Under the cover of night, three gypsies, two men and a woman, traveled in a small boat into Paris. Suddenly, a cry pierced the silence as the boat emerged from under a bridge.
"Shut it up, will you!" hissed one of the men.
"We'll be spotted!" murmured the second.
The woman gently rocked the bundle in her arms, a baby, "Hush now, young one," she cooed softly. The other man wrapped his arms around the woman and the bundle, trying to calm the child with his embrace.
The boat stopped.
"Four gilders for safe passage into Paris," a cloaked boatman whispered greedily as he held out a gloved hand.
Then, a second sound pierced the night's calmness, the galloping hooves of a dozen horses. The cloaked man fled back under the bridge in terror, leaving the three gypsies, who had just stepped off the boat, to fend for themselves. Within seconds, they were surrounded with spears at their necks.
"Judge Claude Frollo!" gasped on of the gypsies in alarm.
The Judge, held high on a black steed, urged his horse forward towards the gypsies.
"Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice," Frollo ordered dismissively.
"You there," one of the guards grabbed the woman by her arm, "what are you hiding?" He tried to take the bundle from her arms, but she resisted his attempts.
"Probably stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her," Frollo ordered once more. The gypsy woman's eyes widened in fear before she took off down the snow-covered street. She stole a glance back only to confirm her fears that she was being chased. Frollo galloped after her until they reached the steps of Notre Dame.
"Sanctuary! Please give us sanctuary!" the woman pleaded as she banged on the tall wooden doors of the mighty cathedral. But her efforts were in vain, as Frollo had caught up with her. Frollo tore the bundle from her arms, kicking her back against the stairs of the cathedral, rendering the gypsy woman unconscious. The baby began to cry. Frollo looked down at the bundle.
"A baby?" he questioned, removing the cloth from its head only to reveal a deformed face.
"No," he growled, "a monster."
Frollo quickly looked around before seeing a stone well. Urging his horse towards it, Frollo held out the baby in the cloth, about to throw it down the well. There was a flash of lightning.
"Stop!" cried the archdeacon as he emerged from the cathedral.
"This is an unholy demon. I am sending it back to hell, where it belongs," Frollo stated, unmoved by the holy man. Still, the archdeacon continued.
"See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame," he gestured to the woman who lay motionless on the ground behind him.
"I am guiltless – she ran, I pursued," Frollo claimed, slowing becoming uncomfortable with the situation.
"Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt?" the archdeacon pleaded, willing Frollo to change his mind.
"My conscious is clear!" exclaimed Frollo as he took the child back into his arms.
"You can lie to yourself and your minions, you can claim that you haven't a qualm, but you can never run from, nor hide what you've done from, the bells of Notre Dame," declared the archdeacon. Frollo glanced around the courtyard in fear; it seemed that ever statue was looking down at him in accusation.
"What must I do?" Frollo asked meekly.
"Care for the child, raise it as your own," the archdeacon suggested as he picked up the woman to take her into the safety of the cathedral.
"What? I'm to be saddled with this misshapen—" Frollo paused as a thought crept through his mind, "Very well. Let him live with you, in your church."
"Live here? But where?" the archdeacon gasped.
"Anywhere. Just so he's kept locked away where no one else can see. The bell tower, perhaps. And who knows – our Lord works in mysterious ways. Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be of use to me," Frollo dismounted his horse and followed the archdeacon into the cathedral.
The archdeacon gently laid the woman down on a cot in on of the back rooms of the church, adjacent to where he lived, and covered her with a blanket. Frollo handed the baby to the archdeacon, relieved to finally be rid of the atrocity.
"What will you name him?" the archdeacon asked as he gently rocked the baby back to sleep. Frollo thought for a moment before a wicked smirk spread across his face.
"Quasimodo," he declared, "it means half formed." With that, Frollo turned and walked to the exit of the cathedral.
"Oh, and one more thing," Frollo stopped and called over his shoulder, "I will send my guards for the gypsy in the morning." The door slammed behind him, blowing out several candles and waking the baby in the process.
"Hush now, little one," the archdeacon cooed as he continued to rock the baby back to sleep.
The woman groaned, her eyes slowly opening to take in her surroundings. Her memories of the moments before flooded back to her as she shot up and looked frantically for her baby, only to fall back into the cot in pain as she clutched her rounded stomach. The archdeacon approached her quickly, rubbing her back and assuring her that both her and her child were safe.
"Some-something is wrong," she managed to hiss in pain as she clutched at her stomach. The archdeacon but the baby down on a bundle of pillows next to the cot and examined the woman. He lifted up the blanket and saw that a fair amount of blood stained her skirts just under her rounded belly. His eyes widened in a mixture of fear and panic.
"Stay here," he ordered gently before running out of the room. He returned moments later with three nuns, two pails of water, and several towels. The nuns halted at the sight of the blood before one of them stepped forward, towards the pained gypsy.
"I am Mother Odile and these are Sisters Marceline and Alida," the older nun took the woman's hand, giving her a light squeeze, "We are here to help you, my dear."
The gypsy could do no more than nod before another wave of pain came over her.
"Deacon, please start a fire, Marceline, warm the water, Alida, keep her awake," Odile requested as she began to prepare the small room for the birth that was about to happen.
"What is your name, miss?" Alida asked gently as she brushed the hair back from the woman's face and held her hand tightly.
"Aria," the woman managed to get out between gasps of air. It was Mother Odile's turn to look at the woman now.
"Okay Aria, I am going to need you to push for me, dear," Odile said as she knelt down between Aria's legs, ready to catch the baby once it arrived.
After almost two hours of labor, Aria gave birth to a tiny, but beautiful, baby girl. Mother Odile quickly cleaned the child off before moving to hand her to her mother.
"What do you want to name her?" Marceline asked as she approached her bedside with the archdeacon. Alida let out a small gasp as Aria's hand went limp in her grasp. She quickly checked her pulse for a heartbeat, only to confirm their desolate suspicions.
Aria had died during the birth of her second child.
"What shall we do with the baby?" Alida asked, looking between Odile and the deacon for answers.
"We will take her with us and raise her in the convent," Odile said after a moment of thought.
"Are you sure?" asked the archdeacon, "shouldn't she stay here with her brother?" He picked up the boy the looked to be barely a year old and looked at the three nuns.
"They will have plenty of interaction," Odile confirmed, "but you, alone, should not be made to raise two children by yourself. Once the children are of age to process thought, we will introduce them, until then, we should give this girl a name and produce burial plans for her mother." The others nodded solemnly.
"Charani Aria D'Lanuit," the archdeacon announced, "Phoenix song of the night. She is rising from the ashes to be born a new, in a world where our Lord will keep her safe from harm." The nuns smiled at one another before bidding the arch deacon adieu and leaving for their convent, promising to come back in the morning to assist with the burial plans.