Second letter to the King

My Liege,

Please forgive my insolence for contacting you again so promptly. I am writing to advise you of the latest developments in the pursuit of justice, against the vile traitors who so cruelly took the life of your noble son.

It is as I suspected. After applying even modest public pressure, the cowards betrayed each other. 'Link' - announcing himself to be Lord Capulet - and 'Umino', whom we suspect to be the harlot Juliet Capulet - have publically come forth and announced their role in their crimes. They have begged for support, and the will of the populace to spare them! Lord Capulet has called for a House War, and asked for his brethren to rise up in arms against Montague, the citizens of Verona, and indeed, your own loyal Watchmen!

In the face of such repugnant audacity, I have perhaps acted rashly. Please forgive me, Highness, or if you cannot - at least hear my motives.

I have overhead the whisperings of servants. I have seen the treacherous looks of peasants in the streets. I can feel unease building up in my shoulders. Bloodshed has stained the air. The smell is not unlike burned copper, leaving an acrid, bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Though my wits and senses are somewhat dulled with age, my spirit and resolution are undaunted. I have raised my whole family, those I could contact, in defiance of the traitor-lord. We are in terrible danger as I write.

I desire that the first sight that should greet you upon arrival here shall be the heads of the Capulet heretics on pikes at the city limits. Their bodies shall be hung from gibbets, with only the ravenous crows feasting on their flesh for company. I wouldst prefer that we could deliver the Capulets and their wicked kin to you alive for your pleasure, however, they are cunning, vile serpents. No sooner do I turn my back than they are using their conniving lies to pervert the cause of order, and turning my own servants against me! One cannot tame a snake. I know that to kill another of your subjects is a crime against the Crown. I plead guilty to it, my Lord, and passionately do declare it. For those who turn against the Crown are its enemies, and all those who call themselves loyal and true must stand up and smite that which is wicked. Although it is not my hand that drives the sword, it is my words that inspire it. I shall welcome your sentencing, for at that time I will know that justice has prevailed and your law restored.

My son was attacked and nearly slain in the previous eve. We knew that the enemy had learned of his presence, so I had my apothecary travel in secret behind him. Fortunately our enemy was lax in delivering the fatal blow, preferring to leave my son in cruel suffering, to die in terrible agony alone in the gutter. Faithful, courageous Balthazar had moved up at once to tender medical aid to - ah. I nearly wrote his name.

Brave, foolish boy. Even so wounded, he went back to the vipers nest. In their confusion that he yet still lived, they killed one of their own, suspecting him a traitor. I cannot save him. My son will surely perish this eve. Knowing this, he still went back. My apothecary is known, my son is known...I am proud of him that he would risk everything in your name. But, I CANNOT save him. If our actions to still the uprising by Capulet fail this day, Montague will surely fall.

That brings me to my next point, your Highness.

I have not yet recieved the expected orders. Should you have sent a messenger already; I fear he has been overcome or delayed. In the event of my death before your arrival, please seek out Benvolio, Balthazar or Michael - all are trusted by me, though for their own protection I have not yet informed them of your impending retribution. The servant needs not know the means or the method, only your will. Montague will obey without question or pause.

I must go. Count Paris is doing his best to quell the violence, however despite his recent efforts he does not have the regal authority and experience that his better cousin bore. I will stand before him, as will my family, as a buffer between the unwashed rabble that would defy your authority, and the good, clean and righteous sons of virtue that we must protect - or die trying. The Count does not trust me, perhaps wisely - should there be enemies in my midst, all the better for him to keep me at distance so that hidden assassins cannot seek him under my cover. We will protect him silently at a distance. He does not know I have written to you. He has no part in this.

If they dared attack the Prince, I fear the Count will fall soon.

If it happens, it will be over my dead body.

Godspeed, Highness. We will defend your name to the last breath and last gasp.

Lord Montague