CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 25

How I hoped Papà and Mamma had worked their magic with the children!

I hurried after Prince Escalus onto the path and saw them leading a pack of chattering juveniles and in the midst, Princess Isabella. Her face was smudged, her hair partially unbound, her rumpled clothing bore witness to rough play. Yet she was laughing, her face alive as it had not been when she arrived.

We were as yet unseen, and Prince Escalus stopped to stare.

I didn't know what he was going to relate to, her dirty, disheveled appearance or her pleasure in the recreation, but I needn't have worried.

He said, "I see my sister has happily joined the beasts."

Sometimes he was so dry he made my mouth pucker.

At that moment, Isabella caught sight of him and broke into a run. She caught his arm and hugged it, and smiled into his face. "Brother, Lord Romeo and Lady Juliet ask that I stay for the evening meal. May I? May I please?"

For the first time, I saw him uncertain. "Surely after imposing for so many hours, it would be best if we—"

"She didn't impose!" Cesario hadn't yet thoroughly comprehended the respect owed to a prince. He stomped forward. "She's okay . . . for a girl."

Isabella pulled his hair.

Cesario grabbed her hand.

They wrestled.

Papà took them both by the elbows and chided, "If you behave with unruly enthusiasm, Prince Escalus will never allow Isabella to visit us again."

Mamma curtsied, which reminded the other girls to curtsy, and Papà and Cesario to bow. "Welcome to Casa Montague, Prince Escalus. If you can take a break from your weighty obligations, we would indeed enjoy entertaining you and your sister tonight."

"Please, Escalus. Please," Isabella begged again.

Cesario echoed her. "Please, Escalus. Please!"

"Prince Escalus," Papà told him. "He has a title and an important one."

"Prince Escalus," Cesario repeated. "Do I have to call you Princess Isabella?" he asked her.

"Only when you make me mad," she replied.

Emilia took her arm. "He'll have to call you Princess Isabella all the time."

The girls laughed. Cesario objected. The children passed us by and moved like a buzzing swarm of bees toward the house.

Papà said, "My prince, I add my entreaty to my lady Juliet's. If we can provide you with a moment of pleasure and lightness, do join in our informal meal."

Prince Escalus yielded. "If we're not imposing, we would be delighted to dine with your family."

I stood still and watched as they walked away, and murmured, "Dining with the beasts." For as we did when not engaged in a social occasion, the whole family dined together on one long table. Everyone talked. Everyone listened. Everyone ate. Everyone sipped wine, even the children, and gave their opinion of the scents, the flavors, the impacts. In a family of vintners, we learned early.

This night would not be the usual civilized meal presented to the prince.

I would be interested to see how he reacted.

Yet always at the back of my mind, I knew Lysander was nearby, listening, contemplating the events of the previous night and the facts gathered today, and he in his foresight had given me a great gift—a dagger.

Yes, Nurse had given me one first, but it was the thought that counts . . . and I had begun to think two weapons was none too many.

Without looking into the alcove, I put my arms behind me and lightly caressed the sleeve where beneath Lysander's scabbard rested. The touch was a silent thank-you for his thoughtfulness and a promise of a kiss not yet delivered.

The faintest whisper of a sigh answered me. Lysander had heard all; he knew I wouldn't be returning tonight.

I heard the crunch of gravel on the path, and Prince Escalus arrived at my side, startling me with his unexpected appearance. He offered my arm. "Lady Rosaline, I apologize for leaving you behind. Do come and join your family, and mine."

I stared at the crook of his elbow as if I'd never seen such a thing, then gingerly placed my hand on his sleeve. "I wonder, Prince Escalus, if you spoke with young Orlando about his rapid return to Verona after his brother's death."

"I did, indeed. After I questioned the family about Porcia's death, I visited Casa Creppa and was lucky enough to find Orlando dispersing his brother's clothing and shoes to the impoverished of Verona."

"Dispersing them? Personally? How?"

"He was throwing them out the window."

God forgive me, I laughed. "Yes, I can see him doing exactly that, and enjoying himself, too. Did he give a reason why he had come so swiftly on the heels of Duke Stephano's death?"

"He'd been to visit his parents in their cold, inhospitable castle, and after finding them miserable and ill, in a rage he rode back to Verona to kill his brother."

In an instant, I went from amused to shocked. "Orlando freely admitted such a thing?"

"He did, but claims late last night before he rode into the city, he stopped at an inn for wine and bread and a place to sleep, and in the public room was greeted by the news of his brother's death at the hand of his latest affianced wife. He celebrated inappropriately—"

"Or appropriately."

Prince Escalus paused. "Yes. That's one way to think about it. Riding into the city in the late morning, he saw you and, he said, thanked you."

"He did. I denied it, but he made me the center of attention. It was uncomfortable." I thought again about Orlando, how openly he'd celebrated his brother's death, and the shadow I'd sensed that brooded in his spirit. "He is the heir. By his brother's death, he'll inherit everything."

"Incorrect. His father is the duke."

"Right. I forgot that."

"Orlando says he intends to reinstate his father as the head of the family."

How interesting. "Do you believe him?"

"Yes, within reason. Orlando and I will stay close until I feel certain about his character and his intentions."

I confessed, "I like him so much. I want him to be innocent. But I can't see through the shadows of the life he's lived since he left Verona."

"Nor I. If Orlando the man be who he says he is, I rejoice in him, for I need such men as an arrow in my quiver. But there's been too much desperate treachery and prowling death for me to blindly trust a boy embittered by exile and the man he's become."

Prince Escalus talked to me about shining truth and blind justice, and when he spoke I comprehended all the difficulties he faced in his solitary trek to justice for his family and Verona.

He placed his hand on mine, pressing it to his arm, and I walked with him toward the house, away from my true love.

The silence between the prince and I felt deep and dark and brooding, out of sync with the sunny evening, the dappled leaves, the singing birds that populated our garden. In a cordial tone, he asked, "Did you notice how, in the alcove where we sat, the branches were bent and fresh leaves had fallen to the ground?"

"What? No!" That was the truth. I hadn't noticed. Weakly I suggested, "Perhaps the gardener trimmed the verge?"

"The smallest piece of cloth clung to the branches, and some thread of a most vibrant and ill-favored color. It almost appears that someone who wished to remain hidden skulked there for a time. I'll speak to Lord Romeo about watching for scoundrels who would climb the wall and invade the Montague home. I take my duties as podestà of Verona seriously; if one criminal can overwhelm the defenses, all can. No man should threaten you, Lady Rosaline. Or your beloved family. Or mine."

"Of course, my prince. Thank you, my prince." He was right; if Lysander could get in, others could gain access to our home and my brother and sisters could be at risk. I felt a pang at my previous disregard for the danger.

Yet . . . I would have to find a way to get word to Lysander. For soon he would try to return to me.