“I think we should go see Friar Lawrence,” said Benvolio, once we’d recovered enough from the shock to realize that we couldn’t stay at the west gate. “At least it’s safe there.”

I couldn’t think of anything better to do, so I agreed. “He’s supposed to be marrying Juliet and Paris, isn’t he? Surely he can do something.”

“Surely,” agreed Benvolio, “If he has the guts to admit what has really been going on. Perhaps we can give him some motivation. If worst comes to worst, we can always kidnap Juliet on the way to the wedding.”

“Or at the wedding,” I said. My last glimpse of Juliet hung like a specter in my mind: not the image of a goddess or a princess, but of a frightened little girl. “Exile or no exile, Romeo needs to get his tail back here.”

“He does,” Benvolio agreed, with the same simmering intensity of outrage. “Now more than ever we need him to prove his supposedly unswerving devotion. I’m riding out tonight to find him, as soon as we finish with the Friar. I can be there and back again before the wedding.”

“Some

The Friar looked pale when he opened the door to us. “I never thought I would say this, but thank goodness it’s you two.”

“Likewise,” replied Benvolio, entering. “Please enlighten us as to the extent of the mess that we’re in.”

“Our current plan is to stage a rescue at the church,” I said, as we sat down.

“I’m afraid that will be impossible,” said the Friar.

Benvolio scowled. “Why? I’ve done stupider things.”

“Because by then, Juliet will be dead.”

“What?” we both demanded at once. Benvolio drew his sword. “What have you done, you foul—”

The Friar held up his hands in protest, backing away. “Not actually dead. I gave her a sleeping potion, to give us some time. To all others, she will appear dead. It was the only thing I could think of.”

“First of all, there is no ‘us,” said Benvolio, still brandishing his sword. “Of all the terrible ideas, this may be your worst. What if Romeo thinks she’s dead?”

“Hear me out,” hissed the Friar. “I’ve sent word to Romeo. He’s going to break into the Capulet mausoleum and rescue her.”

Benvolio cursed. “I’d better go after him as well, to make sure. Give Elena the keys to the tomb.”

The Friar had evidently decided that Benvolio was not in a conciliatory mood, for he promptly drew out a long ring of keys and handed one to me.

“We’ll meet at the tomb tomorrow night,” Benvolio continued. “Elena, bring the horses stabled at the inn by the west gate.”

“You’re leaving now?” I asked, startled by his abruptness.

He nodded. “We don’t have any time to lose. If Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, he’ll do something really stupid.”

I said, “Not to be a raincloud, but you haven’t exactly prevented him from doing stupid stuff before.”

“Yes, but this time—" He shook his head. “I’ll be back before dawn. I promise.”

“You better,” I said, suddenly afraid.

“I will,” he replied. One quick last embrace, and he was gone.

I stared longingly at the door.

“You sure picked yourself a weird one,” said the Friar.

“Thank goodness for that,” I replied. Though I was still irritated with him, I decided an apology was needed. “We are grateful for your help, Father. You did what you could.”

“Thank you, my daughter,” he said.

*********

The next day was a dark one in my memory. I weathered the storm at my parents’ house, trying to play with my little brothers and not show them my fear. I wondered if anyone would notice if I did not go to Juliet’s “funeral.” No one did. The day dragged on in agonizing slowness. Finally, I told my parents goodbye and started on my ghostly journey.

The cemetery loomed large and shadowed in front of me like a spectral city of crooked monuments and empty houses. It was rimmed on two sides by a forest that at night was as twisting and black as the tombs. A thin sickle of moon like the last sliver from a cake of soap cast a counterfeit daylight over the scene. As I crept through the winding stones, I couldn’t decide whether I was more afraid of the dead or the living. Just as I spied the Capulet monument, I saw a torch flickering at the other entrance to the cemetery.

I dived down to hide behind the headstones and scrambled into the shadow of the woods. What other lunatic was in the cemetery at this hour of the night? Benvolio wouldn’t have been crazy enough to light a torch at the entrance. Fear ran through me like ice. As the figure drew nearer, I could see that it was a man in black. Suddenly, I realized that I was not the only one watching the torchbearer. Benvolio, looking as usual much worse for the wear, was pressed against the tombstone, straining his eyes into the night.

Weak with relief, I crawled towards him. He didn’t realize I was there until I put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped about a foot, and probably would have started screaming if I hadn’t clamped my other hand over his mouth. “Shh! It’s me,” I whispered frantically.

He stopped struggling and twisted around to embrace me. “Oh, thank heaven,” he murmured, still breathing hard with leftover fright. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Where’s Romeo?” I asked.

“He went around the long way to scout out the tomb,” he replied. “Who do you think that is?”

I squinted at the torchbearer. “I can’t tell from here.”

“Whoever he is, he’s not leaving. We’d better get closer in case something happens.”

We crept from monument to monument as stealthily as we could. Fortunately, the torchbearer, whoever he was, was too intent on what he was doing to notice us. We came to a halt behind a particularly elaborate tomb covered with the entire heavenly host of angels in statue form. As we peered out through the crumbling grey wings, I was finally able to make out the stranger’s face in the flickering torchlight. It was Paris, with his arms full of roses.

He began to arrange the flowers clumsily around the monument, unaware of his audience. Every so often, a sob would escape him. When he’d finished with the flowers, he sank down in front of the monument and sobbed like a child.

Benvolio took my hand. All we could do was watch. Poor fool. As I glanced down at our hands, I noticed that the tomb’s inscription read: MONTAGUE. I touched Benvolio on the shoulder to get his attention, and gestured slightly at the words. He nodded grimly and made an even smaller gesture towards the Capulet monument right next to it. All this time the Montagues and Capulets had been buried side by side.

We sat there, terrible human beings that we were, and waited for Paris to leave. If he saw us, there would be another fight, and the last thing we needed was three overwrought teenagers waving around shiny sticks of death. Paris began to wail as if he already belonged to the spirits of the dead. Without warning, Romeo leapt out from behind the monument, sword drawn. “Silence, you thrice-cursed fool! Juliet would yet be free from that tomb if not for your arrogance!”

Paris rounded on Romeo with terrifying fury. “Have you come all the way to mock me, vile Montague? Condemned villain, I arrest you!”

Benvolio caught my eye, and mouthed Now!

“Enough of this!” I cried as Benvolio and I sprang from behind the Montague tomb.

Romeo and Paris screamed, and Paris dropped his torch, which went out as it landed in the damp earth. Trembling, Paris gaped at us through the moonlight as if we were spirits of the dead, dressed in dark colors and filthy from crawling through the graveyard. He snatched up his torch and re-ignited it. “Who are you?” he stammered, squinting through the flickering light.

“Romeo, don’t you have enough sense to wait until after he left?” Benvolio said. “I hate introducing myself around Capulets. They have this terribly rude habit of trying to stab me without bothering to return the introduction.”

“Another vile Montague!” shrilled Paris, brandishing his sword. “What business do scum like you have at the tomb of my angel?”

“See what I mean?” Benvolio said to me, not letting down his guard.

“She is my angel!” Romeo growled. “Get out, while you still have legs!”

“Our business,” said Benvolio “is resurrection.”

Paris had rounded on Romeo. “Surely it is the cruelest form of mockery I have ever heard, to claim your hated enemy as your angel! She was mine, I tell you, she that lies dead in the tomb! My wife!”

“She is my wife!” Romeo countered, thoroughly enraged.

“Cease your idiotic yammering, both of you!” I cried. “Juliet is alive!”

As if by magic, Romeo and Paris turned as one to stare at me. The whole messed-up tale came tumbling out: “Juliet couldn’t marry you, Paris, because she is already married to Romeo, but she couldn’t exactly tell you this, and then Friar Lawrence got involved and she took something that made her appear to be dead so that she could escape, and here we are.”

“She’s alive,” breathed Romeo, as if still trying to convince himself of the fact.

“You witch from hell!” Paris screamed, lunging at me. I parried his attack, and gave him a taste of my own steel. “I always knew there was something wrong about you!” he growled. “You traitorous fiend! You’ve taken everything from me!”

So intent was he on slaughtering me— and so intent was I on not being slaughtered--that neither of us saw Benvolio come up behind Paris. A quick smack from Benvolio’s sword, and Paris crumpled to the ground, unconscious as a stone.

Benvolio looked down at him with a mixture of pity and disdain. “No one talks to my fiancée like that.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’d better get moving before he wakes up.”

“Don’t mention it,” Benvolio said, turning towards the tomb. Romeo was already scrabbling at it with his tools.

“She’s alive,” he kept repeating to himself as if he couldn’t believe it.

“I’ve got the key,” I said, fishing it out of my pocket.

Benvolio put a hand on Romeo’s shoulder. “Stand back.”

With some difficulty, I turned they key in the ancient, corroded lock. Benvolio and Romeo heaved the crypt door open with much creaking and groaning. It opened to a dark, shapeless void. I shuddered, imagining what it would be like to spend a night in this place. Romeo went first, his torch casting an unwelcome light in that palace of death. I directed him as best I could. Juliet’s resting place was deep within the monument. So many Capulets had died during the feud that there was scarcely room to walk. I veered slightly to the left of Romeo, and ran smack into a skeleton, sending it sliding off its slab in a clatter of bones. I shrieked in terror and clung shamelessly to Benvolio. We kept tripping over skeletons.

Finally, we caught up with Romeo. He had halted in front of Juliet. She bore only a faint resemblance to that silly little girl who had caused us so much trouble. She looked ancient and frightening in all her state, like a goddess waiting for her time to come again. Romeo’s hand shook, making the shadows flicker even more wildly as he stared at her. Tenderly, he pulled off the veil that covered her and caressed her cheek. “She’s so cold,” he said.

Benvolio put a hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be all right.”

Romeo nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as if he was trying not to cry. He handed the torch to me, then picked her up and carried her out like the bride that she was. We made our way towards the exit as quickly as we could. Several more Capulet skeletons bit the dust.

I was the first to climb out of the tomb. An instant later, rough arms grabbed hold of me and shoved me against the wall. I screamed. Paris slammed the door to the tomb shut. I tried to thrust the torch at Paris’ hands, but he wrenched it from my grasp, swearing bitterly when he realized that I was neither Romeo nor Juliet. He held his sword up to my neck, and I cried out in pain as the steel nicked my skin.

“Hold still,” Paris whispered savagely “or there’ll be more where that came from.” Then he turned his attention to the tomb. “Listen to me, you Montague dogs!” he screamed. “Give me Juliet or I will kill this traitorous wench!”

There was a long silence from inside the tomb, and when Benvolio’s voice came it was deeper and angrier than I had ever heard. “If you kill her, I will most surely kill you. You will have to open the tomb soon if you want your precious Juliet, and when you do, I will be waiting.”

Paris’ blade bit me again as he said, “That death potion you gave her will keep her alive longer than either of you.”

“How ironic,” I said through clenched teeth, resolved not to cry out again.

Benvolio said, “I don’t really follow your logic.”

“Don’t question my logic, dog!” shouted Paris. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so terrified. “Is that your answer, vile piece of filth?”

“No,” said Benvolio. “I’m simply making certain that you are fully aware of the situation. You might also want to consider that Juliet is still married to Romeo.”

“Only while he lives,” returned Paris.

“Try to kill him, then,” Benvolio replied. “He killed the most skilled swordsman in all of Verona.”

“I won’t wait all night, Montague,” Paris growled.

There was another long pause. At last, Benvolio shouted “Fine! We’ll give you Juliet!”

“What?” shouted Romeo from inside of the tomb. “How could you?”

Benvolio said “I’ve had enough! I’ve lost almost everything because of you two idiots. I’m not losing her! She’s not going to die for your happily-ever-after! You would do the same if he was threatening Juliet! Open the door!”

Paris chuckled. It made my skin crawl to hear it. He had another card to play, I could feel it, but he wouldn’t play it if I could help it. He had to shift his grip on me to open the door, and I saw my chance. I bit him as hard as I could, and wriggled out of his grasp like a fish out of a boat. Drawing my sword, I parried his blows as he lunged at me again, and I returned his attacks like a Fury. As we battled through the tombstones, I realized with dismay that Paris was a match for Tybalt and more.

“I let Tybalt boast,” Paris said, “but as you see I’m the true swordsman of Verona. I just didn’t feel the need to advertise it as I’d no interest in killing him.”

“Pity,” I replied, giving him better than he sent. “It would have made my life so much easier if you’d killed each other.” I struggled to keep my footing in the damp earth, trying to use the ridiculously complicated terrain to my advantage. So far, it wasn’t working. For an instant, I almost had him—my sword drew blood across his cheek, and I could tell it frightened him. “You didn’t remember me, did you?” I said, feeling exhaustion advancing upon me as swiftly as Paris’ attacks.

“Your father would be so ashamed if he could see you now.”

I was about to reply in kind when a new strategy struck me. Maybe I could play off his overconfidence just as I’d played off Tybalt’s anger. “He would?” I whimpered, pretending that his pathetic insults had hurt me.

Paris took the bait. “Of course he would, you brainless wench. Getting involved in the feud alone would appall him, but getting involved with a Montague? Breaking into the Capulet tomb? Arranging romantic intrigues? When I tell him what you’ve done, the shame of it will surely kill him.”

Channeling my inner Juliet, I gasped in feigned horror. “No! You—you wouldn’t. Please! Please, I beg you!” Beneath my pathetic front, I fought on harder than ever.

“Oh, I’ll tell him all right,” he said, grinning cruelly. “He’ll be glad that you’re dead.”

To this day, I’m not sure exactly how I did it, but in the next instant I knocked his sword out of his hand and had him at my mercy. I think we were both more surprised than anything. Actually, Paris was more terrified than anything. There’s something incredibly gratifying about seeing that look of terror in the face of a man who’s been trying to kill you. The transformation from fearsome swordsman into groveling child was wonderful to behold.

“Don’t hurt me, please!” he whimpered. “It—it’s love’s madness, that’s all. True love! Surely you of all people understand true love! Please! Don’t hurt me!”

I pressed the blade slightly against his neck so that it drew blood, and he screamed as if all the demons in Hell were after him. “Actually, I’m rather sick of hearing ‘true love’ used as the great excuse for all misdeeds, Paris. Along with revenge. This—” I stabbed him in the leg, and this time he screamed in real pain, “is to make sure you don’t follow us. And this is for my father.” I knocked him out, and he fell to the ground with a satisfying slump. “He taught me everything I know.”

I plucked his sword up from where it had fallen, turned on my heel, and left him. As the adrenaline rush died away, my legs turned to jelly. Much to my disgust, by the time I reached the Capulet tomb, I could barely stand because I was shaking all over. There was a gaping hole in the tomb and Benvolio was climbing out, covered in dust. When he saw me, he leapt the rest of the way out and ran to me, catching me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe. “Elena!” he gasped, and I didn’t care that he was filthy. “I thought I’d lost you. What happened?”

“I fought Paris,” I panted. “He’s back there somewhere. He’s still alive, but he won’t be chasing us for a while.”

His smile was positively glittering. “How can I possibly deserve you?”

“You do. Don’t worry about it. How in the world did you get out of there?”

Romeo’s voice piped up from inside the tomb. “The place was meant to keep the living out, not the dead in, that’s how. Now could I have a little help before you get too distracted? I can’t get myself and Juliet out of here alone!”

Benvolio let go of me and we both turned to the hole. “First of all, you have no room to talk about being too distracted, Loverboy,” he said as he pulled the still-unconscious Juliet out of the tomb. “And second, I am never going to let you live down the fact that you couldn’t carry a skinny little thing like Juliet dramatically out of the tomb by yourself.”

“Please don’t tell her!” Romeo said as he emerged from the tomb, coughing.

“Oh, I’m telling her,” Benvolio said. “And your children, and your grandchildren, and their grandchildren. Here is your bride, my lord,” he added, handing him Juliet.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Did you bring the horses?”

“Surprisingly enough, I did,” Benvolio replied. “Follow me.”

The horses were right where Benvolio left them— on the Genoa side of the forest.

“You should have let me kill Pairs when we had the chance!” Romeo grunted as he climbed into the saddle, hoisting Juliet into the saddle. He climbed in after her, and stopped. “I don’t care. She’s breathing again.”

Benvolio mounted the other horse. “Good.” He pulled me up into the saddle behind him. “Hold on tight,” he said to me—a command I was more than happy to obey. “I’m ready to put some distance between us and this town. Try to keep up, Loverboy!”

He flicked the reins, and the horse shot off through the trees.

We rode through what was left of the night, and on through the day until the sun was once again setting. Our first real stop was at a roadside inn beyond the Sparrow, somewhere near Cremona. Giddy with freedom and lack of sleep, we tumbled out of the saddle. I could barely stand. It had been ages since I’d ridden a horse, and never like that. Benvolio held me up, though he too was swaying with weariness. Romeo simply sank down into the inn yard, holding Juliet in his arms. As we stared blearily at them, Juliet’s eyes fluttered open. “Romeo?” she queried.

Romeo was struck speechless. I had never seen him so happy. In that moment, I finally believed that he really did love Juliet.

“What happened?” she asked dazedly. “Where are we?”

“We’re free!” he said, and to my surprise he was weeping tears of joy. “They saved us—Benvolio and Elena. Oh, my darling, my love—"

Well, you get the idea. I felt his happiness dimly, almost too tired to care. We crashed into a dreamless sleep at the inn and continued the next day at a slightly less blistering pace. The next few days were a blur of roads and inns. No one pursued us. Benvolio had written a letter to his parents explaining that he’d gone on a particularly long business venture and he didn’t know when he’d be back. We weren’t sure how long it would take Paris to raise the alarm, but we would be long gone before they could organize themselves properly. Benvolio and I devoted ourselves entirely to our own plans on the weary, bumpy road to our new home.

For once, everything went just as we planned it. The day after we arrived in Genoa, Benvolio and I were married quietly in the most beautiful cathedral I had ever seen. It was a small audience, just us, the priest, Romeo, and Juliet. She had somehow managed to find me a new dress. The ceremony itself seemed like the last terrifying obstacle. There we were, two renegade wanderers suddenly hand in hand in that solemn, glorious place. After the ceremony, we set off towards home, abandoning ourselves to giddiness at last. It was morning, and we could feel the breeze coming up from the coast, enticing us onward.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, resting against Benvolio’s shoulder as I had for the past several days.

“It’s about to get even more unbelievable,” he said, with the same tone of dizzy delight. “Look!”

A magnificent house stood sparkling on the edge of the sea. I had never seen the ocean before, and now it spread wide before me, bluer and brighter than anything I had ever seen. “Oh…you were right, it is unbelievable.”

“That’s our house,” he said, as if he too were seeing it for the first time. He spurred the horse into a gallop. “We’re almost there!” The horse galloped faster and faster, at the last second turning not to the house, but to the beach. We rode across the sand and straight into the foaming turquoise sea, laughing in sheer delight. Benvolio leapt off the horse and into the water, then lifted me off the horse and twirled me around in the air. “We did it!” he said breathlessly as he set me down gently in the water, pulling me into him. “We’re safe! We’re free! We’re home!” Then he kissed me out in the open where anyone could see, and this time there was no fear to mingle with our joy.

To my dearest daughter, Lady Elena Montague, greetings and congratulations!

You cannot imagine how relieved your father and I were that you four are safely home in Genoa and that you and Benvolio are married! Prince Escalus threw a small party to celebrate. I can hardly wait to come and visit you and see your wonderful new life there for myself, but of course we will give you time to settle in! Your departure has thrown the feud into a state of confusion. The Capulets are furious, but they are also so relieved that Juliet is alive that they haven’t been able to pursue matters further. Lord Capulet is too old to go chasing young scoundrels across Italy and the Prince has put Paris in prison to cool his heels. Time will tell. The Montagues aren’t upset at all. They view the whole odd turn of events as a win over the Capulets, since Benvolio and Romeo completely humiliated the Capulet clan. In other news, Lorenzo has lost two more teeth and your father’s business has picked up brilliantly since some of the Montagues have started quietly patronizing him. David may go into business with your father next year, and Lorenzo can now read almost as well as you can. Our new rooms are finally starting to feel like home. I’ve finally stopped missing the old place. It sounds like you have too. Here comes Brother John with the post. I wish you the best, and hope to see you soon!

Your loving mother,

Lady Athena Carafa