The Earring and the Jester Bell

The Earring and the Jester Bell

By the Hippy Gypsy

My friends, there are many theories as to who Clopin Trouillefou, the Gypsy King, is, where he comes from, and what is the story of his life.  Unfortunately, my fellow Gypsies, I do not know the true story of the great one himself.  But this little legend met my ears not too long ago, and it starts out when Clopin was not yet a King, but a Gypsy Prince!

Disclaimer:  All "Hunchback of Notre Dame" characters are copyrighted by Disney and Victor Hugo, while any new characters, such as Genevieve, Jack, Rose, Pierre, Marque, Roché, Bartholomew, Jamal, etc., are copyrighted by the Hippy Gypsy.  I think that takes care of everything my friends.  Enjoy!

Chapter 1:  Lies and Goodbyes

           

Clopin was 16 and losing his best friend.  It wasn't because they were fighting.  It was because Genevieve was running away.  Genevieve's pet peeve was being disrespected by people just because she was a gypsy and a woman.  So when the chance came to change all that, she took it.  She was going to study in Calais, disguised as a boy, and prove that anything an upper-class man could do, she could do better.  And that's why Clopin was upset.

           

Genevieve didn't tell her father she was leaving.  She only entrusted that secret to Clopin.  So the night of her departure he snuck up to her room to help her pack.

           

Clopin stared out the window and ran a hand through his black hair.  He watched for the cart that was coming to wisk Genevieve away north.  Genevieve came to the window and dropped her sack.

           

"Any sign of them?" Genevieve asked, in a rather excited voice.

           

Clopin shook his head.  "No."

           

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  "What is it?"

           

"Nothing," he lied.

           

Genevieve leaned against the window's ledge and her smile dropped.  "You don't want me to leave do you?"

           

Clopin sighed.

           

"Clopin," she said in a soft voice.  She touched his face and he looked her in the eye.  "I know you don't want me to go-"

           

"No," he lied again.  "I do want you to go."

           

Genevieve shook her head.

           

The sound of carriage wheels and horse hooves came from below.  A moment later, a deep voice called up, "Genevieve, are you ready?"

           

She leaned out the window.  "Yeah," she said.  "Catch."  She tossed her bag down to the man.  She took a look at Clopin and leaned out the window again.  "Give us a few moments."

           

Clopin looked at Genevieve again and his heart got heavy.  She stared at him the same way.  She suddenly reached to her ear and began unfastening one of the hoop earrings she wore.

           

"What are you doing?"  Clopin raised an eyebrow.

           

"I'm giving you one of my gold earrings so you don't have to wear the brass one."  She reached out for his ear and replaced the old one with the new one.

           

"But I don't have anything for you," he protested.

           

Genevieve pulled back.  "It doesn't matter."

           

"Wait!" he said.  "Yes I do."

           

He pulled out his dagger and cut one of the little bells off his tunic.  "Your jester bells?" Genevieve asked.  "But you love those."

           

"Well, so do you," said Clopin.  He put it in the palm of her hand.  Genevieve stared at it for a moment with tears in her eyes.  She turned toward her dresser and pulled out a ribbon.  She looped it through the bell and tied it around her neck like a necklace.  Clopin and Genevieve stared at each other again.

           

"Genevieve," the voice outside called.

           

"One more minute," she called back.

           

Clopin sighed.  "This is it," he said.

           

Genevieve bit back her tears and hugged him around the neck.  "Goodbye Clopin.  Good luck."

           

"You too," he said holding her.  He hesitated.  "I love you."

           

Genevieve kissed his cheek and pulled back.  She threw the rope ladder out the window and climbed down it.  She climbed into the cart, and she waved goodbye as it pulled her away.  Going…going…gone.

           

Clopin was alone.

 

           

It was almost dawn by the time Clopin approached the Court of Miracles.  He had stopped at the statue of the angel in the graveyard above.  He always sat in front of this statue when he needed to think.  Somehow, his thoughts just came to him better there.

           

As the light of the court brightened at the end of the tunnel, Clopin felt a strong hand grip his shoulder.

           

"It's me!" Clopin said hotly.  "Let me go!"

           

"Don't give me none of your lip, boy!"

           

Clopin's heart jumped to his throat.  If he had stayed out all night, of course his parents would notice!  Clopin put on his most charming, convincing, and, above all, innocent smile.  He turned around and confronted his father.

           

"Morning Pop!" he said brightly.

           

"DON'T YOU MORNING ME!" his father replied giving him a shove.  Clopin looked at his father's face, which looked like steel.  He hoped he would come out of this without a noose around his neck.  "WHERE THE DEVIL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

           

Clopin thought quickly.  "N-Nowhere.  I woke up really early and went for a walk."

           

"Don't lie to me!"  By this time, other gypsies had gathered around.  "Do you realize how sick with worry your mother is?!  She thinks Frollo got you!!"

           

"Pop, I'm sorry…"

           

"Get in the house!"

           

Clopin marched off being closely followed by his father.  He would have deeply loved to make a run for it, but judging by his father's size, he decided against it.  Clopin's father, Pierre, was a large man with black hair, a bushy mustache, and a floppy purple hat with a yellow feather that he always wore.  Pierre was usually strict, but this time, Clopin knew he was in trouble.

           

As Clopin approached the house, someone's head poked out the door.  "Ma!" it called back in the house.  "He's back!"  Clopin's brother, Jack, was a year younger, but equal in his height.  Jack was built like Pierre, while Clopin was built like his mother, Rose; thin and lanky.

           

Clopin and his father stepped in the house, and his mother burst in from the other room.  "Oh!  You're safe!" she screamed.  She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.  But the next moment she pulled away and slapped him swiftly across the face.  I deserve that, thought Clopin.  "Where were you?!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.

           

Clopin stole a look at Jack.  He hadn't told Jack where he was going, but Clopin had a feeling he knew.

           

"Well?"

           

"I was helping a friend."

           

"Which friend?" his father asked.  Clopin felt pressured.

           

"Genevieve."

           

Rose raised an eyebrow.  "Clopin…you didn't…"

           

Clopin was stunned.  "What?!  No!  Mother, what do you take me for?"

           

"Well, you're gone all night, you come home, and tell me you were with a girl!  What am I supposed to think?

           

Clopin had enough of that.  "Look, I had a friend who had a problem, so I helped her out.  Excuse me for being her best friend."

           

Everyone was silent for a moment.

           

"What was her problem?" Rose asked.

           

"I can't tell you," Clopin said.  "I promised I wouldn't tell."

           

There was silence again, then his mother said, "I understand."

           

Pierre pulled his hat down his head.  "You're grounded young man," he said, and he walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Clopin didn't mind being grounded.  He was half the time anyways.  But the realization that Genevieve was gone hit him again, and his heart fell like a brick.

"Clopin, are you all right?" his mother asked, softly.  In her own motherly way, she knew something was wrong.

"Yes," he said.  "I'm just…just…tired, that's all.  I think I'll go to bed."

"Oh, no you don't," she replied.  "You wanted to stay out all night, that's your own problem.  You can sleep when your chores are done.  Now, go get some water from the well."

Clopin grabbed the pail and sighed.  He wanted Jack to come with him.  He caught his eye and hoped he got the message.

"I'll go too," Jack said.

Clopin went out the door and Jack closed it behind him.

"Clopin, what…"

"Wait 'til we're outside," Clopin replied.

They were walking through the entrance tunnel, and they felt themselves being watched by the gypsy guards.  Clopin felt a certain pair of eyes following him, and he hurried forward.  He didn't like it when his father, the Gypsy King, looked at him like that. 

When they emerged from the tunnel the sun had dawn.  Clopin instantly set off the path through the graveyard and sat down in front of the angel statue.  Jack stood beside him.

"Is it safe to talk now?" Jack asked.

Clopin nodded.

"What happened last night?"

Clopin sighed.  "Genevieve's gone."

Jack raised an eyebrow.  "Gone?  What do you mean?"

"She ran away."

"What?!  Where?"

"Calais."

"Why?"

"Because someone helped her find a way into college."

Jack went pale and sat down next to Clopin.

"So…so who knows?"

"Just me," said Clopin.

"What about her father?"

"She said to keep it from him as long as I could, and tell him if he gets too worried."

"On mon dieu," Jack whispered.

They both sat there silent for a moment.  Then Jack said, "Clopin, did…"

Clopin groaned and put his face in his hands.  This was a question he did not want to hear.

"Clopin, did you tell her?"

Clopin rubbed his face and said in a muffled voice, "Somewhat."

"What happened?"

Clopin sighed and said in a rushed voice, "Well, she hugged me, I said 'I love you,' she kissed my cheek goodbye, and jumped out the window."

Jack shook his head and put his hand on his brother's shoulder.  "I'm sorry, Clopin," he said.  "I know how much you cared about her."

Clopin shrugged off Jack's hand, grabbed the bucket, and walked off as quickly as possible.

After his chores, Clopin flopped into bed that afternoon exhausted.  He closed his eyes for a moment, and his thoughts swept back to Genevieve.  Where was she at this moment?  It had been a good half-day of travel time.  He thought of his last words to her.  I love you? he thought.  Clopin?  What were you thinking?

A knock on his door brought him back to reality.  He opened his eyes and sat up.

It was his mother…

"Clopin," she said, folding her arms, "I was just talking to Marque, Genevieve's father."  Clopin's heart sank.  "He hasn't seen Genevieve all day."  Clopin's throat went dry.  "He's really worried about her.  He's beginning to think Frollo got her."

Clopin gulped.  He wanted to tell his mother the truth.  He really did.  But he couldn't betray Genevieve.  He rolled over on his bed and smothered his face in a pillow.  He heard his mother cross his room and felt her sit down next to him.  She put her hand on his shoulder.  "Clopin," she asked softly, "do you know where Genevieve is?"

Clopin sighed into his pillow and moaned, "Yes."

"Clopin, I know you don't want to betray Genevieve's trust, but this is very serious.  Will you tell me the truth?"

Clopin rolled over and faced his mother.  She gave him a pitying look.  Those eyes she had…he could never say no to them.  After all, she was his mother.  He sighed and sat up.

Rose held his hand.  "What happened Clopin?"

"Genevieve's gone mother.  She ran away."

Rose's eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly.  Clopin hated seeing that look, so he looked down at their joined hands.

"You know how she is, Ma.  Fiery, won't stand for being discriminated, stubborn at times, but other than that wonderful.  But, she left.  She knew someone who could get her into school in Calais, a university, and she took the chance.  I know what you're thinking.  How can she do that when she's a woman and a gypsy?  Well, she did it.  She disguised herself, and it works.  She fooled me.  The other day I thought I was talking to Jerome Chateau, the son of a rich Lord who I had never heard of, and really it was Genevieve, the girl I've grown up with and know everything about, in her disguise!  Oh, and Jerome Chateau is her alias up in Calais, by the way.  This guy she knew, Probilo, I've never met him, but he said he'd pay for her classes if she'd work for him after she finished.  She's going to travel for him.  Travel.  Of course she'll travel.  She's a gypsy!  But anyways, she said she would send word to me when she got there to let me know everything was all right.  And that's all I know."

Clopin took a deep breath and looked at his mother's face.  The hand that wasn't holding his was covering her mouth in astonishment.  She lowered it.

"So the reason you were gone all night was…"

"I was with her helping her pack," Clopin finished.  He hesitated.  "Are you mad at me?"

Rose gave him a thoughtful look for a moment and said, "I'm torn at the moment.  On one hand, I know you knew better than to try something like this."  Clopin looked down stupidly.  "But on the other hand," Rose continued, "you took a lot of risks and made sacrifices for a close friend, and a friendship like that can go a long way nowadays."

Clopin took a deep breath.  "I really miss her, Mum."

Rose put her arms around him and held him. "I can tell," she said quietly.

Clopin felt so empty.  As if his soul, which was usually very lively, was sucked out of him.  Part of it might have been the fact that he was exhausted, but the other half he knew because Genevieve wasn't there.

Rose kissed her son's hair.  "You know what you have to do, don't you?"

Clopin pulled away and looked at her.  "Will you come with me to see Genevieve's father?"

Clopin repeated the story to Genevieve's father.  At first he was upset, but after he heard about what Clopin did for Genevieve, he settled down.

"I understand your loyalty to Genevieve, Clopin.  I would have done the same thing for my wife, Lauren, rest her soul."

Marque looked lost, and it didn't help Clopin's feelings at all.  Genevieve's mother, Lauren, had died years ago, and now with Genevieve gone, he was all alone.

"Genevieve said she would write me when she got there," said Clopin.  "I'll let you know when she does."

"Thank you, Clopin."

As they walked home, Rose said, "You know, I'm going to miss Genevieve.  She's the only one who called me 'Queen Rose'."

Clopin snorted.  "Mother, she's the only one you let call you 'Queen Rose'."

"Well, I don't like that title, unlike your father.  We all know how much he likes being addressed as 'King Pierre'."

Clopin sighed.  "At least she never called me 'Prince Clopin'.  That just would have been awkward."

His mother laughed as they entered the graveyard, but Clopin stopped.  Rose looked at him.

"Aren't you coming in, dear?"

"No."

"I thought you would be tired."

Clopin shook his head.  "No…I'm…I'm not anymore.  I'm just going to stay around here for a while."

Rose looked at him for a moment, then nodded.  "Don't be long."

Clopin watched his mother walk off for a moment, then he made his way to the angel.  He say down and buried his face in his hands.  He had had a very trying day.  His thoughts turned once again back to Genevieve.  Genevieve, you used to be here to help me sort out my problems.  But what do I do now when the problem is you're gone?

Someone above him cleared their throat.  Clopin looked up to find himself sitting in his father's large shadow.

"Hard day?" Pierre asked pleasantly.

"A living nightmare," Clopin replied letting his head drop a little.

Pierre sat down next to Clopin and put his hand on his son's shoulder.  "Clopin," he said, "your mother told me about Genevieve.  You made a sacrifice for a friend.  That's almost as if I gave my life for a single gypsy.  You did a good thing."

Clopin nodded weakly.

His father looked at him and said very seriously, "You and Genevieve are best friends.  She may be gone now, but if you believe, if you truly do, she'll be back.  One day, she will be back."

Clopin smiled for the first time all day.  The thought of Genevieve being back in Paris was wonderful.

"That's better," said Pierre.  He took off his hat and placed it on Clopin's head, ruffling his hair.  "One day, Clopin, you're going to make a great Gypsy King."

"Thanks Pop," Clopin replied straightening the hat.  "But…"

His father got up.  "And before you ask, you're still grounded."  He walked off.

Clopin took off the hat and looked at it.  It was like the family crown.  He half smiled to himself.  Me?  A great Gypsy King? he thought.  Yes, maybe one day.  But that's a long way off.

He put the hat back on and walked towards the entrance to the Court of Miracles.

End of Chapter 1

Note from the Hippy Gypsy:  Well, that's chapter 1!  What do ya think?  My friends and I are positively NUTS over Clopin, and I couldn't help but notice that there was no Clopin fics here!  So that's why I'm putting some of my stuff here.  So chapter 2 should be up pretty quick. Okay?  Cool.  So please READ, REVIEW, AND NO FLAMES!  THEY'RE NOT NICE!