Briggina sat in her cage that night, and cried. She cried for her family, who would never know what had driven her to this. The letter she'd written to them had been gentle, only saying how much she had loved each of them. She never mentioned how alone they had made her feel.
She cried for all her friends in the city, who had been hurt by Frollo in his desperate search for Esmeralda. She cried for Frollo himself, for she knew that heaven would not be his destination. He had condemned himself through his actions.
She cried for Kathryn. All that time, Kathryn had stood by her, taken care of her, and she had never noticed. Now, Briggina would never been able to thank her. She would never be able to tell her family how much she loved them in person, or tell Paris who she really was. She would never see any of the ones she loved again. She wept and wept.
Briggina woke to a jolt, and heard horses. "Get along there. We have to get this gypsy to the pyre before noon." Obviously, she was in some sort of cart, riding toward the place where they would burn her as a witch.
It was a long ride from the prison to the pyre, filled with potholes and loose cobles. When they finally reached the chosen execution ground, Briggina was black and blue all over underneath her prison robe. She heard the wood creak as the wagon driver got off the cart, and the thud as his feet hit the cobblestone street. Then a creak of hinges as he opened the door to her cell, and a rope around her wrists. He snarled at her. "Don't get any ideas about escape, you hear? Even if you could get through your bonds, there's nowhere to run. Come on now. Let's get this over with."
She stumbled up the unfamiliar stairs, and then was roughly turned around. Her hands were retied behind her back, and around what she guessed was a pole. Then the clattering started. Briggina listened as bundle after bundle of firewood was thrown around her feet, clattering as it hit the platform where she stood. Through that awful sound, she heard yells and taunts.
"Dance for us now."
"You'll pay the price, gypsy!"
"Where's your master now?"
It sounded like the crowd of onlookers was already gathering. She wondered who else was out there, waiting to watch her burn.
There was a squeak of carriage wheels, the creak of footsteps up the stairs, then Frollo's voice, reading the charges. "The gypsy Esmeralda has been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft. The sentence, death."
She heard a pop as the torch that was to light her pyre was brought closer. Then, Frollo began to whisper in her ear. "I can say that you have recanted, but only if you will give yourself into my mercies. Choose me, or the fire." She spat in his face.
She felt the heat of the torch recede, as Frollo turned to the crowd to announce her decision. Then came a whoosh as he threw the torch onto the wood. The wood must have been very dry to catch fire so quickly. She could feel the heat and smell the smoke. Then, to the great surprise of Frollo, the guards, and the onlookers, Briggina began to sing.
The king and his son were riding as fast as they could back to the palace. They had been halfway home already when Briggina's messenger had intercepted them. Once they had read her letter, they had left their retinue of knights and attendants far behind, only stopping for water and fresh horses. Still, it had taken them two days to return home, and for them, it was two days too long. Both were worried not only for Paris, but for Briggina. What if she had been in Paris when the fire started? What if she'd been hurt? These harried thoughts were halted by the sound of Briggina's voice singing, but they couldn't make out the words. They followed her song, and as the words became clear, confusion flooded their minds. They pressured the horses to go faster so they could behold the reason for this morbid melody.
When Kathryn and Esmeralda heard Frollo read the charges, they ran from the nearest alley, intending to run straight through the cathedral's doors and up to the tower. But when they came in view of the execution platform, both girls stopped and stared. Before this instant, neither of them had clearly seen Briggina in her disguise.
She was the spitting image of Esmeralda, from her blackened hair to her defiant stare. They watched as she spat in Frollo's face, and as her pyre was lit. Then, they remembered their purpose, and ran through the cathedral, up the stairs, and almost got tangled in the chains that bound Quasimodo.
There he was, chained to the many columns of the bridge that ran between the two towers. He looked so downcast. "Quasimodo? Are you alright?"
He turned and glared at her. "No, I'm not alright. Esmeralda is going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't break the chains. I tried. And why are you here, anyway?"
Esmeralda sighed and held out the letter. "I just wanted to give you this. Can you read?"
He resumed his sullen gazing. "No."
Esmeralda had thought so. "Then I'll read it to you."
There was only one word on the parchment. It said "listen".
They looked at each other, Esmeralda in puzzlement, Quasimodo in irritation. "What? Listen to what?" Then they heard a single voice rising from the scene below.
All my life,
I've been a caged dove.
I met you,
And began to love.
But your heart
Will never be mine.
Heaven's light
On me will not shine.
She is there,
Standing at your side.
I now pay
The price of her pride.
It is paid
In this fire below.
Briggina
Strives her love to show.
"I love you!" Briggina, his true love, shouted and collapsed into a fit of coughing from the smoke.
Esmeralda started to explain. "Briggina switched places with me. We dyed our hair and skin so we looked like each other."
Quasimodo was reeling at this confession. Someone had actually loved him, when he had thought he was unlovable. Why hadn't he noticed? "Why didn't she ever tell me this?"
Kathryn stepped forward. "She wanted to, but she was too afraid that you wouldn't like her if you knew. But then you were angry about her blindness, you fell in love with Esmeralda, and there was no time to tell you. But she does love you, more than she has ever loved anyone else." That one sentence seemed to fill him until he began to tear off his chains as if they were little more than cobwebs. There was no way he was leaving her there to burn.
The king and Peter raced around the corner and entered the main square just in time to catch the last two lines of the song. It was coming from the girl on the executioner's platform. Peter aghast, cried out to his father. "Father, that's Briggina! I'm sure of it."
The king rode right up to Frollo, who still stood on the platform, and bellowed in his face. "What is the meaning of this? I rush back to this city to find it burned, its inhabitants imprisoned, and my daughter being executed. Get her down at once!"
Peter plucked at the king's arm. "That won't be necessary, Father." He turned to look at where his daughter stood, to find a very ugly man ripping away his daughters bonds and swinging her up and into the cathedral.
Peter sighed. "She'll be safe there, Father. No one would invade the sanctuary of the church. Frollo!" The last part was addressed to the man, and halted him in his tracks.
The king raised a finger and pointed it at him. "Guards, arrest this man for treason against the royal family, the destruction of Paris, the imprisonment of innocents, and the attempted murder of the princess." Frollo was seized and thrust into the cart that had, only minutes before, caged Frollo's prize bird. Then, the two royals raced up the stairs to the balcony where the rescue party had landed.
When Quasimodo and Briggina had reached the balcony between the two towers, Esmeralda and Kathryn rushed over. Esmeralda put her ear to the princess's mouth. Quasimodo nervously inquired, "Is she alright? Is she hurt?"
Esmeralda answered without looking up. "She's not breathing." She pressed her fingers to Briggina's neck, trying to find a pulse. There! It was faint, but it was definitely there! She leaned over her mouth again, but still, there was no sound of breathing. Gently, she placed her own mouth over the princess's, and breathed out. She removed her mouth and said "Kathryn, get over here. Push on her chest. We have to get the smoke out of her lungs, or she'll suffocate."
They had repeated the cycle several time when they heard a man's shout. "Out of the way!" Two richly dressed men, one obviously the senior, rushed to Briggina's side.
The younger turned to Kathryn. "Is she alive?"
Kathryn nodded, and said, "But she's not breathing. The smoke was too much for her."
The King turned to his son, with Briggina in his arms. "Get a physician, quickly! I'll meet you at the palace."
Esmeralda barred his way. "Sir, if you move her, she'll only get worse! A doctor can come up here to tend her."
A thin wavering voice pierced their argument. "It's alright. I'd like to go home." All five of them looked down, to see Briggina's thin, darkened face, smiling faintly. Then, exhausted by the effort, she fell back into unconsciousness.
Would you guys like a tragic ending or a happy one?
