Authors note: this story begins a year and a half before the events of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Don't be alarmed, time will pass fast. It won't disturb the action, eg. OCs do NOT dance in Esmeralda's place at the Festival of Fools. The story is a mix of the book and the Disney film (I know that kills some people, but sorry, I mean Phoebus I can deal with, but gargoyles? no.) so Gringoire appears, but not Sister Gudule (sorry). I tried my best to make the situations and names appliable to the era, (sorry, can be a bit difficult when naming Gypsies)
please R/R!
Finally, time had caught up with her. And she could not feel more wretched.
A young woman walked down a street in Paris, and wished she could marvel at it. It was summer, 1480, and any other stranger would be watching the citizens as they went about their daily life. Men bickered with bakers over the price of bread nowadays, forgetting their children who ran through the roads, crying out for each other with delight, only wanting to play. A solitary leaf fluttered gently on the dawn's breeze, but the girl could not care to notice or even wonder where it came from, hanging her head, watching the cobbles below her feet.
"Katerina!"
Her head snapped up, as a voice broke through her forlorn reverie. She blinked, surprised by the sudden light inflicted upon her eyes.
"Sorry. Just thinking."
A man a little older was walking alongside her.
"Well stop. You know what happens when you think. You get... ideas." He shuddered.
She smiled, and hit her brother playfully on the arm.
"Well, take my mind off the horrors of the future then, o great one." She smiled up at him, giving a mocking bow.
"Uh, well... you could" she watched him wrack his brains, enjoying his brief speech deficiency , "... visit... someone?"
She snorted. "Perfect. Wonderful plan. In fact, I love it. Who?"
"uh... who was that girl you were talking to yesterday.. uh... Ysabel der something? And don't snort, it's not lady-like" he snapped back, and then laughed as she tossed back her head with a theatrical snort, attracting stares from passersby.
"eugh. Ysabel d'Orgemont. And WE weren't talking. She was."
"I realised. I could hear her from across the room, shrill little thing. But it's your own fault you can't understand her. You never even try to learn any French. It makes no sense, Katerina."
"Well, Hugh, did you consider that I don't want to understand those simpering brats? All I can get is something about how gypsies will kill us all. The rest I'm guessing. I reckon it was fashion, she kept pointing to her sleeves. Don't use my name like that, you sound like mother."
Typical Katerina, only remembering the French for death and destruction. "Then try harder. You'll never make any acquaintances," he pointed out.
She laughed, kicking at a pebble "I don't need acquaintances. I've got you! And you can hardly talk. Yesterday you told someone you only understood a 'petit-pois de français'. "
He persisted, ignoring her mockery, "But you won't be able to understand what you own husband-" he froze, as she raised an eyebrow. "whoops."
"yup. Great. Nice going Hugh. Great 'keeping my mind off it.'" She sighed. "But I can't avoid my impending doom, can I?" Her brother hesitated "Can I?", she pleaded, hoping for an escape to come flying from her brothers lips.
"Stop it. You can't run away from this, Kat. You know I can't stay forever, and you are going to have to make a new life here." She looked up at him, irritated suddenly.
"No, you stop Hugh. Stop saying can't and must and... ugh. You're being so ..." she trailed off, suddenly distracted for the first time that morning.
A tambourine was beating out a rhythm across the area they had now entered. She watched, transfixed by the music spilling out towards them, growing faster and faster, and the tune captivated her, as she began to stray towards the performers, until a figure stopped her.
"What are you doing? Don't go too close." She looked up into her brother's face, as disbelief clouded hers.
"What? You can't mean... what's happened to you? What happened to my brother? He used to be so different." She walked away, spilling a few coins into the ragged hat extended by the gypsy band. One of them, an aged man with hollow cheeks, nodded in acknowledgement, and smiled, displaying a glorious lack of teeth.
"I thought you didn't have any money on you?" Hugh said as the siblings set back towards their house.
"I didn't. You do though." Katerina kept her gaze fixed in front of her, as she walked on. "Well, did." she added, with a slight smile.
"Hey! That was my..." Hugh's annoyance with his sister faded, as he remembered childhood years, not so long gone past. "Pickpocket."
She shrugged, "Old habits die hard." But her thoughts were still clouded with the future as they continued down the road, towards the rented lodgings.
The next day she found herself again listening to girls apparently her age. Ysabel had taken it upon herself to frenchify her, as she thought of it. She jabbered in French to the others, and then occasionally passing to speak to Katerina in broken English.
"You look dark."
She was taken upstairs and had one of the d'Orgemont maids blending yet more powder onto her face, hiding the faint remains of freckles, whilst two other girls twittered about behind her, playing with each other's hair. At least hers was real.
She wasn't ungrateful for their interest in her. At least they spoke to her, even if it was through curiosity. Many of the others wouldn't. They heard British accent and the only response would be suspicion. They were polite, but she knew they did not trust her. She had learned to keep silent, even when walking the streets of Paris. Even a few words would lead to muttered rumours and sideways glances. It was unusual for her. She never used to be so reserved, but the society she had entered demanded it of her. Once she would run through the streets of London with her brother, barefoot, not caring about the dirt, nor the disapproving looks of the adults around her. The family came into money later in her life, sometime around her fourteenth year. Her mother realised how she was suddenly in need of civilised children, and so began Katerina's education. Sewing, reading, elegant speech, dressmaking, singing the list went on and on. She had no enthusiasm for any of it. Nor for the suitors her mother scanned through. Eventually it was decided. Her father needed contacts across the channel, and one senior merchant was in want of a wife. Guillaume Langnelet. She spent one more month in England, supposedly being taught French, before being sent across to Paris with Hugh. One week of meeting different women and ranking officials, all of whom seemed to blend into each other. Two hours spent in a room with her future husband seemed enough time for him. Two seconds was enough for her. She was under strict instructions from her father: be polite, hold your tongue, and above all, do not mention your childhood.
Guillaume Langnelet did not appear cruel as such, but could be short tempered. As a widower and at 45 years of age he had little care for others. He would glance across at Katerina, ask a few words (in French), to which she need not have a response. Letters from her father told him all he needed to know. She was thankful he cared little for fashion, although he did have a penchant for expensive furnishings which she couldn't understand. But it was hurting her to imagine a future with him. A future filled with half-smiles, and doing what was instructed. She'd rather hide inside the walls of the Langnelet house in silence, than put on a smile and pretend to be fine. It would not be a barbaric life, but it would have no joy, no freedom, and that was no real life. Another week and she would be married, Hugh would not wait more than a few days before returning to London, she knew he would not stay and watch his younger sister suffer. And then she would be alone.
Another day melded into another, and the countdown to her wedding strolled on relentlessly. She and her brother were taken by Langnelet to the church they were to be married in, Église Saint Gervais et Saint-Protais. She didn't care for it much. It was beautiful, but the upcoming event seemed to cast a shadow over it. When Langnelet told them he had work to attend to, she suggested they see more of Paris. Langnelet did not object, but as they set out, Hugh seemed concerned.
"You can't even remember the street names. Why bother seeing more?", he pointed out, during the journey.
"Juliote was talking about the cathedral, Notre Dame earlier. I've never seen it."
He was surprised by this; one of those foolish girls was interested in the cathedral? Still, if she wished to explore the city further than the near streets, he was hardly going to argue. Notre Dame was closer to the rented house than Église Saint-Gervais et Saint-Protais, but the only protest Katerina had made about the wedding was that she did not want a large one. As it was Langnelet's second marriage, he was willing to save the money, as he was not as high ranking as he once was. The smaller church was adequate.
Little did Hugh know where his sister's real interests lay. She had understood enough of the fluid words which came from Juliote to understand that events happened near the Notre Dame de Paris. The girl had spoken for about an hour, and Katerina had caught small flourishes of her speech. Apparently the area was rife with gypsies, and she could have sworn she had heard wolves mentioned too. She knew of the gypsies, who she supposed would vary in Paris as they did in London, some kinder, some more dark in their entertainment. Despite spending much time in the streets, she had few friends throughout her childhood, after one had been arrested, after being caught stealing. His name was Thomas, and he had never been seen again. She avoided getting too close to other so-called urchins, but whilst some of the gypsy children avoided her and her brother, others would not, and they seemed to her to be no different from the rest of the street children. She had no true concept of money as a child. She stole small amounts out of badly concealed money-bags, and would slip a few coins into her father's without his knowledge each month. The rest she often shared with others. It wasn't that she was generous; she just didn't feel a need for it, and knew that others did. She developed her thieving habits purely from boredom, and sometimes it was difficult to forget.
As she stepped from the carriage however, she was overcome by the sight of the cathedral. She walked up the steps, mesmerised. She spent what must have been a couple of hours inside, gazing at of the engravings, the stained glass windows, transforming the air around with streams of colour. She was interrupted as Hugh was attempting to read an engraving, by a heavy door opening. A tall figure exited, and closed the door behind him, before turning to see the two of them watching. She recognised his face, as being one of the officials. "Judge Claude Frollo." She curtseyed, not quite low enough, noticing was carrying a small woven basket. He saw her small frown as she wondered what he had been doing, emerging from what appeared to be the entrance the bell tower, and cleared his throat.
"Hugh Rutherford, I believe?" he addressed her brother in English, before turning to her "and Katerina. I suppose it isn't long until your wedding is it?" not waiting for an answer, he gestured for them to join him as he swept across the floor, towards the huge doors leading to the parvis. He cast a loathsome glance at a beggar sat in the corner. "I have business to attend to. We will undoubtedly meet again soon." He turned to his carriage, leaving the siblings watching the area in front of them. His presence made Katerina feel uneasy. As Hugh made for the carriage, she stopped him.
"No, I need to walk a little. Clear my head."
"Fine, but only a few minutes. We need to get back." He sighed, as they set out down another lane, with high walls, and railings separating the street from the Cathedral behind.
"You don't have to come."
"You know I do. You can't walk around on your own anymore. You'll need at least a... Katerina?" he broke off, realising his sister wasn't listening.
She was looking at a brightly coloured caravan, sitting in the shadow of the imposing Cathedral. Children were gathered round it, watching a puppet show. She smiled, listening to them giggle at a high pitched voice which squealed as its puppet counterpart was hit with a stick.
"Katerina!" she looked back again "What's wrong with you today?"
The puppeteer was breifly diverted from his show. As he played out the final scene, with the male puppet and the female puppet running away from the city to marry, he half-listened to a conversation he could not fully understand.
What sounded to him to at first to be a couple was arguing. It sounded as though the man was admonishing the girl for something. With a smile and a flourish, he finished his show, and the children cheered and applauded, before running to their parents, begging for money to give. The noise made the girl look up at again, and this time she caught sight of him as he stood up straight again. The man tapped her on the arm, trying to get her attention again. No, he thought, perhaps not a couple. As she returned her attention to the man, he appraised the situation further. Their clothes were not overly lavish, but well made, indicating some wealth at least. The man was taller, a little thickset perhaps, but as he was turned away from the caravan, the puppeteer could not see his face. The girl, however, he could see. She was young, slightly gangly, and he could tell that she was not accustomed to the clothes she was wearing; by the way she slouched a little, leaning on one leg. She could not be described as a beauty, but there was something agreeable about her features, which was distorted as she looked up at her companion (a suitor, perhaps?) in irritation. There was defiance in her reply, and a little disgust as she looked him up and down. Then she prodded him back, and raised an eyebrow. Probably not a suitor, then. His reply was more gentle this time, but all this earned him was a muttered response as she looked away, before pulling a face at him. Siblings. Undoubtedly brother and sister. They sounded English, but there was a foreign hint underlying it which he could not recognise.
They were interrupted by a citizen who had heard them.
"anglais racaille! Sors d'ici, allez vous faire foutre!"
He saw some of the resemblance in their features, as the man turned. He didn't seem to understand their attacker, but he did not need to, the accusation in his voice was enough. The girl however, appeared to, and hurled a muttered flurry of words back, which the puppeteer could not hear, before her brother took her firmly by the arm, apologising, and walking her back out the way they had come in.
The puppeteer began to pack up, as dusk fell, taking offered coins from the children with a smile, and promised to return the next day. Stupid girl. If she wanted to remain unnoticed, she should hold her tongue.