Clopin Troullifeou's footfalls blended into the sounds of the street, almost enough that he could ignore the abrasive scratch of his worn shoes against the dusty pavement.
Almost.
The sound grated against his eardrums like sandpaper, reminding him over and over that he really, really needed to invest in some better footwear. Maybe his next puppet show would attract a big enough audience that he could—
"Move, idiot!" Clopin felt himself shoved into another human being, who quickly pushed him away, causing the King of the Gypsies to lose his balance and fall butt-first onto the side of the dusty road. Before he could even stand back up, a massive red-and-gold painted carriage rumbled down the road, right where he had been standing seconds prior.
Daydreams of new shoes vanished like a puff of steam. "Who the heck is THAT?" he exclaimed. "Never seen such a gaudy ride before…"
Wandering thoughts had already diverted to plans of pickpocketing the strangers when his self-dialogue was interrupted yet again. "Somebody arriving for the memorial service, I suppose," one bystander speculated.
"What memorial service?" Clopin turned to ask.
"Where have you been, dummy?" the man returned skeptically.
Clopin opened his mouth to say "Exile in Germany", only to find out that the man's question was purely rhetorical. "It's for Phoebus. The late Captain of the Guard."
"Guess he had some friends in high places," another voice mused. "Who on earth has that kind of money?"
"Minister Frollo probably did. But I can't imagine him owning something so gaudy."
The mention of the late Minister caused several ears to prick up. A very dirty, disheveled man with a jug of cheap alcohol pushed his way towards the latest speaker. "Hey, you forgot, every time we say something dumb about old Bat Face, we all take a drink of this."
Another man in a torn blue shirt stepped in front of the dirty man with the jug. "No, not yet. What Jacques said wasn't dumb enough. Here, I'll show you. Minister Frollo…had servants carry him around on a litter because he got too old to walk!" This was greeted with harsh guffaws of drunk laughter.
Under any other circumstance, Clopin would have been more than happy to have joined in. However, the sight of the carriage and the knowledge of the memorial service had presented to him a solution to a problem which had dogged his every movement for the past six months. In his excitement, he ran all of the way back to the Court.
Clopin was still catching his breath as his clan gathered around for the emergency meeting he had just called. Hurriedly he replayed the script in his head, making sure that he had the story straight.
"Today, I will be attending my brother-in-law's memorial service," he began. "As most of you probably do not know, Esmeralda was married to the former Captain of the Guard…"
Taking a breath to steady himself, Clopin took reassurance from the nods and shrugs he had expected to see. At least, the beginning of his yarn was believable, enough people had seen Phoebus hanging around his sister.
"And they were expecting a child…" Clopin steeled himself for the ensuing curious looks, hoping them to be expressions of interest rather than incredulity. Somewhere in the back, a voice piped up, "Well, I thought she was gaining weight."
Clopin continued. "They deliberately tried not to draw attention to this fact. Phoebus had some very stuck-up aristocratic relatives who did not approve of their relationship. The relatives have recently arrived in fine style…" Again, the clan was nodding. Some of them must have seen the carriage.
Almost there. Almost there. "I do not expect all of you to come with me, and neither does his family. In fact, they most likely prefer that you do not attend. However, I see it as my duty to be there."
Clopin allowed himself to exhale in relief, but his breath froze halfway out when Gudule suddenly shouted out "I'm coming with you!"
Oops, he hadn't planned on that. Well, maybe it wouldn't be a problem after all… "That's great, Mom," he squeaked. Clearing his throat, he continued, "But please don't draw too much attention to yourself. The captain's family is…well…"
"Rich and snotty and bigoted," Gudule finished for him.
"Yes."
"But I can imagine Phoebus was different. I believe I saw him visit the compound a few times to deliver Frollo's instructions to us…blonde, tall, stocky guy with facial hair, right?" she checked.
"Right." Clopin's anxiety level dropped a notch. She appeared to be buying his story.
"He wasn't a bad guy. Not mean, like some of the other guards…" she trailed off.
"Let's get going so we won't be late." Clopin didn't want to hang around too long, in case his brethren decided to start asking questions. He mostly ignored his mother's chatter as he helped her up onto the donkey's back and they started the long ride, his mind was blank with relief…
And Esmeralda owed him a very, very big favor after how nicely he'd smoothed over the massive mess she had made for herself.
