But the day planned for the signing of the marriage contract came and went with no mention of it, and that was worth the world.

By the next morning I was aching from the forced stillness, racked by a gnawing hunger, and much relieved when Lucrezia returned for her turn at the vigil over her sick friend.

I heard her telling my mother as she sent her off to her bed that she would be reading to me, and not to be alarmed if voices were heard.

"There is no talk of the contract," Lucrezia said very softly, moments after the door closed behind Mama, "though Signora Strozzi seems suspicious. She heard the physicians saying they could find nothing wrong with you, though one believed your skin was rather too pink for poor health. And I do not think she believed your father when he a.s.sured her that all would go according to plan on our wedding day."

"We don't know what Jacopo has told his mother," I said in low tones, grateful to have the freedom of speech once again. "She may be a villainess, as her son is. Do you think the doctors will return today?"

Lucrezia held out bits of cheese and bread for me, which I hungrily consumed. "You can be sure of it. Prepare yourself to give up more of your blood."

"What of Viola?" I asked with even more urgency. The young servant and her new husband, Ma.s.simo, were together the key to our plan, though they were as yet unaware of it. While the girl had taken up some duties as my lady's maid, she could not be spared from the kitchen altogether, and Lucrezia must find a way to be private with her to explain things and acquire her consent.

Our scheme required that Ma.s.simo, for a generous price, ride out of Florence to Verona, two days on a fast horse, carrying a letter to Romeo, and return quickly with a reply. We had considered a messenger hired by Lucrezia, but she had done no such thing in her life, and she, like all the wellborn girls of Florence, was watched and regulated her every waking moment. Too, we believed we could count better on Viola's loyalty and goodwill than a courier.

After all, I had made her own marriage possible.

"I will see if your mother will allow Viola to come up and bathe you," said my friend. "Then I can give her the letter."

"Oh, Lucrezia, I so wanted to write him in my own hand."

"Not possible," she said, then, hearing voices outside in the hall, went to my desk and picked up Dante's Inferno Inferno and brought it back to my bedside. She sat next to me. "My letter is simply put. And the spirit is all yours. 'Come and take me from this place. I am waiting.' Certainly it will require Romeo's cunning and not a little bravery to return to the city and take you away, but I have no more fear than you that he will." and brought it back to my bedside. She sat next to me. "My letter is simply put. And the spirit is all yours. 'Come and take me from this place. I am waiting.' Certainly it will require Romeo's cunning and not a little bravery to return to the city and take you away, but I have no more fear than you that he will."

"And did you write . . . ?"

"Juliet, I wish you could see your face. Of course I wrote that you loved him faithfully. And I begged for a swift reply." Lucrezia smiled. "Now let me read to you for a while. It will make the time pa.s.s more quickly."

She opened the book and gravely read: "Canto nine, flight of the demons. The Sixth Circle of h.e.l.l."

Chapter Twenty-seven.

To our immense frustration, Viola was not allowed to come bathe me, and Lucrezia's note to Romeo could not be pa.s.sed.

I suffered another day of bleeding at the baffled doctors' hands, so that now I truly did feel weak and ill. I had to endure more of their poking and prodding, requiring my supreme effort to appear stuporous. Later, an apothecary came and applied a malodorous mustard poultice to my stomach.

Allessandra Strozzi looked in on me again. I could hear in her voice more irritation this day than sympathy. She repeatedly demanded to know what she was supposed to do with the wedding preparations. Papa used confident words that all would go as planned, but in the fabric of his a.s.surances there were threads of panic.

Without this marriage, he believed, all would be lost.

But I remembered Romeo's logic. If I eloped without my father's permission, certainly a furor would ensue, but there remained in that scenario ways for he and Jacopo both to save face, and the partnership would, in the future, survive.

So far, however, the only reward for my pretended coma was another day gone by without having signed my marriage contract.

That night Cook was sent to sit up with me, but she fell to sleep almost instantly, allowing me the freedom to stretch my limbs and take in deep, soothing lungfuls of air. I even sat up at the side of my bed, wishing that the shutters had been open and the chamber not so tomblike. I wished to gaze up at the stars of Romeo's birth, secure in the knowledge that in Verona he would be gazing at the same sky, thinking of mine.

I admit that in the darkest hours I allowed doubt to inhabit my mind. I remembered the last moments before my husband had left this room, and his uncertainty that we would ever meet again. Truth be told, it had been I I that had taken the convincing tone, promising we would meet again in this life. Should it not have been Romeo who showed strength and surety of our future together? And why had I heard nothing from him since that night? He should have moved mountains to let me know he cared! that had taken the convincing tone, promising we would meet again in this life. Should it not have been Romeo who showed strength and surety of our future together? And why had I heard nothing from him since that night? He should have moved mountains to let me know he cared!

I was shaking by the time I lay back down, and it was some time before my common sense returned. Like a stern tutor, it lectured me about my ridiculousness. Romeo had had moved mountains ... to court and marry me. On that last night-the one on which I now judged him so harshly-a friend had died in his arms. Yes, he had wept and trembled at the thought of his sins, yet he had recovered his masculine pride sufficiently to prove himself a perfect lover in this bed. moved mountains ... to court and marry me. On that last night-the one on which I now judged him so harshly-a friend had died in his arms. Yes, he had wept and trembled at the thought of his sins, yet he had recovered his masculine pride sufficiently to prove himself a perfect lover in this bed.

If I had not had a letter from Romeo, I decided, then its pa.s.sage from Verona to Florence was certainly impossible.

My self-soothing thoughts, exhaustion, and the snoring cook put me to sleep. I thankfully woke before her at dawn and, steeling myself, returned to my deathlike pose.

The morning brought a most unwelcome visitor.

Why they had allowed Jacopo Strozzi a private audience with my helpless self I will never know. Perhaps he convinced Papa that words of encouragement from my husband-to-be would rouse me from my unnatural sleep.

In any event, I could feel Jacopo's odious presence as he stood above me, smell his musty scent. He kept his voice low, but he bent to my ear, making sure that I heard every sinister word.

"I know what you are doing, Juliet." The way he spoke my name made the hair on my neck rise and stiffen. "I see now how far you would go to avoid marrying me. Clever. You have managed to fool everyone but myself . . . and my mother. She is angry. Very angry. She never liked you. She believed I could do better for myself. Find a wealthier girl. I do not like to think how it will be for you living in her house now. But you will will live in her house.You will give up this nonsense and rouse yourself. For one way or the other you will marry me. You may choose the planned wedding-that would be pleasant. Or, if you continue this pathetic ruse, I will come in here again with our marriage contract in hand, lock the door, and after I have signed your name next to mine"-he came in close and nipped the lobe of my ear with his teeth-"I will take my marital rights, here in this bed. live in her house.You will give up this nonsense and rouse yourself. For one way or the other you will marry me. You may choose the planned wedding-that would be pleasant. Or, if you continue this pathetic ruse, I will come in here again with our marriage contract in hand, lock the door, and after I have signed your name next to mine"-he came in close and nipped the lobe of my ear with his teeth-"I will take my marital rights, here in this bed. That That will wake you up, hmm?" will wake you up, hmm?"

I lay frozen, struggling for even breath.

"It is your choice, Juliet. Your choice entirely."

When I felt his rough tongue on my face, the bile rose in my throat, threatening my composure, but thankfully he pulled back. A moment later the door opened. Clicked shut.

I choked back my revulsion and tried to steady myself, for the door was opening again. I heard the rustle of skirts and went boneless with relief to inhale the sweet and familiar fragrance of Lucrezia.

I opened my eyes and propped myself on my elbows as she swung the shutters wide, then s.n.a.t.c.hed Dante's Inferno Inferno from my writing desk before coming to my bedside. She wore a decidedly happy expression, one so hopeful that I withheld the telling of the meeting with Jacopo and allowed her to speak first. from my writing desk before coming to my bedside. She wore a decidedly happy expression, one so hopeful that I withheld the telling of the meeting with Jacopo and allowed her to speak first.

She sat down and finally looked at me. "Juliet, what has happened? You look ill. Has the bleeding . . . ?"

"No. Just tell me your news. I can see that you have some."

"I found Viola alone in the kitchen."

"And?"

Lucrezia smiled triumphantly. "She took the letter and accepted payment for her husband's courier services. He will leave today. They are indebted to you, Juliet. She would do anything to help you."

"Thank G.o.d!" I sat up and grabbed Lucrezia's hand. "Is Jacopo gone?"

"I pa.s.sed him on the stairs as I came up. I think I heard the front door close." She looked hard at me. "Tell me. What is wrong?" What is wrong?"

Trembling with fury, I told her of Jacopo's threat of ravishment if I ignored his demands to rouse myself, and the appalling picture he painted of my married life under Allessandra Strozzi's roof.

"I have no choice, Lucrezia. I must appear to recover entirely."

She was still smiling. "But look at our accomplishments. Three days gone and you have yet to sign the contract. And Romeo will have our letter in two days. In another two you will have his answer-a happy plot to rescue you and begin your life together."

I shook my head, worried."How much longer can I delay signing the contract? Time is growing short before our wedding day."

Lucrezia took my hand. "What has happened to your faith in Romeo? Your beloved is exceedingly clever and bold. He would change the very course of the Arno for you."

She made me smile. "He would indeed," I said, ashamed of my momentary doubt. "Change the color of the fishes, too."

"And raise Lazarus from the dead," she teased.

"Wait," I said, leaning over the side of my bed. I probed the hole I had made in the mattress and found the satin pouch I'd hidden there. I placed the two braided gold bands on my fingers and proudly held out my hand to Lucrezia. "No one else has seen them."

Lucrezia admired the rings for a moment, then took me into a warm embrace and held me there. "May G.o.d bless your marriage," she said.

Suddenly there were voices close at the door.

We froze, knowing we had come to a critical moment. "Hide the rings," she ordered.

I put them back into the pouch and stuffed it back into the mattress.

A look of determination hardening her features, Lucrezia dropped Dante's book loudly on the floor and began to shout.

"Oh, oh, Juliet!! Someone, come quickly!" She gave me one last desperate look and whispered, "Lie down."

The door flew open and my parents rushed in.

"She moved and tried to speak!" Lucrezia cried. "G.o.d in heaven, I think she is back with us!"

I opened my lids very slowly, in time to see Lucrezia stand away from the bed so that Mama and Papa could hover close.

"Capello . . . ," my mother said, her face awash with emotion.

"Juliet, can you hear me?" my father demanded.

"Oh, husband . . . ," Mama moaned.

"I hear you," I said in my weakest voice, "but I am so tired. So weak. I feel as if all the blood has been drained out of me."

"I told you we should never have allowed them-"

"Hush, woman. Juliet, listen to me. Move your foot."

I did as I was told, using the smallest twitching of my toe.

"Now lift your hand," he ordered me.

I clenched my fist weakly and lifted it off the covers.

With that, my mother fell on me with clutching embraces and copious tears.

Over her shoulder I saw Papa heave a deeply relieved sigh. The wedding could go on as planned. His partnership was intact.

Lucrezia was smiling as she quietly made her way from my room.

Our letter was on the way to Romeo.

Romeo The day dawned clear, though I waited for the night's cover to see me back to my uncles' house. They were both cheered, but worried to see me so soon. I told them the germ of my plan and gave them another letter for Juliet-brief, but reprising the promise of my love, asking that she procure men's clothing and wait in good faith for her husband. I would return for her.

My uncles were worrying their chins, their brows furrowed.

"This plan of yours . . . ," Vittorio began.

"It is still imperfect, I know."

"We have been talking of it," Vincenzo continued. "Romeo, in any form it cannot be allowed to happen."

"What are you saying? Juliet is my lawful wife."

"And you are the last male Monticecco of your generation. How in good conscience can you risk dying? Nothing can be allowed to happen to you. The family line. Our blood."

"Nothing will happen, save me rescuing her."

"Think of your father, your mother," Vincenzo pleaded.

"I have! Had it been they thus obstructed, Papa would have turned the world inside out to have her. He would expect no less of me."

My uncles remained unconvinced.

"Tell me, how can I think of my parents before Juliet?" I asked them. "She was promised, yet altogether unexpected. So much more than I had had reason to hope for. More than a beauty in face and form. More, even, than a tenderhearted girl, a virtuous lady. I tell you she is remarkable remarkable. Unique as a woman. Strong of mind. Almost manly in her courage. I have found in this soul a very G.o.ddess, though one intolerant of my simpering adoration. And she loves me! Right from the first she fearlessly, wholeheartedly loved me."

I could see my words moved my uncles, though I was sure they had not felt the emotions of which I spoke.

"Never once did I falter in my campaign to win her," I continued. "It was as though I had for my tutor the G.o.d of Love himself. I brought her to dance on the pages of Vita Nuova Vita Nuova. I wooed her with every one of the senses on her bedroom balcony. When our families warred, I made peace. When Jacopo Strozzi urged a hasty wedding, I married her. Uncles, I tell you she is the woman my stars have foretold, and I will settle for nothing less!"

I searched their troubled faces. Clearly, they still had their doubts.

"I have been falsely accused of murder, and exiled from Florence!" I cried. "Where is the honor in letting that stand?"

"There is no honor," Vittorio relented.

I sensed Vincenzo was unmoved.

"Go back to the woods and stay there for now," Vittorio said. "Refine your plan of rescue and revenge. We will think of something."

"Thank you!" I hugged them both, and made my way back to the forest.

Now in the long nights I wrote to my father and mother asking their a.s.sistance in whatever way they could afford. It pained me to think of Papa selling either the orchard or the vineyard, and in the end I tore up the letter and put it in the fire.

I tried writing another poem, but all that came was a single line: The stream, hearing her laughter, races faster.

I cursed the Muses, at the same time praying they had not deserted me forever, and found solace in writing to my wife.

Beloved, In order to survive my days without sight of you, I have taken to reclaiming the crone's garden, one that in its day must have been magnificent to behold. She grew her herbs and medicines and more than enough food for one old woman to consume. I've taken my hand to parts of this cottage that need repair, for more and more do I see us here together, hiding away from the world. It is humble, I know, but I often picture you framed in the door in a simple gown, your hair about your shoulders. I see you lying asleep in the large bed I have begun to build us, with morning sun falling in dappled light upon your cheeks.