Chapter 7
No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.
In the morning, Esmeralda pattered down the stairs to the nave to make sure that the children had a good night's sleep. Being an orphan as well, Esmeralda took it upon herself to look after them.
The children greeted her happily and Esmeralda sat among them. Using a basin of water and cloth, she began cleaning them.
"Esmeralda! Is Clopin with you?"
"No, sweetie," Esmeralda arranged Amélie's skirt, "Do you see him around?"
"He's good at hiding!"
Martin, another child, asked, "If he is not here, you can tell us a story, Esmeralda!"
"I'm not as good a storyteller as Clopin is."
"Oh." There was a round of disappointed faces.
Martin lamented, "The archdeacon said that we have to be quiet and not disturb Mother Mary. But it is boring!"
Esmeralda was bemused, "You have only been here one night, and already you are bored?"
"There's nothing to do here, we walked around a bit but it's just more statues and stones! We wanted to go up, but the priests were afraid that we would get lost."
"And we think it's just going to be more stones," another chirped.
"There's no one fun here, except you!"
"You rascals," Esmeralda laughed. An idea formed in her head.
"Clopin isn't here, but after breakfast, I'll take you all some place fun."
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"Quasimodo! Are you there? I brought company," Esmeralda called out as she and the children stepped onto the platform in the bell tower.
"Oh!" Quasimodo's handicrafts were displayed prominently on his table, and the children rushed forward to check them out. Some climbed onto the table and picked up the figurines.
"This one looks like you, Esmeralda!" Charlotte, a girl of eight, exclaimed and waved the figurine at Esmeralda. "This one looks like that fat butcher who smells funny."
"Esmeralda?" Quasimodo walked towards them and was just as taken aback of the crowd of the children as they were of him.
The children took a look at him and shrank back. They had all heard stories about him, stories told by older people who warned them against doing naughty things or the bell-ringer would find them in the middle of the night and take them to the devil.
One of them shrieked, "It's the Notre Dame monster!" and scrambled behind Esmeralda.
Esmeralda scolded herself for not preparing the children and hurting Quasimodo for their tactlessness.
"He's not a monster," she snapped. Before Quasimodo could leave, Esmeralda took him by the arm and dragged him to the children. Quasimodo deserved more than his gargoyles and wooden carvings. He deserved friends and Esmeralda was determined that he should have them.
"This is Quasimodo, and he lives here because he rings the bells. He is the host, and we are his guests. Is that not so, Quasimodo?"
"Er," as far as Quasimodo knew, he did not actually invite them here.
Esmeralda pressed on, "When Quasimodo is free, he makes these toys. Don't you like them? Don't you want to play with them?"
The children looked at the toys. They really were good. Better than the ones in the toy-maker's shop down the street too.
Esmeralda looked at Quasimodo, "Why don't you teach them how to make them Quasimodo?"
There was an awkward moment where no one said anything. Then, Charlotte walked timidly and stood in front of Quasimodo. She cocked her head to a side, and summoned her courage. She showed the figurine of Esmeralda to Quasimodo, "Can you make one of me too?"
Quasimodo blinked. Reaching out, he took the figurine from the little girl's hand. She did not recoil.
He said softly, "Yes, I can."
In an instant, the children started talking over one another.
"I want one for me too!" "Me first!" "Can I keep this horse?"
Esmeralda smiled in triumph.
-0-
Frollo could hear the noise even before he reached the bell tower and the sight of children sitting all about the floor astonished him.
Quasimodo had determined that the children did not have enough strength to carve wood, and that it may not be safe for them to use sharp objects anyway. So he enlisted their assistance in painting, and provided them with all the paints and brushes he had. They were not as skilled as he was and their brushwork was not as accurate as his, but Quasimodo did not mind. That there were others other than Esmeralda who were willing to spend time with him encouraged him greatly.
He moved among the children, guiding them and wiping their hands and faces when they became smeared with paint. Esmeralda was perched on a corner of the table, painting a figurine of Djali.
"Quasi!" The children had taken to calling him, "I have no more green paint!"
"Take the blue and yellow paints," Quasimodo explained patiently, and demonstrated by swirling the two colors which combined and produced a deep hue of green.
"Hey! That's pretty neat!" And the children started mixing colors to see what they could get.
Frollo rubbed his temple. He was not in his element at all.
Clearing his throat, he succeeded in gaining everyone's attention.
Seeing Frollo, Esmeralda pouted. It's like the man just sucks out the fun wherever he goes.
"A fine mess this is," Frollo said. He swept past everyone, and sat primly at the table where he and Quasimodo would dine together. Opening his Bible which he had brought with him, he cocked an eyebrow at Esmeralda.
"Mondays are when I have Bible studies with Quasimodo. I mentioned, gypsy, about training one's mind and discipline. It is a concept that your kind is not used to, but we are in Notre Dame, and I am still Quasimodo's guardian. That is to say, your frivolity is a hindrance, and you should leave."
It was not Esmeralda's style to back down from a challenge, but if she were to make a scene, she risked having Frollo using it as an excuse to cut her off from Quasimodo. Although the archdeacon supported her, he also told her numerous times that she should not engage in unnecessary conflict with Frollo. But she did not want to leave just as the children were making a connection with Quasimodo. Already, she could see Quasimodo breaking out of his shell. He did not talk about his gargoyle friends for one.
Esmeralda mulled over it and decided, "There is room for all of us. Kids, if you promise to be quiet, and let the good minister teach Quasimodo and not disturb them, we will stay here and finish painting. How does that sound?"
The children looked at one another. Quasimodo wasn't scary at all once they got to know him. The ominous presence of the Minister of Justice was different. On the other hand, they were having a lot of fun painting and Esmeralda would be with them.
Martin spoke for them, "We'll keep quiet!"
-0-
Esmeralda pretended to concentrate on her painting, as she listened in on Frollo's lesson.
Frollo and Quasimodo were currently going through a book apparently written by a man called John, and there was a lot of discussion about disobedience and keeping commandments. She figured that Frollo was alluding to Quasimodo's actions these past few days.
As for the children, they kept to their painting, but gradually became captivated by what they probably thought were stories. When Frollo moved on to talk about a boy called David and how he killed a giant with a single stone in his sling, the children perked up.
"Are there really giants?" one child asked.
Frollo and Quasimodo turned their heads in surprise, not aware that they had an audience. The latter was earnestly focusing on his studies to show his master that he was compliant, while the former was earnestly focusing on not focusing on Esmeralda.
Frollo cleared his throat and said diffidently, "The Bible says that there are."
"We have never seen them before! Did David kill all of them?"
"The Bible does not say."
"If there are giants, are there fairies?"
One by one, the children bombarded Frollo with questions. Esmeralda was amused at his efforts to handle them. She had to admit that Frollo was rather good, and was oddly touched that he should entertain them.
"There is this statue outside we see and come up with stories ourselves!" a boy called Fabien said importantly, "It's that statue with a head in his hand. My story is that it's a monster who was born without a head and he spent his whole life searching for one which will fit him."
"Don't blaspheme boy. That is St. Denis. He was bishop over a thousand years ago, and succeeded in converting many to the path of Our Lord. He alarmed the heathens, who decided to behead him with a sword. But St. Denis' cause was holy, and after his execution, he stood up and carried his head. He walked six miles, and preached his sermons along the way."
The children's eyes were full of marvel.
"Do you know everything about the Bible and the church?" Fabien asked.
"One should not presume to know everything," Frollo replied stiffly. "Education is a lifelong journey. Without it, we are no different from beasts."
The children did not understand philosophy, and Frollo's response flew over their heads. It was therefore timely when Quasimodo said, "I have to ring the bells."
Children's attention span was short by nature. When Quasimodo mentioned his departure, they said in chorus, "We want to go with you!" and scampered after him.
Esmeralda sauntered over to Frollo, who looked like he was mystified as to what had hit him. She sat in Quasimodo's chair and took the Bible. Frollo's eyes followed her movements warily.
Esmeralda did not know how to read, but pretended to scrutinize the pages.
"So, wise man, does the Bible say that gypsies are witches?"
Frollo's eyes lingered on her fingers playing at the edges of the parchment. Very slowly, like a man in pain she thought, he raised his head to look at her.
"It is in the Bible that thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," he said flatly.
"But does it say that gypsies are witches then?"
"You are a daughter of Egypt, my dear. By your ungodly birth, you are a heathen and a witch."
"If I am a witch," Esmeralda said wistfully, "I can fly from here. I can put so much food on the table that my people will not go hungry. Surely there are many things we can do for our benefit."
"It only means that your powers are not as strong as you like."
"You have an answer to everything, don't you?" Esmeralda said, "But I think you come up with answers which suit you. You have no basis for saying that gypsies are witches."
"I have every basis for saying that you are one. There is proof of the spells you cast."
"What spells?"
Frollo opened his mouth, and shut it quickly.
"Well, the evidence will present itself once I arrest you and you are at trial."
"I will have a trial?"
"As it should be. I do not hang a man who does not deserve it or confess his crimes."
"Torture," Esmeralda said heatedly, "is not a method to get confessions. People will say anything to make it stop. And don't make yourself out to be fair. I've heard about how soldiers turn up in the middle of the night to kill everyone in sight including children and how gypsies are sent to the dungeons and left to languish and die."
Frollo quirked his eyebrow. A smile slowly formed, a smile which was quite different from the eerie, sinister one that Esmeralda was used to seeing on his face. It was a smile which was almost friendly.
"It is curious what people hear," he said sardonically, "They hear what others say they heard from even more others. I have been told that I once wiped out an entire hide-out filled with hundreds of gypsies. Sometimes I wish I was that effective. But if these were all true, I do wonder that there should be survivors to tell the tale."
And Esmeralda gaped at him.
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Author's Notes: Thanks always for the reviews! Keep them coming! :-P
KuriSari, thank you for your lovely review. purpledragon6, so glad you found this interesting. PainlessAnguish, I will update as soon as I can, but I like going through my stuff and tweaking it. Maybe I'm just obsessive... random anon, I'll upload the story on DA as soon as I can too (maybe I'm also lazy... is that a contradiction?) Aguna, they will have other things to talk about too. :-)
"... Surely there are many things we can do for our benefit." I think that's a line referenced from the 1939 movie version.
