Hi there! Thanks for still bearing with me. Apologies to those who have disliked this story thus far. Further apologies to those who have liked this story and have been waiting FOREVER for an update! Well done to Spaztic Arwen for spotting the link to the novel.
A Merry Christmas to you all!
Esmeralda walked through the private apartments, looking for Frollo whilst still feeling nauseous over the prepared speech in her hand. Frollo was never going to become her ideal man, but she was aware of her obligation to marry him now that he asked in return for the gypsies' freedom. Finally, after half an hour of searching, she headed down to the stables, aware that they would soon have to leave for the palace and that Frollo could be down there preparing for the journey.
Frollo paced the floor of the dungeons irritably. He had been informed of Phoebus' intention to marry some months before when Monsieur DeLys, Fleur's father, had begged that Phoebus be allowed to return to Paris for the ceremony. Frollo also knew that it had been a mistake to hide that knowledge from Esmeralda. He had hoped that over time her feelings towards him may warm and that she could one day love him. Cursing himself as a fool, Frollo stalked down to the cells to amuse himself with the macabre sight of the imprisoned.
Waiting in the carriage for Frollo, Esmeralda read through his speech one last time before folding it and placing it safely in a pocket. It was becoming more difficult for her to remember how cruel Frollo had been only a year ago. He had changed and she knew that her influence had been the catalyst, but still could not accept that this change was permanent – she kept expecting to return to the Palace of Justice one day and find he had killed every last gypsy. His kindness towards her aside, the people of Paris had also noticed the reduction in violent punishments for crimes over the last year. Some were even saying that Frollo had lost his touch and Paris was likely to suffer from increased crime due to this more lenient approach. Of course, while the gypsies understood their precarious predicament and did not dare to commit any crime, the other criminal elements in Paris were waiting to take advantage of any situation. From across the courtyard, Esmeralda heard a group of children playing and singing on the other side of the wall. To stave off boredom and pass the time until Frollo's reappearance, she descended from the carriage and walked over to the gate, the better to listen to their song.
Frollo peered through the gloom of one of the cells at the prostrate man groaning in agony amongst the filthy straw. The man was a spy from England, caught amongst the throng of merchants that had arrived a month earlier. Frollo had slightly more sympathy with spies than he did with gypsies – he could at least admire their desire to serve their country. He opened the cell door and kneeled next to the groaning man, throwing water over him to bring him to his senses.
"I ask you again – who sent you? Was it the King?" The spy spat at Frollo in response, curling into a ball as he hugged his pained stomach. Frollo repeated the question in English, but still received no response. He had been asked by the King of France himself to report this spy's intention within Paris, but had thus far been unable to ascertain the man's mission despite numerous torture and interrogation sessions. Standing, his patience wearing thin, Frollo kicked out at the spy and turned to leave with a snarl. Without warning, the spy lashed out and tripped Frollo, who fell awkwardly onto the cell floor.
"Guards!" shouted Frollo as he felt the spy crawl onto his back, pummelling his fists into Frollo's skull. So he was feigning illness, thought Frollo. How ridiculous for me to fall for that trick. Perhaps I am losing my touch. Frollo jerked backwards, elbowing the spy off him and rolling to take the spy's throat in his hands. "Guards!" The man's nails dug into Frollo's face and he shrieked as the spy's foot made contact with his leg. A fist flew to Frollo's stomach and winded him, causing him to lose his grip. For the next few minutes, Frollo was aware of nothing except the pounding of his heart and an overwhelming urge to stay alive. When the guards arrived, it was to find a bruised and dishevelled Frollo, dagger in hand, standing over the corpse of the English spy.
The children's voices drifted to Esmeralda over the wall.
"I saw a gypsy come dancing by
On All Fools Day, on All Fool's Day,
That gypsy's dancing is divine
By all that's holy I'll make her mine.
I killed for pleasure, tortured for fame,
But then the gypsy kissed me,
And with that I let the gypsies free
And all the thieves besides.
And now my city laughs at me
On All Fools Day, On All Fools Day
My gypsy's fee – the thieves run free!
On All Fool's Day in the morning."
She stiffened as she realised the connotations of the song – Frollo had lost control, and he had a gypsy whore in the Palace of Justice. She had heard the soldiers singing snatches of that song, but they had always become silent when she approached so she had never heard it in its entirety. She had been too naïve to think that no-one would comment on her presence in the Palace of Justice and that no-one would guess Frollo's intentions. The song was ill-composed, but she guessed it had originated from the soldiers and filtered down to the children. Wishing she had never left the carriage, she headed back with a heavy heart. It had not been her intention for the townsfolk to hate her and brand her a whore. Even if that's what she felt she was. Safe in the carriage, she looked out at the walls around her moodily. Perhaps this was why gypsies always moved on and didn't live behind stone walls.
Frollo straightened his hat and looked in the mirror. A shining black eye greeted him and he gave an irritated grunt. Knowing that he could not turn down the king's invitation, he walked down to the carriage, all the while imagining the comments that would be passed at the feast. No matter how hard he had tortured his prisoners, Frollo had never been hit himself – the prisoner always cowering in fear before him. The spy had never cowered, never betrayed his master, the King of England. He had tried to kill Frollo – something unheard of before today. Frollo was always armed to the teeth, but rarely needed the sword or dagger he carried. Not only was he now in need of those weapons, but people were starting to lose respect for him as well. Pulling himself up into the carriage, he regarded Esmeralda and wondered what comment she would make. He watched as her eyes widened in shock as she noticed the black eye. Summoning the driver, Frollo barked out the command to head to the King's Palace.
"What happened?" asked Esmeralda.
"The spy I told you about. He tried to kill me."
"Where is he now?"
"Dead."
"You ordered the guards to kill him? But you know the King wanted him alive!" Esmeralda kept looking at Frollo and he started to panic. She was right, of course, he had disobeyed orders. Then again, he would be dead right now and the King would have lost a Minister Of Justice, not just a prisoner.
"No, I killed him in self-defence." Even the King couldn't argue with that, thought Frollo.
"Why were you in the cell? I thought you'd walked off to get ready." A hundred different excuses jostled for attention in Frollo's mind. The King needed answers. I thought I'd patrol the cells once more today. I heard a disturbance and went to investigate. To his extreme irritation, the truth edged forward. You hurt me, and I needed to pass that hurt on to someone I thought would not fight back.
"The King needed to know why the spy was here." Frollo let the lie slip and sat back, closing his eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to have her believe the lie, rather than admit that his base instincts had once again broken through his calm exterior. Esmeralda sat quietly, knowing that the King would be angry with Frollo's actions. She decided to lighten the mood and reached into her pocket, bringing out the speech.
"You dropped this," she half-whispered, passing over the paper with a smile. Frollo took the speech, ripped it in half and dropped it to the floor.
"I don't need it anymore. I take it you read it?"
"Yes. I don't understand – why don't you need it?"
"Because I don't expect to hold my position in the city for very much longer. I will be unable to honour my side of our bargain. You are free to go." He hammered on the wall of the carriage behind him and shouted to the driver to stop. He rose, opened the door of the carriage and dropped to the ground, reaching up a hand to help Esmeralda to descend.
"But my people…"
"Rest assured, while I remain as Minister of Justice, they will not be harmed. Goodbye Esmeralda." He lifted the gypsy down, staring blankly ahead as he deposited a bag of coins into her hand. "Buy a house, a farm, or take the money to your people. Make sure I never see you again." Frollo entered the carriage and the driver cracked his whip. Within moments, Esmeralda was alone on the streets of Paris with more money than she ever thought she'd see. She thought for a few seconds, then ran to the cathedral.
Frollo arrived at the King's Palace and looked around. He was used to attracting covetous stares from the crowd, knowing each lord envied the attention lavished on him by Esmeralda. He had been blind to the danger of appearing weak, thinking that his more lenient approach had gone unnoticed given that the crime rate had not risen. In reality, the crimes committed by non-gypsies had doubled, while crimes committed by gypsies had all but stopped. There was a different atmosphere in the room tonight – he could feel predatory stares from his fellow justices and saw some nobles obviously enjoying a joke at his expense. The realisation hit Frollo as he milled through the crowd – he was not walking out of the Palace tonight. He had let the crime rate effectively rise, he had become a laughing stock. His high principles had been exposed as hypocrisy and the King's trust in him had waned. He saw the King ahead of him, beckoning Frollo to his side. Frollo moved forward, feeling drunk with fear. He bowed and waited for the monarch to speak.
"Minister Frollo, how wonderful that you managed to attend."
"It is my pleasure to be in your company, your majesty."
"May I ask what happened to your eye?" Frollo looked up at the king, averting his eyes only slightly from his face.
"I had hoped we might discuss that in private sire. It concerns the English gentleman we are both acquainted with." The king nodded, almost imperceptibly, and signalled for Frollo to follow him. Once clear of the ballroom, the King turned to Frollo and stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Frollo felt the king's eyes boring through him and hoped against experience that the king would not notice when he lied. If he had to lie, of course. He decided to keep his explanation brief.
"I was in the spy's cell trying to extract information pertaining to his mission when he attacked me sire. I had no alternative but to kill him."
"Did you not think to call the guards?"
"I did sire, twice, but they did not come in time."
"I wonder why…" the king turned his back on Frollo and examined a table laden with food. "It seems Frollo that you do not hold my orders in high enough regard."
"Of course I do! I have spent my life serving you your majesty! Nothing is of more importance to me than your happiness sire."
"Apart from your life, it would appear." The king turned to Frollo with another fixed stare.
"You mean I should have allowed him to kill me sire?" Frollo stood aghast, unwilling to accept this.
"No Frollo. I mean you should have been more careful. How dare you lie and say the guards did not respond? We all know the tortures you force your prisoners to endure. You took it too far and killed the man. Father warned me of your lust for blood."
"Sire I assure you there is no lie in what I have told you." Frollo backed away as the King advanced on him.
"Guards!"
"Please, sire, I beg you…" Four guards appeared noiselessly from behind a curtain. Frollo was not surprised to find one of them was Captain Phoebus. It seemed Fate was enjoying a joke at his expense tonightas well.
"Take him to the Palace of Justice. Better yet – imprison him here where his gypsy whore cannot be tempted to set him free." Frollo stood rigid as the guards advanced.
"What will happen to me sire?"
"Perhaps I shall let you go. It is not your fault that age has made you incompetent. Banishment is the traditional punishment for aristocratic lunacy. Or perhaps I shall have you killed. I would do well to remember your behaviour since you took in that gypsy. It would be a fitting example for the people of Paris to see the chaste, virtuous Minister of Justice punished for his crimes. You must excuse me Frollo. I have to go and promote Judge Bourbon to your former position. Perhaps he will be able to reverse the damage you have done to this city." The King swept out of the room. Frollo went numb as he was escorted down to the dungeons and barely noticed when he was thrown into a cell.
Hours passed and the cell grew darker with the coming of night. Frollo gave a silent thanks to God for making him think to drop Esmeralda off and not take her to the Palace. He hoped she would not try to return to the Palace of Justice and that she would remain out of sight. He lay back awkwardly on the bench that was serving as a temporary bed. He sifted through the King's conversation in his mind. It had seemed dreadfully staged, as though the king already knew what had happened. But that would be impossible, unless there was a spy inside the Palace of Justice. Frollo sat up. Assuming there was a spy in the Palace of Justice, then the king would know that Frollo had shouted for help. Unless of course… Frollo gave a small laugh that had nothing to do with humour. He'd been set up. Someone, one of the nobles perhaps, had disapproved of his better treatment of the gypsies and decided to take revenge. She really did cloud my judgement, thought Frollo. He lay back again, trying to think of some way out of this situation. Outside his cell, two guards hummed a tuneless dirge as the night drew on.