A/N: Hello, dear reader. I feel like I owe you an apology: I've tried to upload chapters on a weekly basis, but this one got away from me because this chapter required more editing than usual, and the holidays in general just made things way busier for me. In any case, please enjoy this last chapter (excluding an upcoming epilogue) of "The Jewess of Toledo"!

Chapter Sixteen

"Voca me cum benedictis

Confutatis maledictis

Gere curam mei finis"

'And He Shall Smite the Wicked', Hunchback of Notre Dame

Sancha backed away, her heart slamming into her chest. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, but she didn't know where to go. Her eyes stung.

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you doing this?"

Tavera didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his pace and advanced on Sancha. His eyes glazed over as he levelled his sword at her neck.

Sancha dodged the attack at the last minute. The blade struck the floor, sending up a handful of sparks from the stones. Tavera shouted something unintelligible as Sancha hid behind a dusty old caravan.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed. "You expelled the last Jew from Toledo! What more do you want!?"

Tavera swung blindly in the direction of her voice. His weapon crashed into the side of the wagon, causing the whole thing to shudder. Splinters exploded over her head.

"You're a murderess!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the Court. "I want you dead!"

Sancha ducked and ran towards the gallows, where four massive posts supported the platform above her head. She hid behind one and watched Tavera whip his head around, looking for her. Sadly, the inquisitor's accusation wormed its way into her heart, and Sancha forgot to bite her tongue.

"You are the murderer," she screamed. "You killed my parents!"

"They killed my son!"

He stormed over towards the gallows. Sancha made a run for it again but found herself up against another wall. She was trapped.

"They did not!" she cried. "And neither did I!"

She knelt and fumbled on the ground, her eyes on Tavera's advancing figure. Her hands searched for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. He was coming up on her fast.

"My boy was found dead and bloodless in the forest. Explain that to me, Jewess."

"I don't know what happened!" Her seeking hands found nothing. "None of us did!"

Tavera's shadow loomed large over the wall and overtook her crouched form. Sancha made another attempt at escape, but this time, she wasn't fast enough. Tavera grabbed her injured arm, ignoring her anguished cry, and held his sword against her throat. His eyes bored into hers, and Sancha felt her pulse push against the sharp end of the blade.

"So typical of your kind to lie your way out of crimes," Tavera muttered through clenched teeth. "But I know the truth, and as the sins of the father shall be thrust upon the son, mine and my family's souls are still at risk as long as even one Jew lives. Understand that I am trying to pay my dues. You, too, will pay for what you've done, Sancha Bat Avram, tonight and for eternity."

Sancha squeezed her eyes shut, a pair of tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please… Please, don't do this…"

The blade pushed warningly against her neck. Sancha's mind reeled, and she didn't dare move or even swallow. All she could heard was the heavy, slow breathing of Tavera, whose face was inches from hers. The anticipation was so awful, she almost wished he would just cut her throat and get it over with.

"I'm a fair man, señorita…"

The sound of his voice almost made her jump. Sancha opened her eyes to see he had turned from her and was smiling up at the gallows. "And I mete out fair punishment, as well. As clergy are forbidden to spill blood, I don't intend to break such a commandment tonight…"

Before she could blink her tears away, Tavera stepped behind her, his sword still angled against her throat. He pinned her lacerated arm behind her back, and muttered one command in her ear:

"Move."

XXX

Quasimodo didn't quite remember how he ran into Esmeralda and Djali. One moment, he was racing blindly through the catacombs, and the next, they were in front of him. The gypsy was holding her own lantern high above her head, the freshly lit firelight reflecting back a sharp alertness in her eyes. He didn't even question why she was in the catacombs in the first place; he was too scared to wonder about it.

"Quasi – " Esmeralda started, but he spoke at the same time as her.

"He's got her – Tavera's got Sancha – I – "

"Quasimodo," Esmeralda said softly but urgently, laying a hand on his arm. "I led her to the old Court; she's safe, but we're exposed in these tunnels. Follow me, and we'll – "

A scream pierced darkness and echoed somewhere within the catacombs. The two friends froze for a second as they came to the same conclusion: That was Sancha's voice, and she sounded like she was in danger.

"Come on!"

Quasimodo grabbed Esmeralda's hand and made a move to run down the pathway into darkness. The only reason he stopped was because he felt her pull away.

"This way," Esmeralda said as she tugged him in the opposite direction. "Hurry!"

Trusting her to know the way, Quasimodo turned on his heel and took off with Esmeralda and Djali, trying desperately to outrun the dread of being too late to save the woman he loved.

XXX

Tavera walked Sancha up the steps to the gallows and underneath the lowest hanging noose. He slipped it over her head, ignoring her pleas for mercy, and stepped back when the rope was secure. Sancha stared out at the Court below, hardly believing she was about to die alone in the catacombs of Paris.

Returning the sword to its scabbard, Tavera stepped back, cleared his throat, and recited the words he had been practicing for months now.

"Sancha Bat Avram, you stand before me tonight having been found guilty of the crimes of blood libel, Marranism, resisting arrest, and possessing substances that – "

"Esmeralda!" Sancha screamed. "Quasimodo!"

The strike came out of nowhere, but the back of Tavera's hand landed a blow so hard on her cheek, her head spun. He glared down at her with such contempt, it nearly hurt more than the slap.

"Silence," he snarled. "I give you a chance to hear your sentences and recant, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Go to hell," Sancha spat.

Tavera reached up and tugged slightly on the rope. Sancha's breath hitched as the cord tightened around her neck.

"Odd," he murmured coolly. "Your father said that too, before I put him to the strappado."

In that moment, Sancha thought she was going to be sick. She stared at Tavera in horror, and had it not been for the rope around her neck, she would have lunged at him.

"Now," Tavera said, reaching for the nearby lever. "Give your parents my best when you meet them again in hell."

Sancha squeezed her eyes shut. In the darkness, a face floated before her. First, it was the dark, bearded face of her father. Then, Avram's visage morphed into the fair, blonde image of her mother. Finally, Jeanne's image faded and gave way to Quasimodo's skewed but kind smile. Seeing him, Sancha sobbed aloud.

I love you, she thought. I love you all.

She braced herself, preparing for the floor to fall out from beneath her feet.

But, it never came.

Tavera's choked-out exclamation made her eyes snap open again. She watched in amazement as the second noose flew over his head and tightened, as if the rope had a will of its own. The sword clattered to the platform as his elbows were drawn back behind him. Over his shoulder, Sancha saw Esmeralda holding the rope, her eyes blazing.

"Say one more word," she warned, "and you'll be able to tell them yourself."

"What in God's – ?" Tavera twisted his body, his eyes wide and disbelieving when she saw a dancer's scarf bound around his wrists in intricate knots. Sancha barely had time to understand what had happened before she saw Quasimodo's hunched figure behind Tavera, securing the last knot. When he looked up at her, Sancha almost wept with relief.

As Esmeralda bent to secure Tavera's ankles with another scarf, the bell ringer ran to help Sancha, using the discarded sword to cut the noose. As soon as the rope fell away from Sancha's neck, she was swept up in Quasimodo's arms, crushed against him until she could barely breathe. Her arm throbbed in protest, but she didn't care. She tightened her embrace, savouring the softness of his hair, the scent of light incense that clung to his clothes, every bend and curve of his body… Things she never thought she would ever experience again.

"Mi alma," she whispered, "how did you find me?"

"We heard you scream," Quasimodo answered, his hand cradling the back of her head. "Esmeralda knew another way in… Oh, Sancha…"

He pressed her head to the dip of his neck, where she planted a soft kiss. They only separated slightly when a crashed erupted from the side of the gallows – Esmeralda had kicked Tavera's sword off the platform, apparently after cutting away the cardinal's own noose. Shred of rope lay forgotten at his bound feet, and Tavera wobbled precariously as he gaped at the three of them.

"And we'll be leaving that way too," Esmeralda said before turning to address Tavera. "You are going to stay here until morning. Someone from the Palace of Justice will eventually come for you, but I can't promise they'll be as nice as us."

Tavera glared at Esmeralda and spat a vile curse at her. He struggled in vain against his restraints as he shouted, "You are a gypsy – You'll never have an audience with the Minister!"

"Maybe not." Esmeralda couldn't keep the smirk off her face. "But I do know the former Captain of the Guard. I'm sure he'll put a good word in."

Tavera continued to pull at his wrists, swearing and dropping half formed sentences. He tried pull an ankle free, but only succeeded in getting his clerical robes tangled in his legs. Esmeralda ignored him and glanced over at her friends. "Sancha, are you all right?"

"Sí," she murmured, rubbing her neck.

"Good. Follow me."

Quasimodo held fast to Sancha's hands as they walked past Tavera, leading her down the stairs after Esmeralda. As they left, the cardinal shouted, "My boy and I will not be damned because of your treachery, Jewess! I'll see to it that you're put to the pyre, just like your mother and father!"

Sancha stopped on the first step and abruptly pulled her hand from Quasimodo's. Before he could say anything, Sancha strode back to the bound and red-faced Tavera. She raised her hand and struck him across the face, just as he had done to her. The slap echoed through the Court of Miracles, like a burst of mocking laughter.

"You damned yourself when you made the first arrest in my judería," Sancha said contemptuously. "Because, while you hunted me and my people, your son's murderer was left to walk free. Should you ever met your boy again, I would beg his forgiveness for your failure to avenge him properly."

She wasn't sure what happened next, but the chaos was preceded by the sound of tearing fabric and the roar of an enraged man. Tavera's hands were suddenly loose, strips of Esmeralda's scarf fluttering from his wrists as he lunged from Sancha.

When his fingers closed over the neck of her dress, the girl stumbled backwards, and her heels met nothing but the stale air. Her scream mingled with cries of her name, and she swung her arms wildly for purchase. Tavera's weight and momentum sent them both over the edge of the platform and sailing through the air.

As they plummeted down Tavera's hands left Sancha's bodice. The world fell in a colourful blur around her, and Sancha completely expected her brains to be dashed on the stones below. Unable to do a thing to stop it, she braced herself, listening to her own cries echo through the chamber.

Instead of stone, though, she landed in pair of strong, warm arms. With a breathy "oof!", she glanced up to see Quasimodo's soft gaze, relief shining in his blue-grey eyes. After realizing she was safe, Sancha choked out a sob and hugged him.

After a moment, she pulled away and looked at the floor, remembering what had happened only seconds ago. There was a pit in her stomach, but she only got to see Tavera's feet splayed on the floor before darkness descended over her gaze.

"Don't look, Sancha," Quasimodo told her, holding his hand to her eyes.

"I-Is he…?" Sancha couldn't finish the sentence, and Quasimodo could only answer with a soft, "Yes."

Footsteps descended the gallows steps, and as Quasimodo turned, he lifted his hand from Sancha's eyes. The girl looked up to see Esmeralda coming down from the platform. As she approached them, she refused to look at what had become of Tavera behind them, her gaze both relieved and a little troubled.

"Are you hurt?" she asked Sancha, softly.

The girl could only shake her head.

"All right. Let's go, before anyone else comes down here."

Esmeralda turned and walked off into the Court, picking her way through the debris. Quasimodo didn't let Sancha back down onto her feet, opting instead to carry her out of the Court of Miracles. Sancha laid her head against his chest, closing her eyes as a surreal sense of calm settled over her. Tavera was gone. He was gone, and he would never terrorize her, or another person, ever again.

She heaved a sigh and listened to the heartbeat of the man she loved. There was no sweeter sound in the world.

"I knew you would protect me," she whispered, both to herself and him.

In response, Quasimodo shifted her weight and laid a kiss on the top of her head. "And I always will."

Stay tuned for the epilogue! As always, thank you so much for reading! :)