Chapter Text
Reckless
A Sequel to the Ending “Blessed Citizens” Romy and Julius Fanfic
Chapter 1: Apothecary
Romy treasured the quiet hours of the morning now more than ever. She mentally rehearsed their itinerary for the day as she made preparations. Though certainly, things could and would change often. Most early morning hours she tended their herbal garden outside the little cottage where her father had once sent her for refuge. Now it was her and Laurence’s home. When it was cold and the garden slumbered, she took inventory in their little cellar and made kitchen preparations of the herbs that Laurence had taught her. They usually had a list of deliveries to make in town each day as they rounded between patients’ homes and the church.
There was always some emergency that called Laurence away from their regular patients it seemed. But the smaller things and follow-up changes of bandages and such she could manage on her own.
Francesca was nearing the birth of her third child and the baby could be due any day now, so Romy anticipated being interrupted at any time now. Lucetta also was nearing term, but not as far along. Romy hoped that her child would wait.
Signore Mercutio and his wife had the ague. They required a regimen of grapefruit extract alternated with ginger tea. They had very little sweet wormwood extract left from the Oriental traders, but Laurence had taught her that this was best for treating seasonal cases of fever that most often developed around ethers that arose near stagnated waters. Verona was affected by this illness seasonally but less so than southern Italian cities such as Rome. Signore Mercutio and his wife had just returned from the Vatican, and likely were afflicted from the unclean ethers they encountered during their travel.
Mercutio was a good natured man and always joked, no matter how nasty the tonic was that she forced him to take. His wife, was generally gracious and good natured, though she seemed much quieted and more affected by the illness. In her feverish state she kept saying some disturbing things about a greater darkness coming upon them. She called it a “blight upon Christendom.” Romy shivered, recalling her own encounter with Escalus. Every day she thanked God that she and Laurence still lived to share their little cottage together and visit their neighbors. She did her best to reassure Signore Mercutio and his wife, and attributed her ramblings to the fever, but Signore Mercutio was quite lucid when he gripped Romy by the arm and admonished her with an earnest warning: the calm and peace that they now experienced was as still waters before a storm.
She promised him that Laurence would visit to discuss with them and the Bishop when they were recovered. This seemed to satisfy Mercutio, but he still would not tell Romy what else he knew. Romy sighed. No matter how useful she tried to make herself, people still tried to skirt around her and protect her by going directly to Laurence.
She wasn’t the silly spoiled girl that she had once been. While many noble women in the city shunned her for marrying “down” in the social stratus, she was happy and conducted herself with dignity. Most of the citizens saw that and welcomed her and Laurence with trust.
Romy tried to push her unease about Mercutio’s admonishment aside and ran her finger down the list as she placed another vial into her delivery basket.
Next there was Benvolio who had chronic rheumatism. He would meet her by the church at noon to pick up his tincture of willow bark. Romy had it readied, and went over her list of herbs to replenish in their little apothecary shop.
Chamomile tea and eucalyptus oil with camphor incense for those with shortness of breath.
Honey and white flowering marrubium extract could be hardened into little candied lozenges for those with cough or sore throat.
Romy had enjoyed learning how to take care of the bee hives behind the abbey in order to harvest the honey. Most people used honey in cooking and drank it with their tea, or ate it plain with bread, but the churches’ honey most often was used in Laurence’s poultices for burn wounds and for the little candied lozenges that were so effective for cough during the winter months.
She had just replaced the jar of lozenges on the shelf when a young man breathlessly ran into her house without knocking.
“Signore Rosetti has cut himself on the scythe! His blood is gushing out everywhere!” The youth was pale as a sheet.
This would be a job for Laurence. He was already awake and grabbing his coat as he followed the young man out the door. He placed a quick peck on Romy’s cheek as he added, “You have the deliveries my dear!” And just like that, he was out the door again and she had no idea how long he would be gone. But it would be selfish to object. His was not a work that could wait, and so she waved goodbye to wish him well though no one was watching as they hurried off to help Signore Rosetti.
Romy leaned against the church wall at noon waiting for Benvolio. She closed her eyes momentarily as she leaned back and tilted her head skyward. Echoes of Laurence’s chanting and the demon’s shrieks filled her mind.
Signora Romy?” It was Benvolio. “Signora! You’ve got to come quick! It’s Lucetta! Her baby’s come early! Much too early!”
Romy’s blood ran cold. She had always assisted Laurence since their marriage. She boiled bandages and made sure that the women were comfortable. She made dwale, a potent sedative derived of nightshade, henbane, or opium diluted in spirits, to ease the pain for surgical patients but no anesthetic was given to the women in childbirth. No matter how difficult the labor, dwale was feared as it could weaken their ability to birth the child if the mother lost consciousness.
“N-now?” Romy stammered. Why oh why now? Laurence was still helping the injured Signore Rosetti. Romy almost wished they had traded places. Truly, tying a bandage around a wound and placing stitches couldn’t be that much different than sewing, right? But now here she was, being asked to do the work of a midwife and deliver this baby on her own. “Is there no one else?” She voiced her question silently, only in her mind. She already knew that there wasn’t anyone else to help.
“Alright. I’ll come. Let us hope that Laurence comes back soon. I’ll help with the preparations.”
Romy followed Benvolio to his grand daughter Lucetta’s house. It was her first child.
“Is there nothing you can give me to keep the baby from coming so early?” She cried……
“What were you doing, working in the kitchen like that-you started the labor……” Her husband was scolding, panicked.
“That won’t help,” she placed her hand upon his arm with a tone of soft reprimand.
Lucetta was clearly going to have her baby now as these contractions were happening stronger and more frequently.
Romy helped her to a cot in the foyer room as she could not make it to the bed. Romy gave her a pillow to lift her head, and started the bandages boiling. This was the part that always made her feel sick to watch, and she didn’t know how she would manage it alone.
The baby was breach and had to be turned. Out of necessity, Romy did not wait for Laurence. She could see Signora Lucetta’s distress and was so overcome with concern for her, she overcame her own aversion. She delivered the baby and cut the cord.
The child was small and didn’t cry at first but Romy clapped her on the back and the squalor of a newborn baby girl rang out through the little cottage.
“Here you are, Romy wiped the baby girl down and placed her across her mother’s chest. “No matter how exhausted you both are, she needs to nurse right away. Although I’ll see if I can find a wet nurse who can help. Little babies born so early have trouble nursing. But keep her elevated like this against you, see?” Romy helped the tearful Lucetta as she smiled to take her newborn daughter.
Romy winced a little, blinking back tears and a sending up a silent prayer that the little girl would survive. Many people did not name their children until they were older. The infant mortality rate was too high.
But Lucetta placed her hand over Romy’s wrist…….”We will call her Rosemary, for you Romy,” She smiled. “Thank you, thank you so much! She will make it. I know she will.” Lucetta leaned back with a sigh and Benvolio placed a hand on Romy’s shoulder.
“I’ll help you with the rest of your deliveries Signora Romy. My old bones feel better if I keep moving anyhow! You should go home and rest.”
Romy nodded as Benvolio helped her onto the seat of his little wagon. Everything was clearly labeled in the basket and she trusted the elder gentleman to help her finish her deliveries.
“I can’t…..I can’t go home and rest just yet! She told him. Can you please take me to the silk mill?”
Her father had left her the foundation of the family business, even as smaller businesses and assets were divided amongst other male relatives. Senior Capulet did the same, and this helped to lessen the feud and hastened its resolution. Julius had not stayed in Verona, but abdicated his inheritance after Romy married Laurence. Senior Capulet had hoped for a merger of the Capulet and Montague empires, but it was not to be. And after all that had happened, he acquiesced and was simply grateful that his son was still alive to pursue any endeavor his heart desired. Romy was grateful that he relented and gave his blessing to Julius before he left to become a traveling fencing instructor for noble families across Europe. He had always loved to travel. And he had also made amends with Paris, who now in his right mind was working on governing Verona in a peaceful manner. He worked as feverishly as Romy, far more in fact, as if trying to atone for his past misdeeds.
He always looked tired and his eyes always looked sad or hollow. Romy no longer hated him, but felt a shred of sympathy for the man who once tried to kill her.
Laurence was no businessman, but he still sat on the council of city advisors with Paris. And the silk mill was an important piece of Verona’s infrastructure. And the reality was, that while the property legally was deeded to Laurence, Romy over saw most of its operation.
She made all the decisions for hiring and dismissing employees, had recently chosen to expand and improve employee housing, and chosen to employ widows and single young women who were without family support.
She ran her hands over the silk threads, which once woven and then split, would make lush velvet that could be embossed and set into the finest gowns or used as upholstery for finely crafted carriages and furniture.
Romy ran her fingers down the hem of an emerald green velvet brocade. She missed wearing these fine things at times. But now she was afraid she had let her father down. They were losing the tariff war with the guild of silk merchants in Florence, and they had been affected by an early cold snap that caused the loss of most of their silk worms this year. The Medici family grew more powerful, and Romy was tired of feuds. They simply could not maintain their production and even if they could, the small amount of silk and velvet they managed to produce would be too expensive to export to other Italian cities thanks to the Florentine merchant’s guild.
She sighed with sadness feeling that perhaps her father was wrong to entrust her with what had once been the cornerstone of their family business. She hated the idea of dismissing any of her workers, but she didn’t know how, under present circumstances she could keep them. She did not want to turn any of them out into the cold. Maybe some of them could find temporary refuge in the Abbey and help with the orchards and vineyards? The Abbey’s winery also suffered from the sudden weather change, and she didn’t know if the church lacked funds to assist.
What if, what if they used the opportunity to shift their trade elsewhere? Romy shifted through correspondence that she had received recently from France. She dipped her quill pen into the ink well and agreed to sell their silk worm production to the young investor in Tours.
She wept a little when the letter was complete. She hoped that the little caterpillars could be resilient as the climate in France was considered harsh compared to the more “mild” climate of Verona. She wrote to the investor what they had learned about how to keep them alive and when to harvest and move them toward their “season” based upon local climate. She wished him good success, and thanked him, for he was paying her for this starting supply of silk worms and a hefty price for the centuries’ old secrets as well.
With the amount that he paid, she would have enough to satisfy their debts within the city and to provide each worker an ample amount of severance pay to assist with their relocation. She imagined many would relocate to Tours as silk making was a rather rare and refined skill. She gritted her teeth a little knowing that others would move to Florence and work for their once opponents, but it couldn’t be helped.
Everyone needed to earn a living, and she needed more time to focus on her efforts assisting Laurence and the church. They had been so busy, she didn’t know how they would ever find time to raise a family of their own.
Although, thinking back to what she had witnessed this afternoon with Lucetta, Romy wasn’t sure she was overly eager to take on the experience personally any time soon.
She placed a hand subconsciously over her abdomen wondering……she had felt queasy after mass but she hadn’t said anything to Laurence yet. She didn’t want to tell him anything until she was certain.
“Are you ready, Signora Romy?” Benvolio waited tiredly with hat in his hand beside his little wagon. It was already late, night was already falling.”
“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you Signore Benvolio, please take me home.”
The elderly man gave a quip “geddup!” and lightly flounced the reins and the little pony dutifully trudged back to her cottage outside of town. The carriage bumped and lurched and Romy felt a strange fluttering within. She thought perhaps she was nervous because of the day’s events, but when she stepped out she felt a little light headed.
She thanked Benvolio for waiting for her all day and attempted to give him a tip, but he refused, saying that his willow bark tincture was payment enough for the day’s efforts. Romy nodded in agreement and made her way into the cottage forlorn.
Laurence was already back, and he had stirred up some stew in the kitchen.
“Here, drink this,” he pressed a warm mug into her hand.
“You don’t look well!” He placed the back of his hand against her forehead to ensure she wasn’t taking feverishness herself.
“No, no, I’m fine.” She reassured him as she held her mug up to hide her weary -half smile, looking again, like a squirrel, he reminded her.
“I sold the silk mill to the young man in Tours,” she said abjectly after a moment.
Laurence brow instantly furrowed, but he nodded in thoughtful understanding…….”And?” he asked rightly sensing there was more or someone had already told him, Romy was not sure……….
“It seems to me that Lucetta’s baby is doing well, thanks to you!” Laurence wrapped his arm around her proudly. “I stopped by on my way home and they told me all about it.”
He smiled, but he knew that the day had taken a toll on her.
“I never thought that mid wifery would be an undertaking you would choose to pursue, but again, I continue to underestimate my brilliant, brave, reckless wife.” He nudged her playfully.
“Well it wasn’t as though the baby could wait for you!” She laughed with a half hearted sigh.
“No, I suppose not. And after Signore Rosetti’s wound was sutured, I had to perform another surgery.”
“What?” Romy set her cup down so abruptly a little soup splashed out. Laurence took the ladle and replenished her cup.
“Francesca wasn’t doing well……..I had to do something very rash and I thank God that both she and the baby survived as few such instances have ever been recorded. I performed the ceasarean operation.”
Romy gasped. Most of the time this operation was only done to save a living child from a dead mother.
“Was her condition so grave?” Romy’s voice quavered.
“I really thought we were going to lose them both,” Laurence looked so worried even still. Tired tears brimmed upon his eyes at the re-telling. “She begged me to do it, I had no choice but to give her the dwale and dare to do the procedure…….without her husband’s permission as he wasn’t home.”
Romy instantly understood. They could take legal action against Laurence if either the mother or child did not survive. But Laurence had never been one to back down from what he felt was right, no matter how slim a chance or faint a sliver of hope remained, he would always take the chance to save a life.
“And you call me reckless,” Romy clucked her tongue at him, sounding a bit like a chicken. “I wasn’t the one who tested out that potion for Julius on my self !” She goaded him. She was still angry that he tested it first on himself, never worrying about how sad she would be if he suddenly turned up dead for no apparent reason.
The truth was, they were both reckless. But neither of them would still be here if they weren’t.
“Reckless?” Laurence smirked a little bit. If both mother and child survived it would be one of the few recorded cases in human history. But Laurence wouldn’t be one to brag, even if the story got out, as it was bound to do, he wouldn’t develop an inflated ego. He knew that whatever he accomplished was by God’s grace. He would remain that same humble, if not slightly brooding and sarcastic Laurence that she knew and loved.
Now it was her turn to envelope him in a hug. She wrapped both arms around his waist and leaned her chin on his shoulder. He held both of her hands in his and leaned in to give her a kiss.
“I love you, recklessly,” he whispered.
Romy relaxed, all the tension of the day draining away. With Laurence at her side, at the end of every day, her heart was full and she knew that she had found her home.