STILL 1496…

The sun had set by the time the Judge finally arrived. Clopin had waited, nervous and twitching, in the sitting room, seated across from the Judge's younger brother. Jehan Frollo stared at him in silence, refusing to answer any of his questions.

"My brother will speak to you when he returns," he said. "I really have nothing to say to you at all."

"But, sir, perhaps you know something of my nephew – "

"Bring him up one more time and I'll throw you out of here myself, is that clear?"

He heard the front door open and close, and Claude Frollo entered the room. Clopin rose to meet him, his knees creaking. "What is he doing here?"

"The boy you arrested last night is his nephew," said Jehan.

The Judge stared at him. "And you've come to beg for his release?"

Clopin nodded. "Yes, sir." He hated the way the Judge had put it, but he was completely right. All he could do for Giovanni was beg the Judge to release him.

"The boy's parents couldn't make it?"

"They're dead, sir."

"It's a shame they didn't live to see what he's become," said the Judge vehemently. "A liar, a thief, and a vandal."

"He's only a boy, your honor. He only wanted to pay his respects to your deceased wife, that's all – "

"And why should he want to do that? Did he know her?"

"No, your honor. Esmerelda has become something of a legend among my people."

The Judge snorted. "Where is my daughter?"

"I don't know."

"Then I will not release your nephew."

"Please, sir, he's a child!"

"As is my daughter," said the Judge, "and, like your nephew, she was taken from me." The Judge was staring at him now, his blue eyes blazing. "Where is Katarina?"

"She's left Paris." It shamed him to betray Esmerelda like this. He hated himself for betraying her and Katarina. It was becoming clear to him that he would have to sacrifice Katarina in order to save Giovanni's life, though. He would have to swallow the shame and deliver her to the Judge. He hoped that the Judge would be merciful.

"Where did she go?"

Clopin sighed. He didn't want to betray Rosalie as well, but Katarina was with her, traveling to Lyon. "She left early this morning," he said. "A friend of mine is taking her to Lyon."

The Judge nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Bring her back to me in three days' time," he said. "If she isn't here – in this house – by sunset on the third day, I will have your nephew executed the following day at dawn."

Clopin nodded, unable to speak for fear of crying. He couldn't possibly win. He would have to sacrifice one child for the other; at least if he brought Katarina back to the Judge, both of them would live. The Judge led him from the house, and he returned to the Court numbly.

~xXx~

She was relieved to be out of the trunk. The road was surrounded by thick forests on either side, and the air was cold and clean. Pierre and Marie were as fascinated with the forests as she was; they'd spent their entire lives within a city made of stone and steel. They had never been outside its walls, and the forest amazed them. Rosalie seemed indifferent to it, urging the mule on, trying to put as much distance between them and Paris as possible.

She watched the forest, forcing herself to concentrate on the trees and not to think of what she had left behind in Paris. She closed her eyes, and began to silently pray for Giovanni. She had stopped praying altogether when the Judge had told her that he would send her to a nunnery; it had been a form of rebellion to go to sleep without saying her prayers at night. Now she prayed, tears welling up beneath her eyelids.

Night fell swiftly on the road, and Rosalie stopped the mule. Pierre and Katarina built a fire, collecting branches from the side of the road. She helped Rosalie cook and ate the meal without really tasting it.

"You three should sleep," said Rosalie. "We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow."

She slept in the wagon beside Marie, pressed against her for warmth. It was far colder out here than it had been in the space beneath the floorboards at Rosalie's old shack. She wondered now if Rosalie missed her old home. She would miss Paris; it was such a lively place. She hoped that Lyon held as much vibrancy and warmth as Paris once had.

~xXx~

"I only have three days. If I leave now, I can catch up with them."

"Clopin…" she sighed, grabbing his arm. He was packing a knapsack, moving quickly and almost feverishly. His hands shook; he had dropped his knife again, though hadn't cut himself with it this time. "Please, wait until morning."

"I have to go now – "

"It's pitch-black out there! You won't be able to see!" She pulled him to her, staring up at him. Jacques-Clopin began to cry, but she ignored him. She could deal with the baby's fussing later. "Go tomorrow," she said.

"Cassandra, I've only got three days!"
"And Rosalie can't have gone far, you know that. If you go tonight, you risk getting lost or hurt. What will happen to Giovanni if something happens to you?"

He stared at her now, and it was as though all the energy had suddenly been sucked out of him. He sat down, burying his face in his hands. She went back to the caravan to retrieve Jacques-Clopin. She brought him over to her husband, sitting down beside him while she rocked the baby in her arms. Clopin watched her as she lifted her blouse and began to nurse the baby.

She stared down at the baby now. He looked up at her with large dark eyes, his small hand resting against her breast as he nursed. She felt Clopin put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him. She did not like the idea of trading Katarina for Giovanni. It felt like they were betraying not just Esmerelda, but everyone else as well. The knowledge that this was a battle that the Judge would ultimately win was both sad and humiliating. To know that it was all for nothing was unbearable, but to know that Giovanni would die otherwise was worse. She was greatly comforted by the fact that he was still alive, that he could be saved.

~xXx~

He would have reached Lyon days ago if he'd stuck to the main road instead of following the river through the woods, but he didn't know this, and he much preferred the forest to the main road. The forest was quiet and peaceful. He had gotten the hang of fishing fairly quickly. Hunting was a different matter altogether, but he was slowly figuring it out. Trapping the rabbits was not particularly difficult. It took patience and persistence, both of which he had plenty of. Killing them was a different matter; he couldn't bear the way they stared at him, their eyes wide, knowing that they were about to die. It unnerved him, but he was too hungry to really be bothered by it.

He hadn't seen another person along the river, and he was starting to enjoy the solitude. All his life he'd hated the solitude of the bell tower, the loneliness. Knowing that Paris was teeming with people and that he couldn't let them be a part of his life had gnawed at him incessantly. The feeling of loneliness was gone now. The forest was green and thick, largely untouched by humans. It was nice.

He lay on his back now, staring up at the night sky. The stars were so bright and clear. They looked different somehow, and this bothered him. The stars were eternal, they never changed or moved, but now it felt as though this night sky was different from the one above Paris. It was colder, crisper, easier to see; it was calm and placid and uncaring. He found that he preferred this night sky to Paris's.

~xXx~

"Don't look so gloomy, soldier! Everybody's happy at the circus!"

Frieda scampered past him. He couldn't remember the name of the town they'd stopped at; it was a small farming village somewhere off the main road and north of Lyon. They would be there for a few days, and this bothered him; he desperately wanted to get to Paris, to kill that licentious Judge and liberate his Esmerelda. Ah, Esmerelda. Phoebus found himself smiling as he watched Frieda rush past, her thin, muscular arms propelling her across the ground with lightning speed.

He stepped back, admiring his work. He and the other roustabouts had pitched the main tent that day; they worked by torchlight to set up the Tent of Freaks, where Frieda, the twins, Dierk, and a handful of others would be put on display. He wondered how Frieda could stand it. Did people point and laugh at her because she had no legs? How did she deal with the constant humiliation? He watched her now. She was talking with Brunhilde and Conradine. They giggled coquettishly behind their hands, nodding along with her.

Brunhilde and Conradine were stunningly beautiful, aside from the fact that they were attached to each other at the waist. They would have had hundreds of suitors if they weren't attached. They both had blonde hair that framed their faces in ringlets and large blue eyes. They turned and followed Frieda now, moving gracefully. How did they move with such ease and grace? They had two pairs of legs, it must be cumbersome for them, at least at times. Phoebus watched them leave, thinking of Esmerelda and how beautiful and graceful she was.

"Ah, the twins," said Heracles, appearing behind him. He was had an enormous bundle of firewood slung across his shoulder. "They are lovely, no?"

"They're quite graceful."

"Ah, and you haven't even seen them dance!"

"They dance?"

"It's part of their act," said Heracles. "Dierk plays the fiddle for them and they dance. You'll have to watch them when the show opens tomorrow."

"I thought they were in the Tent of Freaks."

"Oh, they are. But you don't think they just stand there?"

Phoebus shrugged. "I've never been to a circus. I don't know what to think."

"You're in luck, soldier," said Heracles, clapping him on the back. "You're in luck."

~xXx~

She had barely fallen asleep when she heard it. She stood up, shaking the sleep away and listened. The thundering of horse's hooves sounded far-off and distant, but it was growing louder. Horses, several of them, were approaching, and horses always carried riders; those riders were almost always soldiers. She leapt up into the wagon, reaching through the darkness and finding Pierre's shoulder.

"Pierre, Pierre, wake up!"

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Mother? What is it?" He turned his head; he could hear the horses too.

"Take your sister and Katarina into the woods," she whispered. He was shaking Marie awake now, and Katarina was sitting up. "Hide!"

Pierre, Marie, and Katarina stumbled down from the wagon. They were holding hands as they bolted across the road and into the woods. Rosalie watched as they slipped into the brush. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the moon was full; she could see Pierre glancing back over his shoulder at her as he led Marie and Katarina into the woods. Rosalie turned now, squinting up the road. There were four men on horseback approaching them. She could see moonlight glinting off of armor, and she scrambled back into the wagon, digging frantically for one of the knives she'd stolen from the dead soldier earlier. She found them and tucked one into the back of her skirt, hiding it beneath her sash. She sheathed the other one and tucked it into her belt.

"You there, woman!"

She gasped. They were much closer than she'd expected. She glanced towards the woods and was relived to see that Pierre, Marie, and Katarina had vanished.

"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" One of the riders dismounted and approached her. She climbed down from the wagon.

"I'm going to Lyon," she said calmly, "my cousin lives there. She's expecting her first baby – "

"What city did you come from?"

"Reims."

The other riders had dismounted now and were circling the wagon. She watched them. One of them climbed up into the wagon and began rummaging through her belongings. She swallowed her anger, ignoring him and turning back to the man who was speaking to her. "Prove it."

"Sir?"

"Prove to me that you're from Reims," he said. "I think I've seen you around Paris."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, "you must be mistaken. I've never been to Paris."

"Are you traveling alone?" called the man in the wagon. He was digging through one of her trunks.

"Yes."

The man was holding something now, examining it. In the moonlight, Rosalie saw that it was one of Marie's dolls. "You aren't traveling with any children?"

"No, sir. My cousin's expecting her first baby, that doll is a gift for it."

"And this?" the man put the doll down and held up one of Marie's dresses now.

"I'm a seamstress," said Rosalie quickly. "I've been selling my wares at farmhouses on the road."

She suddenly felt a sharp, blinding pain in the side of her face; the man in front of her had struck her. She saw lights flashing in her eyes and struggled not to fall over. She tasted blood. "Don't lie to us, woman," he said. "Where is the Judge's daughter?" He came at her again, and she grabbed the knife in her belt, brandishing it threateningly.

She heard one of the men laughing; they were stepping closer to her now, surrounding her. "Get away from me," she said.

"Where did you get that knife?" They stepped closer to her. She swung the knife, slicing it through the air. They were circling her; she couldn't face all of them at once. She felt someone grab her from behind and she cried out, squirming and thrashing, managing to escape his arms. She spun around, jabbing the knife at him. She felt something hard and cold strike her in the back of the head. The pain was an intense, throbbing agony, and she fell. Darkness swirled around her, the world rapidly losing focus, and she was unconscious before she hit the ground.