Juliet and Romeron

Juliet was walking home through the woods when she heard it---voices and the sounds of a scuffle. The sun was setting and she had to hurry home, for Father had strict rules about her being out after dark, but one of the voices was familiar.

           “Ian! What are you doing?” Juliet followed the sounds to a clearing, where Ian Bracebridge had drawn a short sword and was standing over a boy Juliet had never seen, who was on his knees in the clearing, his face white with fear. Ian’s friends stood nearby, laughing, as Ian playfully waved the sword closer and closer to the boy’s face.

           “Juliet! What are you doing here?” Ian turned, keeping the sword’s point close to the stranger boy’s chin.

           “I was berry-picking.” Juliet raised the two pails of berries she carried. “Whatever is going on here?”

           “Your father will be proud of me----this is Romeron Montgomery. His grandfather Silas Montgomery was the wizard, the old sorcerer who lived up on Black Ridge Mountain. But the likes of Romeron will not endanger these lands anymore---not after today.” Ian drew the sword’s point deftly upward, with just enough pressure to draw a drop of blood from Romeron’s chin. Juliet felt her temper rising.

           “What has this Romeron done to you?” Juliet asked with an edge in her voice.

           “He ventured out into these woods; is that not enough?” Ian replied snidely.

           “Well, it might be enough for my father, but it’s not enough for me. Drop that sword at once and let him go, Ian, or you shall not be my escort at the ball tomorrow night.” For a moment Ian looked at her with such cold fury that Juliet was frightened, but she knew what pride Ian took in having her on his arm at the county balls, and how he looked forward to the moment when he would make her his betrothed and step into a portion of her father’s power. Her calculations were correct, for in the next moment Ian sheathed his sword.

           “Come on, fellows.” Ian said, summoning his friends. For one further moment, he glowered at Romeron. “Watch out, weakling; if we find you in these woods again, it will not go well for you.” Then he looked again at Juliet. “Shall I escort you home, Juliet?”

           “No, I---I would not want my mother to think that you and I were loitering together improperly. I best go home alone. Besides, your house is in the opposite direction, and it is growing dark.”

           “As you wish, then,” Ian said and took her hand, raising it to his lips in farewell. “Until tomorrow.” For the first time, Juliet felt a twinge of distaste at his touch, but she only nodded. She made a show of leaving the clearing, walking slowly with a lady’s proper dignity, but the instant she could no longer hear Ian and his friends crashing along in the opposite direction, she hurried back. As she had hoped, Romeron was still there, sitting against a tree, his head in his hands.

           “Are you all right?” Juliet asked gently.

           “Of course. It’s just a scratch.” Romeron said raising his head, but his hands were trembling. The dried blood on his chin was bright red against the fear-white of his face. Juliet noticed, for the first time, that he had thick brown hair, enormous brown eyes, long white fingers, and a perfect smattering of freckles. “You are Juliet Kaplan? And that is your beau?”

           “His name is Ian Bracebridge. We grew up together. I am so sorry---that was monstrous, what he did to you. But how is it that you and I have not met before? The Montgomery estates cannot be not far from here.”

           “I d-don’t—I don’t usually go out; I have tutors at home. But sometimes it is quite confining and I just yearn to see something new---a different brook or different trees.” Romeron sighed. Juliet lowered herself so that she was sitting beside him under the tree.

           “Was your grandfather really a wizard?”

           “Yes, he was,” Romeron said with bitter regret. “And I wish I could go abroad somewhere, where no one has ever heard of Silas Mongomery!”

           “Sometimes, I wish I could go somewhere too---” Juliet said quietly. “where no one knew I was Edmund Kaplan’s daughter.”

           “I don’t blame your father, really,” Romeron said thoughtfully. “He is a powerful man in Verona Woods, and sorcerers and wizards and others with powers like my grandfather’s could take that away from him. It is no surprise that he has been so vocal about wanting such folk out of this land.”

           “But you are not Silas --- what did you ever do?” Juliet exclaimed.

           “Nonetheless, I fear I will never be able to shed the curse of being Silas Montgomery’s grandson. After all, I might have wizardly powers growing inside me.” Romeron replied. “Although,” he went on ruefully. “If I have such powers, I wish they had shown themselves today!”

           “You could have turned Ian’s sword into a toad!”

“Forgive me, for I know you care for him, but I think if I had the power, it is Ian himself I would have turned into a toad.” Romeron said, with a grin. Juliet smiled back, looking up at the darkening sky.

           “I really must get home now ----”

           “I will not ever forget what you did for me, Juliet.”

           “I hope that we shall meet again, Romeron Montgomery. But, beware, there is a ball tomorrow night at my house. Be sure you are well away, for Ian will be there. I would not want anything to happen to you. And do not ever despair; you are much more than Silas Montgomery’s grandson to me.” Before Juliet could stand, Romeron reached for her, and took her hand in his. They rose up together, and he put her hand to his lips in farewell, just as Ian had done moments before. But now there was no distaste, no unpleasant twinge, and Juliet was loathe to withdraw her hand, gather up her berry pails, and hurry away home.

           The next evening, Juliet found herself on Ian’s arm, standing in a tight cluster of his friends, sipping punch and listening to Ian tell, again, the story of his encounter with Romeron Montgomery.

           “He’ll not trespass in these woods again, not after the gash I left him.” Ian boasted. His friends laughed and nodded, but Juliet felt only a restless disgust. She could not retire completely, she thought, but she might take a brief respite, and perhaps when she returned, Ian would be better, speaking and thinking of something---anything---else.

           “Pardon me.” Juliet said, when Ian paused to draw breath. “Something has happened to the fastening of my necklace, I fear.” She laid her hand on the single strand of pearls at her throat. “I will just go upstairs and leave this in my room, so that I will not lose it.” Ian nodded, hardly seeming to notice as she left, for he had resumed his description of what he planned to do to Romeron should he encounter him again.

           Upstairs, Juliet sat on her bed, staring out the window at the night sky full of stars and feeling a heavy burden at the thought of the hours that stretched ahead before the ball would end. She had just about summoned enough energy and courage to go back downstairs when there was thrashing and scratching outside, and a face appeared at her window.

           “Romeron Montgomery!” Juliet exclaimed, throwing the window wide open. Romeron crouched on a tiny bit of rooftop, still holding to the limb of the tree he had climbed to reach his perch. “Come in here this instant, before you fall to your death!” Juliet held out her hand and Romeron eased himself through the window. When they stood together, face to face, in her room, he took her hand, as he had before, and kissed it. Juliet snatched her hand away and hastened to shut her chamber door. “What are you thinking?” she scolded. “I thought I told you to stay well away from here. If Ian finds you---or my father---I hate to think what might happen!”

           “I---I wanted to see you. It seemed safe enough; the ball is well underway now, so everyone is occupied, and besides, your bedroom faces back toward the forest, not out toward the road. I was only just testing the climb---I had thought to climb back down and curl up on the ground, between the tree and the house, and wait there until later, after the ball, when you would come back to your room. But now---here you are. Have you been taken ill, to leave your parents’ ball so early?”

           “Well, after a fashion, I am ill, I suppose. I am weary of listening to Ian and that has me feeling a bit poorly.” Juliet said, sitting down on her bed.

           “You look lovely tonight.” Romeron remarked. “Your gown is the color of roses, and it brings out the pink in your cheeks.” Shyly he seated himself next to her.

           “Your cheeks are pink too, from tree-climbing no doubt.” Juliet grinned and, almost without knowing that she did so, she reached over and took his hand in hers. He did not pull away, but moved closer, and in the next moment, they had kissed, a long fiery kiss that left them both flushed and breathless.

           “I cannot stay here.” Romeron said, his hands soft on her cheek. “But I hardly can bring myself to leave, for I know you are to be betrothed to Ian and---”

           “And we might never see each other again, if I am to spend the rest of my life on Ian’s arm.” Juliet supplied, tracing her fingers through the lock of hair that fell over his eyes. “But we might---” she said, blushing at such a forward and unladylike thought. “have a few moments …”

           Just then, while they were still entwined in their embrace, Edmund Kaplan and his wife burst into the  room, worried at Juliet’s disappearance from the ball. Juliet leaped to her feet and frantically smoothed her skirts and hair, all the while trying to keep herself as a barrier between her father and Romeron.

           “You are Romeron Montgomery, grandson of that evil wizard Silas! You have trespassed on my land and dared to corrupt my daughter; I will see you pay---pay with your life for these crimes!” Edmund was purple with rage, for he knew that it would be all he could do to keep word of this scene from becoming the gossip of all the county. Behind Edmund, his wife, Rosamund, began to weep; her husband’s rage frightened her, and the worry that her daughter had stained the family’s social standing for good frightened her even more.

           “Father! Romeron has done nothing! I am not corrupted. Please---” Juliet begged.

           “How could you do this, daughter?” Edmund whirled, turning his rage on Juliet. “When Reginald Bracebridge’s son is waiting downstairs, planning this very night to ask for your hand in a marriage that will be the pride, honor, and envy of the entire county!” Juliet’s heart sank. She had guessed, of course, that Ian was planning to eventually propose, but tonight--- Even if her father could somehow be convinced to let Romeron go quietly, she was no longer sure she could say yes to Ian.

           “Father, I---I am not ready to be betrothed to Ian. I think I need more time.” Juliet tried to speak in a measured tone, but her words only caused her mother to sob more loudly and Edmund’s face grew more and more highly colored with rage. Seeing his plans for his daughter’s future crashing down around him, Edmund turned back to Romeron.

           “This is all your fault; you have done this!” Edmund stormed. “You have seduced my daughter with your grandfather’s old and evil magic!” And Edmund advanced on Romeron. He had drawn the long Kaplan sword, a symbol of power that hung always at his side, and he backed Romeron toward the wall. But Juliet could see that Romeron was not the frightened boy of yesterday.

“I have not seduced your daughter by magic,” Romeron declared. “and I will no longer tolerate being accused and shunned for powers my grandfather wielded nearly 100 years ago! My family deserves its honor and place in this land!”  Romeron reached into the waistband of his trousers and drew out a knife. He slashed at Edmund, who, not expecting the weapon, had come too close---the knife sliced the hand that held the sword. Edmund roared in pain and surprise and fury, and Juliet heard her mother scream. Juliet stepped closer, trying again to put herself between Romeron and Edmund, and when Edmund raised the sword and swung against Romeron, the blow struck his daughter instead. Juliet crumpled to the ground, blood spreading down the length of her rose-colored gown, darkening it to crimson.

“My daughter! Oh God, my Juliet!” Edmund howled, dropping the sword and falling to his knees.

           “Edmund! O Edmund, what have you done?” Rosamund shrieked. Together on the floor, wailing and moaning in grief and anguish, they cradled their daughter’s lifeless body.

           Still in the corner, Romeron’s eyes grew wide as he watched the growing mayhem and looked upon the corpse of the girl he had begun to love. She saved me, he thought, and this is how I repay her. She was strong and beautiful; now she is dead because of me. I was right, Romeron thought, I will never outlive my grandfather’s legacy: it has cursed the only one I will ever love, the only one who ever loved me. Edmund’s sword lay nearby, still wet with Juliet’s blood. Romeron reached for it and kissed it, wetting his lips with her blood. Then, in one swift movement, he plunged the sword into his heart.

           In the days after Romeron’s death, the Montgomerys left Verona Woods forever, retreating to the seclusion of the mountain where Silas had worked his magic. Edmund Kaplan was struck with madness and lived but a few years more. After his death, his wife retired to a nunnery to do penance for her husband’s sins and pray for her daughter’s soul. And Ian Bracebridge never married.