“I would look like a canary!” Antonia said, laughing.
“Antonia!” Her mother sighed in frustration. “What do you want?”
“I want the one in Uncle Emilio’s shop. The wine-and-gold one. It’s so beautiful.”
Signora Crivelli turned to her brother. “Do you know the one she’s referring to? Is it appropriate for a girl her age?”
“Mother, I’m not a girl anymore,” Antonia protested. “I’m nineteen years old. I want to dress like a woman, not a child.”
“You’ll have to decide if it’s appropriate,” Emilio said to his sister. “Come by the shop this afternoon and I will show it to you.”
After Antonia had changed out of the costume, her uncle packed it away and said goodbye to her and her mother. Antonia realized it was the first time in days the two of them had been alone.
“Cara, you are trying to grow up too fast.”
“I’m already grown up, Mother. I’m old enough to get married, am I not?” Antonia paused to set down the mask and remove the ridiculous hat, then added, “Although my husband-to-be doesn’t love me, apparently.”
Signora Crivelli was startled. “What is this nonsense?”
“Giovanni ignores me. The few times I’ve been around him, he barely speaks to me.”
“He’s a very busy man, Antonia.”
“He doesn’t look at me, Mama, with the eyes a man is supposed to have when he looks at a woman. And I don’t get butterflies when I’m with him, either. His complete lack of interest leaves me indifferent towards him.”
Antonia saw a flicker of recognition in her mother’s face.
“I was afraid of this. There were rumors.” Signora Crivelli was momentarily pensive, then quickly reversed course. “Giovanni will be a good provider, cara. You will learn to love him.”
Antonia sucked in a breath. If there were ever going to be time to confide in her mother, it was now.
“But I think I love someone else.”
Signora Crivelli was obviously caught off-guard. She paused a long time, then said simply, “Who?”
“His name is Tavros. He works at the Donato shipyard.” She gave her mother a few seconds to absorb the revelation, then added, “He looks at me like nothing else in the world even exists.”
“He has spoken to you? Where?”
Knowing the truth would get her into trouble, she instead supplied her mother with a more chaste version. “I’ve seen him in the piazza twice, and in the church garden once. We’ve spoken cordially, nothing more. But it was enough.”
“What work does he do? Is he a naval architect? A foreman?”
Antonia knew better than to break eye contact as she said, “He’s a blacksmith.”
Her mother sighed and looked at her sympathetically. “And he’s handsome, I take it.”
“So handsome, Mama.”
“Giovanni is handsome.”
“Giovanni is not manly! And Tavros is. He’s also kind—something else that Giovanni most certainly is not. I don’t love Giovanni, at all. My heart aches to be with Tavros.”
Signora Crivelli silently took a seat on a small oak couch with dark green velvet cushions, then signaled for her daughter to join her. Putting her arm around Antonia when she sat, she said, “My baby, I suppose it’s time you learn the truth about life.”
Antonia looked at her mother, already dreading the direction this talk was taking.
“Cara, you have grown up in a wealthy family and have never lacked for anything. Your life has been comfortable, and in many ways, it will remain so. But not in every way, I’m afraid. Life is not always fair.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You cannot always follow your heart, because sometimes it will lead you to bad things. Your marriage to Giovanni is set, and it will take place as planned. Your father desperately needs this business merger. The Donatos are a good family, and with Giovanni, you will be taken care of for the rest of your life.”
“But I don’t love him. And I know he doesn’t love me.”
“When I was your age, I was very much in love with a young man.”
Antonia stared at her mother in disbelief.
“It’s true, my child. His name was Ilario. But his family were farmers who had no money, so he could never win my father’s approval. Instead, my parents arranged for me to marry your father.”
“Did you love father?”
“Not at first, but I was so young at the time I didn’t know what love really is. In time, though, I grew to love him very much. Your father has given me everything I could ever have hoped for, including you. I don’t regret marrying him at all.”
“But do you ever think of Ilario?”
Signora Crivelli sighed. “Yes, sometimes. And in my thoughts, I don’t see him as the broken-down poor farmer he surely is today. He remains a young man in my mind, and our love is just a bittersweet memory of something that was never meant to be.”
Antonia began to cry before she could stop herself.
“I don’t love Giovanni, Mother. I don’t want to marry him.”
“Cara, what you feel for this other man is not love, it’s merely an infatuation. Love is not a magic thing that just appears out of nowhere. Love is a house that must be built slowly over time. And sometimes it never gets built at all, but that doesn’t mean a marriage can’t be fulfilling in other ways. Your duty to this family is to marry Giovanni Donato, according to your father’s wishes. Do you understand?”
The tears refused to stop, but Antonia managed a weak, “Yes, Mother.”
“And you are forbidden from speaking to this blacksmith again. Is that clear?”
Her heart breaking, Antonia nodded.
Just after lunch, Piera again knocked on Antonia’s door.
“Your father wants to see you in the parlor, cara.”
“Is he angry?” She wondered if her mother had said something to him about the blacksmith.
“I don’t know, child. Your father’s face is not the easiest to read. Now hurry, he’s waiting.”
Antonia took a minute to wash her face and brush her hair, then walked into the parlor to find her father standing next to a cloth package on the table.
“Bella, come give your father a hug,” he said enthusiastically. She nestled into her father’s warm embrace, fighting to keep the tears from returning. At least she knew her mother had kept the secret. Otherwise, her father would have been livid.
“Your mother told me about your concerns regarding Giovanni and the wedding.”
Antonia was startled. Her mother had told him, at least the part about Giovanni.
“It’s okay, my sweet girl. Everyone gets cold feet when the wedding day nears. But as you know, Giovanni is an important man from a very wealthy family. You will live a life of luxury with him, even greater than the one you’ve known so far.”
“I know, Papà, but—”
“And this marriage is very important to me, Antonia. It will happen as planned, and there is to be no more discussion of it.”
Her entire being felt hollow. Apparently, there was no way out of this nightmare.
“I want you to know that I understand you are no longer a child. You are a young woman and I need to see you in that light, even if you will always be my baby girl.”
He picked up the cloth package and held it out to her.
Antonia would rather have continued the discussion, to try to argue her point and hopefully convince her father, but deep down she knew it was pointless. Instead she took the package, carefully opening it.
Inside was the wine and gold gown her Uncle Emilio had designed. She looked up at her father, simultaneously pleased and confused. Surely he’d had it altered, as he would certainly think that sheer lace partlet verged on scandalous.
“Emilio tailored it to fit you, since he knew your size from the wedding gown.”
Antonia removed the gown and held it up. It was exactly as she’d remembered it. Even the partlet.
She lo
oked up at her father. “Thank you, Papà,” she said, rushing into another hug. “I love it so much.”
“He’s working on a mask and hat for you now. You can wear it to Summer Carnival, with Giovanni escorting you.”
Ideally, she would be going with Tavros. But if she couldn’t go with the man of her dreams, at least she would be wearing the gown of her dreams. Maybe that would be enough to make Giovanni take notice.
Chapter 19
Tavros
Tavros looked around the room, but the beautiful furniture was gone. So was the old man.
It had been a dream.
But it had felt so real. He was a child in a bed in a large, stately room, crying because he had let his father down. The same kindly old man who regularly haunted his dreams was attempting to reassure him, telling him to relax and control his breathing.
“Slowly… deeply… relax…”
“I’m can’t!” Young Tavros cried out, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorr—”
And then he was an adult again, sitting bolt upright in his bed of hay. The large, well-appointed room had been replaced by four shoddy wooden walls. He would still be awake when dawn arrived, rattled by the strange dream and confused by how unsettled if left him feeling.
With the shipyard closed as the entire island readied for Summer Carnival, Tavros had two consecutive days with no work, a rarity. After breakfast he decided to walk through Campo Santo Stefano, close to Ca’ Crivelli, hoping to catch a glimpse of Antonia.
He had not felt this hopeless since he was caged in the hull of the ship being tortured by that despicable, nearly toothless sailor. It had been two weeks since the night he kissed Antonia, and he had not seen her once in that span. That, despite his having looked for her repeatedly in Piazza San Marco and taking quick glances whenever he passed the church garden where he’d handed her a rose. He had even made a habit of walking here in the campo near the Crivelli’s palazzo. Alas, Antonia was nowhere to be seen.
With each passing day, Tavros had become more dejected.
Did Giovanni Donato say something to Antonia’s father? Or to her directly?
No, it was more likely that Tavros himself had scared away the object of his affection. Maybe she’d remembered more about the night on the gondola, when she witnessed him becoming the beast.
Even if that weren’t the case, he was a laborer, while Antonia and her family were upper class, so she was out of his reach. She had probably come to her senses after briefly flirting with the idea of being with someone like him. Real life had intervened, and she undoubtedly realized she would be much better off living a life of luxury with Donato.
The thought worsened Tavros’s already-sour mood.
As he walked through Campo Santo Stefano, he couldn’t help but notice the hustle and bustle of people getting ready for Summer Carnival, which was to take place in two days. The festive day was officially supposed to be a single-day version of the month-long Carnival of Venice that would take place prior to Lent. Since all attendees wore costumes to conceal their identities, the carnivals were also the only time when the various classes of Venetian society mingled socially.
Tavros had intended to avoid the crowds and remain in his quarters on the day of Summer Carnival, but now he felt himself giving in to the idea of attending. He needed the distraction, as staying home would force him to spend every minute thinking about the love of his life. Maybe he would even see Antonia, though how he would recognize her in costume was a mystery. Still, the thought made his heart feel lighter.
But if he were going to attend Summer Carnival, he would need a costume of his own.
He hurried back to the shipyard in the fading light of the summer day and fired up the forge. As it grew hotter, he sneaked over to the carpenters’ area, where he had recently spotted a large black cloth of coarse woven cotton. He found it and hurried back to the forge, concocting an excuse along the way in case anyone saw him take it.
Back at the forge, he set to work fashioning his costume. First, he mixed iron ore and coal and heated the combination in his blast furnace to produce molten iron, then painstakingly pounded and formed it into the exact shape he wanted. The process served to distract him until the wee hours of the morning.
Exhausted, he headed to his quarters. In the morning, he could create the remainder of his costume from the black cloth. Now he would drift off to sleep thinking of Antonia.
Chapter 20
Antonia
The Rialto market was already shutting down for the day when Antonia descended the bridge, on a mission so secret she’d been forced to lie to her mother and say she was going to visit Flora. At mid-afternoon, the market’s produce sellers and fishmongers were packing away whatever goods they’d failed to sell, ready to come back at daybreak and do it all over again. Antonia walked briskly past the overpowering fish smell, then crossed Campo Beccarie to the little footbridge on the far side.
Across the bridge Antonia found the shop Piera had described that sold expensive kitchenware. Next to it was a small door with a crude painting of a mortar and pestle. She tried the door and found it wasn’t locked.
Stepping inside was like visiting a far-away land, the kind you hear about in children’s stories. The smell of strong incense burning over years of musty odors invaded her nostrils as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light. Dusty unlabeled jars lined every wall, and the entire room felt so foreign to her that Antonia was tempted to leave immediately. Before she had a chance, an old, short man wearing a funny cloth hat and a long olive-green robe entered the room through a back door.
“Yes, yes, what will you be needing?” he asked in a heavily accented voice. His dark complexion and the odd shape of his gray beard added to his exoticism.
“I was told you might have information…” Antonia said, then hesitated. Gulping down her anxiety, she forged ahead. “… regarding the Beast of Venice.”
“Who sent you, little one?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Nobody sent me.”
The old man frowned. “And why would I want to help nobody?”
Realizing she needed to use her father’s influence, Antonia said, “I am Antonia Crivelli. My father is the fabric merchant.”
“Aha. And what is your interest in the monster, Signorina Crivelli? What would you wish to know about it?”
“Everything. My governess said you were the most knowledgeable man in Venice about mythical creatures.”
“That may be true, but the Beast of Venice is no myth.” He looked her over, then softened. “My name is Kadri. Come with me.”
He turned and disappeared through the rear door. Antonia stayed rooted to the spot, wondering if this might have been a bad idea. A young woman her age shouldn’t have come to the apothecary shop alone, and absolutely should never enter the residence of a total stranger. Kadri stuck his head back in and gestured for her to follow, saying, “My books are all back here in my living area. Come then, if you wish to learn about the beast.”
Bravely throwing caution to the wind, Antonia took a deep breath and followed him through the door into a small two-room apartment. The décor was very unusual, boasting the kind of exotic items her father sometimes brought back from trips. It was clean, though, and a single small window allowed in enough light to assuage her fear. The room was much brighter than the shop itself, and the smell of incense wasn’t as pervasive here, either.
Kadri retrieved a large book from a shelf filled with them, then sat at a table and beckoned for Antonia to join him. She took a seat on a velvet-cushioned chair, admiring the intricate tortoiseshell pattern inlaid into the wooden table.
“Why do you wish to know about the Beast of Venice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow without opening the book.
Antonia paused, not knowing whether to share her story. Assuming this man would take her more seriously if he knew the truth, she decided to tell him.
“I saw it,” Antonia replied. “I know it sounds absurd, but the beast saved my
life.”
“Um hmm.”
“I’m not crazy. I really did see it.”
He smiled softly. “I don’t think you crazy, my dear. I’ve met a few very sane people who have seen the beast. They all seem to end up in my shop at some point.”
He flipped open the book and slowly looked from page to page. Like most Venetian women, Antonia had never been taught to read. Her father had always said, “Only nuns need to know how to read.” But while she couldn’t read the text, the drawings she saw on the pages grabbed her attention, both frightening and intriguing her. There was a man with hair covering his entire face, a horse with wings, a giant dragon with fire spewing from its mouth, and a bizarre creature with the head of a human, the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion.
Licking the tip of his finger, Kadri continued to turn page after page until he arrived at an image that took Antonia’s breath away.
“Here it is,” the old man said, pointing a bony finger at the drawing. “Is this what you saw?”
Her entire body tingled as she looked at the drawing. It was unmistakably the Beast of Venice, the one she’d seen effortlessly pummel her attackers that night. The creature had the head of a bull, complete with horns and a snout. His neck and shoulders were covered with fur, but from the chest down, as well as its arms, it was a man.
Antonia was shocked when she realized the figure was naked. Definitely a man.
“Yes, that’s him,” she said, blushing as she hurried to add, “except he wore clothing, of course.”
“Of course,” Kadri said. “This is a minotaur. That is how the Beast of Venice has been described by those who have seen it.”
A minotaur… she’d never heard the word before.
“What does this say?” she asked, pointing at the text beneath the drawing.
“Let me see.” He turned the book back toward him and read aloud, “The minotaur is half bull and half man. Legend says the first minotaur was the son of Queen Pasiphaë of ancient Crete, born when she fell in love with a bull that was a present from Zeus to her husband, King Minos. Furious, Zeus cursed the King and Queen’s family. Over the centuries, many of the king’s male descendants have been victims of Zeus’s cruel curse. It subsequently came into practice that minotaurs were put to death while still infants.”
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