The Emancipation of Josef Kostan (part 1, PG-13/slash, J/OC)
Posted: Sun Jan 18, 2009 11:31 pm
Title: The Emancipation of Josef Kostan, part 1
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG-13/slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: This is a story I wrote ages ago about Josef's origins. Just for clarity, Giuseppe Costanza is Josef. There are some slash themes in part 2 so please don't read on if that's likely to offend - but the rating is PG-13 so there is nothing explicit. I've had great fun with Giuseppe so I hope you like him too.
*************************************************************************************************************
--- The Emancipation of Josef Kostan ---
Rome, 1613
It was a momentous day in the Costanza household; the second most important man in Rome awaited the goldsmiths, father and son, to inspect their offerings for the opening ceremony of his villa the following week. Scipione Borghese, the grand cardinal himself, nephew of Pope Paul V, patron of the arts and the richest man in the world, or so it was rumoured, was their newest and most high-profile customer. For fourteen-year-old Giuseppe it was a rite of passage. Not only would it be his first visit with his father to see an important customer, but it was Borghese; just the mention of his name sent merchants scurrying to produce their finest wares and most flattering compliments on his discerning taste. Artemisio Costanza was no different, just a little older, a little wiser and a little prouder. He understood the fluctuations of power and patronage and had weathered the storms of familial politics and rivalries that had defined the papacy and drawn the battle lines of Roman society for centuries.
Artemisio was justifiably proud of his work; the Guild had recognised him as an ambassador for their craft, entitling him to export to the other great cities without the exorbitant taxes that were usually levied. He had also been commissioned to design and produce this year's commemorative scudo that would act as the mark of legitimacy for all Guild members and had served as his introduction to Borghese's orbit. Business was booming and a successful commission for the Cardinal would seal their future for many years to come.
He was proud that his eldest son was learning the business; Artemisio had married late in life, it would not be long before retirement beckoned and it was important that Giuseppe was capable of assuming the capo's mantle, of maintaining the standards of quality, precision and beauty that he had worked so hard to establish. And dealing with important, and occasionally fanciful customers was all part of the job. It was no use making the most beautiful pieces in Italy if no-one would buy them. Six families depended on the success of their business and that was a heavy burden through the lean times that invariably followed the flush of favour and patronage.
Giuseppe was prowling outside his father's study, already dressed in his best attire, waiting to be summoned to leave for the trip to Villa Borghese. He heard approaching footsteps from within and scurried across the hallway to avoid discovery of his eavesdropping.
"Giuseppe!" His father barked, striding towards him. "We are not leaving for another two hours. I sincerely hope that you have not left Arturo and Onorio doing all the work while you jump around here like a skittish mare. Well?"
"Sorry, father." He bowed his head and twiddled his fingers nervously behind his back.
"Mm. So you should be. Don't ever forget that being the master of this business means doing your fair share of the hard work too." His tone softened at the tears that welled in his young son's eyes. "Just run along to the workroom and check that Arturo has finished the final polishing for Cardinal Borghese's crucifix and ring. Go on, off you go." With ruffled hair and soothed spirit Giuseppe did as he was told, turning to run across the courtyard, missing his father's indulgent chuckle. Artemisio could remember the same conversation with his own father and it felt like the passing on of another grand tradition.
In the workroom, Arturo and Onorio were unusually silent, a hush of concentration accompanying their finishing touches. The crucifix was a wonder to behold, fully ten by six inches, set with two hundred and fifty-six pearls in rows of four along its length and width, and the largest sapphire Giuseppe had ever seen at its centre. The matching ring had a smaller sapphire centrepiece with a pearl on either side and Giuseppe knew that together they were a proud demonstration of his father's artistry. The large sapphire had been a gamble for the family as the vendor had insisted on payment up-front, and if the Cardinal didn't approve, they would struggle to find another buyer without having to re-work the entire piece. On such decisions, businesses could stand or fall. The Cardinal had to like them; and he had to pay what they were worth. He slipped on a pair of white gloves for one final, polishing touch and then watched as Arturo settled them into the velvet-lined display case that would be their shop window.
*****************************
Giuseppe was hot and fretful by the time they arrived; he might have enjoyed getting dressed up in his finery but now he was soaked in sweat and suffering under the unremitting heat of the sun that had glared down on them for the thirty minute ride from home to the Pincian Hill and the newest grand Villa in Rome. He forgot his discomfort as they approached; he had never seen a building like it. Gleaming white in the sunshine, classical in design, imposing without being ostentatious; to his young eyes it looked like a palace of wonders.
His father gave his hand an encouraging squeeze as they mounted the steps to the entrance and were ushered towards the Cardinal's reception room.
"If he asks you a question, just answer clearly and simply. Don't be nervous." Artemisio's advice would have held more sway if his own hand hadn't been clammy and trembling. Giuseppe had never seen him nervous before and his imaginings of the man they were about to meet grew ever wilder. Inside, there were people everywhere, a purposeful bustle that signalled final preparations for the grand opening: paintings were being hung, statues positioned and re-positioned, floors polished and furniture manoeuvred into place. Wide-eyed, Giuseppe grasped for his father's hand again as a huge door, carved with the Borghese family crest of an eagle and a dragon, swung open to shepherd them into the Cardinal's presence.
"Costanza, my dear fellow. Come in, come in." The Cardinal was in jovial mood and turned from his secretary to greet Artemisio with a hearty handshake, before proffering his ringed hand for the appropriate obeisance. Giuseppe followed suit, although with a slight moue of disgust. He hadn't expected the prelate to have a workman's hands but there was something feminine about the scented, fleshy finger that made him baulk. Thankfully, the Cardinal was already eagerly gesturing to his father to open the boxes and display his wares and didn't notice a child's disdain.
"Show me what you have brought. I am hoping that you will have created a fitting adornment for the celebrations to come."
The box was opened to reveal the glories within and Giuseppe knew everything was going to be just fine when the Cardinal let out an involuntary gasp of joy and delight and clapped his hands with glee. His father caught his eye and winked, trying to conceal the grin that was spreading from the corners of his mouth. Neither of them could have hoped for a better reaction. The Cardinal lifted the crucifix out of its plush cradle and held it out in front of him, tilting it to catch and reflect the sunlight that streamed across the room. The sapphire glowed and glittered, casting a thousand splintered rays. His secretary moved to grasp the ornate gold chain and place it around his neck, settling the crucifix in front of his burgeoning paunch. Borghese turned to admire his reflection, twisting from side to side like a bride inspecting her wedding dress. With his eyes never wavering from his reflection, he called for the ring and slipped it over his finger; what had looked huge in Giuseppe's tiny hands, fit perfectly and the Cardinal swept his hand from left to right, catching the light in the jewel at each turn. Artemisio moved to offer compliments and praise, which the Cardinal accepted as due to him rather than the jewels and they struck up a conversation about the relative merits of sapphires and diamonds while Giuseppe's attention started to wander. His eyes roved around the room, taking in some of the treasures on display. Borghese was said to have the greatest collection of art and antiquities in the world, and there was much to admire, even to his callow eyes.
He landed on a painting that held pride of place above the Cardinal's credenza. He took an involuntary step forward and let out a little gasp of horror. He had never seen anything like it before and although his instinctive reaction was terror, he was drawn to move closer to get a better look. He stepped across the room, oblivious to the etiquette of the moment, until he was standing just a couple of feet away, head back, mouth gaping.
The painting depicted a young boy, no older than him, surrounded by dark, threatening gloom. His skin was creamy white, bathed in a brilliant light that seemed to emanate from within as the remainder of the setting was resolutely murky. His head was turned slightly to one side, part of his profile obscured by the shadow that clawed at him from the background. The tendons in his neck showed signs of strain; a slight, weary frown signalled knowledge beyond his years; the gentle folds of his tunic catching and playing with the light; the marked and dulled sword in his right hand resting gently across his thigh. But in his grubby, sunburnt, left hand lay the horror that had so drawn Giuseppe's attention. Held out in front of him, gripped by a mop of black hair, a dark gash oozing across its brow, was a human head. The hooded, uneven eyes, the slack jaw, seeming to have been cut off mid-scream and the darkened rotting teeth were all so vivid, a stark contrast to the death that was signalled by the blood that poured from the severed neck. There was nothing glamorous about this death, no glory or triumph, just resignation and disgust. Compared with the cherubs and angels that usually adorned the palaces and churches of the city, this was indeed a shocking and singular work.
Giuseppe eventually realised that the loud coughing reverberating around the room was his father trying to attract his attention. The Cardinal was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He had obviously asked a question and expected an answer, but Giuseppe had been lost in contemplation. Honesty was the only option and he confessed, "I'm sorry, your eminence. The picture... " His voice trailed off as his eyes were drawn back to the painting. The Cardinal walked over and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"Ah yes. 'David with the Head of Goliath'. Do you know the artist?"
"No, your eminence." Giuseppe knew little of art and artists, which made his reaction to this depiction even more surprising.
"Michelangelo Merisi, known to most as Caravaggio. The greatest painter of this, or any other age. Too quickly taken from this life just three years ago." A fleeting shadow passed across the Cardinal's face; Giuseppe was too young to recognise the emotion, but Artemisio knew thwarted desire when he saw it. The entire city knew of the Cardinal's tastes and even the Vatican recorder struggled to keep mention of his favourites out of official chronicles.
"He sent this painting to me as a gift of supplication, seeking a pardon for past crimes. The face of Goliath is Merisi's own. Does it scare you, child?"
"No, your eminence. I've just never seen anything like it before."
"Nor will you again. Not in this life." He turned briskly, all business once more, shook Artemisio's hand, assured him that his secretary would see to payment in full and thanked him once again for a commission brilliantly fulfilled. Artemisio took his son's hand and pulled him from the room, their business concluded.
"What on earth got into you, boy? You could have jeopardised the entire deal. Never, never do anything like that again, do you understand me?"
"Yes, father. I'm sorry, father. But the painting..."
"I don't care about the painting and neither should you. Always remember that a deal isn't done until the customer has paid and you cannot let your attention waver for a second." Artemisio could not keep hold of his anger for long. It had been a good day and a bright, continuing future beckoned for his business. To have the Cardinal as a regular client would ensure wealth and security for many years to come. He relented and threw his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Let's get home and we can celebrate properly. Your first sale!"
Giuseppe was pleased for his father and delighted to be on the way home so he could get out of his heavy clothes but he could not forget the sadness in the Cardinal's voice, a sadness that he would recall many years hence when he indeed encountered that face, those hooded eyes and that mop of dark hair once again.
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG-13/slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: This is a story I wrote ages ago about Josef's origins. Just for clarity, Giuseppe Costanza is Josef. There are some slash themes in part 2 so please don't read on if that's likely to offend - but the rating is PG-13 so there is nothing explicit. I've had great fun with Giuseppe so I hope you like him too.
*************************************************************************************************************
--- The Emancipation of Josef Kostan ---
Rome, 1613
It was a momentous day in the Costanza household; the second most important man in Rome awaited the goldsmiths, father and son, to inspect their offerings for the opening ceremony of his villa the following week. Scipione Borghese, the grand cardinal himself, nephew of Pope Paul V, patron of the arts and the richest man in the world, or so it was rumoured, was their newest and most high-profile customer. For fourteen-year-old Giuseppe it was a rite of passage. Not only would it be his first visit with his father to see an important customer, but it was Borghese; just the mention of his name sent merchants scurrying to produce their finest wares and most flattering compliments on his discerning taste. Artemisio Costanza was no different, just a little older, a little wiser and a little prouder. He understood the fluctuations of power and patronage and had weathered the storms of familial politics and rivalries that had defined the papacy and drawn the battle lines of Roman society for centuries.
Artemisio was justifiably proud of his work; the Guild had recognised him as an ambassador for their craft, entitling him to export to the other great cities without the exorbitant taxes that were usually levied. He had also been commissioned to design and produce this year's commemorative scudo that would act as the mark of legitimacy for all Guild members and had served as his introduction to Borghese's orbit. Business was booming and a successful commission for the Cardinal would seal their future for many years to come.
He was proud that his eldest son was learning the business; Artemisio had married late in life, it would not be long before retirement beckoned and it was important that Giuseppe was capable of assuming the capo's mantle, of maintaining the standards of quality, precision and beauty that he had worked so hard to establish. And dealing with important, and occasionally fanciful customers was all part of the job. It was no use making the most beautiful pieces in Italy if no-one would buy them. Six families depended on the success of their business and that was a heavy burden through the lean times that invariably followed the flush of favour and patronage.
Giuseppe was prowling outside his father's study, already dressed in his best attire, waiting to be summoned to leave for the trip to Villa Borghese. He heard approaching footsteps from within and scurried across the hallway to avoid discovery of his eavesdropping.
"Giuseppe!" His father barked, striding towards him. "We are not leaving for another two hours. I sincerely hope that you have not left Arturo and Onorio doing all the work while you jump around here like a skittish mare. Well?"
"Sorry, father." He bowed his head and twiddled his fingers nervously behind his back.
"Mm. So you should be. Don't ever forget that being the master of this business means doing your fair share of the hard work too." His tone softened at the tears that welled in his young son's eyes. "Just run along to the workroom and check that Arturo has finished the final polishing for Cardinal Borghese's crucifix and ring. Go on, off you go." With ruffled hair and soothed spirit Giuseppe did as he was told, turning to run across the courtyard, missing his father's indulgent chuckle. Artemisio could remember the same conversation with his own father and it felt like the passing on of another grand tradition.
In the workroom, Arturo and Onorio were unusually silent, a hush of concentration accompanying their finishing touches. The crucifix was a wonder to behold, fully ten by six inches, set with two hundred and fifty-six pearls in rows of four along its length and width, and the largest sapphire Giuseppe had ever seen at its centre. The matching ring had a smaller sapphire centrepiece with a pearl on either side and Giuseppe knew that together they were a proud demonstration of his father's artistry. The large sapphire had been a gamble for the family as the vendor had insisted on payment up-front, and if the Cardinal didn't approve, they would struggle to find another buyer without having to re-work the entire piece. On such decisions, businesses could stand or fall. The Cardinal had to like them; and he had to pay what they were worth. He slipped on a pair of white gloves for one final, polishing touch and then watched as Arturo settled them into the velvet-lined display case that would be their shop window.
*****************************
Giuseppe was hot and fretful by the time they arrived; he might have enjoyed getting dressed up in his finery but now he was soaked in sweat and suffering under the unremitting heat of the sun that had glared down on them for the thirty minute ride from home to the Pincian Hill and the newest grand Villa in Rome. He forgot his discomfort as they approached; he had never seen a building like it. Gleaming white in the sunshine, classical in design, imposing without being ostentatious; to his young eyes it looked like a palace of wonders.
His father gave his hand an encouraging squeeze as they mounted the steps to the entrance and were ushered towards the Cardinal's reception room.
"If he asks you a question, just answer clearly and simply. Don't be nervous." Artemisio's advice would have held more sway if his own hand hadn't been clammy and trembling. Giuseppe had never seen him nervous before and his imaginings of the man they were about to meet grew ever wilder. Inside, there were people everywhere, a purposeful bustle that signalled final preparations for the grand opening: paintings were being hung, statues positioned and re-positioned, floors polished and furniture manoeuvred into place. Wide-eyed, Giuseppe grasped for his father's hand again as a huge door, carved with the Borghese family crest of an eagle and a dragon, swung open to shepherd them into the Cardinal's presence.
"Costanza, my dear fellow. Come in, come in." The Cardinal was in jovial mood and turned from his secretary to greet Artemisio with a hearty handshake, before proffering his ringed hand for the appropriate obeisance. Giuseppe followed suit, although with a slight moue of disgust. He hadn't expected the prelate to have a workman's hands but there was something feminine about the scented, fleshy finger that made him baulk. Thankfully, the Cardinal was already eagerly gesturing to his father to open the boxes and display his wares and didn't notice a child's disdain.
"Show me what you have brought. I am hoping that you will have created a fitting adornment for the celebrations to come."
The box was opened to reveal the glories within and Giuseppe knew everything was going to be just fine when the Cardinal let out an involuntary gasp of joy and delight and clapped his hands with glee. His father caught his eye and winked, trying to conceal the grin that was spreading from the corners of his mouth. Neither of them could have hoped for a better reaction. The Cardinal lifted the crucifix out of its plush cradle and held it out in front of him, tilting it to catch and reflect the sunlight that streamed across the room. The sapphire glowed and glittered, casting a thousand splintered rays. His secretary moved to grasp the ornate gold chain and place it around his neck, settling the crucifix in front of his burgeoning paunch. Borghese turned to admire his reflection, twisting from side to side like a bride inspecting her wedding dress. With his eyes never wavering from his reflection, he called for the ring and slipped it over his finger; what had looked huge in Giuseppe's tiny hands, fit perfectly and the Cardinal swept his hand from left to right, catching the light in the jewel at each turn. Artemisio moved to offer compliments and praise, which the Cardinal accepted as due to him rather than the jewels and they struck up a conversation about the relative merits of sapphires and diamonds while Giuseppe's attention started to wander. His eyes roved around the room, taking in some of the treasures on display. Borghese was said to have the greatest collection of art and antiquities in the world, and there was much to admire, even to his callow eyes.
He landed on a painting that held pride of place above the Cardinal's credenza. He took an involuntary step forward and let out a little gasp of horror. He had never seen anything like it before and although his instinctive reaction was terror, he was drawn to move closer to get a better look. He stepped across the room, oblivious to the etiquette of the moment, until he was standing just a couple of feet away, head back, mouth gaping.
The painting depicted a young boy, no older than him, surrounded by dark, threatening gloom. His skin was creamy white, bathed in a brilliant light that seemed to emanate from within as the remainder of the setting was resolutely murky. His head was turned slightly to one side, part of his profile obscured by the shadow that clawed at him from the background. The tendons in his neck showed signs of strain; a slight, weary frown signalled knowledge beyond his years; the gentle folds of his tunic catching and playing with the light; the marked and dulled sword in his right hand resting gently across his thigh. But in his grubby, sunburnt, left hand lay the horror that had so drawn Giuseppe's attention. Held out in front of him, gripped by a mop of black hair, a dark gash oozing across its brow, was a human head. The hooded, uneven eyes, the slack jaw, seeming to have been cut off mid-scream and the darkened rotting teeth were all so vivid, a stark contrast to the death that was signalled by the blood that poured from the severed neck. There was nothing glamorous about this death, no glory or triumph, just resignation and disgust. Compared with the cherubs and angels that usually adorned the palaces and churches of the city, this was indeed a shocking and singular work.
Giuseppe eventually realised that the loud coughing reverberating around the room was his father trying to attract his attention. The Cardinal was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He had obviously asked a question and expected an answer, but Giuseppe had been lost in contemplation. Honesty was the only option and he confessed, "I'm sorry, your eminence. The picture... " His voice trailed off as his eyes were drawn back to the painting. The Cardinal walked over and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"Ah yes. 'David with the Head of Goliath'. Do you know the artist?"
"No, your eminence." Giuseppe knew little of art and artists, which made his reaction to this depiction even more surprising.
"Michelangelo Merisi, known to most as Caravaggio. The greatest painter of this, or any other age. Too quickly taken from this life just three years ago." A fleeting shadow passed across the Cardinal's face; Giuseppe was too young to recognise the emotion, but Artemisio knew thwarted desire when he saw it. The entire city knew of the Cardinal's tastes and even the Vatican recorder struggled to keep mention of his favourites out of official chronicles.
"He sent this painting to me as a gift of supplication, seeking a pardon for past crimes. The face of Goliath is Merisi's own. Does it scare you, child?"
"No, your eminence. I've just never seen anything like it before."
"Nor will you again. Not in this life." He turned briskly, all business once more, shook Artemisio's hand, assured him that his secretary would see to payment in full and thanked him once again for a commission brilliantly fulfilled. Artemisio took his son's hand and pulled him from the room, their business concluded.
"What on earth got into you, boy? You could have jeopardised the entire deal. Never, never do anything like that again, do you understand me?"
"Yes, father. I'm sorry, father. But the painting..."
"I don't care about the painting and neither should you. Always remember that a deal isn't done until the customer has paid and you cannot let your attention waver for a second." Artemisio could not keep hold of his anger for long. It had been a good day and a bright, continuing future beckoned for his business. To have the Cardinal as a regular client would ensure wealth and security for many years to come. He relented and threw his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Let's get home and we can celebrate properly. Your first sale!"
Giuseppe was pleased for his father and delighted to be on the way home so he could get out of his heavy clothes but he could not forget the sadness in the Cardinal's voice, a sadness that he would recall many years hence when he indeed encountered that face, those hooded eyes and that mop of dark hair once again.
Sorry, I missed your comment. Thanks for coming back (and yes, this is a very old story 
).
