part 9
It was some weeks later that it seemed the gypsies' hopes were coming to fruition. With the threat of Martin Luther, a significant number of the German barons did leave to support Catholic Germany. A handful of particularly devout Belgians went as well and, to most of the Paris tribe, it seemed the foreign influence was fast disappearing; to all, that was, except for Clopin and his confidante, the Duke of Egypt. The gypsy king chose not to participate in the preemptive celebration raging outside of his tent and instead brooded over what they should do when the most powerful of the barons remained. He had been able to influence local officials and even the priests of Notre Dame in his own unique way, but someone like the Baron von Bergen, second only to Emperor Frederick III in the Pope's favor as far as Germans went, was, he admitted, a bit of a stretch. For the moment, the most effective way to fight back eluded him. He felt a slight burn in his chest as he listened to the people outside reveling in their perceived victory. They would soon sober up when they realized there was nothing to celebrate just yet.
Sure enough, a few days later as many as thirty gypsies, including Emilian who was Clopin's best spy, were imprisoned by the Palace of Justice for their "conversion." The number was alarming and for the first time the gypsies became truly concerned. The conversion process was not one they worried about, for eventually their comrades returned unscathed after a month at the most, so full were the jails. The Captain of the Guard insisted on allowing the "converted" gypsies their freedom since there were people who needed imprisonment more than them. But, again, the sheer number struck a quiet chord of uncertainty in the gypsy tribe.
Some time after this occurrence, a bonfire was being held in the Court of Miracles and a wild pig was turning on a spit. It was one of their feast days and everyone was merry, although there was a slight air of concern in that underground, for some of those who should have been let out of the prison by now had not returned. Despite this, the flickering firelight danced on the bright curtains and walls, musicians played, tumblers tumbled. All was well until several figures appeared at the entrance of the Court. Clopin, ever aware, was one of the first to notice. Two wretched looking creatures being helped to walk by two of the watchmen posted in the sewer. Clopin bounded over to the stairs and looked up. "Who do you bring here, dear fellows? I should hope for their sakes they are kith and kin."
One of the haggard ones pulled his ragged black hair from his face with a most abused hand, and Clopin was shocked. "Emilian…" Clopin rushed up the stairs, concern, fury, and shock warring in his chest. He examined the other, a woman with more than a few burns and, upon closer inspection, many thousand little bloody marks all over her. The celebration had come to a dead halt and all eyes were on Clopin and the two he was examining. He gently pushed the hair out of the woman's face and tilted her chin. "Isabella Morova…is that you?"
Her voice was gravel. "I'm sorry to say."
They didn't need to tell him what had happened. Emilian's hands were bloody and had no fingernails. Isabella's bloody marks were from…he didn't want to think about it. Not now. He was so near exploding with the anguish, fear, and rage he was feeling now. Right now, all he could do was to get them some care for their injuries.
Clopin fumed and paced in his tent, the Duke of Egypt observing him quietly. "They've begun torturing them. And there are more than thirty of us in there now, several of them no more than children. We cannot stand by any longer."
"I agree, of course, Chief, but what are you suggesting? That we lay siege to la Palais de Justice? It's a fortress!"
Clopin had finally halted and was silently contemplating stratagems. Seeing no obvious or certain way forward, he announced he was going to talk to the two escapees.
Clopin strode purposefully over to the hanging scaffold. He knew what must be done. After talking with Emilian and Isabella, he now knew of a way in. He and a small group would sneak in and out through the door used to take out the dead bodies, pick the locks or break the bars (for there was a blacksmith amongst their numbers), and get their people out with the deadman's carts. They could do it. They had to do it. Now, as he sprang up onto the scaffold and called for their attention, he would just have to pitch his dangerous plan to his people and hope for some volunteers.
Clopin and his group of five, swathed in tattered brown robes just like the ones the menial workers at the jail wore, pushed out the heavy-laden deadman's carts, about fifteen bodies in each, all playing dead. They went one at a time, as casually as possible, down the Paris street in the direction of the graveyard until they were out of sight of any of the guards. More gypsies emerged from the dark alleyways and they began to push the carts in earnest, moving them as fast as they could to the first entrance of the Court that they could find. It was a good thing they were already moving fast, because a lookout watching the road behind them shouted that guards were moving their way. Clearly, the empty jails had been noticed. They could hear horse hooves clattering around the streets as the guards searched. Clopin ordered that the two carts split up. That way the guards would have to split, too. Racing in and out of alleys, the gypsies did their best to evade the guards, stopping to hide in dark places and niches which their hunters would pass them by. This cat and mouse game lasted for the better part of an hour, until Clopin and his group came close to an entrance of the Court. There were guards there, having a rest from their runaround. Clopin didn't dare to hope they would move. There were some already having a nap. Also, it was a cold night and the injured could not be made to stay out in a stakeout. Making a risky decision, knowing guards would be everywhere for several hours more, Clopin turned them around and herded them outside the city.
It was a half hour's walk to the estate of his noble lady-friend from the city boundaries and Clopin's heart thumped, knowing it was all too possible that he was walking into an unwelcome situation. Telling the others to stay hidden in the brush, he crept up to the estate and peeked into the window. There was Merta, sweeping the floor. He knocked gently on the glass. She paused for a minute and then went back to her sweeping. Knocking again, a little louder this time, he got her attention. She narrowed her eyes at him, not in disdain, but rather more in curiosity. She opened the door. "My mistress didn't invite you, did she? She can't have. My master only left this morning."
"Merta, this is very urgent so you must listen well. Tell your Lady that I am in great need of help and I will owe her a favor if she does me right in this."
So serious were Clopin's looks and voice, that it took Merta aback. Her eyebrows raised, she said in the least curmudgeon-like tone she'd ever used, "Please wait; I will tell her…You may come in, if you wish."
"No, thank you, I will wait here."
Again, Merta seemed mildly surprised. She shrugged it off. "As it please you."
Moments later, Ann was at the door. "Indeed, I am surprised to see you! Not that it is wholly unwelcome, but…what manner of help do you require?"
"I am sorry to inconvenience you and I know this is overstepping the bounds of our agreement, but I need shelter for my people here with me. We have many injured and we cannot wait for the guards to move indoors for the night."
"Injured? What has transgressed that you have so many injured?"
"I will be happy to discuss it further, but I must first get them out of the cold."
She glanced at him sideways. "We are not supposed to trust each other."
There was a faint smirk that tugged ironically at his mouth. "I know. And yet, here we are. I had nowhere else to bring them."
She stared him in the eye for a few moments, poker-faced, and then sighed, "I trust the guards are not likely to come this way?" Her toned suggested she would relent though she did not care to take this risk.
"Not very likely, no."
She heard the touch of uncertainty and frowned slightly. "You can take them into the barn. The workmen have all gone for the season and there should be no one to bother you. I will send Merta with some supplies to help you heal your injured."
He clasped her hand gratefully. "We are very grateful to you."
"I am sure. Now, I would be very grateful to you if, when your people are inside, you would be so kind as to tell me why you were so desperate as to take such a risk in coming here."
"I shall."
"And Clopin," she started, halting him in his tracks as he turned away. "Do not make the mistake of thinking my estate a suitable and ready shelter from the law. I do this for you this one time alone."
He nodded his understanding and went to tend to his people.
