The child speaks true.
Tybalt breathes!
I crouch beside him, withdraw my dagger, and place the shining steel blade beneath his nose; a slight exhalation fogs the reflective metal.
He bleeds, but aye, he is breathing yet.
Rosaline examines Tybalt’s wound with deft skill. ’Tis not nearly as deep as it looks,” she tells me, “and he was not struck in a critical place. Romeo’s sword did merely pierce my cousin’s flesh. E’en had it penetrated farther, ’twould have missed his organs completely.”
“Why then does he not move?” I ask.
“I am not certain,” she admits. “But the Healer will
know.” She turns to Viola. “Sweet child, wilt thou do something for me? Something important.”
Viola nods determinedly.
“Know you where to find the Healer’s cottage?” Rosaline asks.
Again, the child nods.
“Get thee there at once.” She gives Viola a serious look to communicate the gravity of the task. “Tell the Healer that we are bringing to her a patient and that she must make ready for his arrival.”
“I shall run all the way!” With that, Viola turns and bolts, running as swiftly as her little legs can carry her.
I stand, lifting Tybalt and slinging him as carefully as possible o’er my shoulder. We set out for the Healer’s cottage.
“Know you what this means?” Rosaline asks. “Romeo can no longer be charged as a murderer! The prince will be obligated to recant his exile.”
“There is truth in that, however …” I sigh, unwilling to trample on her optimism. “That surely will not be the end of it. Should Tybalt recover, I am sure the Montagues will only demand his prompt execution for having killed Mercutio.”
Rosaline thinks on this. Deep in contemplation, her brilliant mind turning, she is even more beautiful to me.
“Then I myself shall appeal to his Majesty on the issue,” she says at last. “Surely God has not kept Tybalt alive only to allow him to be executed! But you are right—the
Montagues will demand satisfaction, so for now we must not reveal that Tybalt remains among the living. The Healer can hide him in her cottage and tend to him there.”
“But the undertaker is on his way. He will have been told to expect two corpses.”
Again, Rosaline works the problem in her mind. “I am fairly certain the mortician has ne’er seen my cousin up close. Therefore, he will accept whatever dead body he finds beside Mercutio’s to be that of Tybalt of the house of Capulet.”
“How is that helpful?” I ask her, motioning to where Mercutio lies alone. “The undertaker will still find himself short one cadaver.”
“No, he will not,” Rosaline tells me.
“And your kinsmen, won’t they wonder—”
“Leave it all to me,” she says. “You bring Tybalt to the Healer. I shall meet you at the cottage as soon as I am able.”
“As you wish.”
“0, and after the Healer has seen to Tybalt, please have Viola describe to her Sebastian’s symptoms. Mayhap she can prepare a tonic for the child.”
For a moment, I just stare at her, forgetting the weight of Tybalt upon me, ignoring the sadness I feel o‘er the loss of Mercutio. For all I can think upon is the fact e’en in the face of such dire circumstance, my angel Rosaline remembers a poor, sick child.
I cannot help myself
I kiss her soundly on the mouth.