Beauty and the Beast of Venice

by Alexis Adaire

  “Is this true?” Antonia asked.

  “According to myth, yes.” Kadri shrugged. “In reality, who can say? I know seven people—eight now—who say they have seen the minotaur in the streets of Venice. It would appear this minotaur managed to avoid a childhood execution.”

  Antonia looked at the drawing again and was surprised when Tavros popped into her head, naked from the waist down like the beast. Her mind reeled, and a dizziness came over her. Flustered, she stood and thanked the old man, saying she had to leave.

  Kadri walked her through his shop, then stopped near the front door and held her gently by the forearms as he looked into her eyes.

  “If you see this beast again, you must scream for help, and run away as fast as you can. The monster is very dangerous.”

  Antonia nodded and thanked Kadri again. As she stepped out into the street, she realized she was breathing heavily and sweat had beaded on her forehead.

  Walking home, she thought again about the image of the minotaur, and again her mind went to Tavros. But why? Antonia remembered the night she saw the beast, and how Tavros had rescued her after she fainted. He said he hadn’t seen the beast, though.

  She tried as best she could to push the competing images of the Beast of Venice and the blacksmith out of her head. Tomorrow was the day of Summer Carnival, of her beautiful new dress, of having fun as an adult for once. Better to try to be optimistic about her future husband than to let her mind dwell on a monster, or on the man she could never have.

  The next day, Antonia stood in a state of near-ecstasy before the full-length mirror, looking at herself in her breathtaking new gown. The silk rubbing against the velvet created the most delicious sound, and the dress’s scent reminded her of the hours she’d spent in Uncle Emilio’s shop over the years. Egyptian cotton, Arabian velvet… between her father’s business and her uncle’s shop, she’d grown up around the distinct smells of expensive imported textiles.

  Antonia had never felt more like a woman than she did in that moment. Her breasts were emphasized by the fit of the dress and the way her décolletage was visible behind a partlet of sheer Burano lace with floral appliqués. The gown wasn’t scandalous, but it was something only a real woman would wear.

  Would it be enough to get the attention of her escort, though? Giovanni had yet to find a reason to pay attention to her, and Antonia told herself if this gown didn’t do the trick, nothing would. Any man should love the sight in that mirror.

  She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Tavros would love it. Two weeks had passed since he brought her home after the men attacked her, and though she hadn’t seen the blacksmith once in that time he was never far from her thoughts. She imagined him staring at her with those intense silver eyes of his, then her breath hitched when she remembered the erection she’d felt pressed against her thigh in the gondola cabin that night.

  Since seeing the drawing of the naked minotaur, Antonia had been wondering what Tavros looked like naked. She had never in her entire life seen a naked adult man, though she’d seen paintings and had heard graphic descriptions from older cousins. She and Flora had once seen a painting of a satyr whose manhood was erect and pointing at the heavens. The two of them had giggled about it for weeks.

  She was surprised that when she imagined seeing that sight in person for the very first time, her mind held the image of Tavros, not Giovanni. Regardless, she knew she would never see the blacksmith like that or know what it would be like to be held in a lovers’ caress by him, because she was getting married in a month.

  “Antonia?” Piera’s call was followed immediately by a rap on the door. “Your uncle is here with the mask.”

  Antonia pushed aside thoughts of Tavros and hurried downstairs to see the rest of her costume.

  When her Uncle Emilio saw her, he smiled, reached into a sack by his feet, and made a show of producing the mask he had made for her. It was a gold gilded volto mask, made to cover her entire face. Built into the form were lips and a nose, with holes cut out for the eyes and nostrils.

  Antonia was surprised, because this type of mask was typically worn by commoners. She had expected a Colombina mask, the variety that merely covers the wearer’s eyes.

  Emilio saw the confusion and said with a smile, “Your father requested the volto mask, cara. He said he’d prefer that nobody knew it was his little girl wearing that gown.”

  She laughed, then gasped when she saw the hat her uncle had removed from the sack. It was incredible, with a framework of golden braids and wine-colored silk supporting small roses, leaves and delicate branches, all handmade. As opposed to the over-the-top, often tacky hats she usually saw paired with Carnival dresses, this one was elegant, and she knew before she even put it on that it was going to make her feel like a princess.

  By mid-afternoon, Antonia was fuming because Giovanni was more than an hour late. She’d been ready on time, and consequently had been sitting around in her new dress—not the most fun thing on a warm summer day.

  When Gasparo the butler announced Giovanni’s arrival, Antonia remained seated in the parlor. She’d been wondering what kind of costume her fiancé would wear and was appalled when he stepped through the door dressed as Arlecchino, the commedia dell’arte harlequin. His white jacket and trousers were adorned with dozens of bright, irregular-shaped colored patches, and a white ruffled collar added to the silly look. On his head was a white felt hat, rounded at the top and curling up to points on either side, and his white leather belt had a large wooden spatula tucked into it. His black half-mask had tiny eyeholes and painted arched eyebrows accentuated by a wrinkled forehead, and his lips were painted bright red.

  Antonia had seen this character many times, as it was a popular carnival costume. When Giovanni removed his mask, she saw that his entire face was powdered white, except for those red lips.

  She forced a smile in return, but any hopes of an exciting first time at Summer Carnival had been dashed by Giovanni’s silly costume choice. She was hoping for something a little more elegant, a little manlier from her escort. She wasn’t even certain her own beautiful costume would be enough to bolster her spirits now.

  Her parents came in and said hello to Giovanni, complimenting him on his fine costume. However, Antonia looked at her mother and caught a glimpse of the same feeling she’d had herself when she saw it. Her mother understood her disappointment as only another woman could.

  “Come, come,” her husband-to-be beckoned with a sharp gesture. “We’re running late. Let’s be on our way.”

  Antonia stood and smoothed the ruffles in her gown, then noticed Giovanni had already left the room. The entire time, he’d never said a word about her gown. In fact, he was so caught up in his own costume that he hadn’t even looked at hers. She sighed in dismay, then carefully donned her mask and hat and followed after him.

  When they reached nearby the piazza in Campo Santo Stefano, Antonia was greeted by a spectacle the likes of which she’d never seen. Previously denied any hope of attending Carnival because her parents thought her too young, she was mesmerized by the crowd of people in the plaza, all in costume and all anonymous behind masks. Musicians played as they strolled along, and vendors offered treats. She could smell almonds being roasted with cinnamon and brown sugar, her favorite. Vendors in every direction sold wine, and consequently everyone seemed to be in a wonderful mood.

  To Antonia, the Summer Carnival atmosphere was glorious beyond words.

  But then there was Giovanni, ignoring her almost completely. He wasn’t holding her hand, and rarely even looked in her direction. The biggest insult of all was that he still hadn’t complimented her on her dress nor even given it the briefest of glances.

  They made their way to Piazza San Marco, the center of Venetian culture, and reached the gigantic square in minutes. There things were even livelier, and she followed Giovanni until they reached his destination, the bottom of the huge clock tower. He approached a man dressed in a costume of Pantalone, the greedy r
ich character from commedia dell'arte. Like Giovanni’s, this was another silly costume, and only marginally manlier.

  Giovanni shouted at the man and embraced him warmly, and they spoke animatedly for a few moments while Antonia stood waiting to be introduced. That introduction came only after the other man, whose name was Dante, gestured towards her. By all appearances, Giovanni had seemingly forgotten his bride-to-be.

  As she listened to their conversation, one which excluded her, it occurred to Antonia that Giovanni looked the happiest she’d ever seen him.

  “Wait here,” Dante said, “I’m going to get us all some wine.”

  When he disappeared into the crowd, Antonia tried in vain to make conversation with her fiancé.

  “Dante seems nice. Where do you know him from?”

  “He’s just a friend,” he said defensively.

  The wine couldn’t arrive fast enough. Antonia drank her glass while the men talked, and soon she had a warm glow and a strong feeling of discontent. She refused to spend her very first Summer Carnival rooted to the spot, practically ignored while these two men laughed it up.

  “Excuse me, husband-to-be,” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the din of the crowd.

  Giovanni’s head tilted slowly in her direction. “What is it now?”

  Taken aback, Antonia swallowed hard, then said, “With your leave, I wish to go find my friend, Flora. I promised to look for her.” It was a lie, since Flora hadn’t been allowed to attend Carnival. She correctly gambled that Giovanni wouldn’t even care.

  He stared at her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and produced a few coins. “If it gets dark and you can’t find me, hire a gondolier to take you home. Do not walk home by yourself, understand?”

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had hoped her threat of leaving would spur him to action, and that he would begin to behave like a proper escort. Instead, he was apparently fine with her departure. More than fine; he seemed relieved to be free of the burden of keeping an eye on her.

  “Fly away, little bird,” he said with a laugh, shooing her away with his hand. “Have fun with your friend.”

  For the first time, Antonia felt hatred towards her fiancé. She glared at him as she said goodbye to Dante, then walked away. A few minutes later, she had traded a coin for a second glass of wine and some roasted sugared almonds. It was her family’s custom to serve wine at dinner, but she never got more than a single glass. She knew better than to drink too much in public but had a burning need to drive her desperate marital situation from her mind, so she could enjoy this festive day.

  As she strolled around the crowded piazza, she was entranced by the marvelous costumes. And unlike her betrothed, she saw other men turn their heads as she passed. Several of them attempted to strike up conversations with her, but she demurred. And she was thrilled when woman after woman stopped to compliment her on her gown and hat.

  Soon the wine had done its job, and Antonia was able to distract herself from Giovanni’s lack of affection. The roasted almonds she bought were delicious, and she cared not a bit that she was spending her gondola money on treats. She was an adult now and would walk home if she wanted, regardless of her fiancé’s admonitions. She smiled at the thought that she had both the Beast of Venice and Tavros the blacksmith as her protectors.

  Before she knew it, she’d wandered to the far end of Piazza San Marco, through hundreds of costumed revelers. As she tried to decide whether to have another glass of wine, something caught her attention in her peripheral vision, and Antonia gasped aloud when she turned to look.

  There in the distance, standing alone in the piazza, was a figure dressed all in black: trousers, shirt, and a long cape. He was tall, with a large frame. What took her breath away, though, was the black mask he wore.

  It was the head of a bull, complete with horns and a snout.

  And as she stared, the bull turned to face her.

  Chapter 21

  Tavros

  It was his Antonia.

  Time seemed to stand still as the woman in the striking wine-and-gold dress looked directly at him. Though the dress gave her a sensuous new shape, and her mask covered her entire face, Tavros had no doubt it was her.

  He would know her presence anywhere. Antonia had an aura about her that made her stand out, and he wondered if he were the only man who could see it.

  He stared back at her, his eyes so taken with her beauty that he was unable to work his feet.

  She, however, was not likewise stricken, and slowly began making her way towards him. The sounds of Summer Carnival faded in the background as Tavros watched, spellbound. The full skirt of the dress swayed from side to side with her hips as she walked in his direction. Her mask had delicate features, much like her own.

  In seconds, she was standing before him, looking up as he looked down, both studying the eyes they could barely see through the masks.

  “Once again, beast, you have come to my rescue.”

  Though the mask muted her words somewhat, hearing her voice again was a gift from heaven. Still, her statement sent his mind reeling.

  She did know!

  Then he realized she was referring to the costume, to the full minotaur head he had fashioned out of iron in his forge. She wasn’t the first person today to stare as he walked through the crowds. Most were momentarily frightened, but quickly laughed when they realized the head was merely a mask.

  “On the contrary, that dress has arrived to save me from the sheer boredom of all this other, less impressive attire.” He gestured around him at the marvelous costumes. “I feel pity for these other women as they hopelessly try to outshine your beauty, Antonia.”

  He took a step towards her, remaining a safe distance, but she responded by closing the gap. She appeared to say something, but a nearby group of minstrels chose that precise moment to launch into a particularly loud song.

  Though speech was now pointless, the two of them stood looking at each other. The Carnival had grown progressively louder as the sun began to dip in the late afternoon sky. The plaza was a madhouse, with people shouting and laughing, and music coming from all directions.

  Tavros ignored it all and lowered his eyes to take in Antonia’s gown. He saw the sheer delicate lace partlet that covered her upper chest, but even the floral designs couldn’t hide the slant of her collarbones and the smooth roundness at the tops of her breasts. His breath hitched momentarily, and when he lifted his eyes to hers again, he knew that she was aware he had behaved so shamelessly.

  Antonia didn’t seem to care, though. There was a clever smile in her eyes.

  Her gloved hand closed around his shirt sleeve, gently squeezing his forearm. She lifted to her toes and leaned towards him, and he lowered his head to hear what she wanted to say.

  “Let’s go someplace quieter, where we can talk.”

  He nodded and took her hand in his, but she pulled it back. Looking into her eyes, he saw her shake her head. Tavros had momentarily forgotten she was engaged to be married, and that despite the anonymity afforded them by their costumes, they were still in public and couldn’t behave in such a risky manner.

  Instead he gestured for Antonia to follow him, then began to make his way to the corner of the piazza. His big frame parted the crowd and he made sure Antonia was close behind as he proceeded. A couple of frustrating minutes later, they arrived at Orseolo Basin, a small landing that was an oasis of calm compared to the packed, rowdy Piazza San Marco.

  A dozen gondoliers waited patiently for fares while a handful of costumed people milled around. It wasn’t silent, but it was much quieter.

  Tavros removed his cape and laid it over a low stone barrier next to the canal, gesturing for Antonia to sit. She did so, carefully arranging the voluminous skirt of her dress, and he then joined her. When he brought his hands to his mask, she stopped him.

  “Don’t. Nobody can know who we are.” Her still-muffled voice was clear enough to hear.

  His hands came down
. “You’re right. Your dress made me forget that I am now officially your fiancé’s target.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He visited me at my forge. Someone told him they’d seen us talking in the church garden.”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, “Frankly I’m surprised he cares.”

  “I was given a lecture and told there would be dire consequences if I were to be caught near you.”

  “And yet here you are.”

  “Indeed. Staying away from you might be prudent, but it also seems impossible. I have missed you.”

  Again, Antonia hesitated a moment before replying, “And I you.” Another pause followed, then she said, “Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to be here together. We might be seen and recognized, despite our costumes. A few people know that it is me in this dress.”

  Tavros’s heart fell. He had spent less than five minutes with his love, and now she wanted to leave. Who knows how many more chances he would get to be with her? Perhaps her affection was not as great as his.

  “Is there somewhere we could go to talk in private? Without fear of being seen?”

  Antonia had no way of knowing the size of the smile under his mask. Tavros stood and said, “I know a place. Follow me.”

  He walked for five minutes down streets that grew smaller, always making sure she was close behind. Finally, they arrived at Campo San Paterian, a small square. There were a few people in costume here, mostly walking through the campo toward Piazza San Marco. Tavros stopped halfway down one side of the square, at the entrance to a small alleyway. When he saw Antonia was still with him, he proceeded into the alley.