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Chapter Fifteen
"Here in the Court of Miracles,
Where it's a miracle if you get out alive."
'Court of Miracles', Hunchback of Notre Dame
When Quasimodo and Sancha landed on solid ground again, it was in the cemetery off the Île de la Cité. As he gently set her down amongst the graves, Quasimodo panted, "I think we lost them. You'll be safe here."
"How?" Sancha looked around the crudely carved and lopsided headstones. "We are in an open field."
"Come with me."
Quasimodo grabbed her hand and led her through the gravesites until they came upon a mausoleum, where the intricately carved crypt was overseen by the emblem of a Greek cross.
"This is the Court of Miracles," he said with an unceremonious wave of his hand. "Esmeralda told me earlier what you two talked about… I think it's better for you to hide here, now."
There was an uncharacteristic edge to his voice, something that immediately made Sancha uneasy. Was he angry with her?
"Quasimodo…"
"What?"
The word wasn't necessarily unkind, but it came out quick and stoic. It was hard to see his expression in the darkness, but Sancha could tell he wasn't looking at her. Her heart began to sink a little.
"Mi alma, I – "
"Sancha, why did you leave the church?" he asked suddenly, cutting her off. "You relinquished your claim to sanctuary for good. You… I… You were nearly taken away…"
He almost whispered the last word. Heat bloomed over Sancha's cheeks, and tears threatened with a sting at the back of her eyes. "They had you, Quasimodo… I could not allow them to take you from me. It was the only way to save your life."
"But what about your life?" Quasimodo asked. He finally looked at her, and though there was hardly any light in the graveyard, his eyes appeared to shimmer. "You could have been killed. Why did you – ?"
"Because I love you," Sancha interrupted. Her voice echoed through the cemetery, and everything, even the wind, appeared to fall silent. She hurriedly wiped at her eyes and held Quasimodo's gaze in the darkness as best as she could.
"That is the answer to your 'why'," she continued, quietly. "I love you, and I would rather died than see you fall to the Inquisition."
Neither of them moved as the gravity of her words settled over them. After a beat, Sancha rushed over and threw her arms around him. Quasimodo caught her, and Sancha didn't see the tears slip from his eyes, or the dazed look on his face. She only felt his arms come around her and hold her protectively against him.
"I'm sorry, mi alma," she sobbed, her voice muffled. "But I couldn't allow them to have you… I can't bear the thought, not after…"
Quasimodo hushed her gently and drew away from her. Quickly rubbing the tears out of his own eyes, he smiled at her and held her steady by the shoulders. With a gentle hand, he brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and said in a hoarse whisper, "It's okay, Sancha. I'm sorry, too."
She sniffed. "Tavera will be looking for the two of us, now."
"You don't have to worry about that," Quasimodo told her softly, cupping her cheek. "You'll be safe in the Court of Miracles; he won't know where to look."
Sancha looked up at the mausoleum and blinked. "Pero, that is only a grave. How…?"
She trailed off when Quasimodo gripped the top of the tomb and pushed it aside. The girl gasped and recoiled when the slab fell away to reveal a seemingly endless abyss.
"This is the entrance," the bell ringer explained. "Stay by the staircase, and don't wander off into the tunnels. I'm going to find a light for you. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Sancha tried in vain to keep the trepidation off her face. After narrowly avoiding what she thought was certain death, the last thing she wanted to do was crawl down into a dark crypt. Furthermore, she didn't like the idea of Quasimodo running off through the city with Tavera on the loose.
Still, what other choice did she have? With a deep breath, she took her first step into the grave.
"Hurry back," she said to him, unable to keep her voice from wavering. "And be careful. If Tavera finds you again…"
"He won't. I promise," Quasimodo assured her.
A cloud moved over the moon, blotting out whatever light remained in the cemetery. In the near darkness, Sancha felt him cage her face with his hands, his thumb running down her cheek. "Please, stay hidden until it's safe," he said. "For a moment back there, I thought I lost you. I don't want to ever lose you…"
With a lump in her throat, Sancha stood on her tiptoes and circled her arms around his neck, her lips finding his in the darkness. Despite the threat of a chase on their heels, she took her time and only broke off the kiss when she felt ready.
"You will not lose me," she murmured. "Not now, and not ever."
With that, she retreated down the stairs and into the shadows. Sancha stayed at the bottom of the steps, the unending abyss at her back, and watched Quasimodo move the top of the tomb back over the opening. As darkness cut across her face, Sancha said, "I hope you understand that I was serious about what I said before… I meant those words…"
Quasimodo paused, peering down at her through the half-covered entrance. The cloud that was covering the moon moved away and tossed a measure of light into the crypt. Sancha watched as the young man's expression softened, his eyes both terribly sad and deliriously happy at the same time.
"I know," he murmured. "I love you too, Sancha."
The girl's heart leapt, and she nearly reached out for him again. But, she restrained herself, hugging her arms as Quasimodo sealed the entrance again. Darkness engulfed her, and as she stared into nothingness, only her shallow breaths and his words kept the ghosts that lurked at bay.
XXX
The sound of a horse's hooves striking the cobalt stones drew Esmeralda from her caravan. At first, she thought it was Phoebus, returning from a horse trade deal in the next town over with other men. Instead, she rounded the corner to see Grand Inquisitor Tavera speed through an intersection on a skittish-looking draught horse. She watched him go, red robes streaming behind him in their wake.
Esmeralda's stomach dropped as her intuition immediately told her something had happened to either Quasimodo or Sancha. Ignoring the dangers of venturing out into the night, she ran back to her living quarters, grabbed Djali, threw a cloak over them both, and tried to calmly make her way to Notre Dame. Thankfully, she was camped out only a few blocks away from the cathedral and made it there, undetected, in no time.
She didn't know what she was expecting to find at Notre Dame, but it certainly wasn't the scene she was met with: The doors to the grand church stood wide open, a mouth gaping in incredulity at the horse-less prison carriage and the abandoned harness with its sad, torn stays. The squire boy was leaning against the carriage, holding his stomach, and the archdeacon was on the steps, consoling a hysterical Madame de Beaumont.
"They couldn't have gone far," the clergyman was saying. "There's nothing we can do about it right now, madame."
"There has to be something!" the woman screeched, angrily wiping away her tears. "I will not have my granddaughter fall into that m-monster's hands again, and if I find out your bell ringer has taken off with her for good, I swear…"
Esmeralda recoiled back into the shadows, covering a gasp. Djali made a concerned noise at the back of his throat. Whatever had happened, Cardinal Tavera was enraged, and Sancha and Quasimodo weren't in the bell tower anymore. Esmeralda could only think of one other place they could be.
Well-concealed in shadows, the gypsy girl shrugged off her cloak and put the goat down. After throwing the garment back over her shoulders, she murmured, "Come on, Djali", and took off at a run down the street. Djali clip-clopped at her heels, following her to the only other entrance to the Court of Miracles in Paris. Neither noticed that Juan, who was consumed by thoughts of redeeming himself before Tavera, noticed their retreat down the alleyway…
XXX
Melancholic humming echoed through the catacombs as Sancha sang to herself. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she gazed into the abyss of the crypt and willed whatever was in the dark to stay far from her. The atmosphere was all-consuming and oppressive, and each second that passed felt like an eternity.
She trailed off when a dim light began to glow somewhere down the stairs. At first, Sancha thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but as the light grew, she also heard footsteps. Assuming it was Quasimodo, she held her breath and crept towards the light source with outstretched hands.
But when she rounded the corner, a pair of luminous emerald eyes were there to meet her instead of the expectant blue-grey.
"Esmeralda?" Sancha gasped.
The gypsy girl came to an abrupt halt, her free hand over her heart and Djail's nose peeking out from behind her skirts. The other hand held a torch, illuminating the narrow corridor in which they stood. The stone walls were lined with the grinning skulls of Paris's dead.
"Sancha!" she murmured. "Are you all right? Where's Quasi?"
She told Esmeralda a short version of Quasimodo's capture by Tavera and her voluntary relinquishment of Notre Dame's sanctuary. Even recounting the events out loud sounded unreal in Sancha's ears.
Esmeralda sighed when the girl's story came to an end. "Thank God you're both okay," she said softly. "We should go back to the cemetery entrance. Quasimodo should be here in no time."
She stepped around Sancha and touched her shoulder in a gentle, guiding gesture. The hair on the back of Sancha's neck immediately stood on end, but not because of the contact. A wave of dread washed over her, and when Djali gave an alarming bleat, the two women looked over their shoulders just in time to see a blade swing for them.
"¡Cuidado!"* Sancha screamed. She grabbed Esmeralda and pulled her out of the way, but the girl wasn't fast enough to avoid getting nicked by the weapon. Searing pain cut through her sleeve and into her flesh, pulling a feral cry from her throat. Amidst the chaos, Esmeralda dropped the torch on the ground, the firelight revealing the twisted, lunatic face of Tomas de Tavera.
He swung again, wildly and inaccurately. Sancha and Esmeralda separated to dodge the attack, and Tavera's sword struck the wall of skulls behind them. A severe oath echoed through the catacombs, and as he struggled to free his blade, Esmeralda grabbed the fallen torch and Sancha's uninjured arm.
"Run!"
Sancha followed her friend. Skulls clattered to the floor in their wake as Tavera freed his blade, but she didn't dare look over her shoulder. Just as she had done back in Toledo, she ran. She ran through the dark, twisting tunnels with Esmeralda and Djali. She rushed headlong into uncertainty, terrified for her life. Even as they lost Tavera in the maze of tunnels, even as the wound in her arm seeped and burned, Sancha only concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could.
XXX
The top of the tomb groaned in protest Quasimodo pushed the slab aside with his free hand. The fire of the lantern he held warmed his face and beaded sweat upon his brow. The journey to and from Notre Dame has been fraught with close calls, and every step he took seemed to slow him down. He peered down into the darkness, wishing only to see Sancha's face again and confirm that she was okay.
But, as the slab fell away from its usual position to reveal an empty staircase, Quasimodo's apprehension froze over into cold dread. He flew down the stairs, lantern held high, calling Sancha's name. After rounding the corner to find the antechamber empty, panic rose in his stomach and closed up his throat. He was just starting to see spots when something crunched underfoot and broke him out the spell.
Quasimodo lifted his foot to see the shattered remains of a human cranium scattered over the ground. Crying out in disgust, he recoiled and lifted the lantern again. The wall of remains before him had been disturbed by some force, some skulls cleaved in two, some cracked, and others completely fallen away from their rightful resting place.
Horrified, the bell ringer dropped his gaze, where he noticed something worse than disturbed graves: A splash of bright red on the floor, not far off from the ruined wall. A trail of droplets led the way down the corridor.
He didn't even have to wonder if the worst had happened. Quasimodo bolted down the passageway and ran blindly through the catacombs, overtaken by the panic that had threatened earlier. Sancha's name left his lips in frantic shouts, each echo louder than the last.
XXX
Sancha didn't remember the exact moment when the torch went out. All she knew was that she was running ahead of Esmeralda, and then the light behind her burned out. With a hiss of pain from the gypsy, something (perhaps the stub of the torch) clattered to the floor, and the two women's panting filled the abyss that engulfed them.
"E-Esmeralda – "
"Keep going."
Sancha nearly screamed when a hand grabbed her elbow, but when she realized it was only her friend leading her, she clamped her lips shut. Slowly, the two of them made their way down the corridor, the tapping of Esmeralda's free hand on the stone walls ringing through the empty space. Sancha jumped when one tap was followed by a thunderous grinding sound.
"Stay here," Esmeralda whispered as she turned Sancha around and gently pushed her forward. "I'm going to find Quasimodo."
Before Sancha could ask where she was being left, the grinding sound interrupted her, and as soon the sound faded into the air, she understood that she had been separated from Esmeralda. She was alone in the crypt once again.
With a shaky breath, Sancha turned and immediately tripped down a set of unseen stairs. As she flew down the steps, something tangled around her ankle and pulled. She landed hard on the unforgiving floor, grinding her chin into the roughhewn stone. Hissing in pain, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and touched the point of contact. When she drew her hand away, she saw her fingertips were slick with blood.
It took her a moment of stunned silence before realizing how she could even see that she was bleeding.
With a gasp, Sancha raised her head and saw several oil lamps hanging from a high, vaulted ceiling. Fire blazed in their recesses, throwing light down onto the expansive space before her. Sancha looked back at her trapped leg and saw a tangled cord leading from her ankle up to the oil lamp near the secret door. A hunk of flint and rusty axe balanced precariously from the rope, positioned carefully against the metal lamp. Sancha quickly freed herself and got to her feet.
The chamber she had fallen into was nearly as big as the square at Notre Dame. As she took in her surroundings, she knew immediately this was the Court of Miracles proper. The sight made her heart ache: Overturned tables littered the floor, torn curtain hung motionless from the ceiling, and waves of personal belongings spilled from half-destroyed caravans.
Sancha moved slowly and soundlessly through the Court, gazing around at the destruction, wondering how many people had once occupied the place. She shuddered, haunted by a strange sense of déjà vu. She knew what had happened here; Quasimodo had told her. Just as Tavera had swept through her judería, Frollo had ransacked the Court last year and arrested everyone he and his men could catch.
A raised platform off to the side caught her eye. Sancha looked up to see the gallows towering over her, two nooses waiting silently for a pair of necks. She swallowed over the lump in her throat and closed her eyes. Though her chin and arm throbbed, nothing hurt worse than the ache in her chest.
The grinding of stone pierced the silence without warning. Sancha spun around, believing for just a moment that Judge Claude Frollo would materialize there and attempt to arrest her.
Instead, the deranged expression of Tomas de Tavera emerged from the shadows. With his sword drawn, he made his way down the stairs. His teeth ground together, and his dark brown bangs fell into his bulging, bloodshot eyes.
"Thought you could run forever, puta?" he said, his voice hoarse. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. "I've got you now."
* "¡Cuidado!" : "Watch out!"
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