Daughter of Capulet (On Hold)

Act I, Scene I: The Mission

   “Juliet!” A voice broke the veil of sleep that hung over the young woman’s head. “Juliet, wake up,” it came again. Juliet groggily rolled over in her bedroll.

   “Who’s it?” she asked, not willing to open her eyes. The speaker snorted indignantly.

   “It’s Tybalt, of course. Who else would dare wake you?” he scoffed. Juliet’s eyes slowly opened, but were obscured by her own locks of brown hair. She lazily batted them aside and sat up.

   “Fair enough. What is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Tybalt rose from his crouch next to her tent.

   “Better the old man told you himself. Come on, get dressed and then come find me. I’ll be in the mess hall.” Before Juliet could press any further questions, the boy had disappeared out the door. Juliet fell back into her pillow with a grunt. She yawned dramatically and pulled the coverlets away. She was hit by a blast of the cold air that would circulate through the sewers during late autumn. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she stood and got out of the tent.

   Outside of the tent was the rest of the female quarters. Most of the other women were still sleeping soundly except for two or three that bustled about. One of them Juliet immediately recognized: Phoebe. She had been raised by the old woman ever since she had been brought there by Lorenzo as a child. Phoebe was already moving towards the tent, a bundle of clothing in hand. A smile broke across the elderly matron’s face upon seeing Juliet.

   “Ah, it’s good to see you up and about, my dear,” Phoebe said, hugging her adopted daughter close with her free hand. Juliet wrapped her arms around her in turn. The old woman smelled faintly of perfume and soap. “Where are you off to now?” Phoebe asked, pulling away. Juliet was taken aback by the woman’s sagacity, but didn’t wish to worry her.

   “Nowhere. Just getting some air.” The old woman gave Juliet a questioning look.

   “Don’t lie to me, girl. I saw Tybalt leaving. What has Lorenzo got you two doing now?”

   “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Juliet admitted. “I was on my way to meet them now.”

   “Not in that, I hope?” Phoebe snorted, pointing to the loose-fitting, sack-like gown that hung down to Juliet’s knees. Juliet flustered briefly but recovered quickly.

   “Of course not!” She nodded to the clothes in Phoebe’s hand. “Are those mine?” she asked, reaching out to take them.

   “Ah!” the woman exclaimed. “Not so fast. Not all of these are yours.” She placed the pile on a nearby table and began to sort them. Juliet crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. Phoebe pulled a dress free and handed it to Juliet. “Here you are. This is your favorite, isn’t it?” Juliet took the dress; it was black and embroidered with crimson twine. She remembered the day she stole it from one of the duke’s gift wagons.

   “Yes it is,” Juliet said with a smile. “Thank you, Phoebe.” The old woman waved Juliet’s gratitude away with a wrinkled hand.

   “I’ve kept you long enough. You should catch up with Tybalt and see what Lorenzo is prattling on about,” the matron said simply. Juliet gave a wordless nod and began to pull the nightgown over her head. “Have some modesty, girl!” Phoebe protested, putting a hand up to her eyes. “I know you were raised as one of the boys, but really, change in your tent.” Of course, by then, the nightgown had been thrown to the ground and Juliet was already pulling the dress on. When her head finally emerged from the dress, she saw Phoebe looking disapprovingly at her.

   “What?” Juliet asked, shrugging. Phoebe rolled her eyes skyward but said nothing. “Lace this up, would you?” Juliet asked, turning her back to Phoebe. The old woman complied, but Juliet heard her muttering something about the girls of modern times as she did so. Once the process was complete, Juliet opened the door and took off down the corridor without another word.