"Paris, France, 1480. A dark, frightening time when people believed the world was flat and that God's truth was hand-written on parchment paper in Cathedral libraries. It was a world where modern ideas were banned by the Church, and the mere possession of a printed page was a crime punishable by death."

The light outside was dim, the thick driving rain made things hard to see. I and a group of cloaked men were bursting into a townhouse.

"Dom Frollo!"

"Satan's instrument." I was looking at a printing press. Outside, the press was on a cart which was being taken to the doors of Notre Dame cathedral. I was supervising the men as they carried the press inside.

I opened my mouth to speak. "Come, come, come! Get this… thing out of sight!"

I heard a baby's cry behind me. I walked over to where it was laying, in a basket on the steps. Who would leave a poor, innocent, precious, child to die in the freezing rain? As I got closer I flinched when I saw It's features, then as it continued to cry I picked it up, cradled it in my arms and looked up to the heavens. Has god sent me this creature, this baby, to protect it from the harsh, cruel world, to raise it as my own as a pure child?

25 Years Later on the day of the Festival of Fools.

Place de Notre-Dame. It was a bright afternoon, and the place was full of townspeople and entertainers. A ragged gypsy boy was running away from a blond captain on horseback.

The captain was yelling at the top of his lungs. "Thief! Stop him!"

The boy collided with a woman, knocking her down, and tripping himself but recovered and reached the threshold of the cathedral.

"Sanctuary! Sanctuary!"

The priest came to the boys rescue and ushered him inside. "Get inside!"

The boy nodded. "Thank you, Father"

The priest kept the captain from entering "Stop!"

The captain didn't want to listen. "Aside! I'm going to arrest him, he's a thief."

"The House of God is sanctuary for all. The power of thy Law stops at this doorway."

The captain laughed then rode away. "He's got to come out sometime!"

Elsewhere in the Place. Pierre Gringoire was handing out pamphlets and declaiming to the largely uninterested crowd assembled there.

He was yelling, passionately about his cause. "The Court of Spain sent a man across the ocean to discover a New World. Our King would have us believe that there is no world outside the walls of this city! They tax our meat, our salt! Is there a shortage of food on the tables of the Palace Royale?"

A bored member of the audience crumpled up the paper he had been given. Meanwhile, Clopin, another beggar and a red-headed girl had arrived on the scene and stood a distance, off, observing.

Clopin was getting annoyed. "She's about to begin! What's going on?"

Another beggar tried to explain. Pointing to Pierre Gringoire. "Politics wrapped up in the skin of drama."

Pierre continued. "Let me answer the questions they will not let thou ask! Why are there no books in Paris save those in our churches?"

The red-headed woman that had come with Clopin smiled. "He's good!"

Clopin rolled his eyes. "A populist?"

The other beggar shook his head. "Worse. An idealist." He spat on the ground.

Clopin, annoyed, stepped forward. "He's mine!" He Hobbled quickly towards Pierre.

Pierre still preached. "I will tell thee. It is because Church and State are of one mind - that thou should have no minds of thine own! Citizens of Paris! Knowledge is power! We must not stand idly by! We must rise up! Rise up and -"

"Siddown!" Clopin smiled, yelling loudly before Pierre could finish his sentence. Laughter erupted from the audience. "They'll raise thou up high enough, on the gallows!"

"What, by keeping the people ignorant?"

Clopin raised a dirty eyebrow. "Oho! Here we have an expert on Ignorance, eh?"

"Shut up ye fool, I'm giving these people the truth!"

Clopin turned towards the crowd. "The citizens of Paris don't need the truth! We need dancing! We need music! We need - La Esmeralda!"

Clopin sung, and the crowd joined in.

"Come one, come all!

Leave thy loops and milking stools

Coop the hens and pen the mules

Come one, come all!

Close the churches and the schools

It's the day for breaking rules

Come and join the feast of...

Fools!

Once a year we throw a party here in town
Once a year we turn all Paris upside down
Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown
Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day
It's the day the devil in us gets released
It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest
Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!"

"Topsy turvy!"

"Ev'rything is upsy daysy!"

"Topsy turvy!"

"Ev'ryone is acting crazy

Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet

That's the way on Topsy Turvy Day"

"Topsy Turvy!"

"Beat the drums and blow the trumpets"

"Topsy Turvy!"

"Join the bums and thieves and strumpets

Streaming in from Chartres to Calais."

"Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy

On the sixth of "Januervy""

"All because it's Topsy Turvy Day!"

"Come one, come all!

Hurry, hurry, here's thy chance

See the myst'ry and romance

Come one, come all

See the finest girl in France

Make an entrance to entrance

Dance la Esmeralda

Dance!"

The said Esmerelda arrived out of nowhere from a purple puff of smoke in place of Clopin. She started to dance.

Pierre, who was watching the festival, was caught off guard by her, and whispered to himself. Although he was heard by a nearby guard, beside him. "I've never seen such beauty..."

The captain scoffed but agreed. "For a gypsy."

"What's her name?"

"Esmeralda."

Pierre let the name roll off his tongue. "Esmeralda..."

Clopin yelled out to the crowd. After her dance was over. "Hey, hey, hey! Citizens! Fellow Gypsies! The time has come, the moment is here, for us to choose our King!" The audience cheered. He continued. "King of the Fools! It's the ugliest face that wins the crown, all right? So men, women, come on up! Come on up! If thy face is gruesome, grotesque or just plain grisly, bring it up! If thy face is revolting, repulsive, let's have a look at it!" He rolled down a piece of sacking, painted with a king on his throne with a hole cut out for the face. "If thy face is like the arse-end of a donkey, let's have a laugh! Men, women, the ugliest face! Will it be – this one?" A woman stuck her head through the hole, everybody laughed.

In a nearby sheltered balcony the king and his retinue were watching the festivities.

The king spoke first. "What do ye think? How do ye like her face?"

His queen looked horrified. "How can they even look?!"

He smiled and shrugged. "I think the ugly is very appealing."

"To some people, maybe – not to me!"

The noblemen laughed. "It's a matter of taste!"

Back at the contest, a man had just put his face through the hole. Clopin looked around, laughing, but spotted someone watching from behind a cart. Only a sliver of a face was visible, but that was enough to shock Clopin momentarily.

He beckoned to the mysterious man "Good God... YOU! Man! Come here! Don't ye want to be famous, eh? 'Course ye do! Bring him up! Bring him up!"

The mystery man panicked and tried to run off, but was caught and hauled up to the platform.

"That's it, come on, ye can do it… One foot at a time, all right? Come on... That's it! Citizens, the contest is over! Here is your King, thou fools!"

The crowd, shocked, recognized the ugly man. "It's the bell-ringer! It's Quasimodo! It's the hunchback!"

The red-headed woman from before smiled. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame! Yes, make him the King!"

The crowd cheered, and the sackcloth was pulled away to reveal Quasimodo's entire body.

Clopin smiled, turning to the deformed man "Well, Quasimodo, ye were always up in thy bell tower – we knew he was ugly, but didn't know he was this ugly!" Quasimodo tried to bite him, but Clopin got out of the way just in time. "Old friend, ye win the contest, do ye understand? We want to thou be the King of the Fools! So what do ye say?" He paused. "What's the matter, can't thou speak?"

The red-headed woman called out once more. "He's deaf! The bells have made him deaf!"

Clopin laughed. "Then he should be King of France!"

The audience laughed with him, then started to chant; "The crown! The crown! The crown!"

Clopin snapped his fingers like he had forgotten. "Yes! Yes! Hey, where are ye going?" Quasimodo had just ambled away and two men had to stop him leaving. "Esmeralda – the crown!"

Esmerelda climbed back up, a wire-net "crown" in her hand. She reached the top but backed away at Quasimodo's hideousness.

Clopin beckoned her to go on. "Come on, Esmeralda. There isn't a man in Paris who wouldn't accept a death sentence if it were given by thy hand. Go on."

She approached nervously, Quasimodo shied away: in order for her to crown him she must touch him. She did so, and Quasimodo took off the crown to look at it, then put it back on and looked around, smiling.

Clopin smiled patting the hunchback on the shoulder. "Quasimodo! We proclaim thou King of the Fools! Hail Quasimodo!"

Clopin continued to sing as they showed off Quasimodo.

"Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for
Here it is, ye know exactly what's in store
Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore
Now's the time we crown the King of Fools!
So make a face that's horrible and frightening
Make a face as gruesome as a gargoyle's wing
For the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!
Why?"

"Topsy turvy!"

"Ugly folk, forget your shyness"

"Topsy turvy!"

"You could soon be called Thy Highness!"

"Put thine foulest features on display

Be the king of Topsy Turvy Day!"

"Ev'rybody!"

"Once a year we throw a party here in town"

"Hail to the king!"

"Once a year we turn all Paris upside down"

"Oh, what a king!"

"Once a year, the ugliest will wear a crown"

"Once a year on Topsy Turvy Day"

"We've never had a king like this"

"And it's the day we do the things that we deplore

On the other three hundred and sixty-four

Once a year we love to drop in

Where the beer is never stoppin'

For the chance to pop some popinjay

And pick a king who'll put the "top" in

Topsy Turvy Day!

Mad and crazy, upsy-daisy, Topsy Turvy Day!"

I was inside the cathedral, In the candlelit room where a large number of monks were working as copyists. I, Dom Claude Frollo, had my head sunken within the recesses of my cowl, praying. I lifted my head, and rose from my seat to go to the window, where I could see what was going on outside. Not that it interested me in any way. I was annoyed. I wanted to pray in peace. I slid back the drapes and looked out the window. A woman was dancing in the square. She may have been only a tiny speck from this distance, but I was still overcome with what I saw.

Her dancing was beautiful, her body moved to the exact rhythm of the music. I was overcome with a sensation I had never felt before. I had to close the drapes or else I would've fainted. I did so, backing up against the wall and hugging myself. I had been tainted by that...That beautiful temptress. I whimpered as I thought unholy thoughts.

Esmerelda left the marble structure and Clopin took her place. He was now dressed as a jester and had clowns around him for the audience's benefit.

At the King's Balcony. A minister dressed in black had just arrived.

The man bowed. "Thy Majesty."

"Ah, Minister Gauchere. Come on, you've missed the King of the Fools."

They both looked on at the spectacle of Quasimodo being carried on a palanquin by the crowd, with the crown and sceptre, He was shouting "Thank you! Thank you all!" I still watched from above.

The man turned towards the king. "Did ye know that Monsignor Frollo has the Royal Guard searching everywhere for books? What possible danger lies in books?"

The king rolled his eyes. "Enjoy the Festival. Dom Frollo is old, and set in his ways – he hasn't ventured beyond the steps of the Cathedral for well over a decade."

The procession had reached those same Cathedral steps now, and Clopin beckoned Esmerelda to come and dance. She did so as Quasimodo shouted and applauded for her. I came to the grille, watching her, I was enraged. I opened the door and went outside. Screaming.

"STOP!"

The music stopped and only Quasimodo was left still cheering. Then his eyes met mine, and a look of shame crossed his face. Good. He had betrayed me. He clambered off of his "throne" and walked past me back into the Cathedral.

The dumb red-head screamed. "He can't take our King away!"

Clopin answered, yelling out to the crowd, and to the red-head. "He did!" The crowd broke up, muttering.

Esmerelda smirked, then gave a wave of her hand and the music started to play again. My eyes went wide, she was defying me! She started to dance, I couldn't help but watch, concealing my emotions was hard. I longed for her. A feeling in my lions grew. I whimpered inwardly. She was so beautiful, the way she moved was just so, so...

She suddenly flipped towards me, dancing in front of me, grabbing my robes in her dainty hands, her leg wrapped around mine, she gave me a kiss on the nose, just a small peck, but it almost drove me wild. Suddenly she slammed my hood and cap over my head, the crowd laughed hysterically. I growled, fixing my robes and hat as she winked and walked away. The music stopped as I entered back into the cathedral.

"Quasimodo!" I walked in front, so Quasimodo could read my lips. "They have humiliated thee. Have ye no pride? Quasimodo, does thou not understand? Ye have been touched by God! He has chosen thee to go directly to Heaven! He brought thee to our steps those many years ago to protect thou against the cruelties of man –" I paused, licking my lips, thinking of La Esmerelda, the gypsy dancer. I snapped out of it, finishing my sentence. "-and the temptations of women." I tried to take away Quasi's crown, but the hunchback refused. I walked over, back in front of him. "Venture again into the world outside and thou do so without God's protection – and mine."

That night inside the Cathedral, Quasimodo was ringing the bells and I, stripped to the waist, was flogging myself bloodily with a cat-o-nine-tails in an attempt to rid himself of my thoughts of that wretched heathen, that, that witch! That...Angel. I couldn't. I just couldn't stop thinking about her. I staggered over to the window and murmured a single word, painfully- "Esmeralda."

Later in the interior of Notre-Dame. Quasimodo was walking along a balcony when he spotted me now dressed back in my robes, in a discussion with two shifty-looking peasants. I was counting coins into their hands. Not knowing he was watching.

The first peasant sighed. "It's not enough."

I rolled my eyes. "Here." Both of the men left, as Quasimodo stared after them.

On a Parisian street. at Night. Esmerelda was walking with her white goat.

"Come on Djali, we've got to get home. Come on!" The two shifty types attacked her and attempted to abduct her but she screamed "Help! HELP!"

Pierre was nearby and attempted to rescue her. "Hey you there! Help! Guards of the watch! Leave her, thou can't touch her!" He Tried to rescue her but was kicked back. Quasimodo appeared on the scene and made short work of the peasants. They fled as the captain and his soldiers rode in. Their appearance panicked Quasimodo and Pierre attempted to calm him down.

The guards yelled, pointing at the three. "Stop the wretches!"

Pierre whispered to Quasi, trying to comfort him, but failed "You've got nothing to fear, you've done nothing wrong!"

The captain pointed to Quasimodo. "Hold that freak!"

Pierre was appalled and tried to defend Quasimodo, but the guards wouldn't listen. "Officer, he was trying to help!"

"Arrest him!"

Quasimodo cried out. "I did nothing!"

The captain screamed, impatient. "Out of the way!" His horse veered around and knocked Pierre unconscious.

Quasimodo continued to scream, crying. "I did nothing! I did nothing!"

In Notre-Dame Interior. The two men returned to me: I turned and went to the altar, where the priest was praying.

"The bells are silent. Where is Quasimodo?"

"I don't know, Monsignor."

"Find him!"

In a Paris Street, at night. Pierre woke up to find himself surrounded by a leering mob of ragged peasants.

"Where am I? Hell?"

Clopin laughed. "Thou are where no law-abiding man has ever walked! Where the King's Guard ventured into it – vanished! Into small pieces! Thou are in the Court of Miracles! Where gypsies, unfrocked priests and wastrels from every nation are beggars by day and men by night! A vast dressing room, where the entire cast of a never-ending comedy performed on the streets of Paris by theft, prostitution and murder don and remove their costumes!" The crowd burst into laughter and tossed their crutches aside, into the circle.

"And ye are the director of this unholy theatre company, I suppose?"

Clopin smiled, banging on the plate of armor on his chest. "I am King!"

Pierre scoffed. "King of Thieves!"

"Oh no, no, no. Here I am King! Monarch! Pope! God! And ye- don't belong."

"No, I am the man who tried to enlighten the noble citizens of Paris to thy plight this morning, in the great square."

Clopin rolled his eyes. "Oh yes… Ye want to help us? Mmm? Speak up in our defense? What do ye know of us, eh? You're worse than the nobles, thou are an intellectual! They treat us like cattle, ye make us into causes! Neither puts bread on the table. Ye have entered the Kingdom of the Downtrodden without having been trod upon. The law that Paris applies to us thieves, we thieves will apply to thee." Clopin Thrusted a noose over Pierre's neck. "Ye will be hanged."

"What?!"

"Up he goes!"

"No! Wait! Please – " He was hauled up to a precarious balancing point above the crowd, on the shoulders of a hefty peasant woman.

Clopin laughed. "Comfortable, eh? Just wink! Right! On my word, Simone will take leave of her perch - and thou will take leave of this Earth!"

Clopin sung and the gypsies joined in.

Maybe you've heard of a terrible place

Where the scoundrels of Paris

Collect in a lair

Maybe you've heard of that mythical place
Called the Court of Miracles
Hello, you're there!
Where the lame can walk
And the blind can see
But the dead don't talk
So thou won't be around
To reveal what you've found
We have a method for spies and intruders
Rather like hornets protecting their hive
Here in the Court of Miracles
Where it's a miracle if ye get out alive!

Justice is swift in the Court of Miracles

I am the lawyers and judge all in one

We like to get the trial over with quickly

Because it's the sentence that's really the fun!

Now that we've seen all the evidence-"

He took out his puppet.

Puppet: "Wait! I object!"

"Overruled!"

Puppet: "I object!"

"Quiet!"

Puppet: "Dang!"

"We find thou totally innocent

Which is the worst crime of all"

So you're going to hang!"

The same red-head before stopped him. "Wait!"

"Not now!"

"But what about the Law of Bohemia?" The crowd nodded and muttered.

"She's right!"

"The Law of Bohemia!"

Pierre screamed out desperately. "WHAT LAW OF BOHEMIA?!"

Clopin gave up, defeated. "All right! The Law of Bohemia says that a King can't hang a man without asking if there's a Gypsy woman who wants him. Thou will marry a thief – or the rope. And no japes about being "well hung"! Women! Is there a trollop amongst thou from the switch down to the shin-cap who'll have this silver-tongued rodent?"

Pierre begged. "Please, someone!"

"A man, for nothing!" The crowd booed, hoping to hang him."Get on with it!"

Clopin continued. "Well worth the money, all of him!"

Pierre was still begging. "Please, I'll be a good husband, please!"

An old woman from the crowd booed and stuck out her thumb, pointing down. "Hang him!" The crowd echoed this proposition just when Esmerelda entered.

"Going once! Going twice!"

Esmerelda came out fro the crowd, holding up her hand. "I'll take him!"

Pierre's eyes went wide. "La Esmeralda?!"

Clopin stuck out his lip. "You'll ruin our sport, Esmeralda."

"I said, I will marry this man."

Clopin sighed. "Let him down!" Pierre was freed and brought to stand beside Esmerelda, Clopin placed his hands on their heads. "Here is thy savior. Brother, she is thy wife: sister, he is thy husband. Amen."

Esmerelda smiled. "I am Esmeralda."

Pierre smiled back, dazed. "Gringoire. Pierre Gringoire." He Keeled over backwards in a dead faint.

Place de Notre Dame, at dawn. In the interior of the prison. Quasimodo was huddled in the corner of a cell: two guards noticed him and started insulting him loudly.

He held up his hand, a single tear rolling down his face. "W-Why, W-Why?"

The next day, Pierre and Esmerelda were sitting by a gypsy caravan, eating.

"I love ye, Esmeralda."

She laughed. "Ye love my cooking."

"I'm serious!"

Esmerelda smiled. petting her goat. "Djali loves me. She's been with me since she was born, I think she knows what I'm thinking."

"I wish I knew what thee were thinking."

"I think ye are liking this gypsy life."

"Can't complain! No, I'm ready to live with thou as husband and wife."

Esmerelda looked at him strangely. For she did not love him and only married him to save his life.

He looked away, shrugging. "As brother and sister, if thou prefer. I'm enough of a philosopher to keep everything in the proper equilibrium."

She scrunched up her nose. "Equil-what?"

"The proper balance."

"Oh, thou are a juggler!"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't juggle."

"Then thou must learn! I'll teach thee."

"I don't want to!"

"Look!" She retrieved balls from the back of the caravan. "If you're going to be my husband, you're going to need a trade."

"I have a trade! I'm an orator."

"You'll be a juggler. Watch! It's very easy!" She juggled for him.

"But I could never do that!"

"Yes ye can! Come here, try it! Two balls on this hand, one ball on this hand.. All ye have to do is throw and catch… throw and catch…" She positioned his body for him. "And keep your elbows close to thy body. Here."

He juggled for a few seconds then dropped the balls. "Argh! It's no use, I'm not a juggler, I don't even want to be a juggler!" Esmerelda regarded him for a few seconds, then kissed him on the lips.

"Why did ye do that?"

"B-Because I wanted to. Keep practicing."

Later at Place de Notre Dame, in the afternoon. Quasimodo was brought out in a cart to the pillory, watched by a jeering crowd, the priests of Notre-Dame aligned on the cathedral steps, and the king and his retinue on their covered balcony.

The queen furrowed her brow. "Who is that?"

"The bell ringer of Notre Dame. Dom Claude Frollo is his guardian."

Quasimodo had his tunic ripped down to his waist, exposing his hump. An official stood beside him and read from a scroll just as Esmerelda, Pierre and Clopin arrived.

The official yelled out to the anxious crowd. "Let it be known that Quasimodo, the bell ringer of Notre Dame, is to receive fifty strokes with the cat-o'-nine-tails for his attack upon a woman."

Esmerelda was horrified. "We must stop them, he was helping me!"

Pierre shook his head. "Yes, but they'll never listen."

Clopin nodded. "The poet's right, we can't get involved."

The torturer arrived and started to flog Quasimodo as the crowd counted the strokes aloud.

The priest turned towards me, as we both watched. "Eminence, can thou not stop this?"

I nodded slightly. "Yes. I can." I continued on watching impassively. "Quasimodo betrayed me."

Esmerelda dropped her stuff in Pierre's lap. "I can't stand this!" She ran to the royal balcony. "Your Highness, Your Highness, My Lord!"

I watched her with an intent gaze. What was she doing?

The king stood up, confused. "What's that?"

She continued to call for him. "Please, come here, sire!"

The king smiled. "Why, It's the dancing girl!"

"I appeal, Your Majesty!"

The king beckoned the guards to let her go. "Bring her up here." The guards escorted her to the king. "What have ye done, child?"

"No. Not I - I appeal for the hunchback! I am the woman he was supposed to have assaulted. It's not true!"

The king turned to Gauchere. "This man is being whipped for assaulting a Gypsy?"

"That was the decision of the court, my Lord."

"But he is innocent!"

The king stood there still dumbfounded, in disbelief. "A Gypsy?!"

"We must protect our citizens. It acts as a lesson to those who would assault a real woman."

"Oh, very well."

Esmerelda screamed as she was being dragged out by the guards. "But Your Highness – Your Highness! The hunchback is innocent!"

The crowd finished counting the strokes of the whip. The official came forward again.

"The prisoner will be exposed to one full hour of public display!"

The crowd started pelting Quasimodo as he was turned on the pillory. He called out for "Water!" But the crowd repeated his words mockingly back at him.

A little boy stepped up to Quasimodo, a smirk on his face. "Here's thy water!"

He threw a wet cloth over Quasimodo, covering his face and shoulders. Quasimodo appealed soundlessly to me, but I turned my gaze away. I looked back as Esmerelda ascended to the pillory, taking a bucket of water. She dipped her hands within and sprinkled the water over Quasi's face. After an initial period of wariness, she let him bend over to lap the water directly out of her hands. I stared, face blank, but on the inside I was enraged, jealous of the hunchback.

I yelled out. "Thou, Gypsy girl! Get down at once!"

She turned towards me, knife in hand. "Yes, Your Honor. Just as soon as I free this poor creature."

My eyes went wide, I was fuming. "I for-bid it!"

She looked back at me, defiantly. She cut the ropes tying Quasimodo to the wheel. Freeing him.

I was gobsmacked. "How dare thou defy me?"

She turned back towards me, frown set on her beautiful face. "Ye mistreat this poor boy the same way thou mistreat my people. Thou speak of justice, yet ye are cruel to those most in need of thy help!"

I screamed. "Silence!"

"Justice!" She held up her knife.

The crowd gasped in amazement. How dare she try to embarrass me, how dare she defy me!?

I frowned, trying to calm down. "Mark my words, Gypsy, thou will pay for this insolence."

She furrowed her dark brows. "Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool. The only fool I see is thee!"

She took off the crown on Quasimodo's head and threw it to me.

I was enraged once more. "Guard's after her!"

Phoebes, the captain of the guard nodded, and sent his guards after her.

She smirked. "Let's see. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... So there's ten of thou and one of me. What's a poor girl to do?"

She slipped one of the sleeves from her dress down, I had to look away. I couldn't take that. I looked back a short moment later, she had a handkerchief in her hand. She pretended to cry, dabbing at her fake tears then held it up to her small nose. She blew in it and disappeared in a huge cloud of smoke.

I stared, mouth agape. "Witchcraft!"

Suddenly I heard her voice, she was up behind the fruit stand. "Over here, boys."

She blinked her large emerald eyes, batting her dark thick eyelashes. The guards continued after her. She took off her purple scarf, grabbed a rock, wrapped it up and threw it at me. It hit me in the face, but I caught it, tucking the scarf away in my robe after removing the rock. She laughed and ran away, beating up the guards as she escaped. I left her to the guards and looked back at Quasimodo.

He stumbled up the cathedral steps. I walked in behind him, in the cathedral. He was limping over to the shrine, he collapsed. I walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He started to cry. I pulled him into my arms, cradling him, trying to comfort him, he wailed harder.

"She – she gave me water!"

"Shh...I know, my child. I know..."

He continued to scream. "Water! Water!"

I pet his shoulder, careful not to touch his gaping wounds. I helped him up the stairs to the bell tower, I had my nurses tend to him. I went back down, I had some business to attend to.

At the entrance of Notre-Dame. The king and the minister were walking up the steps, where I greeted them.

I nodded. "Your Majesty."

He nodded back. "Eminence."

I nodded at the minister, Smiling."Minister." I turned to walk back inside, they both followed.

The king broke the silence. "How long has it been since my coronation? 15 years? You've hidden yourself away all this time. I've missed thy presence at Court."

"But this is where I am happiest, Your Majesty. Within these walls. Everything I need is here. But - it should not be so unusual to see you within these walls." I chuckled.

He smiled back. "Ah yes! But I've been bound up with affairs of this world, secure that ye are taking care of the affairs of the next. Now I must see why my High Minister keeps asking me to come down here."

I gestured them towards a dark corner and pulled off a drapery to reveal an old, dusty machine.

The king frowned, shrugging. "Doesn't look like much."

The minister nodded. "The German inventor Gutenberg called it a "printing press", Your Maj -"

I rolled my eyes, slightly. "Oh the Germans, the Germans! Only the Germans could have invented such a damnable contraption."

The king scoffed. "Damnable? It's just a machine!"

I frowned. "Made in Hell."

The minister was shocked. "Monseigneur –"

I interrupted, annoyed. "This – machine – could topple a kingdom. Your kingdom."

"Come, come, Claude, don't exaggerate!"

I reached up and pulled the lever on the press, fetching a paper from beneath it.

The king was confused. "What's this?"

"It's the first page of the book they were printing when we seized this monstrosity. "Liberty: A Call For Freedom."

The king was baffled. "Who wrote this?"

I shrugged. "Does it matter? With the press, anyone can become an author. Anyone's opinions can be as important as anyone else's. That is the danger to my King."

The minster rolled his eyes at me. "Say what ye really mean! This isn't about political pamphlets, it's about the suppression of knowledge!"

I widened my eyes. "Wrong! Wrong, sir! Ye are wrong. I love knowledge. It is my catechism: science, history, drama. Knowledge is the true purpose of the Church. Come." I lead them back into the lighted cloisters. "In our library we have books that have survived the burning of the libraries of Alexandria. Books that contain knowledge that has no other record. Books, Your Majesty, that are written by Man, by the hand of Man – not by a machine."

"The press can distribute that knowledge to the masses more easily."

I raised my grey brows. "Easy? Easy? Your Majesty, "easy" is a trap. When attaining knowledge becomes "easy", when a man has no longer to labour a year over a single tome, when people no longer seek knowledge in our cathedral libraries, when it sits between leather covers on mantels in every home, then it will have no value. So, everyone will have books? Those books will be worthless."

The king smiled. "An impassioned plea, old friend. But if the cathedrals are the handwriting of the past, this press is of our time. I won't do anything to stop its growth."

I smiled back. "You mean… Thou will rescind your father's solemn pledge to me to support the Church in the banning of printed books? Your Majesty! If we do not break the press, then nothing will be of value."

The minister frowned slightly. "I'm not such a fool. I will drag this country into the sixteenth century."

I turned towards him, glaring. "And I will protect France against printed books as I have protected France against witches, sorcerers and gypsies in the past."

"There are no witches or sorcerers in France!"

I triumphantly smirked. "Exactly."

Both the king and minister left the cathedral just as Quasimodo began to ring the bells. I was in a cell, standing, stripped to the waist, with a cat o'nine tails in my hand. Seeing a crucifix, I angrily scourged it twice with the whip but then fell to my knees before it, appalled at myself.

"Oh God..."

I ran up to my fireplace. Staring into the scorching fires. I saw her dancing in the flames, dancing for me. I stared out the window then at Maria's statue.

I heard the priests below chanting.

"Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti" (I confess to God almighty)

"Beatae Mariae semper Virgini" (To blessed Mary ever Virgin)

"Beato Michaeli archangelo" (To the blessed archangel Michael)

"Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis" (To the holy apostles, to all the saints)

So I began to sing.

"Beata Maria

Ye know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud"

(Priests: "Et tibit Pater" (And to you, Father)

Beata Maria

Ye know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

(Priests: "Quia peccavi nimis" (That I have sinned)

Then tell me, Maria

Why I see her dancing there

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul!"

(Priests: "Cogitatione" (In thought)

I walked back to the fireplace, still singing.

"I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control!"

(Priests: "Verbo et opere" (In word and deed)

Her flaming body still danced for me. Reaching out to me...

"Like fire!

Hellfire!

This fire in my skin"

I took out her scarf sniffing it and rubbing it against my face. I continued to sing. Lost in my unholy thoughts.

"This burning

Desire

Is turning me to sin!"

The gods surrounded me. Blaming me.

"It's not my fault!"

(Gods: "Mea culpa" (Through my fault)

"I'm not to blame!"

(Gods: "Mea culpa" (Through my fault)

"It is the gypsy girl

The witch who sent this flame!"

(Gods: "Mea maxima culpa" (Through my most griveous fault)

"It's not my fault!"

(Gods: "Mea culpa" (Through my fault)

"It's in God's plan

He made the devil so much

Stronger than a man!"

The gods and priests that I envisioned swirled around me, I was at the fire again. She was still there dancing. I looked up to the sky. Begging. Pleading.

"Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell!

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda!

And let her taste the fires of hell!

Or else let her be mine and mine alone!"

The smoke transformed into her, running towards me, my eyes were wide, she grabbed me pulling me close, I tried to kiss her but she disappeared.

"Hellfire
Dark fire
Now gypsy, it's thy turn
Choose me or
Thy pyre
Be mine or thou will burn!"

"God have mercy on her...

God have mercy on me..."

"But she will be mine

Or she! will! burn!"

I stopped singing and left. I couldn't stand it. I had to see her again.

It was Night. Esmerelda was running trying to keep pace with her goat. I was not far behind her, she didn't seem to notice me.

She laughed, petting her friend. "Djali, you've dragged me all over Paris! Come on, stop! Ye have to learn to walk like a lady!" The bells of the Cathedral started to sound: she stopped, crossing herself and started to pray. "Holy Lady of this land, I ask for forgiveness. An innocent was tortured because of me."

I snuck up from behind into a caravan beside her. "I can give thou absolution, Esmeralda."

"Who's there?"

"An admirer. Someone who has seen thou dance. It was a day ago. I heard the sound of music – my window looked out onto the square and there I saw a creature dance, a creature so perfect that God himself would have preferred her to the Virgin, would have wished to have been born of her. And that creature was thee, my angel."

She moved closer to the caravan I was in. "What do ye want of me?"

I sighed. Imagining unholy thoughts, laying my hand up again the sheet that she was on the other side of. Hoping somehow to be closer to her. "The lines of thy body, moving to the music, reached feelings long buried within me. Feelings I believed I had purged from my body, feelings of love, base desires… I've not been able to work. That's when it struck me that thou were an angel – yes, an angel. But not an angel of light. A dark angel, sent from Hell to destroy me. To destroy me at a time when I have been most directly challenged. I have tried to put thou out of my mind, I have tried to do God's will…"

Esmerelda drew out her dagger and advanced on the caravan. I continued. "But thy image is burned on the inside of my eyelids, as though I had stared too long at the sun." She reached the caravan to find it empty. I appeared from behind the caravan, giving her a shock. I knew she despised me. But she stood there, still listening. Not saying a word. "That's when I resolved that I must have thee… or I must rid myself of thee." I reached to caress her cheek. She took my hand in her small soft one and stared at my palm.

Her eyes widened. "Death!"

She dropped her dagger in fear and fled. I stared after her, then at my hand, then stooped to retrieve her dagger from the ground. I was enraged.

I went to Minister Gauchere's bedroom. The Minister was in his nightshirt, sitting in a straight-backed chair, reading by candlelight. So absorbed was he in his book that he did not hear me enter the room.

I came up behind him, silently. "Reading?"

He shot out of his chair with a cry of alarm and turned to face me. "Dom Frollo!?"

I smiled. "I beg thy pardon, but I needed to finish our discussion."

"My servants did not announce thee."

"I saw no-one as I entered. What are you reading?"

"I will not hide it from thou– Monsignor Ficino."

"Ah, yes. Italian humanism. Ye know, of course, that ye are breaking the law?"

"Thine law, Monseigneur, which I will endeavor to overturn. The reign of Louis XII will be the reign of change. The world which ye seek to protect will be left behind."

"The world which thou seek to make, ye will never see."

The minister laughed. "Would thou like to wager on that? The King is committed to change. Perhaps ye don't understand that."

"No. Perhaps it is thee that does not understand. This King may change what he will; I meant that thou would not live to see it."

His eyes widened as I smirked. "Monseigneur -?"

I kissed him on his forehead. "Good night, Gauchere. God bless thee."I Stabbed him in a rage, Esmerelda had rejected me! I must have her! He cried out but not loud enough to alert anyone. I left him there choking on his own blood.

At The Court of Miracles. Esmerelda came running down the stairs, calling for her husband.

"Pierre! Pierre!"

He ran to her. "I was just looking for thou–"

"I have to hide! There are guards everywhere - there's this man –"

"Slow down! Slowly!"

The soldiers rode into the Court and the inhabitants reacted in confusion and panic.

Clopin screamed. "It's the King's Guard, they're rounding up all our women!"

The same red-head from before spoke up. "They're destroying everything, even the stuff we didn't steal!"

Pierre was confused. "Why?"

Esmerelda sighed. "It's me they want."

Clopin motioned for Pierre and Esmerelda to follow him. "Come on, quick! Quick!" He ran off, leading them up some stairs to a door. He gave a signal to the guard at the door who nodded. "We'll go back and distract them. Go!"

They ran into the night – and straight into a party of soldiers on horseback.

"Look, here she is!"

They brought her to the Torture chamber, dragged in by two men.

She screamed. "No! No! But I have done nothing, I have done nothing! Let go of me!"

"Peace, child! There's no need to make this too…unpleasant. Please." He made a signal to the two men who strapped her to a horizontal table. "Minister Gauchere was stabbed today with this knife. Does this dagger belong to thee? Now there's no need to deny it, many saw it on thy person in the public square."

She nodded. "Oh sir, I am innocent! I am!"

"Listen. I must fulfill the duties of my office." He turned towards the men. "The boot."

She screamed even louder. "No! I didn't do it, I swear I didn't do it! Oh please!" The "boot" was fitted onto her foot. "Oh God!"

"I'll have to strap her down." He sighed. "And I really enjoyed her dancing. Pity. Begin!" The men started to turn the vice that would eventually crush her foot: She screamed. I was listening to this exchange from the cell door. "Confess! Do thou deny the charges?"

"Yes!"

"Tighter! Ye deny the charges?"

"Yes!"

"Tighter!" The process was repeated: the boot made a sickening crunching noise. I still listened as Esmerelda screamed loudly. A tear rolled down my cheek. I closed my eyes. I felt I would die if I heard her scream again.

Later in the prison cell. Esmerelda was lying on the straw. She heard a noise and looked up at the blank barred window.

"Who's there?"

I replied, disguising my voice."A friend."

"Gringoire, is that ye? They say I killed a man, I didn't!"

"Did they hurt thee?"

She sighed sadly. "I'll be able to walk up the gallows steps. Who is there?"

"Are ye afraid?"

"Yes. But I guess I deserve this."

"Do not fear. Thou are innocent. Ye are guilty of nothing."

"Gringoire, is that ye?" We Both heard the sound of one of the cell doors opening. I had to leave.

"Goodbye."

"Wait! Don't leave me, don't leave yet!"

"I will set ye free."

I left her there and went back to the church.

A guard walked up to Esmerelda's cell. "Witch!"

She glared. "What is it?"

"A visitor!" Behind him her husband Gringoire was revealed, struggling with the guards.

He screamed. "Leave me alone, let me see my wife!"

She limped over to the cell bars, to see him. "Oh, Gringoire!"

He screamed. Looking at her foot. "What have they done to thee? Tomorrow I'll go to Louis himself! I love thee…" He tried to kiss her through the bars, but the guards dragged him off. "Do not give up hope my darling, I love ye! I'll see the King, I promise!"

Confused she quietly whispered to herself. "Then who was at the window?"

Outside, the gallows were set up in front of Notre Dame, it was morning. I attended the service of Communion within the cathedral: The priest was officiating.

The priest bent down and served two communicants. "Corpus Dominum nostri, Jesu Christi." He then moved along to Quasimodo.

Quasimodo whispered to himself. "Body of Christ..." He opened his mouth and received Communion.

I went to the altar rail and knelt down. The priest approached me. I opened my mouth to receive Communion, but did not. Instead of placing the Host on my tongue, the priest simply glared at me. I caught his look, got up and walked silently away, angry.

The next morning Esmerelda was dragged down the steps of the prison and shoved into a wooden cart with the crowd's enthusiastic approval. Pierre breaks free of the crowd to catch Esmerelda's outstretched hand. The cart approached the Royal carriage.

She screamed, begging. "My King! My King! My King! You've always been kind to the destitute. I kneel before thou, innocent of crime."

He waved her off. "Take her away!"

"No!" The cart continued on its progress. Quasimodo watched as the cart stopped at the gallows, Esmerelda was dragged up onto the platform and had her head fitted into the noose. The official spread his arms wide.

"Let it be heard that this woman, known as La Esmeralda, a gypsy of the streets of this world, is to be hung by the neck until dead for taking the life of Monsieur Julien Gauchere. Thereafter the body will remain on the scaffold for two days of public display!"

During this speech Quasimodo operated the platform-pulley system that allowed him to descend from the Cathedral.

I ascended the scaffold in my priest's robes.

I looked at her pleadingly. "Are ye ready for absolution, my child?"

"You!"

"Does thou confess thy sins in the eyes of God, that He may guide thy soul to Heaven?" I quietly whispered as to keep the others from hearing. "I can still save thee. Give yourself over to me, to the Church. We can give ye sanctuary."

She cocked her head to the side, her pretty raven locks cascaded over her bare shoulders. "As yours?" I nodded. Suddenly she scrunched up her nose, glaring. She spat in my face. "Never!"

I widened my eyes. Enraged, and heart broken. I turned to the crowd. "She has refused absolution!" A cry of horror escaped from the crowd. I turned back to my beautiful Esmerelda. "May God have mercy on thy soul."

The official stepped forward. "Drums!"

The drums began. Esmerelda stood stiffly on the gallows, eyes closed, excepting her fate. Pierre Esmeralda's husband, attempted to get to her but was forced back by the crowd and me. Quasimodo suddenly swung down from the scaffolding of the Cathedral, landed on the gallows, unhooked the noose from Esmerelda's neck and swung back to Notre-Dame with her over his shoulder.

"Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Sanctuary!"

I growled. "Quasimodo…"

The crowd watched as Quasimodo carried his burden across the roof. I turned and headed towards the Cathedral, as does the captain.

The captain yelled to his men. "Follow me!" he rode toward Notre-Dame.

The priest beckoned for the rest of the monks to come inside. "Inside, all of thee! Get inside, quick!" The monks and priests, including me, all turned and ran into the Cathedral, bolting it fast against the soldiers. Some soldiers held back the crowd, the rest assembled at the door of Notre-Dame with their captain.

The priest opened the grille in the door. "Get away from this door!"

"Give us the gypsy witch and the hunchback."

Quasimodo was still screaming up above. "Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" They all looked above them: Quasimodo was holding Esmerelda lengthwise above his head. Her husband and the rest of the gypsies were shouting, "Yes!" Quasimodo laughed.

"Sanctuary!"

The captain yelled to his men. "Fire!"

The soldiers sent up a hail of crossbow bolts. In reply Quasimodo dragged a long wooden beam across to the edge of the half-built tower and threw it over. It landed, narrowly missing one of the soldiers.

"Pick it up! We'll batter the door down!"

Quasimodo ran back to the cauldrons as the men battered the central door of the Cathedral. The priest and the other monks were supporting the door with their weight, but the battering ram was wearing down the bolt on the inside.

Quasimodo looked at the molten lead cauldron. "Molten lead, molten lead, molten lead..."

He grasped the lever by the cauldron, burning his hands, pulled it back and the lead coursed through the mouths of the gargoyles onto the soldiers below. Their colleagues ran over and pulled them clear of the doorway. The crowd repeated Quasimodo's cry of "Sanctuary!"

"Break that door down!"

The men picked up the battering ram and swung at the door again, but on the second attempt I opened the door. standing in the entrance. My presence alone was enough to make the soldiers back away from the Cathedral and put down the beam. I walked forward, following them down into the square.

I was outraged. "This – is the House – of God!"

The crowd silently dispersed I turned back and looked grimly up at the bell tower.

Inside the bell-tower. Esmerelda was sleeping. She had fainted when Quasimodo had saved her. She woke up with a gasp to see Quasimodo regarding her. He put a bundle of cloth on the bed in front of her, then left. Esmerelda shook it out to reveal a white dress. She changed into the holy dress then sat down with Quasimodo.

In the nave of Notre-Dame. I knelt and lifted my arms to the heavens, pleadingly to my love. "Esmeralda…"

Later inside the bell-tower. Quasimodo gave Esmerelda a plate of food.

"Eat. Eat. I'm going away, so thou won't have to see my ugly face when you're eating." He stumbled away: Esmerelda followed him.

"Wait! Please wait! Wait!" She caught up to Quasimodo. "Thank you." She lead him back into the room with her.

"T-Thou – called me back."

She looked down at his hands. "You're burnt!" She examined his palms, then started to bandage them.

He smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Can thou understand what I say?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Oh. I thought thou was deaf."

"I am! Ye think that is the last straw, don't ye?" She nodded. "Yes. To be made this way, and deaf as well. It's truly horrible."

She shook her head. "It's not that -"

"Yes. I am deaf, ye know." He giggled. "Anyway, I shall soon know what ye want, from the movement of thy lips, and from thy eyes."

She smiled, nodding. "Tell me – why did thou rescue me?"

"You ask me why I rescued thee. Ye have forgotten a poor devil on that infamous pillory. A drop of water and a little compassion. I would pay for less than that with my life. Ye forgot that poor devil, but he remembered. Look, look! Look!" He ran to the rafters in the next room and peered through the slats at the world below. She followed him. "People – down there! Little people. They would have killed thee– they still will, if ye ever leave the church."

She sighed. "It's no use. The King would force them to give me up."

He shook his head, still pointing to the rafters. "That would kill me. We've got very high towers – someone who fell from them would be dead before he struck the ground. When ye want me to fall, ye won't have to say a single word. A look will do."

She caressed his head gently. "Ye don't understand. I never want thee to be harmed."

He smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Thank you. Thou will be safe yet. Look! Look up there!" He broke away to run to the bell-chamber, dragging her with him. "Friends! Come, come, look! Homer! Dante!" He patted the biggest bell tenderly. "Big Marie! She's mother to them all. She made me deaf, ye know. I can hear my friends. Shall I play them for thee?"

He pushed them and they started to resound. She yelled "STOP!" for it was too loud. She put her hands over her ears, but he continued, leaping on a bell and "riding" it as it swung. He then jumped back down to her level again.

"What did ye think?"

She smiled. "Beautiful."

"Thank you." He paused. "Why do they call thou La Esmeralda?"

"That's my name."

"What does the word mean?"

"Emerald. What does 'Quasimodo' mean?"

"Almost made. No. That is my own private joke. It's the holiday Dom Frollo took me in, almost twenty years ago. Quasimodo is the first Sunday after Easter. Low Sunday. Are your parents still alive?"

She shook her head sadly. "No."

"Do you miss them?"

"I never knew them. I miss my goat, though. My parents are like an old dream."

"My parents I never knew. Being not blind, but merely dumb of love, they abandoned me to die on the steps of this building. Dom Frollo was a reverend then, not Archdeacon. He took me out of the sight of men, for that I am thankful. The books in the library below became my only companions. I've read every one of them. Thanks to them, today I have many friends. They taught me scholastics, poetics, rhythmics and even hermetics. That wisdom of wisdoms. I'm writing a book. It will have over six hundred pages when I'm finished."

"I've never seen a book before." Quasimodo fetched a large bound book and placed it on her lap. She opened it and looked awkwardly at the pages. "What does it say? I cannot read."

"It's Latin. Plutarch's "Lives". He paused. "Never have I seen my ugliness as I do now, when I compare myself to thee. I feel very sorry for the foolish, unhappy monster that I am. Thou are like a drop of dew, the song of a bird! While I am something frightful." She shook her head. "Hard. More downtrodden. I am not a beast, I am not an animal." He began to laugh hysterically. "I am about as shapeless as the Man in the Moon!" He recovered. "Come! Come! Rest, rest. All will be well! If ye don't leave here they can't catch thee! No-one can get in here, I wouldn't let them! If you're afraid, pull the rope – I can hear the bell." He left her there to rest.

Down at the church the king crumpled a paper into a ball. "These pamphlets are being distributed by thieves, craftsmen and students throughout Paris!"

I, who was reading another pamphlet, looked at him. "The product of a printing press, sire!"

The king scowled. "Well, thou must have missed one!"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes, I – I am not perfect."

"Look out of the window! Paris is tearing itself apart down there. Common people are calling for me to pardon this gypsy. My fellow nobles demand justice. They call for me to suspend sanctuary."

I shook my head. "That would be a terrible precedent."

He screamed. "She killed my High Minister!"

I sighed lightly. "Your Majesty, Gauchere and I were not of like minds, but believe me in this, I want nothing more than to see this woman punished..."

"I will continue the ban on printed books, and the presses necessary to create them."

I kissed the king on the forehead. "God bless you. I knew that thou would. I will find the people responsible for these pamphlets, and I will deal with them."

"Claude! What am I supposed to do about this gypsy woman?"

"Prepare to administer justice to her in the morning."

"But the law of sanctuary -"

I interrupted. " - says that you cannot take her from the church!" I left.

I went downstairs to the printing press. I pulled the cloth free, then put my fingers against the fresh ink in the inking pad and stared at my hand, then up at the ceiling, shocked and outraged.

"Quasimodo…" I screamed louder. "QUASIMODO!"

Quasimodo climbed up the wooden steps to the bell-loft calling for Esmerelda. He ran through the bell-tower, along the exterior of the cathedral and finally into the nave, all the while shouting her name.

I was downstairs on the 1st level, praying before a crucifix in my cell.

"Clamavi a te, Domine..." The door opened behind me. "Come in, Quasimodo." I said sarcastically.

"Father, where is the gypsy? Where is she?"

I scowled. "Thou used the printing press."

"I needed to."

"Ye broke the law."

"I had to. She is innocent. Where is she?"

"Thou violated my most sacred law."

"Please... Where is Esmeralda?"

I sighed. "On her way to the gallows."

Quasimodo turned away to the window, where he could see the gallows being erected in the square below. "You gave her up to the King. Why?"

"For justice."

"She is not guilty."

I stood up, screaming. "She is evil!"

"No! Quasi broke down in tears. "No, no, no!"

"Quasimodo – she caused the Minister's death. She made me do it. The madness in my body – she created it. She made me a murderer, and for that she must die."

He looked back up at me. "She should die for your crime? Have thou no pity?"

My eyes widened. "Pity? Pity? Oh Quasimodo, pity me! To be a man of God, and to love a woman - and to love her more than God. To love her with all the fury of my soul! And to feel that I would give my blood, my reputation, my salvation, my immortality – eternity! - for the least of her smiles, and to know that all I can offer her is a filthy priest's cassock. To feel her, night and day, in thy dreams, and see her fall in love with another! To see that body, whose contours scorch thou, and those breasts, with all their softness - that flesh, that throbs and quivers beneath another's kisses! Do you know the torture ye can be made to endure through long nights by a bursting, breaking heart?"

"Why do you think I do not know such things? Has thy search for the light made thou blind?"

"She destroyed my work! My vows! She came between God and me! She proved that I have lived a wasted life… I was not worthy of God's work." I sunk to my knees on the floor. "Pity me, Quasimodo."

Quasimodo approached and hugged me gently. "Thou are pitiable, but I have no pity for thee. Ye are not Saint Augustine. Yours is a torment ye take for yourself and can end by choice. Come. We will tell this story in the Hall of Justice."

I got up whirling around, grabbing a cat-o-nine tails. "NO! I will be rid of her!" I lashed Quasimodo with it three times, drawing blood. "I will! I will! She's cursed you too, she's made us both murderers! Fool! Do ye think that she could love thee?"

"Father –"

"I am not thy father! Thy father was wiser than I! He abandoned thee, he left thou to die! It was I who gave thou life. Ye are a freak!" I tried to scourge Quasimodo again, but this time the hunchback seized my arm to prevent me. We both stared at one another.

"I am not a freak."

Outside Esmerelda is taken up to the scaffold.

The official began. "Let it be known that this woman –" He was interrupted by Esmerelda spitting in his face. The crowd laughed.

Meanwhile the blond captain was riding his horse to the Royal Balcony, and the King and his retinue turned to watch his arrival.

The king walked forward. "What's this?"

"The beggars are going to attack the Palace! Hundreds of them are rioting."

"The people are actually rioting over this?"

The beggars, led by Pierre, swarmed into the square chanting, "Esmeralda! Esmeralda!" As the king watched they distributed pamphlets, disarmed the guards, climbed the scaffold and removed the noose from Esmerelda's neck. The crowd cheered. Clopin climbed on top of a carriage's roof and whistled for attention.

"I summon thee, Louis the Twelfth, to give up the gypsy girl! The citizens of Paris have come to save her from the nobles who want to hang her!"

The king looked at Clopin. "What's all this about? Who are ye?"

"I am Clopin, King of Paris!" The crowd cheered.

Pierre got the king's attention. "Sire! My lord!"

"And who art thou?"

"Her husband. Sire – the Gypsy, Esmerelda is innocent!"

"If she is innocent, then who is the real murderer?"

Quasimodo yelled from the church. "PARIS!"

Everyone looked up to the uppermost balcony of Notre-Dame and gasped at what they saw. Quasimodo had grasped me by the shoulders and was dangling me precariously from the edge of the balcony.

"Say it."

I shook my head, voice husky. "Never – never!"

"Say thou did it."

"She will be mine or die with me."

"You'll die without absolution. Tell the truth. Please. The truth."

I screamed out loudly. "He is trying to frame me to save the gypsy girl! Someone help!"

The crowd shouted angrily.

Esmerelda looked up at the tower towards me. Green eyes shining. Quasimodo and I were at the top of Notre-Dame, still locked in the same position. By now Quasimodo had pulled me safely back onto the floor, away from the edge. He couldn't bring himself to hurt me, to drop me to my death.

I sighed, patting his shoulder. "Please, will thou forgive me?"

He was hesitant but nodded sadly. "Yes."

Esmerelda was running inside the cathedral. She reached the top and all three of us stood there staring at each other. I reached for a mason's knife left lying on a surface.

"If I can't have her, I must rid myself of her."

Quasimodo screamed. "No!" He grabbed hold of my arm and was stabbed accidentally by the knife in my hand.

Esmerelda screamed, running forward, towards me. "Quasimodo – no! Quasimodo!" She grasped hold of me. I instinctually pushed her to the ground, then stared at the blood on my hand and at Quasimodo lying wounded on the ground.

"Q-Quasimodo?"

He looked up at me still with loving eyes. "Father..."

I turned to attack Esmerelda with the knife but Quasimodo jumped up to prevent me, dragging both himself and me over the edge of the balcony. Esmerelda rushed to the edge and saw me dangling below, with Quasimodo hanging by his fingertips from a gargoyle beside me.

Quasi looked up at her sadly. "Goodbye."

"I won't let thee go!"

I swung myself over the side back on the balcony by Esmerelda. She looked at me pleadingly. I helped Quasimodo up, but the knife wound was deep, he would die soon if he didn't get help.

"Please, he's thy son! Help him!"

"Only on one condition." I smirked. Holding out my hands to her.

She cried. "Oh…Dear God, no. I beg of thee, please leave me be!"

"I can't," I shook my head, my voice hoarse, no longer cold and evil as when it was earlier.

"Why!?"

"Because I love thee."

She cried, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Can't thou even fathom that? Yes, I who was once swallowed whole by my devotion to God…the sins of the flesh, the body, the mind, desires...sexual desires...things of this world, this earth. They never touched me. I wouldn't let them. And then…that day I first saw thou, a creature so beautiful, God would have chosen thee before the virgin...An angel, an angel of darkness sent to destroy me. Your eyes, so green and defiant, your glistening raven locks swirling around as you danced so gracefully...But I fell in love with thee, and no matter how hard I tried to stop thinking of thou, now matter how hard I tried to hate thee, I just couldn't...I was enchanted, I was entangled with thoughts of thee instantly, Unholy thoughts that shook me to the core. And I knew, I knew at once this was the Devil's doing! This was Satan trying to control me! Trying to turn me away from god!"

She looked away from me. I cried, body shaking. Angry and sad at the same time. All the while she was still holding onto Quasimodo for dear life. Putting pressure on his wound.

"Look at me. Look at me please!" I cried, heart breaking, begging for Esmeralda to turn her head. She did, slowly, gazing into my pleading , anguished grey eyes. "I tell you, that an endless, agonizing, black storm destroys my soul. I was there, when they questioned thee, I was there when ye danced! I was also there when they gave thee over to the damned torturer!" My voice cracked even more, breath hitching as she looked back up at me. "If thou had cried out once more, If thou had screamed out in pain once more! I would have hung myself in the gallows in place of thee!"

She looked at me, angry but sad. I pleaded once more.

"Esmeralda…" I breathed her name, and it was said with such love, lust, and sadness, such devotion, longing and desire, she shivered slightly. "If I could just once caress thee…touch thee, see thou smile because of me...please, take pity on me. Take petty on a poor man with a broken heart that's never known love."

She nodded hesitantly. "I-I will be yours if you save him."

I was shocked. I couldn't believe my ears. I had won. She was mine. Now all I had to do was save Quasimodo.

"Thank you!"

I helped Quasimodo to his bed, grabbing a needle and thread. I stitched up his wounds as best I could, then called for my nurses down below the balcony.

They came and helped Quasi, tended to his wounds and mine, and by my request Esmeralda's.

All the while the crowd below was gone, the king was still watching, waiting to see what would happen. I sent a messenger over to him, telling him I would speak with him in the morning. That the gypsy woman, La Esmerelda would not and could not be harmed.

For I now had the love of my life.