Disclaimer: I do not own Hugo's Hunchback of Notre Dame nor do I own the Disney version.
The ugly laughter and the howling cries unexpectedly stopped. There was now a troubling silence. Agnes held her breath and waited. She heard Esmeralda's voice and, judging by her wapish tone, knew that her foster sister had witnessed something horrible. And then came another voice: pretentious, regal and emitting frosty rage. The coldness of that voice was powerful enough to freeze the Seine. Frollo. Esmeralda was openly challenging Frollo. Was she mad? He had the authority to execute a gypsy for the least infraction. How would he react to one openly defying him in public? People outside the tent began to mutter, making it difficult for Agnes to listen to Esmeralda's impassioned speech.. She could only make out a few words. "Mistreat… Same… People… Justice… Cruel…" That was followed by Frollo's retort. "Gypsy… Pay…"
Agnes closed her eyes and groaned.
Just then a middle-aged gypsy woman plunged into the pavilion. "Stupid girl is going to get us all killed! Mark my words, he's going to be out for blood! He'll be rounding us up like sheep before we know it! Quick, put on this cloak!" She thrust a ragged mantle into Agnes's arms. "We've got to lie low for a while- Clopin's orders! Be careful coming home- there's soldiers everywhere!" She fled.
Agnes threw the disguise over her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head that was still adorned with metallic plates. Chaos surrounded her when she stepped out of the tent. Acrobats and street performers ran wild. Soldiers were everywhere, just as the middle-aged gypsy had said, and their horses were galloping against the streets, the animal's hooves beating against the pavement. Civilians scrambled to avoid the stampede. Agnes's eyes rapidly searched for one who howled so despairingly and desperately hoped that the poor devil was not someone she knew. Esmeralda was nowhere to be seen, but there on the platform stood the hunchback. Red fluid trailed down his exposed back. For a horrible moment Agnes mistakenly thought that what she saw was blood and that the hunchback had been lashed, but the rotten food at his feet told her that the red liquid was nothing more than tomato pulp. They must have been pelted the bell ringer with vegetables.
And why? Agnes thought furiously. For the crime of being ugly? For being different? And to think that, just moments ago, he was their beloved king. And now the queen was hiding just to avoid incarceration. The Feast of Fools was supposed to give people like him- like us, Agnes amended- a reprieve from persecution. They weren't granted this one day.
A ripping noise came from behind. Soldiers with their swords drawn were tearing apart the brightly colored tent. Agnes scrambled away as a freezing rain began to fall.
Agnes soon discovered that returning home would be next to impossible. Though the Court of Miracles had more than one entrance (dozens of secrete openings to the catacombs were strategically hidden in Paris) the streets were so thick with watchful soldiers that she didn't dare attempt escape. Frollo's guards were harassing citizens, yanking them roughly, demanding to know if they had any connection to gypsies. Soldiers on horseback still galloped over the confetti that littered the ground. Shouts of protest came from all directions.
Agnes noticed a ragged cripple when she cut through a narrow alleyway, the beggar's emaciated legs pathetically bent underneath him, his crutches lying sadly in the muddy street. A bloody bandage was wrapped around one thin arm, but Agnes knew that it was not human blood, but rather blood from a slaughtered pig. The cripple kept his head down and did not bother removing the hood of his cloak when Agnes trotted towards him. But when he spoke, it was Clopin's voice she heard.
"Where our you going, child?"
"I don't know," she whispered frantically. "They are everywhere… I've never seen so many at one time. I can't escape." She remembered Clopin's past advice. Composing herself, she casually added in a crisp tone of voice, "Perhaps I will spend a few minutes in church."
"I suggest you stay longer than that." The unspoken warning was there in his words. Stay in the cathedral until you are certain that all is well.
Agnes nodded in agreement. "Very well."
Two soldiers were standing at the opposite end of the alleyway; they were watching. Clopin ignored the soldiers and performed as naturally as he would in front of an audience of gypsy children. He began to beg. "Alms? Alms? Charity, if you please…"
This disgraceful spectacle was almost unbearable now. She knew Clopin despised begging and to see her foster father sitting there in the mud and pleading for money- Begging his own foster child for money- was too much. Agnes felt as though she was witnessing something indecent. But if Clopin could overcome his pride, then she should attempt to overcome her dismay. She had always been an unconvincing actress, and now, in a desperate attempt to seem credible, Agnes dropped a copper coin into the cripple's lap.
The soldiers were now accosting a swarthy-skinned woman, demanding to know if she possessed gypsy blood. Clopin took advantage of their inattentiveness; he waved an urgent hand. "Go where it's safe."
"But what about you?" she whispered. "And what about Esmeralda?"
"Go! Esmeralda can take care of herself. I wouldn't be surprised if she's in the cathedral right now." He got up, supporting himself heavily on his crutch, and limped away.
Agnes knew, of course, that Clopin would remain on the streets, pretending to be a beggar and spying on Frollo's minions as they patrolled the streets. He would be watching them carefully, prepared to distract them if they inadvertently came across any of the hidden entrances to the Court. Agnes quickly entered the church.
The rain was falling harder now, striking the rose window. Suddenly heavy cathedral doors opened with a voluble thud. She recoiled and cranked her head over her shoulder like a wary animal. The hunchback was there; Agnes tensely watched as the man sorrowfully shut the door behind him. His torn garment pitifully exposed his bare shoulders and his eyes were closed dejectedly. The hunchback slowly secured the doors then leaned against them with a rasping sob of despair.