E: Her conscience tore her into a million tiny pieces. Were it only her life on the line, she would have dug in her heels and preferred to die in her dignity. But could she, with a clear conscience, sacrifice her child's life as easily as her own?
If she betrayed the minister, she would be a hero to her people, and she and her child would have a home.
So she had sacrificed the minister's life for their baby's safety.
Perhaps this too was not a morally acceptable choice—but what options did she have? Tears ran down her face as they walked. Esmerelda had never intended to get caught up in this mess. Her life's work was that of an entertainer, and poking fun at authority figures was a good way to earn the admiration of the common folk. As stiff and cold as Frollo was, poking fun at him was all the better. Plus, he really needed to be put in his place. Frollo's ego was too big to fit inside the cathedral of Notre Dame.
One fateful evening as she was poking fun at him at the Boar's Head, he got clever and invited her to give a private performance at the Palace of Justice. Immediately Esmerelda realized her mistake, but it was too late. The sanest option was to have not kept the appointment and to have ceased to publicly mock him; of course, that was exactly what he wanted, her to bow in frightened obedience.
So she went to the palace of justice—alone, because she knew that Clopin would stop her if he knew of her intent. And it was there, locked away in the chapel, that she unexpectedly was able to see a completely different side of the Minister of Justice, one that he never showed to the public.
Everything was perfect, until she woke up beside him the next morning and started to rethink her actions. But by then, it was too late.
And now, her own hand had been forced to turn against the man she loved.
Clopin led them outside the palace and into the streets. His face brightened at once as he surveyed his ecstatic subjects. "Today will be the most exciting day of your lives!" he shouted. "Today, justice is going to be served! So, tell me, how do we want him served—boiled or fried?"
The crowd howled with laughter. Frollo gave no indication that he heard, or cared.
"Roasted, toasted, and fried!" a voice shouted back at them. More laughter from the crowd as Clopin nodded eagerly, turning away from his captive. "Burn him! Burn him alive!"
"He won't even know when he's dead!" another voice echoed. "He'll go right from one fire into the next one!"
Clopin suddenly doubled over, blood blossoming on his loud clothing. The minister had shed his handcuffs and was reaching for the gypsy, most likely trying to retrieve his dagger, when one of the gypsies struck him with a pole. Frollo spun around, grabbed the pole, forced the wielder to topple into one of his kinsmen.
Esmeralda could predict how this would finish. The minister may have been skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but he was sorely outnumbered and he'd lost his dagger. Some of the wiser gypsies dragged Clopin away from the brawl and into a wagon to have his wound tended.
It was time to take charge of the situation. Esmeralda shouldered her way into the thick of the fight. "LET HIM GO!" she demanded.
Eyes stared at her in shock. "I said, let him go," she repeated. "I am Clopin's younger sister, and therefore I am your leader whenever Clopin is incapacitated. You will let Frollo go."
"What? Why?" The scowls deepened on their faces.
Esmeralda's own face tightened. "Many a time I have heard you curse at him, wish he would give our people a chance instead of laying down the law left and right. Are you going to treat him the exact same way? Execute him without a trial? Look, this is our chance to prove to him that we are not savages. We want to work with him. If he is as righteous as he claims, he will devote himself immediately to getting all of us citizenship as soon as we release him."
"She speaks the truth." Surprised eyes turned at the minister's calm voice. "I am the defender of the law and your legal protector. Killing me would be a grave mistake, I must warn you. I make no guarantees that my successor will be as capable as I."
Way to go, Claude. Only you would flatter yourself while trying to talk your way out of an execution.
The citizens of Paris, having noticed the commotion, were beginning to gather around. Gypsies' eyes looked from the princess, to the judge, to each other.
"He's tricked you." A gypsy spoke up from the crowd.
With the silence broken, others voiced their agreement. "You aren't thinking clearly, Esmerelda." "Clopin would not accept this, and neither will we." "You're a traitor; he's turned you!"
The initial spokesman raised his voice again. "Don't listen to her! She's got more bats in her brain than would fit in the belltower of Notre Dame!" The crowd whooped in agreement. The gypsy, a heavy-set man, stepped forward to stare down the minister.
Claude maintained his calm demeanor, refusing to move a muscle.
Realizing that he was not winning, the big gypsy cleared his throat and tried a different approach. "Your time is up, O Mighty One. Any last requests, Your Humiliatedness?" The crowd snickered at the leering man's choice of words to address the Minister of Justice.
*******
F: When Esmerelda stepped up to defend him, the minister immediately forgave her betrayal. It was obvious that she had been coerced, and was now doing her best to undo the damage she had been forced to perform. He even kept his cool when Esmeralda began to indirectly order him around: "If he is as righteous as he claims, he will devote himself immediately to getting all of us citizenship as soon as we release him."
That was uncalled for, but I am a prudent man and will wait until later to correct her.
Unfortunately, Esmerelda's clan did not share her common sense. That big oaf who had been the first to speak up now came forward and tried to stare down the minister. This was a grave mistake on that poor fool's part. Frollo kept his cool under the leering stare; the oaf's plan backfired on him, and he tried a different approach before he embarrassed himself by cowering.
"Your time is up, O Mighty One. Any last requests, Your Humiliatedness?"
Your Humiliatedness? Seriously? Only an extreme idiot would butcher a word so hideously in attempt to make fun of the judge's title.
Calmly, the Minister of Justice slipped a ring from one of his fingers and knelt in front of Esmerelda. "My last request," he said calmly, "is your hand in marriage."
