Any hope for Giovanni to have a change of heart vanished with two confidently uttered syllables.
“I will.”
“Antonia Tessa Crivelli, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness, and in health, forsaking all others, keeping only to him, so long as you both shall live?”
All she had to do was utter those same two syllables.
Just say the words, and the commerce dreams of her father would all come to fruition. Just follow the plan that had been carefully laid out over two years ago, that had been agreed upon by all parties and written in ink and signed, a legally binding contract. Just play along, and her family’s future would be guaranteed.
Just say it, Antonia told herself.
Someone’s cough reminded her that everyone was waiting for her response.
Just say it.
She looked up in the eyes of her husband-to-be, the man she would live with for the rest of her life. In those eyes she saw no trace of affection. Regardless, Antonia was powerless to stop the ceremony.
She had no choice. She never had a choice.
The priest cleared his throat impatiently. “Antonia,” he whispered.
She opened her mouth to say the words, but something entirely different came out instead.
“I cannot.”
Gasps and a quick murmur swept the congregation.
The groom was the first to reply, laughing nervously before saying in a stern voice, “You are light-headed, amore. Take a breath, then answer properly.”
She looked into Giovanni’s eyes without reservation for the first and last time.
“I am not your amore.” Her voice quivered. “You have no love for me, Giovanni, nor I for you. You know this to be true. We cannot in good faith enter into th—”
The hand fired out so quickly, she never saw it. It landed on her cheek with such force that it spun her head to the side, eliciting yet bigger gasps from the wedding guests.
“You stupid child!” Giovanni shouted, unable to contain his petulant anger. He grabbed both her shoulders and shook hard. “I will not allow you to humil—”
The groom’s angry words were interrupted by a deafening, ferocious roar from the back of the church.
Chapter 32
Tavros
Even in his frantic and confused state of mind, the minotaur knew he’d arrived in the nick of time, just before the woman he loved became the wife of another man. In the same instant that he opened the church doors, he’d heard Antonia say that she didn’t love Giovanni Donato and could not marry him. Then he saw the jilted groom strike his true love and grab her violently.
The beast’s reaction was purely instinctual as he ran up the center aisle of the church, hearing screams on both sides as people ran in fear at the sight of an actual minotaur—the myth come to life, here in the flesh. In seconds he had inserted himself between the bride and groom, his back to Antonia as he locked both hands around his rival’s neck and squeezed.
“No!” his beloved screamed, pulling in vain on one arm as Giovanni’s eyes bulged and his hands wrestled with Tavros’s wrists. More screams went up and Padre Filippo quickly backed away.
Several men came forward to form a loose circle around the beast. One large man rushed in to attack, and Tavros released a hand from Giovanni’s throat so he could swat his assailant and send him flying, the man’s head slamming into the marble altar with a thud. A second man drew a knife and thrust it toward the minotaur, and he howled like a wolf when his bravery was rewarded with a badly broken arm.
When no one else dared to intervene, Tavros put his hand back on young Donato’s throat and once again squeezed. Giovanni’s face turned beet red, then purplish.
“No! Stop! You’ll kill him!” Antonia warned.
She quickly stepped around the minotaur’s large frame, ducking under one arm and coming up between the two of them, lifting her veil as she looked the beast in the face.
“Tavros, look at me.” Her whispered voice was stern but calm now. “Let him go.” As he began to loosen his grip, Giovanni gasped, gulping in air. Antonia’s hand came up to stroke the coarse fur of the minotaur’s face. “You are not a murderer. Let him go.”
For the first time since he’d broken his shackles and grabbed Rocco’s ankle in his prison cell, Tavros’s mind began to slow. He registered that the impossible had occurred and he was reunited with Antonia again, at least for the moment. He glanced at the church and saw that only a few dozen men remained, all frozen to the spot in fear. His nostrils flared as he grunted loudly.
“Let him go, my love.”
Tavros slowly released the shipbuilder’s son, who crumpled to the floor, barely conscious but still breathing.
Antonia threw her arms around the beast, burying her face in his furry neck and pressing herself against him. Signor Donato and another man tentatively came forward to grab Giovanni and pull him away so they could tend to him.
“Get the guards from the shipyard!” the elder Donato barked at nearby men, who immediately scrambled to obey.
She looked up into the minotaur’s dark gray eyes and said, “We can’t stay here. They will come for you.”
“Antonia,” the minotaur said, his breath ragged and his heart pounding.
“My love, we must go.”
“You’ll go nowhere,” her father ordered. “Let my daughter go!”
“Now!” Antonia insisted to Tavros.
He hesitated another second while he tried to wrap his foggy mind around what had occurred, then he took Antonia in his arms and bolted through the side entrance to the church.
The midday sun bore down on the couple as Tavros ran through the rose garden carrying Antonia. In the bright light of day, they had nowhere to hide. The sight of the Beast of Venice, with the head and horns of a bull atop a muscular body seemingly carved from stone, would attract attention even without a young woman in a wedding dress in his arms.
“Take the back alleys behind Piazza San Marco,” Antonia said.
Tavros ran in that direction, with frightened Venetians hurrying to duck out of his way, then pointing, aghast at what they’d just seen. A dozen men were in pursuit some distance behind them, including guards who’d scurried from the shipyard.
Antonia directed the beast into a small alley running parallel to Piazza San Marco, the giant plaza that was the very heart of Venice. Tavros knew they could easily get trapped in this alley, but there was nowhere in Venice they could go without the fear of eventually being cornered.
Just as they came around a bend in the alley, Antonia pointed and cried, “Right here! Through that door!”
Tavros freed one hand and pulled on the handle, then carried his love through the door, shutting it hurriedly behind them. Seconds later, he heard the cries and footsteps of their pursuers as they rushed by.
“This is not the entran—,” said a voice behind him. “Antonia?”
Tavros turned to see a young teenaged boy, who at the sight of him proceeded to squeeze out a stifled scream before fainting. He collapsed to the ground, and Antonia hurried to place a nearby chair cushion under his head.
“He was watching the shop today. My uncle was at the wedding.” The sadness on her face told him she was wondering if she’d ever see her parents again. She quickly shook it off and said, “Tavros, thank you for saving me, but I need my blacksmith back. We won’t get far if you look like this.” She stroked the fur of his forehead. “Relax, my love. Come back to me now.”
It was difficult to focus on calming down, as the danger of them being captured was still very real. As Antonia continued to caress him and speak in soothing tones, he felt the change begin. He gradually shifted form with virtually no pain, only a small degree of discomfort, just as had happened in the borrowed bedroom.
The borrowed bedroom!
They could hide there for now. The owners of the palazzo wouldn’t be returnin
g from Spain for another two months.
“There you are,” Antonia whispered. The embrace that followed lasted a full minute.
Tavros broke the silence. “I know where to go. Can we stay here until dark?”
Looking down at the prone boy, she said, “No. My uncle will come eventually.”
“Then we’ve no choice but to risk traveling the back alleys for ten minutes.” He took her hand. “We must hurry, though.”
“Wait, you can’t go out looking like that.”
Tavros looked mortified when he realized he was shirtless and still wearing the same tattered, dirty pants he’d had on for the last month. “I was held in a cell at the prison.” His gaunt look and his prominent ribs testified to his statement. He gestured to Antonia’s exquisite wedding dress and said, “We certainly aren’t a well-matched pair.”
She laughed softly, mostly in relief of the stress brought on by everything she’d been through.
“I can’t wear this, either, or people will immediately know I’m the bride everyone is looking for. Come on, we can find something here,” she said as she led him to the front of the shop. Working quickly, she found a green and gold gown with an attached hood for herself, and a brown and orange velvet doublet with matching full-length breeches for him.
The couple hesitated for a moment, then Antonia said, “This is hardly the time for modesty. Help me take off this dress.” Seconds later, Tavros watched with rapt attention as she stripped down to her underclothes, then he assisted her in getting into the new gown, which fit remarkably well.
“Now you,” she said, “off with those useless pants.” He complied, momentarily naked as he squeezed into the too-tight breeches and doublet. Antonia tilted her head and frowned. “It will have to do.”
“Where did it go?” They both turned to see the teenaged shop hand, his eyes like saucers. “The beast! Where is it?”
“It ran off,” Antonia said quickly, “when this man arrived to save me.”
The boy was trembling.
“Sit and relax, he’s gone,” she continued. “My uncle will arrive soon.” She looked over at Tavros again, then turned back to the boy and said, “I’m afraid we will need your shoes. My uncle will repay you.”
Too shaken to question the request, the boy removed his shoes and gave them to Tavros. Again, too small. He could barely squeeze his feet into them. Antonia crossed the shop and took down a large, floppy, black velvet hat, handing it to Tavros. “Here, put this on, too.”
Tavros put the hat on and adjusted it, then took Antonia by the hand and pulled her toward the front door of the shop. She resisted long enough to address the teenager, “Tell my uncle that I am safe. Can you do that?”
The boy nodded, sniffling back a tear.
The couple then exited into the bright sunlight and the hustle and bustle of Piazza San Marco.
Chapter 33
Antonia
Tavros held Antonia’s hand as they made their way through Venice, trying their best to act normal and not as if they were running for their lives. Tavros looked obviously unaccustomed to wearing finely tailored clothing. Between his tight doublet and breeches with his big black hat, and Antonia’s hooded gown, they looked like a typical well-heeled Venetian couple. Although their faces were mostly hidden in shadow, they had to be careful; they’d surely be recognized if they saw someone they knew.
Luckily, the entire town seemed to be busy with the gossip of the moment. Everywhere there were incredulous whispers that the Beast of Venice had been seen in broad daylight and had kidnapped the daughter of the town’s biggest fabric importer from her own wedding ceremony. He stood nearly ten feet tall with gigantic fangs and claws that could rip a man to shreds, and rumor mongers wondered aloud whether he’d rape the poor girl or eat her alive.
Antonia began to understand the torture Tavros had endured throughout his life, always the target of such fearful exaggerations and outright falsehoods.
They managed to get to the house at the end of the tiny alley, the palazzo with the circular marble staircase on the outside. Another couple was standing in front of the house, admiring its odd architecture. Antonia and Tavros remained at a distance until they left. Only when it was safe did he reach through the gate and retrieve the hidden key from under the rock. Hurrying up the stairs, they were soon safely inside the dark, hot, stuffy house, and Tavros watched carefully from a window until he was certain they hadn’t been seen entering.
“I think we’re safe now,” he said.
She watched as he crossed the living area and cracked open two wooden shutters to let in some light and allow a breeze to blow through. Then he returned and wrapped her up in his arms, and she was looking into the face she thought she might never see again.
“I thought you were gone,” she said, her voice tinged with both excitement and melancholy. “One of the other blacksmiths said you had boarded a ship to return to Greece. I was afraid you had chosen to forget about me.”
“I could not forget you if I tried. My heart wouldn’t allow it.” He kissed her, deeply and passionately and she gave into it without reservation. Afterward, he said, “Your almost-husband had me thrown in jail. There was never a moment when I wasn’t thinking of you and trying to find a means of escape.”
Antonia hugged him tightly, but Tavros soon pulled away, a look of concern on his face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve been in that cell for weeks. I’m badly in need of water and soap to wash up. I shouldn’t be near you like this.”
As she looked at his somber face, she broke into a wide smile. “I have missed you so much. I cannot believe you came for me.”
“I would never have rested until I was with you again,” he said.
“Are we safe here in this house?”
Tavros nodded. “For now. No one will come here. But we can’t stay here forever, so we need to make plans. And I haven’t eaten in two days and will need food just to be able to think again.”
“Then I will look for food here in the house while you go to the well for water.”
When he was gone, Antonia took a deep breath and thought back over the events of the day, both terrible and wonderful. She told herself that none of the bad mattered now that she and Tavros were together, but deep down she feared the worst. She was now estranged from her family, and the two of them were on the run, with no money and nowhere to go. Coming up with the plan Tavros spoke of would be nearly impossible.
She went to the palazzo’s kitchen and looked through the cupboards, finding only cloth bags of rice, polenta and beans, and a salami. Delighted at first, she quickly saddened when she realized she hadn’t the first clue how to cook rice, polenta or beans—or anything else, for that matter. It also occurred to her that even if she possessed such knowledge, they still couldn’t fire the hearth out of fear of being discovered in the supposedly vacant palazzo.
The salami would have to do.
Tavros returned quickly, carrying two buckets of water. He excused himself and went in the stairwell leading to the roof so he could wash up. While Antonia waited for him, she couldn’t help but think about her mother and father and how much she would miss them. They would be brokenhearted at never seeing their daughter again, and their misery would be compounded by their disappointment for her actions that made the merger fall through. All their plans, discussions, contracts… all for naught now, because of a disobedient daughter who refused to fulfill her obligation to the family.
Antonia’s glum thoughts were interrupted when she was stunned at the sight of Tavros, approaching with a bare chest, the only item of clothing on his body being the tight orange breeches. In his hand was the doublet from her uncle’s shop.
“I apologize, but I simply cannot wear so much clothing in the heat of this house.”
She gulped at the sight of the broad expanse of his chest, the dusting of hair that led her eyes downward, and the sizable bulge that had nowhere to hide in those tight
pants. She also noticed just how gaunt he had grown during his time in the prison.
“I have seen you wearing less, remember?” she replied when she’d caught her breath. “Come, I found you some food.”
They sat in the kitchen, him staying cool while her skin threatened to melt in the heavy gown. She considered removing the dress but decided against it. There were some things ladies simply didn’t do, and dining in one’s underclothes was one of them.
“We need a plan,” Tavros said. “We cannot remain in Venice. I injured a guard badly at the prison, then attacked a wealthy businessman’s son and kidnapped the daughter of another. If caught, I would be hanged for certain.”
“But I have no family now. We don’t even have the money to leave Venice.”
Tavros took another bite of salami, looking like it was the most amazing thing he’d ever eaten in his life. “I know a man who works the docks, loading and unloading ships. I believe I can get us passage on a merchant ship to Bari with the promise of payment on arrival. We’d be hidden away in the cargo hold, but the trip would only take two days.”
“And then?” Antonia asked, not thrilled with the idea of living in the south of Italy.
“And then, I find work. It would be too risky to work as a blacksmith in Italy, because there will surely be a sizable reward offered for my capture. But I can find some kind of employment, enough for us to live.”
A fresh wave of gloom washed over her as she imagined living in a dingy rented room. No parents, no Piera, no Flora… no one at all from her previous life. At least she would be with Tavros and living in a hovel with him would be better than living in the finest Venetian palazzo as Giovanni Donato’s wife.
“We will find a way,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. This was the man her heart had chosen, and she told herself that their love would make things work eventually. “When do we leave? We can’t stay here long.”
Beauty and the Beast of Venice Page 13
