’t,” I said.

“Maybe I can help you,” he said thoughtfully.

“They won’t accept charity.”

“I assumed as much. But maybe there’s another way…I’m not sure yet. I’ll think on it.”

“If you could…that would be--but I really have to go. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for listening,” he said. The optimistic light in his eyes dimmed only slightly. “Farewell, my lady.”

I raised an eyebrow, causing him to burst out into laughter. “Goodbye,” I said, stifling my own laughter into a grin.

“But truly,” he called after me as I left “I meant it as a compliment!”

I had only taken a few steps outside the door before I was attacked by a horde of giggling girls. Apparently they were hungrier than I thought.

“What are you smiling about?” Juliet demanded through a mouthful of pastry. “Who was in there laughing?”

I shrugged. “One of the servants, I suppose,” I answered, evading her first question. “They’re a bit friendlier than your other servants.”

“Oh, are they?” Juliet demanded mischievously. “Was he handsome?”

“I didn’t notice,” I replied, trying to recover my dignity.

“Who? Who’s handsome?” demanded one of Signor Martino’s daughters.

“No one good enough for you,” replied Juliet airily. “One of the Prince’s servants has been making eyes at my Nurse!”

The girls burst into cruel giggles. “At this homely old maid? He must be out of his head!” sniggered Rosaline.

More giggling rained down on me like hailstones. Juliet laughed with them--a fake shallow laugh that did not reach her eyes.

“These pastries are stone cold!” complained one of the other girls.

I fought to keep my humiliation hidden deep inside of me, forcing my expression into something like stone. I focused on breathing slowly, steadily-- I knew if I did not keep it in rhythm I would begin to sob. I turned my thoughts into more pleasant channels to control my fury. Benvolio was quite sane-- saner and far more intelligent than any of them. He had told me that I was beautiful. I felt a pleasant ache in my cheeks from laughter. A minute ago I had been laughing. I called the memory to my mind, trying to remember exactly how he had looked and the way his voice sounded, warm with delight at his discovery.

“No reason to fret, ‘tis all in good fun, sweet Nurse,” Juliet said, interrupting my thoughts. “I wonder if Father will ever let us go home! He’s been negotiating for hours! It’s so unbelievably dull! He is so particular that we shall never eat again! He isn’t even supposed to choose the cooks! That duty falls to Mother or the housekeeper.”

Hours! At least I had the sense not to express my shock aloud. I hadn’t given a single thought to time. It seemed as if only a few minutes had passed since I had entered into the room. I followed the girls at a respectful distance down the hall, wondering how Benvolio had come into the room and where he would go now. Some part of me whispered that I had been a fool to leave the room at all. I quickly shoved the thought aside. Lord Capulet finally did find a cook, but I wasn’t certain how long we would keep her. Juliet’s father was a connoisseur, as difficult to please as an emperor. I did not speak on the way home. Only when we were alone again did Juliet make a pathetic attempt at an apology.

“I’m sorry for what they said,” she said, flouncing onto her bed. “But I had to laugh with them. They are the only friends I have. I would die from boredom without them, Nurse! Just die!”

“If they were my only friends I think death would be preferable,” I snapped, folding up Juliet’s rejected gowns with vicious precision. “At least then I would have some decent company.”

“Well you must admit that you are getting along in years. Most women already have children at your age,” Juliet said, twirling a lock of golden hair on her finger.

I almost screamed. “For the love of--anything--I’m eighteen, Juliet! Just because Rosaline and your cousin the homicidal maniac thinks I’m ugly… If I weren’t so angry I would laugh at you!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Juliet said. “How dare you call my cousin a homicidal maniac?”

“Do you even know what that means?” I retorted.

“No, but it sounds awful!” Juliet said.

“It is!” I said. “And I’m not going to define it for you! You don’t understand anything except yourself, Juliet. You have anything you wish for at your fingertips. Everyone who looks on you loves you and tells you that you’re beautiful. You’ve never felt any real pain, or fear, or humiliation. You don’t believe you’ve ever done anything wrong, even now.”