Somehow, I survived the first week with Juliet without being poisoned, impaled, or fired. Lady Capulet had actually done me a favor by starting the rumor that Tybalt fancied me. Disgusted by the thought, he had no desire to be seen anywhere near me. Of course, I did have to write letters to my mother once or twice a week to reassure her of the mutual loathing between Tybalt and myself.

The only problem I encountered was Rosaline. She was a great friend of Juliet’s, and she, along with her sister Livia, headed the haughty and exclusive collection of wealthy noblemen’s daughters in Verona. The never-ending backbiting of their vicious social circle was one part of my old life that I had been glad to leave behind. Since they were entirely superficial, none of them recognized me in my hand-me-down clothes. I begged Juliet to never tell them who I was.

“I don’t understand,” she said as we were walking back from yet another interminable visit to Rosaline’s. “Don’t you think they’ll be excited to find out a long-lost friend has returned? I’m certain they’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “I doubt it. We were never that close. I only kept company with them when forced to do so.”

“Goodness,” said Juliet, shocked. “What did you do all day?”

I smiled. “Lots of things. Mother taught me everything about running a household from cooking to overall management to etiquette. I took dancing and drawing lessons with Rosaline and her sort. Father has been accused of giving me a man’s education. He taught me Greek and Latin, how to run a business, and a whole host of other things. For pleasure, I read.”

“For fun?” she asked. “On purpose?”

“Yes,” I said. “I read everything--history, poetry, made-up tales…we had a huge library. Father made sure I read all the great books of philosophy and culture, but I loved the tales of the Greeks and Romans best-- the real and mythological. Sometimes they were absolutely appalling-- but so fascinating!”

Juliet shook her head. “I don’t know what you find fascinating about dead people and people that never even existed. How can they be more interesting than real people who are right in front of you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, stung. “Perhaps because… they place no demands upon me. With them I am free to love or hate whomever I wish without fear of retribution. I suffer as they suffer and taste their ecstasies. They are my friends, from the greatest hero to the most despicable villain, the mocking fool and the dizzy lover.”

Juliet shook her head in astonishment. “You’d better not let my parents hear you talking that way. You know they have their concerns about the strange education you were given. At times I think you’re a little crazy, Nurse.”

“No more so than anyone else. Speaking of madness, do you know where I might find a sword, Juliet?”

“Now I know you’re crazy,” said Juliet. “What on earth do you want with a sword?”

“Father had me take fencing lessons when I was younger,” I said. “Given the state of things in Verona, I thought it would be best to find one and get back into practice. I could teach you, if you like.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Juliet asked, horrified. “How could you even ask such a question? Swordsmanship is a man’s skill, Nurse. I’m sure we can trust our men to protect us.”

“I doubt it,” I said. “They’re too busy killing Montagues. It’s tempting fate for two women to wander about the streets of Verona unaccompanied.” I glanced around warily as the words left my mouth.

Juliet shook her head. “Your father must be a very strange man, Nurse. Whatever put it in his head to teach you to swordfight?”

“My mother asked the same question,” I said. “It was unheard of, scandalous. Father told her: ‘Love, you and I can’t always be around to protect her, and her brothers won’t be old enough to protect her for a long time. Hopefully before then she’ll have a fine brave husband to care for her, but life is unpredictable. I want her to be ready for whatever life throws at her.”

“He called her ‘Love?” Juliet asked. “That’s so sweet!”

“Did you even listen to the rest of what I told you?” I asked. “I suppose you needn’t worry. No Montague would dare hurt you. ”

As frustrating as Juliet’s naïveté was, I didn’t want her to lose the sweet spirit that went along with it. I was grateful that she was carefree and enjoyed being around people. I didn’t want her to be like me. “Trust me Juliet, I’m no warrior princess. I’m not even a warrior peasant. But it’s my job to look out for you and I’m also not really to die yet.”

Juliet grinned. “Don’t be ridiculous. We aren’t going to die.”

“Juliet, there are over 50 Montagues in this town who would like to see your family line wiped out…not to mention what might happen to us if something else happens to Tybalt’s mind, which isn’t terribly sound to begin with.”

“You counted them?” Juliet asked.

“Yesterday. I couldn’t sleep. That didn’t really help,” I said.

Juliet laughed. “You think too much, Nurse.”

In spite of the feud raging through Verona, Juliet’s life was exceedingly dull. She occupied herself in pursuits befitting the daughter of a lord of Verona, such as embroidery and gossip. Aside from fashion, her favorite pastime was gardening. We were constantly out in the garden, even in the fall, planting, picking, and pampering the courtyard garden. Achilles, the gardener, who considered himself ruler of the garden, disliked our interference, and Lady Capulet often rebuked us for staying out in the blazing Verona sun for too long, fearing that it would permanently blacken her daughter’s perfect pale complexion. Once we were safely back inside, Juliet would fret about her flowers.

“What if that gardener tears them up?” she whimpered.

“He won’t,” I reassured her. “He’d lose his job. Besides, he doesn’t really dislike you. He’s just a curmudgeon, that’s all. ”

Juliet was superstitious about flowers. Each flower or herb had its own meaning, practical or mythical, and she knew them all. At least, she thought she did. I added the flowers of the Greek myths to her vast store of knowledge on the subject. She was enchanted with the tales of how the Greek gods had created flowers in memory of their dead lovers. I personally thought that a flower was a poor trade for human life, no matter how beautiful. Juliet frequently sent me out to search for new flowers in all forms in the market square-- plants, cuttings, seeds and cut flowers. Despite all the new and glorious varieties I discovered, however, the roses remained her favorite.

“I love everything about them,” she said, burying her face in the huge bundle she carried in her arms. “Their color, their elegant, intricate shape, their scent…I think if love had a scent, it would be roses.”

When winter came, Juliet wilted with the flowers. In vain did I attempt to interest her in the glorious collection of books in the Capulet library. Her only escape from the house aside from visits to Rosaline-- and even Juliet tired of visits to Rosaline after a while-- was going to confession. We went to confession often. I don’t think Juliet was particularly pious, but she was desperate to get out of the house. I did not consider myself particularly pious either, and I quickly grew weary of confessing. Because I was a good Catholic, I confessed this to Friar Lawrence. “It’s depressing,” I added.

To my surprise, Friar Lawrence burst out laughing. It’s a rather frightening sound when it’s unexpected. “That is certainly true, Lady Elena. But if we are sincere in our confession, it keeps us humble.”

“I suppose,” I said. “But if you are confessing merely because you are forced to, it isn’t really sincere.”

“It is as sincere as you make it,” he countered.

“How many sins can she possibly have?” I continued. “I make certain that there’s no opportunity for her to get into trouble.”

Friar Lawrence sighed. “Oh, Daughter, you are in many ways wise beyond your years, but there is no height, nor depth, nor breadth to the trouble that a beautiful and wealthy thirteen-year-old girl can find.”

“What did you say to make Friar Lawrence laugh?” Juliet asked as we stopped at one of the gorgeous fountains of Verona to rest and admire it before continuing on our way home.

“I had an attack of petulance,” I said.

“Not my sainted, pious Nurse!” Juliet exclaimed, giggling. “What are you petulant about?”

“Confession,” I replied.

“We do go rather often,” Juliet agreed, “but sometimes I just can’t bear to be in the house another minute…especially when Father and Mother begin spewing hate against the Montagues…and I just stand there…I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say anything or not.”

“Silence is probably best,” I said. Lowering my voice, I asked her “Do you hate the Montagues?”

Juliet rounded on me with fire in her usually mild, dreamy eyes. “I do! I hate them and despise them for the miserable swine that they are! I--I--Sometimes, it frightens me, knowing how much I hate them. It’s as if…I can’t control it…I’d like to see them all dead.”

“Have you told the Friar?” I asked.

“No,” Juliet said. “And I don’t want to.”

The afternoon sun danced on the water of the fountain, turning simple water into streams of glowing gold. Juliet stared intently at the glorious spectacle as if she was trying to banish the darkness within. “Do your parents want you to get married, Nurse?” she asked, fingering a golden coin stamped with Prince Escalus’ honest visage.

“I don’t know,” I said. “If our position hadn’t changed, I think I would already be married. I don’t know who it would be. At the moment, we’re simple folk, grateful to have food on the table and a roof over our heads and a doctor for Father. I don’t think Father would consent to me marrying a… poor man, and I don’t see how I could marry someone of my rank because we…don’t matter anymore. I’m not like you, Juliet. Most of the men will see you as a rich prize, and I…I have no money, no dowry, no looks.”

“But if you loved someone your father didn’t like, you’d still marry him, wouldn’t you?” Juliet asked.

I shook my head. “I couldn’t…not if it meant that they would suffer physically. If it meant they lost all the things I had given them, I wouldn’t do it, no matter how much it hurt me…no matter how much I loved him.”

“What about a rich man?” she asked. “Would you marry a rich man to help their situation?”

“Only if I loved him, or thought I could love him, or if someone in my family was dying and it was the only way I could save them,” I replied. “So you see, my options are rather limited.”

“You’re very sensible, Nurse,” Juliet said.

I grimaced. “That makes me sound boring, not tragic.”

“Tragic people are seldom sensible,” Juliet replied. “That’s why they’re interesting.”

“So I am boring,” I said, sighing. “I suppose there are worse fates.”

Juliet turned to me, her eyes sparkling with sudden mischief. “All the same, Nurse, if some young man catches your eye I’ll help you catch him if I can.”

That made me laugh. “Why all this talk of marriage, anyway? Your parents have been shopping for a suitor for you since you were born…although your friends do tend to obsess over it, I’m afraid.”

“It’s better than talking about the feud,” Juliet said. She passed me a golden coin. “Wish!” she commanded.

She drew out another coin for herself, pressed it to her lips, and tossed it into the fountain.

I fingered my coin, all my wishes, dreams, and desires surging to the surface of my mind, wondering if there was really some magic in it after all. I thought of all the delight and security this one little coin could buy if put to practical purposes; but it was not given to me for that. It was meant to pass briefly through my fingers to satisfy a whim of Juliet’s. Hoping that there was some magic in it after all, I tossed it into the fountain.

“We’d best go home before it gets too dark,” I said, catching sight of Tybalt lurking in the gathering gloom across the square. His eyes were on a merry-looking trio of Montagues, but I certainly didn’t want to be mixed up in anything that might happen after the sun went down. In spite of Tybalt’s lurking presence, Juliet and I made our way safely through the crowded twilit streets.

“Way!” I shouted over and over. “Make way for the Lady Juliet!” It was like the parting of the Red Sea. A clear path opened before us through the throng of gentle, smiling faces. Though the people of Verona detested the feuding families, most admired the Lady Juliet’s sweetness and beauty. Memories of half-whispered conversations drifted through my mind:

“She can’t help being their child, after all…such a pious soul, too.”

“I’ll warrant she has an angel’s heart to match her face.”

Soon we were safely home. “Fetch my embroidery up to my room, Nurse,” Juliet said. “I’d like to do a bit before the light goes.”

“As you wish, my lady,” I replied. I arrived in her room with her embroidery a few moments later and found her leaning out over the balcony. She was fond of the balcony. Although high walls hid the streets of the city beyond, from the balcony she could see her beautiful garden and the vast glories of the sky. It was her sanctuary. I remained respectfully inside, watching her.

“What did you wish for?” I asked quietly.

Juliet turned to look at me, and smiled. “You musn’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?” I asked. “I’ve no friends to gossip with. The other servants are afraid of me.”

“You might tell your mother,” she said. “You correspond with her rather frequently.”

“I miss her,” I said. “It’s all I can do, since I’m not allowed to visit her. And I do tell her about you sometimes, but I won’t tell her if you do not wish it.”

“Good,” Juliet said, with evident relief. “I wished for romance. Not just any romance, either-- I wished for a romance so powerful that my name would be inextricably linked to his…that people would write stories about us and remember us forever…like Lancelot and Guinevere, or Antony and Cleopatra.”

“I was never terribly fond of Cleopatra,” I said, and then clapped my hands over my mouth as I realized what I had just said.

Seeing my mortified expression, Juliet laughed. “That is my Nurse indeed! Always honest!”

“Forgive me,” I said, appalled with myself.

“No, truly, I value your honesty,” Juliet said, coming inside. “And I know that neither of those couples ended well…but they mattered, Nurse! I…I don’t matter very much to anyone.”

“Nonsense,” I said. “You matter to me. And did you see how the people smiled as they made way for you in the street? They smiled! Do you know how often I see people in Verona smile these days?”

“How often?” she asked.

“Never,” I replied.

“Those three Montagues were smiling,” she said.

“I wonder if they’ll survive the night after smiling in Tybalt’s presence,” I said, a dull ache going through my heart as I spoke.

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a joke,” Juliet said.

“So you see you do matter,” I said. “Anyone who can bring smiles to sad faces matters a great deal.”

Juliet shrugged, not impressed by my attempts at encouragement. “What did you wish for, Nurse?”

I hesitated. “I wished that my father would regain his health and fortunes. I worry about him so.”

“A noble wish, unlike mine,” Juliet said approvingly.

“No-- it is selfish,” I said. “If I were truly noble I would have wished for an end to this feud.”