Darkness was around and it wasn't just inside Clopin. It was already getting dark, with the golden sun shining from behind the clouds on the streets of Paris. Inside his multicolored caravan, standing at the side presenting a puppet show for children, he was telling a story. The story about the bell-ringer. He just won't give the children the reason why the story always concerned him.
"Listen," said he. "They're beautiful, no? So many colors of sound, so many changing moods. Because you know they don't ring all by themselves."
Then he took out his puppet and said in a high voice speaking for the toy, "They don't?"
"No, you silly boy," said he to his own puppet. "Up there high, high in the dark bell tower lives the mysterious bell-ringer. Who is this creature? What is he? How did he come to be there?"
"How?" the puppet asked.
"Hush!"
Clopin struck his puppet on the head with a stick he held making the children laugh. The sound of children's laughter cheered him up that he looked back to them; still his throat choked just by the thought of his people behind the story.
"Clopin will tell you. It is a tale. A tale of a man…and a monster." He put a lot of emphasis on the last word that not only did it worry the children, Clopin gave himself the goosebumps.
Dark was the night our tale was begun
On the docks of Notre Dame
Now that he was singing the story, Clopin gave a show of puppet people rowing a boat.
Four frightened Gypsies slid silently under
The docks of Notre Dame
More puppets of his were taken out but resembling the French soldiers to the Gypsy puppets.
But a trap had been laid for the Gypsies
And they gazed up in fear and alarm
At a figure whose clutches
Were iron as much as the bells
Clopin took out the puppet of a judge.
The bells of Notre Dame
Judge Claude Frollo longed
To purge the world
Of vice and sin
And he saw corruption
Ev'rywhere
Except within
With the puppets, Clopin showed the Gypsy puppets being arrested by the soldier puppets, shuddering himself, and taken away by the judge puppet. On one of the women puppets, the judge puppet went after her, taking her baby and making her fall. More shudders came on him as Clopin had the judge puppet of Judge Claude Frollo carrying a small bundle. Then he took out the archdeacon puppet while he dramatically held out his hands performing the act himself.
See there the innocent blood you have spilt
On the steps of Notre Dame
Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt
On the steps of Notre Dame
You can lie to yourself and your minions
You can claim that you haven't a qualm
But you never can run from
Nor hide what you've done from the eyes
The very eyes of Notre Dame
The puppet of Claude Frollo looked up to the picture of the Notre Dame on Clopin's wallpaper.
And for one time in his life
Of power and control
Frollo felt a twinge of fear
For his immortal soul
With the archdeacon puppet carrying the Gypsy woman puppet and the Frollo puppet holding the baby, he showed the archdeacon leaving and Frollo heading for the Notre Dame.
"And Frollo gave the child a cruel name," sad he after flowing a blanket on him.
Not that far was a woman. An attractive blonde woman dressed in a raggedy torn dress and wore no shoes. It's the Woman Who Laughs. She was already giving her wide threatening, bone-chilling grin to him. He just ignored her.
"A name that means 'half-formed': Quasimodo."
Now here is a riddle to guess if you can
Sing the bells of Notre Dame
Who is the monster and who is the man?
Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells of Notre Dame!
As Clopin belted out the last verse, the children clapped but someone came to the scene.
"But for now, we must stop," Clopin said to the kids the second he was done with the show. "It is already getting late and you children must head back to your parents."
Only a young boy stayed while the others walked away. He was an obese kid dressed in a green outfit and complained, "Why?I want to hear another story!Isn't there something about two kids who find a witch in a candy house?"
"Yes, there is," Clopin told him. "Tomorrow will be another story. Return to your parents."
"I want to hear more!"
Just then there was laughter. Shrill, chilling laughter that came from Clopin's right. She was coming from the streets and there was the Woman Who Laughs.
"He's right kid," said the Woman.
Not only was her laughter giving Clopin the goosebumps, her voice was unbalanced as if there was something wrong with her. It was just the laughter. Not the long blonde hair and light-skinned body. The laughter caught him off guard. The Woman Who Laughs is a very mysterious person for being attractive but she wasn't the only person to have a dark reputation. She's a French homeless person, a Gadjo, and he's Romani. The Gypsy King. He may not be welcome in Paris but he's living here. Him and his people.
"It is getting dark and you don't want monsters to follow you. Do you?"
Clopin reprimanded her with, "Don't interrupt me! I'm the one telling the story!"
"Sorry," said the Woman looking back to him. "Very sorry."
She was clearly being sarcastic due to the tone of her voice and Clopin didn't like it.
"You just want the kids to leave, don't you?"
By now, she was making it clear to scare the children away. This may be an opportunity to send them away but also her. Clopin leaned further onto the stage and faced the Woman.
"Well, they do have mothers and fathers and the children can hug them until they're blue in the face," said he to her. "Monsters could be lurking everywhere on the streets."
Clopin looked back to the kid while the Notre Dame's bells were starting to ring.
"There's no such thing as monsters," said the boy. "They're just a figment of imagination."
"Imagination is a powerful thing," Clopin told him. "Just imagine a monster around the corner laughing at you."
"Yeah right."
"Or if your parents would make you do chores if you arrived home late."
"Oh, I hate that!" the boy moaned. "Would they really?"
"They could and they might."
With a pout, the boy turned around and left the caravan. Chuckling, Clopin looked back to the Woman Who Laughs.
"Isn't there anywhere you must attend?" he said to her snappishly.
"I can't entertain children?" said the Woman with raised eyebrows.
"Attractive as you may be…" How true was that. She sure was quite a sight and had a good body. "…you don't remain with people. I wonder why?"
The Woman instantly gave off her high-pitched laughter, sending more goosebumps down Clopin's arm.
"I don't care that people avoid me," she laughed. "I'm the Woman Who Laughs! You're the jester! How much fun is that?"
"Well, the people love it," Clopin replied with a smirk. "And tomorrow's another day."
Already he was getting tired and he didn't want to hear anymore of the Woman's laughter. The more he looked at her, the more Clopin wanted to touch her. There are other things important than a woman's body, such as his people.
"Yes, it is," said the Woman. "Oh, and by the way, the name's Marie."
Without saying another word to her, Clopin turned around and closed the curtains from the window of his caravan. He had to return to his home, the legendary Court of Miracles, where his people were hiding safely. Before he could leave, Clopin changed into his beggar outfit, a robe that was patched in patterned cloths by the shirt and jeans including a cloak. He wore sleek shoes and a feathered yet ripped hat. No one will recognize him. He walked out of his caravan and headed down the streets.
He passed many buildings and alleyways, including one which was between two stores on the same street of the Notre Dame: The residence of the Woman Who Laughs. She walked away from Clopin's caravan after he closed his window on her and entered her home. Her home was a box at a dead-end alleyway. There were only blankets, a pillow, and a large carpet underneath the items within the large box that laid on its side. It wasn't much but it was home; Marie's home. Already, she was sitting down and watching the people walk by. No one noticed her that she was completely all alone, no one to live with and no one to talk to. Just Marie, the Woman Who Laughs.
"I will find that guy again," she said to herself. "He can toy with me as long as he wants but I will have company. I can use a little fun and a girl can't live alone her whole life. Enough is enough. And I am hungry."
Marie stood up and walked to the streets. After folding her blonde hair behind her ears, Marie saw the store close by. Crates of fruit and vegetables were laid out and the manager wasn't watching. The man was inside sorting out more boxes that she overlooked the apple crate. Juicy apples were shown and she took one, setting it inside her skirt pocket. An apple was good but she needed more. Bananas were also shown and she took a set.
"Hey!" she heard someone yell. "She's stealing!"
"Stay away from her!" came another yell. "That's the Woman Who Laughs."
"She's committing a crime!"
That was a mother and her son. They saw her stealing and Marie had to talk with them.
"I'm not hurting anyone, am I?" she sneered to the two.
"Your smile is scary," said the boy. "Put the fruit back!"
"Can't a girl eat? Would you like one kid?"
"Let's go Marius," said the mother to her son. "Do not trust her!"
The family walked away and Marie laughed back. Funny to know that people avoid her, even when she tries to be nice. Nice has never come to her, even though it is a good thing. A few more people were around but they also evaded her. She took out the apple from her pocket and took a bite. As much as people didn't want her around, Marie needed them. So, she walked down the street until she came to the bakery. In front of the building, there was the dancing Gypsy woman she heard of: The Finest Girl in France, La Esmeralda.
She wore a dress that had a long wavy purple skirt, white top, and teal and gold bodice. Her hair was tied with a ribbon and she was barefoot. As for now she was dancing. Dancing to and fro to an upbeat tempo that was played by a nearby fellow, another Gypsy who played the trumpet, until it went faster and faster that the dancing girl didn't stop. Her feet went high to the sky, her purple dress was flowing around including her bushy raven-black hair, and she held a tambourine to clap and shake. The music stopped and so did she. Next to her was a gray goat who was dancing along with her. The goat also halted and the crowd clapped that a few men wolf-whistled while the young Gypsy woman bowed to them, revealing her emerald-green eyes.
That was the end of the show that the people put their fair share of coins into her purple hat that sat in front of her and they left. Only a beggar and her remained that Marie locked eyes with Esmeralda who said kindly, "Hello."
"Hi," said Marie. This would've been the second time no one has ever judged her with her shrill voice. The puppeteer didn't and neither did the dancing girl. "Dance often?"
"Of course."
"Good for you."
"What's your name?" Esmeralda asked while her partner went to the beggar.
"The Woman Who Laughs," said she. "Marie."
"I've heard of you but you scare people."
"Everyone's afraid of me. Nice to know that you're not."
Esmeralda gave Marie a kind smile that she replied, "I don't get scared easily."
"Is the goat yours?" Marie asked.
"Yes. His name is Djali and he's very smart."
"Esme," said a different voice. "Let's go."
The voice came from the beggar that Esmeralda grabbed her tambourine and her goat, Djali, followed her. Whoever the beggar was, Esmeralda asked them, "Where's Jacques?"
"He left already. Let's go."
Something about the voice sounded familiar. Who else would know Esmeralda? Gypsy people for one but who did that voice belong to? It must be someone she met. Not a family or from a crowd of men. It sounded like someone she met before. Was it the puppeteer? Could it be him? The beggar was dressed in a raggedy cloak and a torn yet feathered hat and he was walking with Esmeralda. It's got to be him. Marie followed the two down the street that Esmeralda looked from behind.
"You better leave Marie," Esmeralda said to her.
Marie questioned, "Oh?"
That was when the beggar turned around to reveal the same man she deduced: The Gypsy puppeteer.
"Leave!" he yelled. "Leave us!"
She won't have her moment with him now. He was too angry.
"Well, soldiers will be everywhere," she sneered.
"And they will catch you," the puppeteer growled. "Leave!"
That was one thing that Marie never wanted. Never will she be caught, never. Judge Claude Frollo already had Marie on his wanted list and he'll have her laugh to death. Either way, Marie has no desire to see him. It was best for her to leave. If only she knew his name, Marie would've been happier, instead, she walked away from the two leaving Esmeralda with the Gypsy puppeteer.
Now that Clopin was back with her, Esmeralda and him passed the many stores until they passed a few inns until they came to one where they stopped. In front of them, a Gypsy couple had their daughter but were surrounded by soldiers including Judge Claude Frollo.
"Your wife or your child Gypsy vermin," Frollo said to the Gypsy man. "Choose."
"Don't force me," the grown man begged. Two soldiers were holding him while two more held his wife and one held his daughter. Frollo was on his large, dark Friesian horse.
"Choose who to live or not. Choose."
"Don't force me. Don't. Please, don't."
"Choose their fate."
"Don't!"
"Choose!"
"Don't make me!"
"Choose now or both will die."
"I can't!"
The young girl was crying already that Esmeralda had to do something. Those are her people, they're already at the mercy of injustice and tears were being wept. Not just the girl. It was a good thing she had Clopin next to her; he's their king.
"Choose vermin!" Frollo ordered.
"No!" the man yelled again.
Because of Frollo's impatience, he ordered his men, "Kill the youngest."
"No! Not Charity! No! Not her! Please!"
The soldier holding the girl held a spear to her neck and she gave out a loud sob. A sob loud enough to ring Esmeralda's ears and to make her heart drop. Her heart came to the throat that the blade nearly struck the girl's neck until Clopin and Esmeralda ran to the scene. She quickly took Charity out of the soldiers' hands while Clopin shielded the woman after punching a few soldiers away.
"Kill them all!" he heard Frollo order.
Now every soldier will be on them that Esmeralda knew she had to run. From her right side, she heard Clopin say, "Esmeralda, take her and run! You two, come with me!"
Esmeralda was about to run while she held Charity but she saw another person in the crowd. It was Marie, The Woman Who Laughs. She came from the shadows and instantly punched a few soldiers away from Esmeralda and Clopin. He was about to lead the parents away when a few soldiers went after him.
"Get her!" Frollo also ordered. He ran towards Clopin who ran down a separate street that a few soldiers fought Marie but she instead laughed and ran away. Two more came towards Esmeralda and she took off on a run.
For Clopin, the parents followed him while they held hands. From behind them was Frollo. He was still on his horse and followed the short crowd down the street trailing from behind. The three didn't stop running that they kept going while they jumped over crates of boxes and a few fences that were between an alleyway. They ran more until they came to the town's square with Frollo advancing on them. He was coming closer and closer while the three came to the steps of the Notre Dame where the wife tripped on the edge. Her husband held her up and they continued running, but it wasn't soon enough that the heavy hoof steps of Frollo's horse were advancing and struck the husband on his legs.
"No!"
Clopin looked from behind just in time to see the husband and wife trampled by the heavy hooves of Frollo's horse striking their legs, back, and heads. He stared at the scene in shock but stopping was not a good idea. Frollo was coming towards him with a sword brandished. Clopin continued to run but he was suddenly struck. Struck by a strong punch from Frollo's horse. He fell to the ground that he stopped the fall by landing on his hands. Looking up, while his hat dropped, Frollo stared towards him with an angry glare.
"The King of the Gypsies," Frollo mumbled. "Perfect."
"Judge Claude Frollo," Clopin said back but with a smirk. He crawled away from the horse while he remained on the cobblestone street. "Whoever said the French are rude."
"You will repent for your sins."
The horse was coming closer to him that Clopin crawled further back.
"What sins?" he remarked. "What have I done to your God?"
Whoever He was, Clopin knew the French follow their Catholic God. He never cared for religion himself. If some of his people do, he could care less.
"Your unholy thoughts have plagued Paris and they will be judged by Him," Frollo snarled.
He whipped the rope on his horse and the horse neighed raising his hooves above Clopin. Clopin was about to get up but the horse struck its hoof right on Clopin's arm.
"Rgh!"
Frollo's horse was indeed large that it held Clopin down on the ground, squashing his left arm. If he could Clopin would pull his arm out from underneath and make still a run for it but it was impossible. His heart was racing and so was his blood. The thumping veins from his arm raced up to Clopin's head that he looked above him. Frollo was raising his sword aiming for Clopin's face.
Shit! Shit!
This was it. This was his fate. The sword was going to strike him and more blood was pumping. Not just from his arm but also his head. It was going to happen. He's going to die here. More and more blood thumped inside him and it didn't stop.
"Stop!"
There from the doors of the Notre Dame stood an archdeacon. An elderly archdeacon who came outside and was yelling to Frollo, running towards him.
"Frollo, you have spilled innocent blood again!"
Clopin again struggled against the horse but he could barely move his arm. His blood still pumped and he reached over to push the horse off him. The horse wouldn't budge and Frollo was facing the Archdeacon.
"I am guiltless," Frollo said to the man.
"Let him go!" the Archdeacon yelled.
"These are Gypsies. Creatures of the Devil."
The Archdeacon walked closer to Frollo but stopped at the stairs and shouted, "They are people!"
Clopin could've thanked the Archdeacon for defending him but he didn't say a word. He gave another tug of his arm but that was until he heard something crack. It came from under the horse's hoof that he looked to his left. His arm was squashed underneath the heavy hoof and could only move his hand and shoulder. More blood was thumping that by now he was hoping it would end. If only the horse was off, he'd be able to see his arm and know the damage.
"By the law of God, all heathens must be punished," Frollo said to the Archdeacon angrily.
"The house of God has watched you murder!" the Archdeacon yelled while pointing at the Notre Dame.
The Notre Dame didn't matter to Clopin but to Frollo it did. He saw the judge look up to the cathedral in a look of horror.
"What shall I do?" he wondered.
"Release the Gypsy man," the Archdeacon ordered.
"You wouldn't want to be blasphemous, would you?" Clopin sniggered. "So be a lad and let me run."
"Never!" Frollo spat to him, glancing back to Clopin. "Always will I hunt you and when you're mine, I will break your demonic soul. You will never escape."
"Not now? The old man said so."
After an angry glare, Frollo pulled his horse off Clopin. Using his good arm, Clopin stood up and ran. He ran towards the streets away from Frollo and the Archdeacon that he hid behind a building. Now he can see his arm. He rolled up the sleeve and saw the size of a horseshoe formed on his forearm. Only on the place where the horse held him was squashed and still his blood was pumping; at least it wasn't leaking out and no longer in his head.
"Damn it," he moaned. "No one will know. No one! Where's Esmeralda? Where is that girl?"
She wasn't on the street he was on that he had to find her. Instead of walking down the road, Clopin crossed an alleyway and looked to his right and left. He took the left and came to a well, where he found her standing.
"Thank God," he whispered.
Immediately, Clopin ran to Esmeralda. She still held the young girl but was out of breath.
"There you are," she sighed. "I was afraid of the worse."
"How's Charity," Clopin shrugged her off.
"Where's my mommy and daddy?" she asked.
"You'll be with your Uncle Victor now. Your parents…they're gone."
Charity's reaction was exactly what Clopin expected that she sobbed on Esmeralda's shoulder.
"We have to leave now. Let's go."
Taking Esmeralda with him, along with Charity, Clopin walked further down the street. During their walk, Clopin gripped his arm since swinging it during the walk wasn't doing him any good. Still the blood pumped but also swerved, giving him a slight headache.
"Are you okay Clo?" Esmeralda asked him.
"Fine and dandy," he replied.
"Clo, you're holding your arm. What happened?"
"Nothing."
He cannot show any weakness towards Esmeralda and neither to Charity. Never he will and never he'll show.
"What's wrong with your arm?" she asked again.
"I said I'm fine," Clopin scoffed.
"Just tell me."
"Esmeralda, I'm fine! Okay?" Esmeralda was about to say another word but Clopin stopped her. "Let's not do this in front of Charity. Shall we?"
"But it looks like your arm is sore," Esmeralda said stubbornly.
She sure had a fiery streak that Clopin was forced to say, "Frollo had his horse on me, happy?The da-stupid horse held me down."
He had to stop himself from cursing in front of Charity. She's only nine years old, not old enough for words like that.
"I'll take you to Jean," said Esmeralda.
"No," he told her off. "I'll be fine. As long as the guards are off our tails, the night is young and we'll be home. So, drop it."
They passed more and more buildings, walked over the bridge that was above the River, and passed more buildings. Soldiers were still around that they had to maneuver around them until they came to a cemetery. The gates were already opened that the three quickly hid behind the brick gates.
"Where is she?" they heard the soldiers growl. Charity quietly whined that Esmeralda held her tightly.
With Clopin peeking out, there were the Brutish and Oafish Guards he saw earlier. They were already near the gates that he hid from their view, backing away. The entrance to the Court of Miracles was close. As Clopin held Esmeralda's wrist, he led them away from the gates and headed for a coffin, not knowing that someone else was in hiding. None other than the Woman Who Laughs.