7b. Vespers, story 2 (dusk) - PG

[redwinter101]

Title: Vespers (2)
Sub-title: Giuseppe Learns A Lesson
Author: redwinter101
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Moonlight or any of its characters
Note: as promised, here's the second Vespers story - two birds with one stone! This is the seventh and penultimate story in The Divine Office series and also forms part of my occasional series about Josef's early life, The Continuing Adventures of Giuseppe Costanza. If you haven't read any of the Giuseppe stories, all you need to know is that Giuseppe is Josef as a young man, living in Rome, the son of a goldsmith. This story takes place at dusk.

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--- Vespers ---

Rome, February 1617


It was supposed to be a moment of silent contemplation, each parishioner taking the opportunity to ponder his soul's intent, but there was little silence to be found in the crowded church, filled with the surreptitious stamping of feet against the cold, and the flutter of flakes falling to the stone floor, remnants of the relentless snow that had accompanied the faithful on their journey this bitter evening. The never-ending canon of coughs and sniffles, winter colds irritated by the choking mix of incense and tallow; the soft shuffle of shifting bodies, cloaks wrapping tighter, aching muscles adjusted, boredom given voice in every creaking pew. Even in one of the finest churches in the city, Giuseppe's interest in the proceedings had long-since waned and he yearned for the ease and simplicity of the village chapel; at least he wouldn't have had long to wait until he could be home, warm by the fire with a mug of the spiced wine his mother now deemed him old enough to enjoy.

He shifted in his seat, but froze under his father's glare. It had been a good day, an important day, a day of equals, father and son going about their business in the city, and he didn't want to spoil it now with childish fidgeting. Their trip, started on rough, country tracks and finished across the smoothed cobbles of the city, had a dual purpose; it was a high holy day and Giuseppe's mother took the opportunity for an excursion with her two daughters while Giuseppe and his father went to inspect a new set of the finest handmade tools recently arrived from a master craftsman in the guild city of Ghent. Artemisio Costanza continued his son's education in the family business of which he must soon assume control, seeking Giuseppe's opinion, testing his understanding, explaining the importance of each object, his voice taking on the warm tone of a master indulging a favoured pupil.

Giuseppe smiled in contentment at the memory, glancing over to his now-yawning youngest sister. Bella shuffled tight against her mother, drooping eyelids finally surrendering to the excitement of the day and the welcome pull of sleep, a sharp contrast to fourteen-year-old Fiametta, fingering the heavy-set jewels at her delicate throat, entrusted in loan from her mother for the day. With the demands of the business and the girls' duties, it was rare for the whole family to be together at worship and Giuseppe was surprised at the low swell of contentment he felt. Glancing around the crowd there were no familiar faces; it was a very different congregation from the Costanza family chapel, a mix of nobles and commoners in the unusual classlessness of this quarter of the city. Feathers and furs rubbed shoulders with the simple wool and flax of the working man.

Chilled by the damp, draughty setting, Giuseppe's people-watching eventually lost its thrill as the service dragged on. The choir sang interminable psalms and the priest's drone lulled more than one head to drop to a snoring chest. At last, the recessional signalled the end of the service. The congregation sighed their mixture of relief and regret, the crisp chill of the Roman winter creeping in from all sides, the snow inches deep beyond the threshold as they faced difficult journeys home.

Bella stirred under her mother's caress and the family rose to join the shuffle toward the rear exit. In the candlelit vestibule they stepped to one side, the evening's most important business yet to be concluded, and Artemisio craned above the crowd for his client, Count Lorenzo di Stefano, the reason they were in this particular church this evening. Giuseppe caught a glint as a bejewelled hand trapped the light in a brusque wave of acknowledgement. The man was younger than he had expected, barely into his twenties, dark of colouring, almost swarthy in spite of his fancy accoutrements, filled with swagger, finely-dressed, attended by a manservant who hovered at his shoulder.

"My Lord," Artemisio bowed his greeting and was met with the briefest incline of the noble's head in return.

"Costanza. I take it you have the piece with you?" Clipped tones, no warmth; Giuseppe caught the chill behind his eyes. He had expected appreciation; he found condescension.

"Of course, my Lord." Artemisio drew the velvet box from a purse secreted at his waist and held it open to a stifled gasp of admiration from the servant peering over his master's shoulder.

Removing the butter-soft, kid glove from his right hand Lorenzo slipped the ring onto his index finger, holding it up to the weak candlelight cast from the sconce at his shoulder. The single stone was a deep, complex lapis from the East, the colour of the ocean, Giuseppe fancied, its intricate pattern of veins and scarlet accents catching the light as the Count stretched out his fingers in admiration. The filigree setting was delicate but robust, a demonstration of the master guildsman's art but fitting for a man of the Count's standing.

Where Giuseppe strained to praise, to extol the virtues of the piece, his father knew better, holding his counsel, waiting for his client's verdict.

"It isn't what I was expecting."

Giuseppe failed to smother a cry of dismay, tinged with derision. Was the man blind? It was perfect and he would find no finer piece in all of Rome. Lorenzo fixed him with a sneer, waiting for Artemisio to defend his work.

"That's very disappointing, my Lord, but I understand if it is not to your taste, there are other pieces I can show you or you can, of course, choose another jeweller who may be better able to meet your needs."

Giuseppe stood a little taller, unable to hide his small, prideful smile. No-one dismissed his father's work. No-one.

"Oh I didn't say I didn't want it," Lorenzo countered, sneering, "just that it isn't really up to the standards I expected. But then so little is these days, don't you find?" He turned away, murmuring something to his manservant before rounding on Artemisio again. "Well, I believe that concludes our business. I bid you goodnight, sir, madam."

"There is the matter of payment, my Lord. We had agreed a price."

The Count spun, stepping close. He had at least two handspans' advantage over Artemisio and he towered over the merchant. "You dare to ask for payment when you have produced such a paltry trifle?" All pretence of civility gone, his lips pressed into a thin line of pure anger.

"Sir, I understand that you are not satisfied, but I must demand payment, or return of the ring."

"You must, must you? Do I need to remind you who you are dealing with? Perhaps I should consult with my uncle, the Duke, for his advice on dealing with conmen and thieves? Especially those who use the name of the Guild to obtain introductions under false pretences."

That was too much for Giuseppe, drawing himself to his full height, eye to eye with the older man, "You'll take that back. My father is the finest goldsmith in all of Rome and you-" He was interrupted by the crunch of metal against skin and tooth as Lorenzo backhanded him across the mouth, splitting his lip, knocking him sideways. "Father!" he cried out in pain and indignation, expecting intervention, rescue, salvation, finding only grim silence.

"We are done here, Costanza. Restrain your whelp or the consequences will damage more than your reputation." Lorenzo strode past them, pausing briefly to leer at Fiametta, who had watched the proceedings with poorly-concealed interest. He stroked a manicured finger along her cheek, laughing, but Giuseppe heard no humour, only menace. With a glance at his young adversary, Lorenzo whispered, "I'm sure our paths will cross again, soon." His final laugh, the sweep of fine wool as he threw his cloak over his shoulder and strode from the church.

Giuseppe watched his retreating form, shrouded in the trappings of wealth, the arrogant mantle of inherited influence; he was hegemony; he was privilege; he was vanity and for the first time in his life, Giuseppe knew what hate was. His gaze swept to Fiametta, free to run to the safety of her mother's orbit yet she held, unmoving, except the breath heaving against straining ribs, bringing a hot flush to her cheeks. His appraisal was new and fresh; for the first time he saw her, his own eyes no longer so young that they could not see the fresh bloom of desire, her dreams of wealth and beauty and comfort writ large.

Caterina moved to her husband's side, a soothing hand on his arm. He shook her off and strode from the church, pulling his mantle tight around him as he stalked into the snowy night. Giuseppe started after him but was halted by his mother's grip on his arm and a brief, sad shake of her head. "Come along, all of you, let's get home before the roads become impassable,"

"But Father?"

"He'll make his way, when he's ready. And there will be no more said about this evening. No more, Giuseppe, do you understand me?"

He managed a nod, for once happy to have her comforting arm around his shoulder as they made their sorry way to the carriage and headed for home.

The workroom was dark and hushed, the house empty when they arrived home. Caterina bustled the girls inside the house, ruffling a careworn hand through Giuseppe's auburn hair as he headed for the solitude of his corner of the barn, his private place, where, by tacit agreement, no-one would disturb him. He crept inside, nestling into the cot in the corner of the workroom, no longer caring about the cold.

His tears were his own, his dejection profound, far more painful than the throbbing of his battered mouth. Power and wealth had nothing to do with character; he understood duty and he was learning about survival, the skill of taking the measure of a man. He would be head of this household one day, lives and livelihoods dependent on his ability not just to oversee the business but to negotiate the swirling sands of political power and influence. It was a skill he had witnessed tonight, with painful clarity.

It was late, long past the lauds bell, the moon high in the sky, leeching shafts of milky light around the imprecise edges of the barn door. Giuseppe heard the stamp and jingle of his father's horse, muffled by the still-falling snow. Throwing aside the stiff, half-frozen blanket he tiptoed to the door, his shivering fingers pulling it open just enough to afford him a glimpse of the shrouded yard.

He saw it in the stoop of his shoulders. He heard it in the heavy tread to the door. He felt it in the deep sigh of defeat. Their existence could be destroyed at the whim of a feckless nobleman with a quick temper and a light purse. This time the cost had been a lost jewel and his father's battered pride. He would be different; he would succeed where his father had failed. As he turned back to his nest, scrubbing the remnants of angry, bitter tears from his face, he resolved that he would learn to navigate the streams of power and politics with a sure and steady hand. No man would ever humiliate him as Lorenzo had humiliated his father.

He was his father's son. He was also Giuseppe Costanza.

[LadyAilith]

Now we know where Josef gets his fire and drive...no one will *ever* take advantage of him! This makes me harken back to NSTAV when we get to over hear him talking business, threatening the caller if he fails to produce what's been promised.

Well written Red! I have really enjoyed this series.

LadyAilith

[redwinter101]

That's lovely, LadyAilith, thank you so much. This is a very alternative version of Josef and it's great to hear that you felt the connection with the man we know and love in the present day.

Red

[GuardianAngel]

Grrrrr. I wanted to throttle Lorenzo. Couldn't blame Giuseppe at all.

It looks like this was a major lesson for Josef, part of making him who he is now. A lesson that has lasted 400+ yrs and counting.

Power and wealth had nothing to do with character; he understood duty and he was learning about survival, the skill of taking the measure of a man.

I wish more people knew this. Funny, Mick knows this one too.

As he turned back to his nest, scrubbing the remnants of angry, bitter tears from his face, he resolved that he would learn to navigate the streams of power and politics with a sure and steady hand. No man would ever humiliate him as Lorenzo had humiliated his father.

The best revenge is success. Guiseppe had plenty of both. This is probably one of the major reasons why Josef embraced being a vampire. It's power beyond most people's imaginings.

He was his father's son. He was also Giuseppe Costanza.

I loved that Guiseppe realized so young that he could be BOTH. He respected his father but understood that he had to be true to his own nature as well.

I wouldn't be surpised if, when Guiseppe is Turned, Lorenzo is one of the first people he visits.

[redwinter101]

Yay!!! on the throttling. Precisely the reaction I was hoping for, useless fop - and I LOVE the idea of Josef making sure that particular debt is paid.



Red

[darkstarrising]

I can relate with the interminable service and the desire to nod off...yet I appreciated the feel you created of the church's atmosphere

the choking mix of incense and tallow;

brought back fond memories

A harsh lesson for Giuseppe, though;

Their existence could be destroyed at the whim of a feckless nobleman with a quick temper and a light purse. This time the cost had been a lost jewel and his father's battered pride.

Giuseppe had been brought up to take pride in his work, yet he is still young and naively expects good workmanship to be appreciated and rewarded. After tonight, he has learned much, both from his father and Lorenzo. His father is a proud man, yet a realistic one. He can't win against Lorenzo and his wealth and power. He swallows his pride and will move on. Lorenzo has demonstrated what real power is and is not, a lesson that is not lost on the future Josef Kostan.

Somehow, methinks Giuseppe will one day teach Lorenzo a lesson.

[wpgrace]

Oh brava, Red!!!!! Standing O, honey!!!!!!!!!!

And I do mean the theatrical reference on purpose... I feel like I've just experienced a show. Your historical pieces are always just magnificent and this one rocks, totally rocks. Like the others, it's a frikkin tapestry, that tells a story beautifully, emotionally, and poetically. And it is a sensory sensation. Your imagery is unbelievably palpable... I can touch what's here, smell it, see it, hear it, taste it... it's like writing-in- 3-D.

....and Jeezuz, can I see a young Josef going thru this, being changed forever by it. And of course by forever, we do mean forever...

I am starting to feel like it's MY birthday today, with your gifts of TWO fics and many many MickPics... I hope your birthday was as lovely as the day you've made for us.

[mitzie]

Wow, a very moving and powerful piece!! Josef will never forget this important lesson!!!! Bravo and thank you!!!!


mitzie

[allegrita]

Beautiful imagery... this is a story in which the reader is completely immersed. And the story itself is wonderful, too: human Josef, at the beginning of his journey. Already he's learning lessons he'll take with him his whole (un)life. A love of fine work, a contempt for fecklessness (you used one of my very favorite words!), and a slow, enduring anger that can wait a long time to be avenged.

He was his father's son. He was also Giuseppe Costanza.

Very true... he's already far more than the sum total of his father's teachings. He observes everything, learns from everything. And forgets nothing... especially not a slight. Lorenzo had best watch his back.

[AussieJo]

Oh yes Red, could we have front row seats when JC goes to visit?
Please... :curtesy:
How old is JC, aka Josef, here?

[francis]

Grrrrrr. The only redeeming factor for Lorenzo is that he made Josef the man he is now.
Wonderful backstory for Josef. I love the name you gave him, and that he's a fine artisan and not noble of birth. It fits well into his later profession of self-made man, rich but not born into privilege, proud of his own achievement.

I wonder, maybe he even made that ring Mick is wearing? There's a plot bunny if anyone wants to grab it.

[Catmoon]

I've missed Giuseppe! Shall have to get caught up soon, I think I may have missed some... This one is a great character study, showing the factors that helped make Josef who he is today. I can tell you've put a lot of thought into exploring his motivations and personality during his formative years. Good job!

[redwinter101]

Thanks so much, dsr - I think we share a memory of interminable services. Guseppe is indeed learning some hard lessons - and I love that so many of you are planning Josef's revenge.

Grace, thank you. :curtesy: I know the historical stories have a much smaller audience (just not everyone's cup of tea) so I'm never quite sure how they'll go down - plus it is definitely a different style for me. Huge fun, though. Huge fun. I guess it's a real opportunity to create a completely different world, without any of the visual cues we all know so well from the show - so this made me especially happy:

I can touch what's here, smell it, see it, hear it, taste it... it's like writing-in- 3-D.

I'm afraid today may be a bit of a letdown - there will be pics, but no more fic, I'm afraid!!!

mitzie, thank you.

Red

[redwinter101]

Oh, alle, a fellow lover of feckless!!! I adore that word - not only because it's SO descriptive, but it's also (IMO) one of those rare words that has no exact synonyms. Plus I love the sound of it. Go on, girls, say it out loud, It feels wonderful.

AussieJo, I'll save you a seat. Giuseppe was born in 1599 so he's 17, rising 18, here.

francis, one of the most striking things to me about Josef is that he's a survivor. No matter what scenarios or backgrounds writers have imagined for him, he's always someone who can survive and thrive on his wits - and that's a skill that I imagined as coming from having had to survive in those circumstances before he was turned. I'm delighted that worked for you (but I'll call dibs on Josef the jeweller - that particular background is all Giuseppe's - and he's mine. ).

I've missed Giuseppe! Shall have to get caught up soon, I think I may have missed some... This one is a great character study, showing the factors that helped make Josef who he is today. I can tell you've put a lot of thought into exploring his motivations and personality during his formative years. Good job!

I'm so happy you read this, Cat. I always write Giuseppe with you in mind. But I'm afraid I've been very lax and he's been on the shelf for a while - you haven't missed any other stories. Although there may be some more coming...

Red

[francis]

Of course you should absolutely have the plot bunny. It would never work with anyone other than YOUR Giuseppe.