On a bright day in Paris, many children ran about the town square laughing and screaming. The townsfolk wove around the children as they went about their day. As the sun began to descend in the sky, a small cart with colorful streamers began playing playful music. The children slowly made their way to the little cart, elbowing their way to the front of the small crowd. A man in brightly colored clothes to match his bright orange hair smiled down at his audience.
"Gather 'round little ones," he laughed as he held up a little puppet with his right hand.
He was about to sing a little song when there came a loud ringing sound from behind him. The children all focused on the sounds in wonder.
"Have you ever heard the tale of the mysterious bell ringer of Notre Dame?" the man asked as he glanced up at the tall bell towers.
"No," a few children said quietly as the loud bells ended their reverie.
The smile on the man grew into a mischievous grin, "Then listen well, little ones. For I shall tell you the tale of the mysterious bell ringer of Notre Dame. It is a tale of a man; a man and a monster."
Many years ago gypsies lived in a state of constant fear. They lived their lives in hiding, working petty jobs during the day in hopes of earning enough money to buy their food for the day. They lived in such fear due to one man and his pursuit of cleansing the world of everything that he deemed unfit to live in his world.
A young woman cradled her child close to her breast as she walked quickly through the snow in late winter. She followed a small group of outcasts toward the Seine, where they all hoped to travel out of Paris into the countryside and to freedom. Her child stirred and began to wail, he was becoming hungry.
"Hush little one," she cooed as she and the others neared the boat that would take them down the river. She handed her payment to one of the men of the group.
He sneered at her as he took the coins, "Shut it up, will you? He will get us all caught if he keeps this wailing up."
"I'm sorry," she whispered as she shifted the child to nurse from her, "he is just hungry." She covered the child's head as best as she could with his swaddling clothes as she boarded the boat.
The group fell into silence as they began to travel down the river in the dark of night. For once, the woman felt as though she and her son would be safe from the dangers of the large town and of the people within it. She glanced down at her son, who wrapped his fist around her fingers as he ate. The amount of love she had for this child would never falter; no matter what may happen to them, she would love him with all her heart.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of galloping horses. An arrow shot from the darkness and caught the front of the boat. The arrow was connected to a rope which was pulled taught as soldiers began to pull the boat to the edge of the river. The frightened gypsies struggled against the men's grasp, but eventually all were in chains. A tall
figure in deep purple robes emerged on his pitch-black steed, came forward and examined the prisoners.
"Take these foul creatures to the Palace of Justice," he said as he looked down his nose at them.
"Honorable Judge Papillion," the woman with the child called as she pushed herself forward toward the man on his horse.
Judge Papillion looked down on the woman. For a moment, his eyes flashed with an emotion that only she knew. She held up her swaddled child toward the judge.
"You wish to repent and return the goods you have stolen?" Judge Papillion questioned as he looked at the bundle. He inhaled sharply when he saw the bundle move slightly. "Captain, take it from her and throw it in the river."
Her green eyes met his icy blue in absolute horror.
"NO! He is a CHILD!" a soldier approached her with his hands raised, ready to take the precious bundle from her, "You cannot take him from me! He is ou-"
"Take them from her this instant, Captain!" Judge Papillion ordered.
The woman held the child close and broke from the soldiers and into the darkness. Judge Papillion took chase.
She ran through the snow, leaving her footprints in her wake as she fled. She knew that the only chance she or her child had was to go where Judge Papillion could not arrest her.
Judge Papillion was closing in on her, she was taking small alleyways, but he knew exactly where she was going.
The large bell towers of the church loomed over the small figure running toward its steps. As she looked up, she felt as though the stone walls would swallow her up and shield her from all harm. She raced up the steps to the large wooden doors of the church. She threw herself at the door and pulled helplessly on the large handles.
"Sanctuary PLEASE give us sanctuary!" she cried as she heard the nearing horse of the judge. She turned and held her arms protectively over her child as the horse came to a stop before her.
"Surrender yourself," Judge Papillion commanded as he held out his hand, "and surrender the bundle to me."
The woman's eyes narrowed as she knelt down in the snow. She removed a small blade from a sheath on her leg and brandished it before her. "I will NEVER let you take the child from me."
Judge Papillion unsheathed his sword and pointed the blade at her, "You dare defy my orders."
"YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY SON!" she cried as she lunged at the man on his horse.
With a single swing, the woman fell to the ground. The snow beneath stained crimson. Beside her body, her bundle cried out. Judge Papillion's men arrived just as Papillion picked up the bundle.
"Throw her body in the Seine," he commanded. "She has no purpose here."
The men picked up her body and carried her away in silent obedience. Judge Papillion glanced around him before peering into the bundle. When he did so, he gasped in alarm and covered the crying child's face once more. He looked about himself in a panic before landing his gaze on a nearby well. He walked over to the side of the well and raised the child over the edge.
"Stop right there," a voice behind him called.
Judge Papillion withdrew the bundle from the well and glanced behind him, regaining his composure. A short man of the church was rushing down the stairs toward the well. "I have found an unholy demon. I am sending it back to Hell where it belongs."
"Listen well, Judge Papillion," the archdeacon said raising an accusatory finger toward the proud judge, "God has seen what you have done this night. All of Heaven is witness to your misdeed. You have shed the blood of one seeking Sanctuary and peace with God. You threatened her family, her only child, with death and she defended herself. You have committed the crime of Cain and now you wish to commit the crime once more before the eyes of God Himself!"
"I have no guilt," Judge Papillion argued, "She was under arrest, she ran, I pursued. The bloodshed was self defence on my part. Her death is deserved. The child's death is equally deserved."
"Lie to yourself all you want," the archdeacon shouted back, "But nothing you can ever say can change what God and his Heavenly Host have witnessed this night! Notre Dame herself bears witness against you! I implore you, most Honorable Judge," he added, "do not add this child's blood to your crimes committed this night."
Judge Papillion looked down at the creature in his arms and up toward the large church before him. The building itself seemed to loom dangerously over him. He felt his stomach drop as though the whole building would swallow him and crush him. The shadow of the church pointed toward him like a accusing finger sentencing him to Hell. For the first time in his life, Judge Papillion feared for his soul.
"What must I do?" he whispered to the old man.
"Care for the child," he responded as he knelt to pray for the soul of the child's mother, "and raise it as your own."
Papillion scoffed for a moment, "You mean to tell me that I am now to be forced to care for this... " he looked down on the child once more and closed his eyes slowly, letting out a sigh, "Very well. But he shall live here in your church," he said walking toward the large cathedral.
"Here?" the archdeacon questioned, "Where would he be able to live in Notre Dame?"
"Anywhere," the judge answered, "Just as long as no one else can see this monstrosity. The belltower might be the best choice for him."
Judge Papillion left the child in the large belltower that night.
For years he would go to the tower and expect to find the monster dead from starvation, exhaustion, or neglect.
But every time he climbed the wooden stairs into the belltower, he was met with the smiling face of the monster.
"Good morning, Master," he would say as he stood from his small wooden stool. His dark clothes hung off his shoulders, revealing his pale skin. His hands were covered in heavy black leather gloves that protected the things he touched from being scratched due to his abnormally long claw-like nails. His eyes were completely green, but they sparkled with mirth whenever he saw his master. His blonde hair shone like the bright sun that he had never been able to walk under. Even worse were the two jet-black ears atop his head, which moved whenever a mouse made a sound on the other side of the room or someone began shouting in the streets below. His tail was the worst of all. It flicked about on the wooden floor as he sat and listened to his lessons with archdeacon Fu, the only other soul in all of Paris who knew he was there.
Judge Papillion would greet the monster with a nod of his head as he sat at a crudely made table. The child would rush about the room to gather plates and cups for his meal with his master. He laid the metal plate before the judge and a wooden plate before himself, likewise with the goblets.
They would share a meal together before reviewing the day's lessons. When Judge Papillion felt he did his duty as the monster's caretaker, he would stand and leave the tower.
And the monster was left alone with his thoughts and the bells of Notre Dame as his company.