I know - it's been far too long. I wrote myself into a corner I could not get out of. I'm sorry, but now without further ado, on with the next chapter.
Phoebus leaned back against the door, drew in a deep breath and surveyed the three outcasts in front of him.
"It's wonderful to see you Esmeralda, but what is going on?"
"I think Frollo's in trouble. Soldiers are rounding up the gypsies even as we speak and some even went into the cathedral after Quasimodo!" Esmeralda looked down at the floor and fought back tears. "He let me out of the carriage on the way to the palace – he knew there was something wrong. I should be there with him now." Her eyes misted, unbidden compassion for Frollo finally breaking through her strong exterior.
"Were you followed?"
"I don't think so. Will you help us Phoebus? Do you know what's going on?" Esmeralda crossed to Phoebus and laid her hand on his arm briefly.
"Take a seat, all of you. I was on duty at the Royal Palace earlier. You are correct, Esme, Frollo is in trouble. The king has disapproved of his actions towards the gypsies for some time. He always shared Frollo's dislike of the gypsies and rejoiced when the minister used to find excuses to persecute them. Of course, over the last year your dear Frollo has allowed the gypsies greater freedoms than they have ever experienced before. This has understandably upset the king, as has the increased crime rate amongst the normal people of Paris."
"Why didn't he say any of this to Frollo? He would have been able to change some of the laws and I could have warned the gypsies to stay away from Paris!"
"It was precisely because you would have warned the gypsies that Frollo's first real warning was tonight. The king and the new Minister Bourbon have been plotting for months about how they could prove Frollo's incompetence, remove him and eradicate the gypsies once and for all. When an English spy was caught near Cologne, they realised they could use the man to break Frollo."
"Frollo said the spy would not give up any information – that he had never seen a man endure torture to that degree without revealing something of his mission." Esmeralda shuddered as she realised what she'd just said.
"And you still have feelings for the man?" asked Clopin, disbelievingly. Phoebus continued, ignoring Clopin.
"The spy had already given up the little information he held when he was imprisoned at Cologne. But Frollo was told that this minor spy was of high importance and to keep him alive at all costs. The poor man was drugged daily by his guards in order that he might never reveal that he had already been interrogated. The king knew that eventually Frollo's patience would crack and that he would kill the man."
"Frollo said he was attacked."
"I wouldn't be surprised. The guards were paid to don black capes and copycat hats in order to impersonate Frollo while torturing the spy. Of course, they also fed the spy well and kept him on a drug-induced high so that one day the spy would turn on Frollo. When he did, they simply ignored Frollo's cries for help until he had killed the spy."
"But Master Frollo could have been killed!" cried Quasimodo. Phoebus shrugged.
"Either way, the king could legitimately replace Frollo as Minister of Justice." There was a long, drawn-out, uncomfortable silence.
"When did you discover the truth?" asked Esmeralda finally.
"Earlier this evening. The king thought it would be fitting if I was one of the four guards who arrested Frollo. He told me everything."
"Where is Frollo now?" asked Clopin.
"Languishing in a prison cell in the Royal Palace. Rescue attempts are not recommended."
"What are we to do?" lamented Esmeralda. "I cannot leave him there to rot! Besides which, if Minister Bourbon is half as efficient as Frollo used to be, all the gypsies will be dead by morning – none of them are really adept at hiding anymore!"
"I fail to see what you think I can do to help," Phoebus sunk onto a chair. "The king will be attending my marriage at 11 o'clock tomorrow morning. And Fleur would kill me if I wasn't there."
"Eleven?" Clopin looked thoughtful.
"Yes, why?"
"I take it, given Mademoiselle DeLys' standing and her father's influence, many of the aristocracy will be at the church as well?"
"Yes. St Martins – about a quarter of an hour's carriage ride from the Royal Palace." Phoebus leaned closer to Clopin.
"I suppose many of the soldiers will be occupied with security then, given His Royal Highness will be there?" Clopin gave a slow grin as he continued. "Which means the security around the palace will be lowered."
"You realise it is unlikely that Frollo will be allowed to return as Minister of Justice, don't you? By the time we rescue him, Bourbon will have complete control of Paris," interrupted Quasimodo.
"That depends Quasi. Bourbon's father was once head of a street gang and that is the only reason his family has money. And Bourbon makes a habit of visiting the red-light district every Saturday. He has kept his clandestine antics hidden from most of the aristocracy however and I doubt the king is aware of them." Esmeralda looked up, a new brightness entering her eyes as she realised the usefulness of the information.
"How do you know this?" asked Clopin. Esmeralda smiled.
"Frollo has spies everywhere. Most of them are my friends however I guess that Bourbon and the king must have evaded them while plotting against Frollo."
"Alright. We know what we have to do," said Clopin, exhaling as he relaxed. "Phoebus – we need to hide here tonight. Is that alright with you?" Phoebus nodded. "Excellent. Tomorrow Phoebus will go and marry Fleur DeLys and live happily every after. If we are caught, we do not mention the good captain's part in this and of course Phoebus as far as you are concerned, you never saw us. This is what we are going to do next…"
Frollo suddenly found he had a longing to throw himself at the door and beg for mercy. He didn't know whether it was some kind of programmed reaction to being locked inside a prison cell, or whether he just felt like some exercise. The sun was attempting to invade through the small, grilled window. He was losing some of his sanity, he was sure of it. There was no other explanation for the elation he felt at realising that even the sun could not break into the prison he designed with the former king. He wondered if this was why it was usually so easy to break a prisoner to obtain a confession. He was almost ready to confess to lunacy after only one night – how about after a week of this? Or a month? On top of everything, his black eye had come out fully by now and was throbbing with pain. Frollo picked up a stone and threw it at the wall, watching as it bounced back. He repeated the action a few times, feeling oddly soothed as if this was how one survived such a situation.
The sun rose higher in the sky. Outside, the guards changed and rather than being the humming sort, they were the sing tunelessly sort. After hearing "I saw a gypsy come dancing by" once, he sat and fumed about the implications of the song and realised that he should have allowed his relationship with Esmeralda to be more public in order that the gossip-mongerers would not have branded her a whore and rather his consort. He wouldn't have been the first minister to take a low-class wife. After the second time of hearing the song, he started plotting revenge on that bastard Bourbon. After the third, he started to watch the small square of sunlight move across the floor as the sun rose higher. Somewhere, water was dripping. The guards seemed to never tire of the song and as it was sung for the fourth time Frollo tried to concentrate on the dripping water instead. During the fifth rendition, he tried willing himself deaf.
It was while the guards were droning the song for the tenth time that Frollo realised there was a change in the lyrics. They were attempting to make the song cruder, adding more explicit lyrics with each line. Frollo listened to his language being tortured and raped in the corridor outside and wished for a quick death within the next five minutes. Then there was silence. I've gone deaf, thank you God, oh thank you. Frollo smiled insanely. The smile froze as one of the guards coughed and started talking.
"What rhymes with luck?" Frollo cringed. He willed himself not to hear the inevitable reply, and focused on the square of light on the floor. It flickered. Frollo blinked and looked back, missing the reply as he concentrated. The guards laughter was easily ignored as the light flickered again. And again. And again.
"I saw a gypsy dancing by,
On All Fool's Day, On All Fool's Day,"
Frollo held his knees to his chest and rocked ever so slightly backwards and forwards. Maybe these loons had been paid extra by the king to drive him insane. As someone who loved the fine arts, opera and music in general, this was the extreme in mental torture.
"As I left, they all wished me luck,
On All Fool's Day, On All Fool's Day,"
Here it comes, thought Frollo. The rhyme they've spent the last hour trying to construct.
"And as I later gave…urgh" There were two soft thuds outside the door. Frollo sat up straighter. That doesn't rhyme in the slightest, whispered a little voice in his head. It was the same voice that had been impressed by the lack of sunlight. He glared at the door, forcing the insane little voice back into hiding. Fervent whispering was followed by the scrape of various keys in the lock. He crept over to the door and, hoping he was right, whispered through the keyhole.
"It's the big black one!"
"Thanks!" replied a hoarse whisper. The creaking door swung back. Clopin stood in the doorway, two young gypsy men and Esmeralda behind him. "We have about thirty seconds to get out of here. Come on."
"Wait – hide the bodies in the cell." Frollo lifted one guard and dragged him back, Clopin doing the same to the other guard.
"They are still alive, but I take your point. Less likely to warn others when they awaken."
"What did you do to them?"
"Old gypsy trick. It uses poison, very mild, no antidote and likely to wear off in a few hours. Nice to see you your grace," Clopin half-bowed, then made for some stairs to the right. The other two gypsy men followed Clopin with torches. Esmeralda walked up to Frollo, quickly took his hand and smiled before following the others.
"Where are we going?" asked Frollo quietly.
"St Martins. I'll explain on the way," hissed Esmeralda.
"Are you insane?" he hissed back. "The King will be there!"
"We truly hope so." She smiled again as they emerged into a large hallway. The group darted down a side-door, down another hallway and out onto a balcony. Clopin swung over the balcony without pausing for breath, and again was followed by one of the gypsy men. Esmeralda gestured to Frollo. "After you." Frollo hesitated – there was a twenty foot drop the other side. He looked down and saw a cart full of straw.
"And that's supposed to break my fall I take it?"
"Just jump!" insisted the other gypsy, nervously peering into the hallway through the curtains.
"Jaques, he's just a little concerned about heights."
"Is he more concerned about swords? There are twenty of them heading this way!" Jaques drew the curtains behind him and looked desperately at Frollo who, for his part, crossed himself quickly and jumped. He landed quite safely in the cart below.
"Were there really guards on their way?" asked Esmeralda, taking Jaques' hand to jump.
"No. But I wasn't prepared to argue until there were." They grinned at each other, checked over the side of the balcony, and jumped.