He raised his hands away from her body as she pressed against him. He was unable to think of what to do for a long moment before it accrued to him to pull away.
She looked up to him, her eyes glazed over as he had been stunned to sobriety.
She leaned in to kiss him again when he gripped her arms tighter pulling her back.
He fumbled for words for a moment, awkwardly grasping for something to say. She then realized how greatly uncomfortable he was.
Her sultry expression changed to a regretful frown as she glanced downward between them. He could only stand there uncertain what to do.
"Can you forgive me?" she whispered.
He pulled away from the grasp of her hands and turned to leave.
"I already have."
Clopin sat up in bed feeling rather more hungover than usual. His bed was empty. He sighed dropping his face into the palms of his hands.
"Merde," he groaned.
Today was going to be a more sorrowful day than he could ever have dreamt. It would be the day that his worst fear in the world would come true. Yet, he had but only a small sinking feeling in the pit of stomach. It was a feeling that urged him to retreat back onto the cushions of his cot.
He didn't however. He threw on his usual garish work attire and opened the latch looking out to the bustle of the court in the late morning.
"Ah. You're finally up."
Clopin glanced down to see Gilles seated on the step of his caravan.
"After a most regretful night, yes. I am up."
"Good. I've been waiting all morning to hear what you have in mind for our dear Bernier."
Clopin narrowed his brow, "The noose of course," he stated as if predicting it would rain later.
Gilles rose to his feet, his mouth gaping open in shock.
"The noose? Would Le Roux not kill you too directly after that?"
"Ah, not the noose noose. The fun noose."
Gilles blinked.
"There's a difference to you?"
"Well in one situation you take the grimy rat, parade him around, humiliate him, sing some song, and then, whoopsie! Snap his neck. Or," he said raising a finger into the air, "you parade him around, humiliate him, and then scare the living day lights out of him with the idea of the noose. The difference being he lives, but with the reputation of being a horse's ass. It's the fun noose."
"You know I never knew you had a name for that."
Clopin looked hurt all of a sudden. "It's in the song! Don't you listen to my song?"
"Well I must admit the other one is rather catchy," said Gilles with a shrug before Clopin patted him on the shoulder and made his way to find his trusted men.
Before long people were whispering as Remus and the gang of Clopin's spies eyed the grounds for Bernier. Clopin lead them with a showy grin to the worried on lookers.
"Don't worry ladies and dogs!" He called out. "Nothing too serious, just a simple lesson to be taught!"
Finally, they made their way to Le Roux's tent. Clopin walked on as his men circled around the back of the tent. It was all apart of a plan that would be executed like a memorized dance.
As Clopin stepped closer to the tent he could hear the raised voice of Le Roux yelling in a foreign tongue.
He didn't have much of an ear for the Romany languages, besides a few phrases he had heard the elders speak growing up. Though, he could tell it was not a pleasant conversation.
It wasn't until Clopin heard the soft cries of a woman did he feel the urge to burst in through the entrance.
There was Celine shaking in the arms of a fuming Le Roux.
"Forgive me," called Clopin loudly to get both of their attention, "I must be disrupting…"
"Oh, Clopin," said the large man straightening his back and suddenly dropping his disturbed demeanor. "I did not see you there!" he glanced back to Celine who looked to the floor indifferently. "Be gone, woman! Make yourself useful somewhere else."
She turned away from Le Roux and eyed Clopin carefully as she walked past him leaving the two alone. Clopin kept his eyes on Le Roux. He had been unable to see the markings on her left eye.
"This is about your son, my old friend."
"My son?" he asked uncaring as he reached for a stale end of bread. "What did he do?"
"Are you unaware of his location after the sun sets and the wine is served?"
Le Roux laughed chewing the bread. "He's a grown man, Clopin. Capable of his own choices… partaking in whatever he wants… as he wishes."
"I regret to inform you that he was found forcing himself upon our beloved Esmeralda last night," Clopin stated becoming bothered by the man's nonchalant behavior.
To Clopin's horror, the man laughed heartily. "That spit fire of a lass? Oh well. Who could blame the boy!"
Clopin bit his tongue. "These actions are not thought of lightly under my rule, Le Roux."
"Oh but of course, mon ami! I understand fully. I'll tell the boy myself, give him a right lashing with my trusty leather belt! Give him a good scar to be proud of and show off!"
Clopin forced a smile.
He almost spit out to Le Roux the truth of what Esmeralda meant to him. Words he hadn't spoken to many people.
It only took a moment for him to think better of it
"That is a kind offer, but in my court I liked to make a spectacle of such behavior. Gives us bored sewer rats something to cheer about."
Le Roux frowned sternly, "You plan to make a public mockery of my son?"
"No, no, no!" laughed Clopin shaking his head with a chuckle, "Nothing so harsh. It'll be a laugh! You'll see!"
He looked confused before laughing again. "Oh hohoho, Trouillefou! You sly trickster! I know what you mean. Go ahead! Use him as an actor in one of your skits. We'll all get a good laugh out of it!"
"I'm sure even Bernier himself will just drop… with laughter."
Le Roux's face lit up as he looked past Clopin, "Ah! Here he is now!"
Clopin turned to see the young man swaggering into the tent, "What perfect timing!" he cried before rushing Bernier, putting an arm around his shoulder, and leading him back out.
"What is going on, my king?" he questioned.
"Oh you'll see soon enough," said Clopin with a darkly mischievous tone.
Once the pair were outside the tent, Clopin threw the boy to the ground and his men rushed to grab the boy. A pair of men tied his arms behind his back and gagged him as the others lifted him onto their shoulders. Though Bernier tried as he might to escape, Clopin's group of larger men easily managed his kicking and thrashing.
Le Roux exploded out of his tent with a string of foreign cries and curses.
"Clopin!" he finally yelled, "This is not what we agreed upon! He is the prince of the Roux tribe! Do I get no say in this?"
Clopin coolly turned to his friend with a faint smirk. "It appears you are confused on the workings of a monarchy, my friend."
And with that, the boy was paraded to the hangman's noose high above the onlookers of the court.
Clopin skipped in front of him. He lived for the moments he could bring entertainment to his people. Be it a hanging or a festival, he would sing and his gypsies would clap and cheer. During a hanging, however, the crowd would become especially rowdy. They would curse, boo, and torment whatever poor sod was brainless enough to anger the king of thunes.
"Everyone of the court gather around! Come see the fool drop to the ground. Hear his neck snap and watch him fall! Young, old, fat or small; the way he goes won't matter at all!"
Bernier relentlessly attempted to free himself as the men jovially sang the rowdy chant.
Clopin watched on, his arms crossed and a faint look of pleasure across his face, as they brought the scoundrel to him. He slowly produced a dagger from his belt and eyed the sharp end of the blade before singing along to the last line.
"Tie a rope around his neck, stick a dagger to his throat. We only look to one for the casting vote. Bring him to our King! The only King of Thunes. The fool will decide the poor blighter's doom."
With that the men laughed and threw him to the feet of Clopin.
Bernier looked up to his king wide-eyed as Clopin looked down to him for a moment before raising his hands and turning to the crowd.
"We have here the son our old friend, Rabel Le Roux," a collection of rowdy boos erupted from the crowd. The boy cursed them with his venomous glance. "My good man Gilles caught Bernier here attempting a most barbaric ritual on our beloved… La Esmerlda." For a moment Clopin found it hard to speak her name but, after a brief moment, he proudly exclaimed it just as he had the day of the feast of fools.
Esmeralda found her way from her tent as she wrapped a robe around herself. She looked around confused as eyes fell upon her. She then looked up to the platform, her mouth slightly agape.
"Esmeralda!" called Gilles running to her side as she kept her eyes fixated on Bernier. "You don't have to watch this," he said grabbing her by the shoulders. "Clopin isn't…" he looked around before leaning in closer to her, "he isn't actually going to kill him," he whispered.
"I will watch anyway," She said coldly.
More towards the front of the crowd the angered Le Roux pushed his way through yelling Clopin's name. His shouts were practically drowned out by the heckling of the gypsy people.
"You have been accused of attempted rape," said Clopin matter-of-factly.
The crowd hissed as their king paced around the boy who was now kneeling.
"Do you refute these accusations?"
Though the young man was gagged, the detestable look he shot to Clopin said enough.
"I'm sorry," said Clopin leaning toward Bernier cupping his ear, "what was that?"
The crowd laughed as Bernier glanced down seeing his father's pleading eyes looking back up to him.
"Why are you treating my boy like a criminal?" he could hear him cry.
Clopin looked back to the crowd, "I suppose we should hear him confess. Should we not?" He then turned and ripped the cloth out of the boy's mouth, "Is this true, Bernier?" he questioned.
Bernier glared to Clopin, "Go to Hell!"
The gypsies exploded with outraged cries, more riled than before. Some even lunged toward to platform but were held back by Clopin's guards.
Clopin smiled crossing his arms as he casually walked in front of the boy. Then, without a warning, he struck Bernier hard across the face.
"Do you know to whom you speak, boy?"
Bernier looked up to him indifferently.
"The king." He said mockingly, "some king of cowering rats!"
Clopin smirked. "Ladies and gentlemen, it appears our dear prince is unaware of how things work here. One; you don't associate with the gadje!" his people hissed at the thought. "And two; you don't anger your king!"
Clopin snapped his fingers and a noose was lowered.
Esmeralda glanced to Gilles, "Still think he's going to let him walk?"
He shrugged, "Our ami might have killed himself in the crib with this one."
The color drained from Bernier's face as he looked to the noose. His father began to cry louder than before.
"He's my only son! Please! Have you no loyalty you backstabbing trader?!"
"Do it." said Bernier quietly, only getting Clopin's attention. "I know you are all talk. Not a man who follows through."
Clopin glared to him. "Still better than a pathetic boy who terrorizes women in the night… Do you truly wish to die today, son?"
Bernier shifted, still gazing to the tied rope.
"Make my father stop crying."
Clopin gripped the noose, "Actually I was thinking of giving him a reason to." He gestured for his men and they sprung forward lifting boy to his feet. Clopin then placed the noose around Bernier's neck tightening it roughly. Bernier was lifted to his tiptoes in order not to begin choking then and there.
"How's that?" Clopin asked. "Oh, I'm sorry. A bit too tight?"
Bernier struggled to keep a space for air to enter his throat. Clopin looked pleased.
"I'll curse… you in every spell… I know," he gasped between breaths.
Clopin faced the boy, addressing only him.
"You may be the prince of some far off tribe but I'll let you in on a little secret. They all die the same. Priests, noble men, kings… gypsies. Gasping for their last breath as they piss themselves with fear… their faces turning blue. Then, once they go still… we throw their bodies to the dogs. You will be no different."
Clopin looked back to the crowd raising his arms again, "Everyone now!"
"The king has spoken as you heard them sang. Pull back the lever, no time to pray, so you're going to hang!"
Clopin went to reach for the skull topped lever when his eye caught a familiar figure in the audience. He did a double take, almost unable to believe his eyes.
There, walking amongst the crowd was Pons, the small poor boy from the streets.