I own only the characters Tadeo and Renaud, who we will meet later on.
Chapter 1: Sanctuary and a Falsely Named Palace
"Clopin!" The urgency of the voice, rather then the volume was what woke him. When he opened his eyes, he found a slight, shaking figure had jumped into his bunk with him.
He knew who it was, though his heart did give an involuntary kick at being awakened so suddenly. And he realized quite quickly that he would have much rather been allowed to sleep. The night's revelries had lasted late into the night. It could onlyhave
beena few hours since he'd dragged himself to bed. The hangover had already begun. Clopin didn't usually regret drinking during one of the late night parties the gypsies tended to have quite often in the Court. It made everything that much more
, it made everything that much more difficult. However, Esme was worth moving about during a hangover for. Anyone else, he would have booted out with a few choice curses, blaming them rather then the vast amount of liquor he'd consumed
that night forhis pounding headache. Not Esme. Because she was crying, hiding under the covers and clinging to him.
Under normal circumstances, he might have scooped the girl up and flipped her upside down to provoke a laugh from her. But when he tossed the covers off her head, Esmerelda looked so distressed, all Clopin could think to do was gather her into his armsas
if she were still that six year old petit fille that had scraped her knee dancing in the dusty streets.
"What's happened, cherie?" He asked gently, splitting headache momentarily forgotten. Pulling out Puppet, he waved him around her face, rising his voice to a comical falsetto. "What's making our Esme cry? Tell me and I will go punish them!"
She sniffed brokenly, pushing Puppet away with one hand. "They've got Tadeo." She clung to his tunic, moments away from bursting into a fit of tears. "The Palace of Justice!"
Clopin launched himself off the bed, Esmerelda still in his arms as if she weighed less then a baby goat. The movement sent unpleasant spikes of pain through his pounding head, and he swayed unsteadily for a moment before he set her down and wasted preciousseconds
finding and pulling on his battered hat and floppy curly toed shoes in the dark. Puppet had dropped to the group, and Clopin didn't even bother picking him back up.
Esme took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him after her out of the trailer. Together, they raced through the the Court of Miracles and out into the cool night air. The fresh air helped ease his aching head, but he was immeasurably grateful the skyabove
was still dark.
His reaction, he knew, was a knee-jerk one. But it was the same reaction he'd had every time someone came to the Court with such news. Granted, there was not always anything he could do about it. But he was always up to try. Even if it was Tadeo. Thattroublemaker
probably deserved what was coming to him. None the less, he was a gypsy after all. And Esme would not forgive him unless he at least tried to free the boy.
"What were you and Tadeo doing out so late in the night?" Clopin asked in his supercilious voice as they ran past closed shops and homes, raising his eyebrows playfully at her.
As expected, the girl ducked her head and refused to answer the question. Embarrassment radiated from her demenor.
He'd noticed that both the girl and her current love interest had been absent during the night. Clopin had decided not to worry. He knew Esme could take care of herself, and surely the boy would do nothing foolish as long as she was present. Evidentlyhe'd
been wrong.
Tadeo was Esme's first love. Not like all those silly crushes she'd harboured for the gypsy boys she used to play with. She was still just a child, barely into her sixteenth year, yet, as much as Clopin would have liked to deny it, she was growing into
/a strong, independent young woman. In his mind however, there was no doubt the boy would be only the first. Many more were sure to come. Esmerelda's fancy could last only so long. She was much too wild, free spirited. No man could ever tie her down.
Truth be told, Clopin did not mind Tadeo. He wasn't good enough for La Esmerelda, but then, no one ever could be. The boy was clever, a good performer. He pulled his own weight, and had defended those in danger. However, he was wreckless, as all youth
/are. It was hardly surprising he'd gone and gotten himself captured.
They passed Notredame, it's tall pillars and soulless statues staring down at them making Clopin shiver. He had no love for the giant church and was glad to leave it behind.
Esme though, looked back until it was out of sight. She had no qualms about the building. As far as she was concerned, it was a place one might go for sanctuary, somewhere someone might hear if you prayed hard enough. Not that she'd converted to that
/faith, but she'd told Clopin once that God, whoever he might be, could surely hear her no matter where she might be, and so many people bent their knees in there, why not give it a try?
He'd never understood that stance. But then, Clopin had never been a particularly religious man.
They cut down a street to the left. After an unfortunate gypsy was captured, they were taken to the Palace of Justice where they were questioned, tortured, and then hung come morning. A good hanging, of course, was cause for a gathering. A gypsy's final
/performance. Clopin himself had cheated that particular performance once or twice.
The Palace of Justice was not a place Clopin preferred to frequent. As much as possible, he avoided being anywhere near it, however, over the years, he'd been in association with the dreadful building too many times. The damne place just didn't seem to
/want to leave him and his people alone. The giant stone building was painfully easy to get into, yet not so easily escaped.
The streets of Paris were never completely deserted. Soldiers patrolled them, keeping an eye out for gypsies and any sort of trouble that might arise.
In her hast to get to the Palace of Justice and rescue her precious Tadeo, Esme very nearly slammed into just such a patrol.
Clopin had to haul her back before she ran right into the pair of fully armoured soldiers rounding the corner. He thought that as the one that was still a little bit under the affects of the alcohol, he should not have heard those clomping footsteps before
/she did. She must have been quite upset to have missed it. He had not been quick enough to pull Esme out of the way so that the soldiers did not see her, as he might have been able any other time.
"Hey! Gypsy, stop!" One shouted as they both charged around the corner, giving chase as Clopin dragged Esme after him in the direction of Notredame, back the way they'd come.
The race was on.
Esme ran, sure footed beside him, even pulling ahead a little.
The soldiers, despite being weighed down by their armour and weapons, were keeping pace. Men like those had been made soldiers for a reason. Some might be dim witted, or incredibly stupid, but they were all very good athletes. Built for chasing, fighting,
/and winning.
However, the advantage was clear. Those soldiers had probably not had to run for their very lives every time they stepped out of their homes. Clopin and Esmerelda had.
Notredame loomed over them. A big stone prison in Clopin's mind. A refuge in Esmerelda's. Together, they charged up the steps.
Clopin ripped open a heavy wooden door and shoved Esme inside before slipping in behind her, pulling the huge door shut.
"SANCTUARY!" Esme shouted at the top of her lungs.
Clopin knew that would not prevent the soldiers from entering, and he took Esme by the hand once more, pulling her further into the church.
As he'd predicted, the soldiers, unhindered, burst into the church after them, only moments later. If they could get away with it, they would break the so-called sanctity of the church and drag the gypsies outside to arrest them, simply for existing.
/Because those were their orders, and orders were more important then some silly church's rules and rituals.
Really, if he'd stopped to think about his actions, Clopin may have called the mad dash to Notredame a leap of faith. He'd been banking on one single possibility. And he was very relieved to find it paid off. The one person that might be able to help
/them was indeed present, awake, even at the exceedingly early hour.
The Archdeacon.
Dressed in his white robes with the telltale cross about his neck, the old man seemed to have been praying, kneeling at a pew at the front of the church. He stood abruptly, turning to the source of the interruption.
Clopin had never exchanged words with the Archdeacon before. Why would he? But, he had witnessed the man stand up for gypsies that had taken refuge inside the walls of his church, enforcing that one rule that worked in the gypsies favour, even when no
/one else did.
And so, perhaps for the first time in his life, Clopin put his trust in a man of the cloth, ducking past the old man and crouching behind the pew the priest had been kneeling before, keeping the young Esmerelda close.
The Archdeacon stared at the pair of them. His gaze softened to something akin to pity, or perhaps compassion as he watched Esme quivering under Clopin's arm, which was thrown protectively over her shoulders. He'd probably seen the girl in the church
/before, staring up at those giant stained glass windows. He turned to the soldiers, who had come to a hasty halt upon seeing who it was the pair of gypsies had taken refuge behind.
"No soldiers." The Archdeacon snapped in an impatient voice, waving his hands to shoo them back the way they'd come. "They've claimed sanctuary. Out, out!"
The soldiers guiltily backed off, slipping quietly back outside the big doors without protest, no doubt to wait the pursued out.
Hesitantly, as if the old priest might change his mind at any given moment, Clopin stood, pulling Esme up with him.
The Archdeacon turned and smiled kindly at them. "Fear not. They can do you no harm while you are in here."
Clopin said nothing.
"Thank you." Esme whispered.
The Archdeacon nodded at her. "You've come here looking for sanctuary." He spoke softly, yet his voice carried well in the vast church. "You are safe. But I suspect your problem, whatever it might be, is not solved. You may stay as long as you wish."
/He turned from them, but paused. "It is nothing our Lord can not handle. All you need do, is ask." With one more smile cast over his shoulder, he left them alone, walking off to attend to some sort of church duty. In all honesty, Clopin had no idea
/what the man must do with all his time. Light candles perhaps?
Clopin didn't think much on the old man's words, but he watched Esme eye the pew. He wouldn't stop her, though he didn't really approve.
But she didn't go to it, instead turning her big sorrowful green eyes up at him. "We're running out of time!"
She was right. The sun would be up all too soon, and the Judge Claud Frollo loved an early morning hanging. Only a few short hours remained for them to free Tadeo. And they were dwindling fast.
"Come cherie." He led her towards the back of the church where he knew there was another entrance.
The soldiers might have stuck around to guard the front entrance. But they hadn't bothered with the one in the back. Of course, they would have needed a small army to cover all the possible escape routs the cathedral had to offer. As it was, they ran
/into no further problems as they slipped back out into the night and continued on to the Palace of Justice.
There was no one about as Clopin led Esmerelda closer to the falsely named palace. He wished he could have left her back at the Court of Miracles, but knew full well that the petit troublemaker would not have allowed it. Much like Clopin himself, she
/was not one to sit idly by when there was work to be done.
She made to march right up to the giant fortress and, Clopin didn't know, knock on the huge wooden doors and demand the release of the wayward gypsy lad they'd picked up?
He gripped her by the wrist and pulled her along with him behind the stone wall before she could do anything so foolish.
When she glared indignantly at him and yanked her hand away, he placed a finger to his lips and then pointed to the parapets above, a sly grin on his face.
Esmerelda pressed her lips together as she looked up, up, up.
Clopin would have laughed at her expression of apprehension had he not been so on guard, careful of every sound he made. He'd rarely seen such a look from her. It was highly amusing.