Beauty and the Beast of Venice

by Alexis Adaire

  The Grand Canal beckoned in the distance and he rowed to the entrance, then froze when he saw the other gondolas afloat there. At least a dozen of them dotted the part of the canal that was visible to him. Despite the darkness afforded by the night, he knew the moonlight would illuminate him sufficiently to be seen by anyone passing at close range.

  Grabbing the tarp used to cover the boat, he draped it over his head and shoulders, leaving just enough open so he could see. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it would have to do. Better to look like a strange man than a horned monster, especially one who was likely the object of a frantic search at this very moment.

  Tavros knew Ca' Crivelli, the large palazzo belonging to the Crivelli family, was near the bridge over the Grand Canal at Campo Santo Stefano and steered the gondola in that direction. His strong arms propelled the boat rapidly, and only two other gondolas came close enough to see that something was amiss, but he ignored the strange looks he got and continued to paddle.

  Tense moments later, the bridge came into view, then the palazzo. The Crivellis had been well-known in Venice for several generations, though Tavros had heard rumors that the family was no longer as financially well-off as in the past. Still, everyone knew the beautiful yellow palazzo that stood out among the others lining the Grand Canal.

  Tavros steered the gondola up to the palazzo’s first-floor dock and used a rope there to secure it. Trying to avoid being seen, he lay flat in the boat as another gondola passed on the canal. Then he ducked into the cabin to get Antonia.

  Working quickly and quietly, he scooped her up in his arms and held her against his chest. Fortunately, she was still unconscious. A scream at this point would certainly attract unwanted attention, and that would be the likely reaction if she awoke to see a bull’s face mere inches from hers.

  Climbing onto the dock, Tavros set Antonia down softly.

  Now what?

  Even with his mind fuzzy, he knew he couldn’t just leave her there until she came to. He decided he would knock loudly, then jump into the gondola and get far away as quickly as possible. Looking at Antonia again, he felt his heart warm. Her face was angelic and shone like alabaster in the moonlight. She could be a statue of a sleeping princess.

  Then it happened again. He smelled the air turning acrid around him, followed immediately by the intense pain. Forcing himself to concentrate on Antonia’s face even as his vision blurred, he fought to remain silent despite the agony as the turning realigned his bones and muscles.

  Only when the process was complete did he resume breathing.

  What was it about this woman that in one minute could calm him enough to bring him back, turning him from the minotaur to his human form, then in the next minute excite him so that he turned into the beast again? He’d never felt anything like this before in his entire life.

  Tavros bent and placed a gentle kiss on Antonia’s cheek. She began to stir, so he knocked loudly on the big door, then hurriedly climbed into the gondola and paddled away as fast as he could. As he gained some distance between him and the palazzo, he turned to see a man standing on the dock, looking at the gondola rushing away. He paddled even harder, wanting to ensure he’d be long gone if the man alerted anyone.

  Now that he’d returned her safely, Tavros knew his best bet was to leave the gondola and walk back to his quarters at the shipyard, behind the building housing the blacksmiths’ forges. As he secured the boat to a post at the end of a short pier, he felt remorse at having stolen it and damaged some parts. While he was confident the boat would be found and returned to its rightful owner, he hated the idea that his escape would cost someone money.

  That remorse grew when he realized his torn shirt would likely attract attention and he had no choice but to keep the gondola tarp as well. Wrapping the tarp around him like a cloak, he hid the damaged shirt and hurried off into the night, sticking to back alleys to avoid attracting attention. He knew the theft had been for a good cause, as Antonia had been rescued and returned safely to her family.

  Tavros smiled, remembering the feelings generated by the kiss. Those warm feelings evaporated, though, when he recalled the expression on the face of the woman he was falling in love with, and the terror she so obviously felt at the very sight of him.

  Chapter 16

  Antonia

  Antonia awoke to find herself in her own bed, sunlight streaming in from an open window. She bolted upright, her mind frantically trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night. She looked down to see her nightclothes, which she didn’t remember changing into. Her heart skipped in her chest as the chain of events slowly came to her: the attack by the three men, the monster saving her, and Tavros putting her on the gondola.

  When she remembered the kiss in the small cabin of the gondola, her cheeks flushed. She relived the feeling of passion in that kiss, their arms wrapped around each other’s bodies, and the obvious evidence of Tavros’s excitement.

  After that, though, her recollections were vague. There was the sensation of stifling heat in that cabin, and the feeling of coarse hair against the palm of her hand. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the dock at Ca’ Crivelli in the dark, with Gasparo, the family’s majordomo, attempting to wake her. He must have summoned Piera, because she remembered Gasparo carrying her to her chambers with Piera leading the way.

  There was a knock on her door. “Antonia,” a soft voice came from outside.

  Piera opened the door to peek inside.

  “How are you, my dear?” the older woman asked.

  “Piera, what happened? How did I get home?” The concern in her own voice frightened Antonia, and she began to tear up.

  “We don’t know. Gasparo found you on the dock and called me. I made sure you weren’t injured and helped you change for bed, then you were asleep the moment your head touched the pillow.”

  “Why was I on the dock?”

  “Gasparo says a gondolier left you there, then vanished into the night.”

  “A gondolier?” Antonia remembered Tavros on the gondola. Her eyes widened in fear with her next thought. “Do my parents know?”

  “No, bella,” Piera said calmly. “I thought it best to learn from you what happened before we discuss it with your parents.”

  “And Gasparo?”

  “It took some convincing on my part, but he has agreed to remain silent on the matter, at least for now.”

  Antonia took a couple of deep breaths, trying to regain a sense of calm.

  “Child, I’m going to bring you some tea,” said Piera. “Then you must tell me what happened last night. I cannot hold my tongue if I feel you are in any danger.”

  A few minutes later, Antonia was sipping the hot tea and filling her governess in on what she remembered from the previous evening: the fight, the beast rescuing her, and Tavros helping her escape by putting her on the gondola to take her to safety.

  The older woman was skeptical. “But the Beast of Venice is not real.”

  “I… I saw it. I’m certain. It was dark, but it looked like a beast.”

  “There is no beast. It must have been something else, maybe a large man. In the dark, you were confused. Maybe it was the same man who took you to the gondola. And what of Giovanni? You are to be his wife, my child. You can’t be seen with other men.” Piera was obviously concerned about the entire situation.

  “I know, Piera.” Antonia could feel the tears welling in her eyes.

  Piera sighed. “Who is this man who brought you home? Are you certain he didn’t take advantage of you in your shaken state after the attack?”

  Antonia was surprise by the question. “Tavros? No! He would never do that.” She gathered herself before continuing. “He is a blacksmith at the Donato shipyard. I’ve seen him around town and spoken to on occasion. Innocently, of course—until last night.”

  She paused briefly before telling Piera about the kiss in the cabin of the gondola, making sure to say she wanted the kiss as much as he did. Her beh
avior was obviously scandalous, but she needed to confide in someone wise enough to give her good counsel. Still, Antonia withheld the part about Tavros kissing her bosom, and about the hardness she felt against her thigh.

  “He kissed you! A man like that must be punished for such insolence. We must tell your father.”

  “No, Piera! Please, no.”

  Now the tears began to fall. Piera reached out to stroke Antonia’s hair.

  “My child, you need to tell me what’s going on,” Piera said, her voice softer. “This situation threatens your marriage, and you need to convince me why I should remain silent about what I know already.”

  Antonia stifled a sob, then whispered, “I think I love him.”

  “Giovanni?”

  “No.”

  She expected to be reprimanded by her governess, but Piera just looked into her eyes, studying her as if attempting to ascertain the veracity of these new emotions. Then she leaned forward and planted a kiss on Antonia’s forehead.

  “Say nothing of this to your father. Or your mother. In fact, don’t speak of it to anyone else, until we have time to figure it out.”

  Antonia nodded, sniffling. These feelings were strong, and consequently confusing.

  “It’s late, Antonia. You must go downstairs and eat something. Your fitting is today.”

  Fitting? The wedding gown had already been completed, save for small touches her mother kept requesting.

  Piera read her blank look. “The costume for Summer Carnival, bella. Your uncle Emilio will be here soon.”

  “I can’t do that this morning. Tell Mother I’m not well.”

  “No, cara, you must do it now because your uncle is going to the trouble of bringing costumes for you to try. Act as if nothing is wrong, then we can discuss this matter later, you and I. Be strong for now, until we figure things out. Now hurry along. Your mother will be waiting for you.”

  Antonia remained seated on the bed, silently willing Piera to agree to make an excuse for her. Instead, Piera got as far as the door, then turned back to the bed.

  “Aye, piccola, get up!”

  “Si, si, Piera. Give me five minutes, then I’ll come down.” She managed a weak smile.

  Piera was halfway through the bedroom door when Antonia called her back.

  “Piera, wait. What do you know about the beast?”

  “Child, it’s a myth. You saw no such creature. Your mind is confused by Giovanni and this blacksmith and the men who tried to attack you.”

  “But how can I find out about this mythical beast? Who knows about such things?”

  Piera looked to the heavens for a second in silent prayer, then said, “There is a Turkish apothecary near the fish market across the Ponte Rialto. But he’s a strange old man who scares people with his nonsense about spells and monsters. I would think twice before paying him a visit if I were you.”

  After Piera left, Antonia found the strength to get out of bed and quickly disrobed. Standing in front of her mirror, she searched her body for marks, finding none. Her heart beat quicker than its normal rhythm as she walked to her armoire to find a dress for the day, thinking of the kiss, and of Tavros’s mouth so tantalizingly close to her bosom.

  Then she remembered the beast. Recalling the fearsome sight, she was certain he was real and not a myth. He had rescued her just in time from the three drunken attackers, dispatching them with alarming strength, yet leaving her unharmed. In her mind’s eye, she again saw those large pewter-gray eyes and felt the sensation of knowing he wouldn’t hurt her. She owed the beast a huge debt, and made up her mind that, if she ever saw it again, she would attempt to express her gratitude, rather than fainting or screaming in fear. Antonia knew in her heart that the beast was kind, but she was surprised by the warmth and the depth of the sudden feelings she felt toward it.

  Her thoughts continued to jump between the powerful beast and the handsome blacksmith who’d brought her safely home, and who apparently desired her as much as she did him.

  Chapter 17

  Tavros

  Tavros was surprisingly alert, considering he hadn’t slept at all. His mind had been occupied by the beautiful Antonia, who smelled like flowers and tasted like paradise. As he went about his morning work in the forge, he often thought about the kiss, about their bodies pressed together, about his mouth having been so tantalizingly close to her breasts.

  Every time, though, he would feel himself rapidly growing excited, requiring him to force his mind onto a different, less enticing subject.

  He knew one thing for certain: There was something very special about Antonia. He had never before turned twice in a single day, much less in a matter of hours. Yet this young woman had a manner of pushing and pulling on his heart, keeping him riddled with anxiety while simultaneously calming him.

  What womanly paradox could do this?

  Perspiration pouring from his body, something occurred to him that made him sweat even more.

  I revealed myself to her.

  It had been unintentional, of course. He’d felt the turn begin the moment he saw the three men attacking Antonia, and the change was completed much more rapidly than usual. Within just a few seconds, he had become the minotaur. It allowed him to easily fend off the attackers, but she had clearly seen him as the beast. Her terrified expression and fainting left no question.

  When she came to in the gondola, Tavros had already returned to human form, but she had told him she saw the beast. Then Antonia fainted a second time when their quickly building passion had precipitated the change again. But that time, he had begun to turn into the minotaur right in front of her.

  What would happen now that she knew he was the beast? Would she betray him to the authorities and force him to flee Venice?

  And if not, how could she still find it in her heart to love him, knowing what she knew?

  Tavros’s thoughts were interrupted when a well-dressed man stepped into the forge.

  “You’re the one they call Tavros, are you not?” he asked gruffly.

  Tavros knew the man was Giovanni Donato, one of his bosses and the son of the Arsenal’s biggest shipbuilder. They had never actually met, as young Donato rarely spent time with the yard’s laborers.

  “I am.”

  Donato was a good hand’s width shorter than he was. He wore a two-toned doublet of gold and olive green, with matching paned sleeves and breeches. His tall tan leather boots had turned-over tops and his gloves were made from the same leather. A white lace collar completed the expensive outfit.

  Tavros stifled a laugh. Why someone would be outside in the summer heat wearing gloves was beyond him, but he knew better than to anger this man.

  “I was informed that you were seen recently speaking to my fiancée.”

  Setting down his hammer, Tavros grabbed a nearby rag and wiped the perspiration from his face and neck. It removed the sweat, but also served to smear the thin layer of soot already dirtying him.

  “My apologies, sir, but I’ve no idea to whom you’re referring.”

  “Do not play games with me. Padre Filippo saw you in the garden behind Saint Domenico Church, talking to Antonia Crivelli.”

  Tavros felt his heart sink. Antonia had told him she was engaged to the son of a wealthy Venetian family, but he never imagined that man was Donato’s poncy son.

  “Sir, I was taking my meal break in the gardens, as I often do, when the lady entered as well. I assure you I did no more than say hello and bid her a good day.”

  Giovanni Donato glared at him. If the priest saw him kiss Antonia’s hand or present her with the rose, the next few seconds would be even more uncomfortable. Tavros saw beads of sweat had formed on the smaller man’s brow.

  “Henceforth, you are to avoid the gardens at that church. Cross me and it will cost you your job and possibly more. Do you understand?”

  Donato spoke in a manner that said his word on the matter was final and that there would be no discussion. Whatever hatred for this man had been building
in Tavros’s heart grew exponentially. He met the man’s petulant stare, then picked up his hammer without breaking contact.

  “I understand,” he said, immediately turning away and slamming the hammer down on the iron ring he was fashioning.

  In his peripheral vision, he noticed Donato had not budged. Halting the hammer in mid-blow, Tavros looked up. “Is there anything else to discuss? I have much work to do.”

  “I would advise you to use caution in your words and deeds, blacksmith. You will have eyes on you from this moment forward.”

  With that, Donato turned on his well-appointed heel and strutted indignantly from the forge.

  Tavros watched him leave, then pounded the iron ring so hard the hammer’s wooden handle snapped in two.

  Chapter 18

  Antonia

  Standing in the parlor, Signora Crivelli clapped her hands over her heart as Antonia stepped out from behind the dressing screen. Her daughter was wearing a purple and silver gown made of Arabian velvet and silk from India, and tailored by her brother, Emilio.

  “It’s beautiful!” Antonia’s mother said. “You have grown into such a young woman.”

  Antonia sighed. “It’s silly.”

  Signora Crivelli looked toward her brother. “She doesn’t mean it.”

  The tailor smiled at the two women. “I brought two more possibilities.”

  “But this one is perfect.”

  “Mama, no. Look at this.” Antonia raised the mask to her face. The white paper mâché covered her entire face, a purple and silver butterfly over one eye and lavender flowers flowing over the other. Atop her head was a hat resembling a giant upside-down triangle, with her chin becoming the point of the shape. It was covered with silk ribbons falling from the top and an elaborate floral design across the front. “I feel childish.”

  “How about this?” Uncle Emilio asked, reaching into a wooden box. He held up a flowing gown in a half-dozen shades of yellow.