Star-crossed Lovers (✓)

Chapter One

It was hot and sizzling. Even at eight o'clock in the morning. Verona was coming to life; people poured out of the houses and filled the streets while market traders set up their stalls in the grand piazza. It was a good place to be in and live, an excellent place to catch the business of those who lived and worked in the rich houses that lined Verona's main square. Amongst them were the Capulet mansion which was one of the biggest – filled with servants and humming with activity . It was an hour till breakfast and while the cooks sweated over the fires in the kitchen, conjuring mouthwatering aromas of baked breads and hams, the servingmen killed time as best they could. Two of them – hot, bored and restless – stepped out into the bustle of the piazza and swaggered about among the bright colours, the animal smells and the din of traders' voices, hoping to find some action.

'I can tell you, Gregory,' said Sampson, 'I'm ready for them. Just watch me. Let a Montague so much as put a foot in the piazza and you'll see how quick I am.'

'Sure.' Gregory knew that his friend's boasts just added to the hot air around them.

He loved winding the fiery Sampson up, so he teased, 'How quick you are to run away, you mean.'

'Not from the Montagues.' retorted Sampson, his face twisted with scorn. 'I'll take on any of their men – or women,' he added, winking.

'I know that's your level,' said Gregory, 'but our quarrel isn't with the women. Why quarrel with the women? This is between the men.'

'Ha.' Sampson fancied himself quite seriously, 'When I've dealt with the men I'll take care of the women.' He made a rude gesture with his arm. 'Don't you worry about that.'

'Well here's your chance to show me,' said Gregory as two young servants, dressed in the red and silver uniform of the Montagues, came round a corner and on to the piazza.

With an exaggerated flourish, Sampson put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

'Right,' he said. 'We're on. Pick a fight with them. I'll be right behind you.'

'That's what I'm afraid of,' said Gregory.

'No wait.' The Montague men were almost there. 'Be careful. We mustn't put ourselves in the wrong. Let them be the ones to start.'

'Alright.' Gregory screwed his face up. They might as well have a bit of fun. It wouldn't come to anything serious. Just a bit of fun. 'I'll frown as we pass them. Let's see what they do.'

'Good thinking,' said Sampson. 'And I'll bite my thumb at them. If they take that it will really show them up.'

The Montague servants came closer and with Gregory's frowning and Sampson's pointed biting of his thumb, they represented a very strange and obvious spectacle, which the Montagues couldn't ignore. The Montague servants stopped. One of them, a rather superior young man named Abraham, peered at Sampson as though he were morphing into an insect. He turned slowly to his companion with a query on his face. His friend, Balthasar, shrugged and Abraham turned back to Sampson.

'Are you biting your thumb at us?' he said.

'I'm biting my thumb, as you can see,' said Sampson.

'I can see that. But are you biting your thumb at us?'

Sampson leant over and whispered to his friend, 'Is the law on our side if I say yes?'

Gregory shook his head.

'No.' Sampson straightened up. 'I'm not biting my thumb at you.'

'Well,' said the Montague. 'That's alright then.' He knew as well as Sampson what the penalty for starting a fight was. 'Peace to you then.'