Taken

Nearly five weeks had passed. Carmen sat on her bed, playing with the rings Gabriel had left her. She returned them to the little pouch and wrapped the string around the notebook. She set the wooden figure on top and smiled. It had been so long, it was now July. He would be home soon.

Beside the book and figure lay the folded stack of clothes she had made for her and Quasi. The two shirts she had made him were neatly folded. The blue shirt had been a failure, yet remained wearable. The dark green one was much better, having pockets and a proper collar. Charlotte had guided her through the corners and curved seams.

The following morning, Carmen left for the Pomme d'Eve with Lucy and Helen. They settled into the sewing room. Birds twittered outside the windows. Sunlight poured through the damaged stone window ledges.

Settling onto the floor, Carmen unfolded the dress that she was sewing for herself. The bodice was of the same fabric as Quasimodos' new shirt and the skirt a much lighter green. Yellow thread made the seams. Pockets lay hidden in the skirt.

"It has been over a month, Phoebus must return soon with help." Lucy threaded a needle, then resumed sewing.

"It seems like years." Carmen continued to pass the yellow thread through the light green cloth. She poked her finger, immediately placing it in her mouth. "Esmeralda told me that he always returns unscathed. Quasi will return with him. I fear I may never see Elsa again.

"Maybe she is safe at the mill. Wherever she is, God is watching over her."

"What if she is now watching over me?" Carmen looked up from her sewing. Lucy half smiled, she lifted her hands from her sewing, her palms open.

"There is nothing any of us can do, it's in Gods' hands."

They continued to sew in silence. Charlotte and Helen looked on. Charlotte cut fabric, Helen rolled it and returned it to the shelves.

As the sun lifted high into the sky, the women folded their sewing and left it on the table. Charlotte started down the stairs. Helen, Lucy and Carmen remained, taking a moment to enjoy bread and plums before following Charlotte. As they descended the steps, a scream echoed through the old walls.

Charlotte lay dead in the cellar, her dress soaked in fresh blood where the sword has struck her. Two soldiers grasped Helen, who struggled and fought against the hands that held her. Carmen backed away, Lucy at her side. They bolted to a door, opening it into the Pomme d'Eve.

"Get them!" A soldier shouted, brandishing his sword.

Carmen and Lucy fought their way through the inn, running between tables. A heavy man began overturning tables as the women passed.

"Run, ladies. Go! Get out of here!" The large man barked at them. They fled.

"Carmen, keep up! Run faster!" Lucy shouted.

"I can't. I'm trying!" Carmen ran, her feet throbbing as she struggled to follow Lucy. Behind her, she could hear Helen scream.

Sharp pangs slowed Carmen as she ran, her body refusing her will. Lucy disappeared into the crowd. Barefooted, Carmen forced herself to move through the streets, unsure of what place was safe. Horses and carts passed by, laden with produce and goods. Using the last of her strength, Carmen lifted herself into a passing cart, hiding between the crates and barrels.

The cart soon stopped outside of a tavern. Before the barrels could be unloaded, she hopped out. The street was filled with citizens and guards. She ducked between the horses and merchants, making her way through the crowd. She avoided her abandoned home, looking instead toward Notre Dame.

Carmen stole through the open doors. Sprinting up the steps to the bell tower, she didn't pause for breath. Arriving in Quasimodos loft, she pulled herself high into the rafters, under the Big Marie. She reached up, stroking the cold bronze. The old bell wore a covering of dust, having been idle. She lay on the boards under the bell.

Through the tower openings, she could see out into the city. She watched the sun lower in the sky, approaching the green and blonde hillsides. Beyond the hills were more hills, changing from green to blue as far as her eye could see. Afternoon passed into evening. She watched longingly as the sun set, turning the sky into a mosaic of crimson, scarlet and orange.

As the red sky faded to purple, Carmen looked into the empty streets and cried. The tower was empty, her home was empty. Paris could be likened to a pot ready to boil over. The sky tuned to black, only the faintest starlight casting it's glow on the city.

Carmen wandered through the bell tower. There was neither food nor water fit to consume. She shivered as the bell tower grew colder. Above her head, six bells hung in silence. She crossed her arms, tensing her trembling arms. She couldn't leave. Someone would catch her.

Fumbling through the darkness, Carmen resigned herself to remaining below the great bells. There was nothing here. Bells, beams, a woodpile and broken sculptures were her only companions. The bell tower was safe. Notre Dame was safe.

Her inner voice told her otherwise. Clenching her eyes closed, she struggled to remain still, to silence that voice. She could not ignore it. She placed her forehead on her knees, her arms around her shins. She could feel eyes on her, the eyes of the robed man.

"You are not safe here. Get out before they find you." The voice inside of her clamored. She could barely resist the urge to walk toward the far corner of the tower. "Run, Carmen. Run, or he'll get you too. Run!"

"No one is here. I'm safe." She reasoned. The voice told her different.

"He's here, he will get you."

Carmen lifted her eyes from her knees, peering through the darkness. Shadows moved over darkness. The rattle of metal overhead. She stood fast, then unable to move, although every muscle in her body clamored to move, to get her out of here.

A bat fluttered through the rafters of the bell tower, drawing her attention upward. A tall man stood above her, a priest or so he appeared. The stiffness in her legs released and Carmen fled from under Big Marie. The priest watched her fly.

The young woman stumbled toward the ladder, away from the bells. There was nowhere to go where she felt safe, the one person who helped her feel safe was gone.

Carmen quickly descended the thick ladder to Quasimodos quarters. She stepped past the small table and stool. Her bare feet felt for the steep narrow steps that would take her out of Sanctuary. She gasped as yellow light flooded the space below her, blinding her. She froze on the steps, her hands quaking as she leaned onto the steps. Suddenly, she was grasped from behind. Fists forced her wrists to her shoulders. She squirmed.

"Tell me child, what is it that fuels your desire to visit such a dreadful place such as this?" The man paused, twisting her wrists and making her wince. "Is, perchance, that you fancy the bell ringer? Isn't it a coincidence, I am also looking for him. My dear, it would be a very good thing if you would tell me his whereabouts."

Carmen stood still. She did not speak.

"Not so long ago, you visited this tower daily. You know where he is. He's a murderer, you know, a dangerous criminal. To refuse his location is grounds for arrest and death by hanging. The guards are here, waiting." Carmen's eyes widened. "There is nothing preventing your arrest, child. Your kind are not welcome in here."

Carmen's mind raced. She was no gypsy. She couldn't say a word, partly of fear to say anything that may endanger Quasi.

The man grasped her wrists and dragged her out of Notre Dame, not stopping for the priest that cried out to let her go. She kicked madly and broke free. She bolted away from the church and into the streets. Then she ran, ran as if the devil were after her. If she were to be caught, she would never see the bell tower, or her beloved, ever again.

She fell on the cobbles, a tangle of hair and brown cloth. Carmen lay down on the street, gasping for breath. Her back and arms throbbed with a dull pain, the stones had cut into her palms. She pulled herself up and began to limp through the streets, grateful that nothing seemed broken. Several moments later, she sat down in an alley. The pain was too much for her to continue walking.

When Carmen awoke, the sky spat rain. Carmen stared out into the cold, wet street and then huddled into herself. This was not the place she wanted to be. She could hear the rats in the alleyways and gutter, the dogs barking in the distance and the drip of water off of old leaky roofs.

The lights began to appear shortly afterward, the lights that appear only in complete darkness. She watched as the lights formed themselves into shapes. A dog, a horse and a girl. The girl remained while the other two vanished and began to dance in the street, appearing to sing although her lips made no noise.

As the girl moved she became more lifelike, less of a dream and more flesh and bone than anything. The girl continued to dance to the beat of an invisible drum, clapping her hands, whirling her skirt and singing to the beat. Her toes barely touched the ground as she twirled around in a cloud of delight.

The girl stopped. She turned away from Carmen and into the street. Frozen for one brief second, she stared at something beyond Carmen's line of vision. She began to tremble, then turned to run.

Carmen watched as the young girl sprinted through the darkness, toward one of the alleyways. Her feet seemed not to touch the ground, she moved with such speed. Her dress, worn and tattered, remained dry as she ran in the pouring rain. Where was she going in such a hurry?

Carmen had to follow, find out. She bolted down the alley after her, where she slipped on some rotten fruit. The girl had disappeared into the night without a sound. Not more than ten paces away was a wall of solid stone at least 20 feet tall. There was no exit.

"Carmen!"

The voice continued calling. "Carmen. Where are you?"

"I'm right here" She shouted.

"Carmen!" She heard sobbing "Carmen, come quickly!"

"I'm over here!"

"No, Carmen"

"Get up Carmen! Get up"

Following the voices, Carmen caught sight of a young woman kneeling on the cobbles, baby in her arms. The woman screamed, then began running toward her. Looking into her eyes, Carmen met with the blackness of coal. She continued to run past, but soon met with a stone wall. There was nowhere to go.

Pale moonlight lit the alley, revealing two innocent souls. A dark cloaked figure approached on horseback, the horses hooves echoing between the walls in silence. The young woman backed away slowly, her heart begging her to run, her soul knowing she could not.

The woman stepped toward the wall, her bare feet silent on the stones. Her right arm stretched behind her, extending into the night. Stone met her outstretched fingers. The young woman clutched her child to her chest and watched as the man encircled her. There was nowhere to run, no one to save her. Only her sister watched on in silence; the moon saw all. The heavens looked down upon that scene in the filthy alley, the eyes of angels, that is to say the stars. The day of judgment had come.

The man continued to encircle the frightened woman and child, now trapped. Bringing his horse to a halt before her, he leaned over her, causing her to look upward, her black eyes illuminated by the glare of the full moon. Soft innocent, pleading eyes met his own. The man smiled at her, his lips drawing thin to reveal a perfect white smile, the corners turned downward. Narrow lines furrowed his forehead. The young mother remained silent and still, her eyes fixed into the mans, begging for her life. The man remained indifferent to her plight.

Suddenly, the man let the reins drop onto the pommel of his saddle and reached his hand. The young mother, frozen with fear until that moment, watched as his hand extended. Tears flowed down her cheeks in gentle rivers as hope reappeared into her dark eyes. She gently clasped her hands, as if in prayer. At that moment she returned her gaze to the man's eyes. They had changed.

At that moment, the woman grew pale. The mans eyes were wide, hard and penetrating, stealing into her very soul. His teeth were clenched, only the lower row visible. The woman began to lower herself to the ground, her hands still in prayer, her body trembling with fear. The man's hand remained outstretched, as his other drew the sword from the scabbard on his back. The woman's eyes flashed as they caught the glint of cold steel in the moonlight. The woman opened her mouth for one final scream.

While still in the last throws of life, the young woman looked up at him once more. Her body writhed and twitched on the ground, the child falling from her arms onto the damp stone. For a brief moment he cried, there was some gurgling. He fell silent. Judgment had been passed, two fates had been sealed. The moon shone down on her sister, who was now on her way home.

The tall man leered over the young woman before him, her lifeless body laying in a hopeless tangle of arms and legs. The vermin of the city, one of many; one in a sea of evil that God had sent him to exterminate. A vile wench, her angelic features those of the devil, sent to destroy him, sent to twist his mind and condemn him to hell.

Using the soiled tip of his sword, the man turned her face upward. Tendrils of clotted blood dripped from her gaping mouth, her eyes rolled back into her head. That black hair, that beautiful silken hair, surrounded her head in disarray. Those delicate fingers, soft hands and skin haunted him. Her gypsies' clothing once white, now red; bathed in the colour of impurity and life. The colour of the devil.

He sneered at his victim, removing his blade, the woman's head flopped down onto the cobbles, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, dipping into the blood that surrounded her. Motionless, he stood over her with downcast eyes. The wind, blowing his robes into faint ripples, bestowed upon the scene an eerie stillness. The rider used her dress to wipe the blood from his blade, cutting off her bodice as he did so. The devil and the angel, the spider and the fly. To behold the Judge at that moment was to recoil with fear.

"May God have mercy upon your soul."

Mounting his horse, the man rode out of the alley and into the darkened streets.

Turning his horse around, he left the family in the street, not looking back. The mother lay face-down in the street, a heap of hair, fabric and blood on top of her child. Carmen's dear brother.

Carmen watched in disbelief as the man continued to ride by. He showed no remorse for what he had just done, giving it no more thought than the spider that traps and kills the fly. Claude Frollo. The city was his web.

A flash of lightening and everything was gone. Carmen's mother no longer lay in the street, the odor of blood no longer poisoned her lungs. Claude Frollo was gone.

Carmen sat in the rain, in the alley, thinking of her mother. There was nothing she could have done. That man, that evil man. He ruined her life. Her mother, sister and brother were all lost because of him. It was because of him that she would never really be sure who she was. He had also tormented her dear Quasimodo. Carmen bent down and cried into the folds of her muddy skirt.

The faint echo and splash of hoof beats in the darkness woke her up. In the rain she could not see from hence they came, only listen. Run. She had to run. He would get her too. Carmen tried to get up, but couldn't. Her ankle was hot and swollen. Dragging herself nearer the wall, she sat in silence. There was little else she could do.

Shaking with fear, Carmen waited as the hoof beats got closer. She struggled to press herself against the damp, mildewed wall. The horse approached in slow, even steps. A moment later she could feel the warm air from the horses' nostrils cut through the misty rain. The horse snorted, then balked, Carmen could hear its feet landing on the cobbles, then sliding and splashing in the shallow puddles that lay before her.

Carmen heard the rider dismount.

Tears began to flow from her eyes in thick streams and she could feel herself beginning to tremble. She tried not to breathe, for she would begin to choke if she did. "He mustn't find me, I'm not ready to die."

Two guards picked her up from the alley and carried her off to the Palais of Justice. Carmen's eyes shed tear after tear. She wanted so much to cry out, make them let her go, yet she couldn't. She was too tired, too scared. Her tearful eyes merely stared at the cobbles as they passed by, her body draped over the shoulder of a guard.

Carmen awoke in a damp cell. Linet, Lucy, Helen and two younger girls, Odile and Marie were with her. She struggled to move, her hands shackled to the wall. She shivered, finding herself kneeling in damp straw, on wet stone. Her dress was gone, her only covering a plain shift.

"So, you're finally awake." Linet spoke softly.

"Where are we?"

"The Palace of Justice." Lucy whispered. "With luck, Clopin will break us out of here. We will likely be burned as witches, otherwise. If we are unlucky, and they want information or a confession, they will torture us first."

"For what reason?"

"Minister Durand wills us out of Paris."

"The Minister may also hold you as bait, to tempt your bell-ringer out of hiding."

"Quasimodo could be anywhere."

"It matters not to the Minister. If he believes any of us know, he will apply torture for his answer."