He marched off, with the other man following him. The torchlight was rapidly replaced by the threatened darkness, and Tavros’s hopes dimmed with it.
The lack of light was the least of Tavros’s concerns in his cell.
His eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness, and he could see when the rats came close and needed to be chased away. The lack of conversation didn’t bother him, either, as his curse had left him a solitary man with no close friends. Not being able to move around much had weakened him to the point where standing took some effort, and the sporadic delivery of what passed for meals didn’t help his strength.
A bucket had been provided for him. Two buckets, actually: one with canal water to drink, and the second for his other needs. That second one was rarely removed, and the smell was horrendous.
Those things were physical, though. The worst part of his ordeal, by far, was mental.
Tavros was tortured by the constant presence of Antonia in his mind and heart. Even when he slept on the cold stone ground, he dreamt of her naked body against his. She would hold his shoulders as she whispered how much she loved him. He woke time and time again, disheartened and racked with despair, his body soaked in cold sweat.
Had she abandoned him? If her fiancé was responsible for his imprisonment, couldn’t she intervene to secure his release?
For that matter, did she even know where he was? Surely she wondered why he hadn’t attempted to contact her since the night they spent together.
Time dragged by slowly, hour after agonizing hour, and never for a minute was Antonia gone from his thoughts.
There had to be a way. Tavros had vowed to do whatever was necessary to find his love again.
As time passed, his hopes slowly diminished. Each passing day made it less likely he could ever find a way out of this bleak hell.
Chapter 29
Antonia
The palazzo was abuzz with wedding day preparations, but Antonia sat in silence in her bedroom, staring at the mirror’s reflection of her and her sky-blue lace wedding gown. Meticulously tailored by her Uncle Emilio, she had just a few months ago declared it the most exquisite bridal gown she’d ever seen. Today, though, it felt like something a prisoner would be forced to wear. Preoccupied with her thoughts of Tavros and his sudden disappearance, she didn’t even hear her mother ask which lace gloves she had decided to wear.
When Piera stood directly in front of her to fasten the veil to Antonia’s auburn locks, it was finally enough to break the bride-to-be out of her introspection. At her mother’s insistence, she stood and turned around for the two women to admire. Signora Crivelli clasped her daughter’s hands and kissed them, exclaiming how beautiful she looked. Antonia couldn’t manage a smile in return.
For the last month her mind had continued to wander back to her tryst with Tavros, his strong body above hers, his rough hands gently caressing her in the darkness. Now tears welled again in her eyes at the memory of those passionate silver eyes that burned into her very soul.
“Sweetheart, save the emotions for later,” her mother said. “There will be plenty of time tonight for tears of joy.”
Antonia looked forlornly at her mother, wondering if she truly believed the tears to be happy ones. The man to whom she’d given her heart, her mind, and her body had vanished without a trace, supposedly returning to his home country. He didn’t even know about the seed growing inside of her, the baby she would one day have that belonged equally to him.
As she dabbed the liquid from her eyes, she noticed movement in the doorway and saw her father enter. He beamed with pride at the sight of his little girl, all grown-up and ready to be married.
“Carissima, you are the most beautiful thing I have seen since the day of my own wedding,” he said. “Do you have any idea how much your mother and I both love you?”
Antonia looked from one parent to the other. Glumly, she said, “If your love is so boundless, why are you dooming me to a life of misery?”
Signor and Signora Crivelli were stunned at the question. They shouldn’t have been, as their daughter had been expressing such sentiments daily in recent weeks. Still, this was the day of the wedding, and they’d apparently hoped for calmer seas.
He father glared at her. “Your future entails living a life of indulgence as the wife of a man who will one day dominate trade throughout the entire Venetian Republic. We should all be so miserable.”
“I will be the wife of a man who doesn’t love me, and to be honest, does not even like me.” She inhaled, then added, “Papà, I’m in love with another man.”
Signora Crivelli and Piera both gasped at hearing Antonia admit it to her father.
“And he loves me as well. I should be in his arms tonight. Not the unwilling arms of Giovanni Donato.”
“Enough!” shouted Signor Crivelli. “You ungrateful child!” His face red, he seemed on the verge of exploding. The room fell eerily silent as he took a couple of deep breaths before finally speaking again. “I will not have you ruin this day with your petulant nonsense about love.”
He paused for a moment as Antonia sniffled, then added, “I know all about your blacksmith, but he is now forever out of your life. In a few hours, you will be Signora Donato, wife of Giovanni Donato. That is your place in the world, and the sooner you accept it, the better off we all will be.”
Antonia threw herself on the bed and began weeping hysterically.
Signor Crivelli glared at his wife and Piera. “I hold the two of you responsible for this! Always filling her head with fairy tales of love and princes, ever since she was a little girl. Now you will do whatever is necessary to have her ready to be married two hours from now!”
He marched out of the room, leaving a cloud of gloom in his wake.
Chapter 30
Tavros
“Wake up, m’lord! This is the big day!”
Tavros opened his eyes, then shut them immediately at the blinding torchlight coming through the bars of his cell. There were three guards who patrolled the small prison one at a time during their assigned shifts. He recognized the voice as belonging to the one named Rocco, the meanest of the trio.
Rocco was a vile excuse for a human, and he took particular delight in eating his large meals in front of Tavros’s cell while Tavros had only stale scraps or nothing at all. Sometimes he would go so far as to open the barred door and enter the cell, extending food toward Tavros, but always keeping it just out of reach. Tavros had learned to resist the urge to try to grab the morsels, but the gnawing in his stomach had evolved into a knot of pure hatred for his jailor.
Worse yet, Rocco and the other guards knew Tavros had been imprisoned for being seen with the fiancé of Giovanni Donato, and they had been incessant in their berating him as the laborer who wanted to become a member of high society.
“Wake up, I said, Lord Blacksmith!”
A torrent of water hit Tavros and jolted him fully awake, his eyes flying open to see Rocco standing there with an empty bucket in his hand.
“You don’t want to sleep through the festivities, do you?”
Tavros seethed. “What are you babbling about now?”
“Everyone in Venice knows this is the day,” Rocco said sarcastically. “But wait… you’ve been in prison for the last month. You’ve lost track of time, haven’t you?”
“There is no time in this hell.”
A sadistic grin crept across the guard’s lips. “Everyone is gathering at the church at this very moment. Today is the day your beloved Antonia will wed Giovanni Donato.”
Tavros sprang to his feet, ignoring his weak muscles and the heavy chains weighing him down.
“You lie!”
The jailor laughed. “I have no reason to lie, blacksmith. I passed by Saint Domenico’s this morning and saw them preparing the church and the gardens for the big day.”
Tavros’s heart pumped furiously as a giant lump formed in his throat and nausea grew in his belly. He knew this day would come but had tried to con
vince himself he’d find a way to stop the nuptials. Now the love of his life was about to be given to an ungrateful man who didn’t deserve her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.
Suddenly, his bicep twitched hard.
Tavros tried to calm himself. If he turned now—if he became the minotaur—his secret would be out, and he’d be shackled and helpless here in the cage, unable to run to save himself.
Rocco thrust a piece of dried fish toward Tavros, holding his hand steady. When the prisoner refused to play along, he shrugged and took a bite himself, talking with his mouth full.
“Any minute now, they’ll be saying their vows in front of God, and the Blessed Father will approve their union. Man and wife, forever.”
His mind spinning and his muscles starting to spasm, Tavros glared at Rocco.
“Perhaps Antonia will stop by herself to tell you the news. Maybe she’ll even bring you some food from the feast, since you can’t attend the celebration.”
A searing pain gripped Tavros’s temple and he moaned in agony.
“I would suffer, too,” Rocco said perversely, “at the thought of the woman I love kissing that smug weasel, Donato.”
Tavros doubled over, then dropped to his knees, the echoed clanking of his chains bouncing off the stone walls. His mind filled with panic. If he turned into the minotaur now, Rocco would surely kill him.
“Just imagine, though…” The guard’s voice grew quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Imagine later tonight, when they’re in his big warm bed. Naked, not a stitch of clothing on either of them as that ponce climbs on top of her.”
The blacksmith’s anguish produced a low rumbling sound that grew louder and harsher with each passing second.
“Just picture the thought of your lovely girl spreading her milk-white legs so young Donato can impale her with his man-serpent.”
The image entered Tavros’s head against his will, enraging him and the beast and making both more furious than either had ever been.
“Can you see that in your dense head, Lord Blacksmith? Can you imagine your beautiful, innocent Antonia with her legs wrapped firmly around that rich coxcomb’s waist and his hard staff splitting her wet litt—”
An ungodly roar halted the guard mid-taunt.
Tavros rose, unable now to fully stand in the cell because of the bull’s head and horns atop his human body. His rippling muscles glistened in the torchlight, having doubled in size in seconds. Steam emanated from his nostrils and his rapidly darkening pupils reflected the fury of the storm within.
Rocco dropped his torch and tried to flee. Tavros’s hand fired out, breaking the chain attached to his shackle, then closing around the guard’s ankle. Rocco wailed hideously as his bones crunched under the sudden pressure, then his cries grew even more frantic as he felt himself being pulled toward the man-beast that had appeared out of nowhere.
Rocco’s behavior had certainly earned him a leisurely revenge death. As it was, the minotaur had an urgent matter to attend to and was unable to give the sadistic guard the cruel end he deserved.
Instead he would suffice with a badly broken arm, an ankle mangled beyond any hope of repair, and a head slammed hard into the concrete floor.
Chapter 31
Antonia
The atmosphere was festive in Venice as the fifty-strong bridal procession made their way to the church. The brilliant sunshine was unhindered by even a trace of clouds. Under the bride’s sky-blue lace veil, though, tears had been falling as steadily as rain.
Oblivious to the true extent of their daughter’s misery, Signor and Signora Crivelli acted like proud peacocks. She was easily the most beautiful woman on the entire island that day, in the breathtaking silk and lace gown her uncle had tailored for the big event.
As they passed the piazza where the reception feast would be held, Antonia saw tables of food and flowers, with more still being laid out. A gigantic ship made of colored sugar stood in the middle of the commotion, a centerpiece no doubt ordered by the Donato family to commemorate the day. A large stage had been set up where short plays of romance would be performed, and musicians were already gathering to be ready to provide an impetus for dancing when the crowd made its way from the church in an hour or so.
This impressive feast was only the first of three of similar size that would be held on successive nights. When the only son of the greatest shipbuilder in the republic takes a wife, no expense is spared on the opulent celebrations, and seemingly no end to the revelry.
Alas, nothing was festive enough to cheer up the bride. This was no dream-come-true for Antonia; it was her worst nightmare.
“What a glorious day this is!” Signor Crivelli said loudly for all to hear. “And what a beautiful bride my daughter makes!”
Cheers of agreement went up from everyone in the bridal procession, only adding to Antonia’s anguish. She hated the attention everyone was giving to this forced rite she participated in against her will. The joy and jubilation around her were daggers, thrusting deep into her heart.
The procession finally arrived at Saint Domenico’s Church, near the shipyard. Antonia’s stomach twisted in a knot when they walked past the church garden in which Tavros had once handed her a rose.
She spotted Giovanni standing at the front of the church, awaiting her arrival underneath the custom-made stone arch her father had commissioned. One of Venice’s best sculptors had carved and painstakingly assembled it, piece by piece. Her parents thought it elegant, but to Antonia it was monstrous. Beneath the arch, the groom was resplendent in a stunning gold velvet doublet and jerkin with matching knee-length breeches and hosiery. Any woman would have been happy to be given to such a handsome, wealthy man—except the one who had already given herself entirely to another, and who would soon bear a child who would never know his real father.
Signor Crivelli ceremoniously handed off Antonia to his future son-in-law, and Giovanni extended his hand to take hers. The skin under her glove registered nothing, and definitely not the surge of heat that accompanied even the slightest touch from Tavros. A cheer went up from the bridal procession when Giovanni lifted their clasped hands skyward before turning to lead her through the church doors.
Despite its high vaulted ceilings, the moment she stepped inside the church Antonia felt as if it would collapse on her. Signor Crivelli had said they were expecting more than three hundred guests, and it seemed like an even greater number were already in the ornate building. The giant columns running down both sides of the large center aisle had been decorated with rope soaked in water with gold flakes, sparkling as it reflected the hundreds of candles inside. Sunlight streaming in through the large stained-glass windows added to the color.
Antonia was crestfallen at the mere sight of the spectacle that had been months in the planning. This couldn’t be stopped. She was about to be wed to Giovanni Donato and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She swallowed hard, trying to fight back the rising bile.
Giovanni walked proudly down the aisle with his wife-to-be on his arm, her eyes cast downward. She looked toward her father one last time, hoping he could see through the veil and realize how distraught she was, but he just smiled and nodded. Her mother wore a look of concern but managed a forced smile of her own.
Padre Filippo, whom she’d known since she was but a girl, greeted the couple at the altar and signaled for the guests to be seated. The mass began and the sudden quiet made it hard for Antonia to maintain her silence while fighting back tears and sniffles. It felt as if it any moment, her heart would rip wide open and she would scream in sheer agony as the very life spilled out of her.
When Padre Filippo finally reached the part of the mass that included the ceremonial wedding vows, he stood before the young couple and smiled. The already quiet church grew eerily silent as the priest cleared his throat and began to speak in a deep, solemn voice.
“Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of his
congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable state, instituted of God in Paradise, in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
Antonia couldn’t concentrate on the words because the image of Tavros totally occupied her. Through her veil she tried to distract herself by focusing on the gold reflections over the elaborate pattern of the church’s marble floor. As much as she fought it, though, the blacksmith’s handsome features kept floating through her mind. She wondered if this was God already punishing for her having had relations with Tavros.
“…therefore if any man can show any just cause, why these two children of God may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”
Her mother knew she’d slept with the blacksmith, as did Piera. While she hadn’t fully confided in her friend Flora, she’d shared enough to warrant interrupting the ceremony. She’d admitted to her father that she loved another man. And the groom himself had learned of her spending time with Tavros on more than one occasion.
None of them spoke up, all holding their tongues so the wedding could proceed. A cold sweat broke out across Antonia’s forehead as the priest continued.
“I require and charge you that if either of you does know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that ye confess it forthwith.”
Antonia was certain that Giovanni would remain silent about his many rumored dalliances with other men. She ached to blurt out a confession of her own to stop the ceremony, knowing the priest would not continue if he knew she was no longer a virgin.
“Giovanni Luca Donato, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness, and in health, forsaking all others, keeping only to her, so long as you both shall live?”
Beauty and the Beast of Venice Page 12