The streets of Paris were filled with excitement. The feast of fools was days away and the peasants were getting ready. He had been following a young beauty through the dark corridors for a little less than a half an hour. Gringoire had noticed her earlier in the day by the steps of the Cathedral. Her long black hair sparkled in the sunlight as she floated away from Notre Dame. He followed her at a cautious distance as to not scare her. Her skirt was an array of colors that danced as she moved. She took a seat near a gang of street performers. She smiled at him as he drew near.
"Care to have your palm read?" she asked, standing up.
He took a step closer to her and she did the same. "I have no money." He said, raising his hands.
She held out her hand, "I did not ask for any."
"If I return here with something to trade you, will you be here?"
"If you turn around Monsieur, I will be gone."
Gringoire gazed into her chocolate eyes. She gave him a wink, daring him to turn. He gave her a little nod and turned slowly in a circle. As he completed his circle, he let out a small chuckle as he caught her skirt disappearing behind a corner. He would have followed her then, but he had other engagements that day. "1481 is going to be a good year."He thought
He found her again that night, walking by the Cathedral again. She looked sad and pensive as she gazed towards the gargoyles. He hid in the shadows watching as she walked backwards. Normally, he delighted telling his name to a beautiful creature, but something about her was different. Gringoire smiled to himself as he stole away into the night. He found her once; he would find her again after he quenched his thirst.
She loved the gargoyles and the sound of the bells as they rang throughout the city. She longed to see the inside of the Cathedral, but it was but a mere dream for her. Readjusting the scarf on her head, she began to walk away. She moved as silent as a ghost passed the bars and shops. Humming a tune, she turned down an alley and ran into an armored man.
"You should be more careful." He sneered
"Je suis monsieur désolé." (I'm sorry, sir.) She said, giving a little curtsey.
She could smell the mead on his breath as he moved towards her. She took cautious steps back away from him.
"What's a little mouse like you doing out at a time like this? This is a dangerous place?"
"I'm heading home monsieur."
He laughed, "You don't have a home street rat."
She cast her eyes downward and took a step back, running into another man.
"Please sir, I would like to pass."
Both men laughed this time. The one behind her grabbed her arms and pulled her further into the alley. "Let's see what you have under that rainbow skirt, gypsy." She struggled against his grip. The tall man in front of her reached out and grabbed her hair. He took a step closer and engulfed her lips in his. The man behind her gripped her arms tighter as she fought back. Lashing out, she kicked the man before her as she bit his lip. He backed up with a yell of pain.
"I'm not a soldier's girl!" she yelled, kicking the man behind her, "Try up the road at the Love Cabaret!" The girl spat at the one she bit and pulled a small dagger from her pocket. The solider behind her grabbed her wrist and whipped her around. Throwing her against the side of a building, the dagger dropped to the ground. Her head was spinning from the force of the throw. The man pinned her arms above her head with one arm while putting his arm across her throat.
"That wasn't very nice." He hissed
Her body shook with fear as the soldier's friend came closer to her. "Now, let's see what's under that skirt of yours."
Her cries were silenced by the noise of the city. The men dragged her further into the alley, away from prying eyes and proceeded to make the gypsy girl bend to their will. Every time she tried to close her eyes and forget the pain, they brought her back around. Gravel tore away at her flesh as they tore through her. Her vision became blurry as blood and sweat fell into her eyes. She took a deep, but shallow breaths as the weight of soldiers were lifted off her.
"Veuillez m'aider." She whispered (Please help me)
The man, who now crouched next to her, put a reassuring hand on her cheek. She let out a small whimper as he picked her up and carried off into the night.
***********
Quasimodo laid the small girl on his bed. Tears of pain silently rolled down her face as she lay there. He covered her gingerly with his thread bare blanket and found the small bowl of water that remained from his dinner. With as much care as he could, he lifted her head and held the bowl to her lips. "Svp boisson la petite." (Please drink little one.) He whispered.
A few drops fell into her mouth, but most mixed with the blood on throat. He laid her back down and moved her and the bedding to a far corner of the tower. If his master found her, she would end up in Montfaucon. Leaving her tucked out of the way, Quasimodo began his decent down the Cathedral. He prayed silently to Notre Dame to find one person who would run from him. The girl shouldn't pay for his sins.
As he stepped foot onto the streets of Paris, Quasimodo hung close to the shadows of the Cathedral. He watched as people passed by, though none seemed to be right to ask. Coming round the main entrance, he saw a familiar blue coat. The man had spoken outside the Cathedral before. He was kind to the poor and down trodden. Quasimodo hoped he would take mercy on him. Keeping his head down, Quasimodo moved slowly towards the man.
"Monsieur." He said, his voice gruff, but soft
The man turned. Shock that filled his face at the sight of the man before him, but the shock quickly went away. "Are you the bell ringer?" he asked, approaching the hunchback.
"Oui. I am Quasimodo."
He placed a hand to his chest, "Pierre Gringoire."
"I'm sorry to approach you, but I know you are a kind man. I need your help."
"With what?"
"There is a young woman in the tower. She needs help, but I do not know how. Please, will you come with me?"
Gringoire looked at him with confusion, but nodded in agreement. Quasimodo smiled his crooked smile and lead Gringoire towards the back of the Cathedral. Gringoire looked at the hunchback as he began to climb. "My friend!" Gringoire called out, "How am I to climb that?"
Quasimodo smiled and climbed back down. He grabbed the man, threw him over his shoulder and proceeded to climb again. Slight fear filled Gringoire as the people of Paris got smaller. He closed his eyes and hoped that they would be there soon and that Quasimodo's strength wouldn't give out. Feeling the hunchback's grip loosen and sturdy ground beneath his feet, Gringoire opened his eyes. Quasimodo was making quick strides across the room to the far corner. Gringoire watched the tenderness in Quasimodo as he carried the girl out of the corner. He laid her down in the center of the room then went back and brought the bedding and water to her.
Gringoire removed his coat, leaving it by the window, as Quasimodo stepped away from the girl. His stomach tightened at the sight of her. Her face and neck were covered in black and purple bruises. Cuts on her face were caked with dirt and blood. Her raven hair was matted with the same mixture. Gently, Gringoire peeled back the blanket. His heart leaped to his throat and a new bout of queasiness filled him as saw her skirt. It was the gypsy girl from earlier in the day. The skirt, like her bodice, were torn and bloodied.
"Will she be okay?" asked Quasimodo
"I'm not sure. Do you have anymore water and a few rags? She needs to be cleaned up. Also, if you had a needle and thread and anything she may wear, that would be a great help. Her clothes are beyond repair."
Quasimodo gave him a small nod and disappeared. Gringoire pulled out his knife and cut the laces away on her bodice. He felt his cheeks grow warm as he pulled the fabric off of her broken body. He rolled her over carefully to remove the last reminisce of fabric. Her body was map of abuse. He placed her damaged top to the side and began to pull large jagged rocks out. The girl let out soft whimpers, but did not open her eyes. When her back was nearly free of rocks, Quasimodo had arrived. He placed a bucket and rags near Gringoire then laid a simple dress down. He moved across the room and grabbed several more small candles. As he came back to the girl's side, Quasimodo reached into his pocket and handed Gringoire a small needle and thread.
"Thank you friend." Said Gringoire, as he began to wash the girl's back
"Can I help?"
"Keep her still. Some of these are deep and it'll hurt when we close it up."
"Thank you for helping." Said Quasimodo, keeping his head down.
Gringoire gave him a sad smile as he wiped away the dirt. Once her back was clean, Gringoire threaded the needle and looked at Quasimodo. The hunchback put his strong hands on her shoulders as Gringoire pinched a large gash together. Holding his breath, he inserted the needle into her tender skin. Her eyes flew open and raspy cries escaped her as he worked quickly to finish. Tears rolled down her face as he cut the thread. Despite his hands holding her, the girl shook in fear. Gringoire pet her hair gently trying to sooth her.
"Dors, bébé, dors. Bébé, dors, il pleut dehors. Dors encore. Il n'est pas tard et le matin, s'est perdu sur son chemin. Il nous reste quelques heures, avant que la nuit de meure." (Sleep, baby, sleep. Baby, sleep, it rains outside. Still sleep. It is not late and the morning was lost on its way. There remain to us a few hours, before the night of dies.) Sang Gringoire. Her breathing slowed again and she stopped shaking. He continued to sing softly to her until she was lulled back into unconsciousness.
"There is still some work to be done, but you should rest friend." He said
Quasimodo shook his head and remained by her side. Gringoire placed his hands on Quasimodo's. "If the bells do not ring in the morning, they will know something is wrong. If something changes with her or when I need your help, I will wake you."
The hunchback reluctantly agreed and went to the far corner of room. Gringoire sighed and brought the blanket back up. He folded it over, exposing her skirt. Grabbing his knife again, he cut the skirt and pulled the fabric away. Leaving it on top of her bodice, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. His stomach wouldn't stop turning. Regaining a little composure, Gringoire wet a new rag and looked at her legs. He got up and walked to the window. "Barbarians." He whispered.
He returned to the girl again and carefully cleaned the trail of blood on her legs, making sure to stop before reaching her tender parts. He was grateful that her legs weren't as badly damaged as her back. Pulling the blanket back down, Gringoire rolled her onto her back. He found it a great relief that her front was covered in bruises and scrapes. After washing her front, Gringoire picked up the dress Quasimodo had brought and dressed her. He stroked her hair, "I'm sorry."
***********
She woke to the sounds of the bells. They were louder than normal. Every fiber of her being screamed in agony as she gradually sat up. She blinked a few times and slowly stood up. The room was large and plain, but windows surrounded her. Spying a person leaning against a wall, she walked silently towards him. Picking up the blue coat, she slipped it over her shoulders and continued onto a small balcony. As she gazed upon Paris, she smiled now knowing where she was.
She took short shallow breaths of the fresh air. The sound of the bells made her feel strangely at ease. She watched the sunrise then headed back into the room. The chill of the morning breeze made her pull the jacket tighter. Feeling restless, she climbed into a window and groaned. As she gazed upon Paris, she reached back and felt the bottom of stitching. She let out a small sigh wishing she knew how long she had been up here. A chuckle from the sleeping man sent a chill up her spine.
She jumped down from the window and winced in pain. She kept her eyes fixed on the man as he got up. Stretching out for a moment, he watched as she moved towards the wall. He let out another chuckle then took a step forward to take a drink of water. She took a quick step back and began searching for her knife. Her heart sank when she remembered that it fell in the street.
"Good morning, little one." He said, putting the bucket down
Giving him a quick nod of acknowledgement the girl still took another step away from him. Gringoire gave her a smile, hoping it would calm her a bit. She slipped the coat off and took three very cautious steps toward him. Crouching down to the ground, she set the coat down then backed away again.
"You didn't have to take it off."
She stayed in a perching position.
"Would you care for something to drink?"
She shook her head.
"Maybe introductions would be better. I'm Pierre Gringoire."
He knew from the look on her face, that she didn't trust him.
"I'm not going to hurt you little one. I just want to know your name."
She readjusted herself so that she was sitting.
"Do you have family here?"
She blinked, but said nothing to him. Gringoire stood up and took a few steps closer to her. She flinched, but didn't move away. It was then he noticed her lips were moving.
"Did you say something little one?"
Her lips moved again and a noise slightly less than a whisper escaped her.
"I'm sorry little one, but I can't hear you. I'm going to move a little closer if that is okay."
She nodded and he sat down in front of her. He leaned in a little as her lips moved again. "Kali." She said, her voice little more than a whisper
"Kali. It's a lovely name. I think you may want to try drinking some of that water. You've been sleeping for three days."
She gave him a small smile letting her guard drop as he brought the bucket closer to her. Taking the small wooden bowl, Kali took a drink. She winced as she swallowed but the cool water felt good on her throat. Handing the bowl to Gringoire, she gave him another small smile.
"How are you feeling, little one?"
"I tell you my name and you still call me "little one"?" her voice was soft, but louder than a few moments ago
Gringoire smiled, "where do you come from Kali?"
"Anywhere. Are we in Notre Dame?"
"Yes."
"You're not the bell ringer are you?"
"No. His name is Quasimodo. He will return here soon and I'm sure that he'll be pleased to see you awake. You're not afraid of me anymore."
"I would not say I was afraid of you. I was aware of what you were doing and taking caution."
"Is that why you kept backing away from me?"
"If you woke up in a place you didn't know, after being attacked by two men, you would take caution, too."
He nodded and looked towards the hole in the floor as he heard Quasimodo climbing the ladder. Kali stood up slowly and took a step back as the new man entered the room. He walked with a slight limp and his downcast eyes looked sad. He lifted his face slightly to greet Gringoire.
"How is she?" he asked his gruff voice soft and full of concern.
Gringoire put a hand on the hunchback and pointed in her direction. She gave him a bow and a smile as a crooked grin broke across his face. Kali stood firm as he walked to her. He took er hand gently in his and gave it a soft kiss.
"I'm happy to see you up and about."
"It was you." She whispered, taking his other hand. "You're the person who helped me."
Quasimodo turned a deep shade of red and turned his face away from her. Gringoire watched as Kali released his hands. She cupped his face and turned it so she could look at him in the eyes. A smile from ear to ear broke across her face as she leaned down and kissed his cheeks. Kali gave him a loving caress before taking her hands away. Quasimodo was smiling as he turned away from the girl. "You are free to stay as long as you like. My master is coming and he must not see you. Gringoire, will you take her away from here for now?"
"Of course my friend," he said, stretching his hand out, "Little one, if you would follow me."
"Thank you Quasimodo." She said, taking Gringoire's hand.
***********
They walked slowly through the streets not saying a word. She kept her eyes cast downward as they neared the street of her attack. Soldiers could be heard laughing in pub. Gringoire walked closer to her and put an arm over her shoulder. She was shaking. He held her tighter, "They can't hurt you. If they try, Quasimodo will tear their arms off." She gave a stifled laugh, but remained stiff. Gringoire kept her close as he guided her through the winding streets. After taking several more turns, he lead her to a small building. He held the door and pointed across the tavern to a small set of stairs neat the back. "I'm going to get us something to eat. Head on upstairs. First door on the right. It's not much, but…"
"Thank you." She whispered. Kali moved quickly across the tavern. He watched her until she was up the stairs. He took a seat neat the fire and waited for the Inn Keeper.
"Found yourself a woman, eh?" the robust man asked
"Yes." He replied, pulling out his charm, "Might I have some bread and cheese and a bottle of port."
"I'll have Catherine bring it up to you."
Gringoire gave the man some coins and headed up to his room. Opening the door, he found her sitting at his desk looking at the scattered papers. He watched as she picked up a sheet, stared at it for a few moments, set it down and picked up a new piece. Her eyes grew wide with fear as she heard him close the door.
"I'm sorry Monsieur. I didn't mean to…"
"It is all right. You've done nothing wrong. Did you enjoy it?"
"I . . . don't know how to . . ."
"Of course you don't." he whispered. Taking a tentative step towards her, he noticed her relax some. "Would you care to learn?"
"You'd teach me?"
"I'd be happy to."
Standing behind her, Gringoire found a blank parchment and laid it out in front of her. After setting the ink and quill next to her, he instructed her to pick up the quill. He placed one hand on the table next to her left arm and the other on her hand. "We'll start with your name."
"You're showing me how to write?"
"If you write the letter you're reading, it will make things easier."
Lifting her right hand, they moved as one to dip the tip. Bringing it back to the parchment, Gringoire guided her hand.
"K…a…l…i" he said, his thumb lightly brushing her palm as they stopped
She turned to him, their faces only an inch or so apart. A wild smile crossed her face, "May we try your name now?"
"If you would like."
She nodded and they repeated the motions from before. Gringoire's mind raced as he slowly spelled out his name.
"I should not be this close to her. She smells incredible! So sweet and innocent. Eager to learn. She's not afraid of me. That's a good sign. NO! Stop thinking about that! She's been hurt. She is adorable though with the quill. Like a child getting a gift. Her kindness towards Quasimodo, she has such a kind heart. One could love a heart like that. Must stop thinking about her. What is that scent? How her little wrist moves along the parchment. So small, so delicate. GRINGOIRE! STOP! She must be half your age! She must have family missing her. What if this poor child is running from her husband? What if he was the one who hurt her so? I have to help her! Those eyes are bewitching. I could fall into those eyes! Stop! Stop it! She's looking at you! Pay attention to her! Talk to her!"
She was still smiling at him. Gringoire let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. As he tucked it behind her ear, he felt her leaning a bit into his hand. All blood rushed from his head and raced to other parts of his body. The scent of her skin wafted under his nose. He began to lean in closer when there was a nock on the door. Dropping his hands to his trousers, Gringoire stood and answered. He thanked the young woman as he took the food.
"Why did he stop?" she thought, "Was food really that important? I liked the feel of his hand on my skin. Clopin must be worried about me. I should really head back to the den tomorrow. I should head back tonight. How am I going to get back to Quasimodo? I must find a way to repay him for his kindness. Tomorrow, I'll figure everything out tomorrow."
"Some food, little one." He said, placing the plate down in front of her.
"What about you?"
He grinned, holding up a bottle of port.
"That is not food."
"You need it more than I. You, after all, are the one who has had the rough time."
Her smile faded a little, "Nothing more than normal."
"Where are you from?"
"As I told you before, everywhere. I don't have a proper home."
"What about family?"
"Where is your family?"
He pulled the cork out and took a long drink from the bottle. Lying back on the bed, he gazed her. She still smiled at him.
"My family is gone. They died when I was six."
"I'm sorry. I don't know much about my family. I have a brother who watches after me. He has since I was little."
"Where was he a few nights ago?"
"I'm old enough to come and go as I please. Things happen. Fates make sure of that."
Gringoire raised an eyebrow at her comment. After taking another drink, he held the bottle out to her. Kali got up from the chair and walked slowly across the room. He couldn't help but notice how her dress seemed to float above her skin. Crawling up on the bed, Kali sat straight backed with her legs crossed. She took the bottle from him, took a small drink and held it out for him. He leaned forward to take the bottle back when he noticed a small drop lingering on the bottom of her lip. Reaching out, he brushed her bottom lip with his thumb taking the glittering drop with him. Catching his wrist, Kali leaned forward taking his thumb into her lips. Playfully, she sucked the wine off then released him.
He stared at her, arm frozen from movement. Shifting her legs so she was in a kneeling position, Kali began to crawl up the bed. Gringoire remained frozen as she continued her path up his side. She gazed into dark brown eyes, reaching out and caressing his cheek. When her lips found his, Gringoire unfroze; his hands finding their way to her shoulders. With a quick yet gentle movement, he pushed her away from him.
"What's wrong?" she asked
"What are you doing?"
"I thought that was obvious."
She sat back on her heels and looked at him.
"Believe me little one, I would be more than happy to …." He was blushing, "But you are trying to replace what's happened to you with something else."
"No. I know what has happened and I've forgiven them. I like the feel of your hands on my skin."
"You are still damaged little one and you are still very young."