Disclaimer: Property of Disney
Beta: Naveena
Rating: T for violence and language
Edited: 11/02/21
A Crushed Rose
Chapter Two: Notre-Dame
The sunlight warmed Belle's face and shoulders as Phillippe pulled her wagon into the city's main square. Rolling past vendors and their customers, she spotted Clopin juggling apples for a little group of children gathered near his red-painted caravan. Belle felt a small twinge of relief at the sight of Charlotte amongst them. She slowed her wagon to a stop nearby.
Noticing her, Clopin tossed three of his apples to the children, who cheered at their prizes.
A few of the children left coins on the wide sill of the caravan's performance window. Their little horde then scurried off to seek entertainment elsewhere. Charlotte almost followed them, but seeing Belle, hung back with an interested smile.
Clopin offered the last apple to Belle. "And for you, Mademoiselle?"
Belle politely declined from her seat on the wagon's bench. "No, thank you. I had quite a breakfast at Ms. Dubois's house this morning."
Clopin leaned against his caravan and polished the apple against his motley tunic. "So, you have returned to visit Notre-Dame then?"
"After I make a delivery for Madame Dubois." Belle tilted her head to indicate her wagon's flatbed. "She wasn't feeling up to travel today, but she wanted to send some goods to her son's family. Though to be honest, I think she also wanted to give me an excuse to come back after we left so soon yesterday."
Charlotte rounded the wagon to inspect its contents. There was a crate filled with hay and topped with eggs, two small, fat barrels of vegetables, and a tied bundle of long-stemmed, yellow daffodils. There was also a rolled up horse blanket. The girl brightened. "The flowers are so pretty! Mama will put them in our kitchen window. Do you know the way to my house, Belle?"
"Your grandmother gave me directions, but I have to admit, I was hoping I might find you here in the square again to help guide me. Would you mind riding along?" Belle asked.
Charlotte agreed with a grin, and with Clopin's help, managed her way up onto the wooden bench to sit alongside Belle. The girl twisted in her seat to examine the goods again before looking back to Clopin. "Would you like some of these vegetables? There's so many here. I'm sure it's more than we need. You'll like them! My grandmother's garden is full of good things."
"It certainly is," Belle agreed. "She takes very good care of it."
Clopin smiled at the child's offer. "Charlotte, those are not yours to give. They are meant for your parents."
Charlotte bit her lip. "But—"
"The bells are next rung right at midday," Clopin told Belle. "You'll hear them throughout the city, but nothing compares to letting them sing to you in person. Hurry, and perhaps you can catch them from inside."
Charlotte kicked her feet lightly, her hands holding on to the wagon's bench. "Are you telling another story later? Do you have a new tale for the kitties?"
"Oh no, they like the tails they already have. Tomorrow perhaps. Today's story is about rats."
Charlotte's face scrunched. "I hope the cats eat them!"
"Speaking of stories," Belle said to Clopin, "I started reading Myths last night. It's wonderful. I read the first two stories. I had to force myself to put it down. The one about the sleeping forest intrigued me the most. I can't imagine walking through the woods and finding every animal turned to stone. Did you write these stories yourself?"
Clopin waved off the idea. "No. My father picked them up from here and there. He was always writing them down. I'm glad you're enjoying them."
Charlotte tugged on Belle's white sleeve. "We should go, or I won't make it back in time for the midday puppet show."
Taking a bite of his apple, Clopin watched them go.
Charlotte's parents lived above their tailor shop several streets away in a smaller market. Belle found the shop full of dresses, ribbons, and other accessories as charming as the girl's parents. Charlotte's mother insisted that Belle stay for tea, and by the time Charlotte and she left, the bells of Notre-Dame were already echoing across the city.
Belle softly smiled at their melody as she guided Phillippe back towards the main square. "I'm sorry you're late for your puppet show."
"Oh, it's alright." Charlotte tried to hide her disappointment behind the palm she leaned against. In her lap was a small satchel. "Sometimes he does a second one. And usually there's one in the late afternoon—unless it's Sunday."
Once they reached the main square again, Belle stopped her wagon so that Charlotte could scramble down. Holding her satchel, the girl ran over to join the small crowd of children.
Looking, Belle saw that Clopin's fingers on his left hand each bore a tiny rat puppet. Covering his right hand was a red-cloaked puppet with a pointy hat, holding a long flute. The rats followed as the musician played a strange song.
A dark-haired boy wearing an orange bandana and tunic was next to the caravan. He wasn't much older than Charlotte, but he played with impressive skill. Whenever the puppet played its flute, the boy played his, too.
Belle left Phillippe and her wagon at a hitching post near the cathedral, paying a small fee for him to be looked after while she explored on foot. By the time she was heading back to the caravan, the puppet show had ended and the children were already running off. The boy with Clopin scooped up coins left behind and stuffed them into his orange, curly-toed shoes.
Charlotte presented her satchel to Clopin, holding it up with both hands. "These are from Mama. She says it makes God smile to give to others, so you should take them."
"What a friendly god!" Clopin smiled with surprise, taking the satchel through the performance window and setting it out of sight. "Thank you, Charlotte. Give your mother my thanks, too, yes?"
Charlotte beamed.
She then gasped as if suddenly recalling something important. "I'll be right back!" she promised, taking off in the direction of her home.
The bells no longer chimed from Notre-Dame. Facing the cathedral, Belle sighed at its beauty. She turned to Clopin as he stepped out of his caravan. "I can't wait to see the inside. I'd love to explore with a friend. Could you come with me?"
The request seemed to catch Clopin off-guard.
The boy gawked openly at her. Without a word, he came to stand beside Clopin, his small arms crossing and his mouth settling into a frown.
Clopin glanced from the cathedral to Belle. "Oh, I would love to... but I have so many errands today. Other places in the city to perform, right Alexandre?"
The boy gave a clipped nod.
Clopin caught the enthusiasm faltering a little in Belle's smile. He gave Notre-Dame a more thoughtful glance. "But... how about I walk over there with you? I can escort you—like a proper gentleman!"
The boy shot Clopin a questioning look.
"I'd appreciate that," Belle said warmly, "but you really don't have to if you're busy."
To the boy, Clopin said, "There's so much daylight left. You should keep playing."
Alexandre hesitated, his mouth curving into a deeper frown.
"Listen." Clopin cupped a gloved hand to his ear. "Esmeralda is just around the corner with one of your fellow musicians. I'm sure they could use your help."
Alexandre aimed his frown at Belle again. Then he ran towards the music drifting from an alley beyond the main square.
At the top of the cathedral's steps, Clopin held the door wide so that Belle could get her first look inside of the cathedral's stunning halls. "I cannot tell you, Mademoiselle, if people truly have souls or not, but buildings definitely do. Look inside and be amazed. Notre-Dame's soul is one you'll never forget!"
Belle placed a hand over her heart as she wandered a few steps across the checkered marble floor, her eyes soaking in the rows of columns and seas of candlelight, the beautiful stained-glass windows, and the ceiling so high it seemed almost impossible.
She looked back to Clopin, who watched her from the door with a pleased little smile. "It's amazing! I've never been inside a building this big. It's like every castle or great hall I've ever read or dreamed about. Are you sure you can't stay?"
Her big, hazel eyes implored him.
Clopin found himself reluctant to reject them.
His masked eyes gave the cathedral's massive vestibule a wary scan before he stepped inside, letting the door gently close behind him. "All right. After all, it's been quite some time since I've seen the inside myself. Still, she's a hard place to forget, yes?"
They began a casual walk past the arched halls and flickering candelabras. Overhead, round chandeliers ringed with softly glowing candles helped light the cathedral's peaceful interior. Tapestries and paintings of important Biblical figures and saints decorated the walls.
Awed as she was by Notre-Dame's beauty, Belle was also relieved to have someone walking alongside her through the unfamiliar, giant halls. "Are we allowed to see the bells?"
"No." Clopin pointed towards the distant ceiling. "The doors that lead up there are all locked. Though, I'm not sure if it's to keep people out, or to keep the mysterious bell ringer trapped up in his tower."
Interested, Belle leaned closer as they walked along. "The bell ringer lives up there? They never come down?"
She couldn't fathom why anyone would want to live in a belltower, but then again, perhaps the tower was as gorgeous and spacious as the rest of the building.
"Never," Clopin confirmed, giving a conspiratorial glance left and right. He held up a palm alongside his mouth, adding in a whisper, "but there are a few ways up that don't require doors. Do you want to go?"
They passed the principal sanctuary. Several parishioners were there, kneeling and praying amongst the many benches. Belle made sure to keep her own voice low so as not to disturb them.
A tempted look crept over Belle's face. "What happens if someone catches us?"
"For you? A stern lecture from the archdeacon. And for me?" Clopin smirked and shrugged. "Who knows? It depends on who sees, I suppose. But perhaps you're right. We shouldn't bother the bell ringer today. He's probably so tired from ringing the midday bells. Besides, the only person who ever ventures up there is Judge Frollo. He could be up there right now, and we certainly wouldn't want to run into him. He's—"
"Gypsy!" called an angry voice from behind them. "What are you doing in here?"
Clopin and Belle turned quickly to find a man wearing a blue, long-sleeved tunic with gold trim approaching them. He had a brown beard and dark eyes. Belle recognized him as one of the parishioners they'd just passed. His loud voice drew the attention of other congregants, who wandered closer to stand behind him. Many grew their own scowls the moment they laid eyes on Clopin and Belle.
Confused, Belle glanced from the parishioners to Clopin.
His face was unreadable.
Then again, half of it was hidden behind a mask.
Unsure of what to do, Belle tried addressing the man who'd called out to them. "Pardon, Monsieur. We didn't mean to disturb anyone. We'll be quieter, I promise."
The parishioner ignored Belle.
"This is a holy place. There's nothing here for you," he chided Clopin in a strict tone. "Get out, or we'll call for the guards to deal with you."
His words shocked Belle.
Any bewilderment she'd felt vanished.
She took an angry step towards the small crowd, a deep scowl appearing on her own face. "You can't talk to him like that! Who do you think you are?"
The man shot Belle a cross look. His fists tightened at his sides. Some of the men behind him tightened theirs, too. Other people exchanged glances as if silently debating who should go fetch a soldier form the square.
"Now, now," Clopin said to them all, holding up his gloved hands to placate the murmuring crowd, "there's no need for trouble here."
He turned to Belle and gave her a slight, quick bow. "Mademoiselle, it was my pleasure to show you Notre-Dame, but as I said, I have so many errands to run. Au revoir."
Clopin turned for the exit, walking fast enough that the bells on his yellow cloak jingled with each footfall. He tipped his violet hat towards the congregants as he strode quickly past them.
The man in the blue tunic crossed his arms but seemed satisfied to have gotten his way. Yet, when the other parishioners shuffled back to their prayers, he remained, turning and watching to make sure Clopin truly left the cathedral.
Belle hurried and caught Clopin by the elbow. "Wait!"
He turned in surprise.
Belle knew her gaze was a mixture of confusion and indignation.
"I don't understand," was all she could think to say.
Clopin gently brushed her hand from his arm.
She saw something like pity in his eyes.
It only confused her more.
"Don't worry," he told her. "You will. But for now, Notre-Dame is full of wonders. Please, don't leave because I'm abandoning you for chores."
Belle looked over her shoulder. The man in the blue tunic was still watching them, now with growing disapproval. Belle shot him a mean little frown and faced Clopin again.
Threading her arm through his, she ignored his surprise and said, "I think I'll come back another day. Would you mind walking with me to the bookshop? Of course, I understand if you need to be somewhere. I've already taken up a lot of your time today."
Clopin's dark eyes studied her.
He grinned. "You're kind of odd, you know."
Belle couldn't help but smile.
The sun briefly stung their eyes as they emerged from the dim solitude of Notre-Dame. The moment they stepped outside, Clopin slipped free of Belle's arm. They walked together down the church's wide stone steps.
As they crossed the square towards the bookshop, Belle's mind kept replaying the rude parishioner's words. Her eyebrows drew together the more she thought about it. "I still can't believe how that man treated you. And in a church!"
"So, you didn't find Monsieur Laurent attractive? What a relief!"
Belle looked at Clopin in surprise. "You know him?"
"I know everyone, but not everyone knows me." He winked at her. "Monsieur Laurent is tall, dark, and handsome. He's rich, too. Are sure you don't like him? Think of the wedding he could throw you! And he lives in a big house."
Belle gave Clopin a flat look, but her tone lost its sharp edge. She scoffed. "Never. He's rude. He has no manners. I can't imagine why anyone with half a brain would ever want to marry a brute like him."
"Ah, but at least he's an honest brute." Clopin nodded to himself. "We should give him that. After all, there are plenty of refined people who use their manners like a hidden net, Mademoiselle."
"Please, call me Belle. You're one of the first friends I've made here. Or at least, I'd like to think so."
"Well, you are beautiful," he said with a grin wide enough she could see he had a chipped tooth on either side towards the back of his mouth.
Belle wondered what he could have possibly done to end up with them broken in such a symmetrical way.
Clopin tapped the side of his head. "Imagine if your parents had named you something else? What might you look like, Belle?"
They came to the bookshop's entrance. Through the windows, Belle saw Danielle placing a few books upon an empty shelf.
Belle smiled at Clopin. "Names only have that kind of power in storybooks."
"Speaking of," he said, "I'll leave you here. A little shop like this cannot hope to compare to Notre-Dame, but there are a thousand little worlds hidden inside, so that's something, no?"
Inside the shop, Belle chatted with Danielle as she searched the shelves for another book—even though she already had two unfinished books at home. With so many now within her reach, she couldn't help but give in to her desire to see if another book jumped out at her.
Belle happened to glance towards the bookshop's big front window. She froze, noticing Monsieur Laurent speaking animatedly to four soldiers stationed near the foot of Notre-Dame's steps.
Finishing his rant, the parishioner thrust an arm to point across the square.
Looking, Belle saw that he was pointing out Clopin, who'd been stopped by Charlotte and some other kids. Inexplicable alarm washed over Belle. She watched as Charlotte held something up for Clopin to see.
A puppet?
As Belle watched, Clopin noticed the soldiers striding quickly towards him. He moved as if to sprint away, but Charlotte grabbed his sleeve, insisting on showing him the little puppet in her hands. Even from a distance, Belle could tell the puppet was handmade and most certainly not one of the well-crafted ones she'd seen in Clopin's caravan.
"Don't move, gypsy!" a soldier yelled so loudly Belle heard him from inside the shop. "Stay where you are!"
The four soldiers ran across the square, their black armor clanking. They were broad-shouldered, muscular, and each one had a sword at the hip.
Clopin gave a startled glance from the soldiers to the surrounding children.
He hesitated.
And then the soldiers were upon him.
The children cried out as they scattered out of the way.
Moving fast, two soldiers seized his arms, trapping him between them. Clopin yanked free of one and was about to wrench himself out of the other's grasp when the sound of a sword clearing its scabbard made him freeze.
A third soldier leveled the blade at his chest.
Clopin's arm was roughly recaptured. He gave all of his captors a withering glare, but then his attention was caught by the children huddled only feet away. They'd reformed their little group and watched everything with wide, terrified eyes. Charlotte hugged the puppet she'd made tightly to her chest. For the first time since he'd come to know her, Clopin saw raw fear shining in her blue eyes.
"It's alright!" he called to her and the other children in a voice that tried to hide his worry. "Go home! I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
None of the children moved.
If anything, his audience was growing. Parents he recognized and other adults drew in from across the square to see what was happening.
The fourth solider, Lieutenant Farrow, snatched Clopin's coin purse from his waist, breaking the leather clasp that had held it to his belt.
Belle ran from the shop, ignoring Danielle's cry for her to wait.
"What are you doing!?" Belle asked, breathless as she stumbled to a halt before the soldiers.
"Stand back, Mademoiselle," the soldier holding Clopin's right arm snapped. "This gypsy's been accused of stealing, and from the church no less!"
Belle's voice was thick with anger. "That's a lie! Let him go!"
Unnerved by the sight unfolding before her, Belle tried to pull one of the soldier's arms to force him into releasing her friend, but he pushed her back hard.
The crowd gasped.
Belle stumbled into Danielle, who chased after her just in time to keep Belle from falling.
The two soldiers holding Clopin shoved him down to his knees. They kept their gloved hands firmly on his shoulders. The tip of the third soldier's sword followed him down, staying inches from his face.
"Stay back!" The solider in charge, the one who'd taken Clopin's money, ordered the crowd, which had swelled to a few dozen.
Belle refused. "But he's innocent! I was inside the cathedral with him."
She spoke to the crowd as much as to the soldiers. "He didn't touch anything!"
"Lieutenant Farrow, Clopin is a good gypsy!" Charlotte cried.
The other children echoed her words, followed by a mixture of demands and insults at the soldiers.
Lieutenant Farrow ignored them and emptied the coin purse into his palm. Sneering, he held a coin between his fingers and showed it off to the crowd. "See? Here is the evidence. He is a thief!"
From his knees, Clopin said, "You're mistaken, Monsieur. I earned those this morning."
"There was a puppet show!" a boy yelled.
Other children yammered in their high-pitched voices about juggling and stories.
They called the soldiers idiots.
A really small kid shrieked at them.
Sick of their noise, Farrow turned his glare on the children. "Quiet!"
The venom he packed into the word made most of them shrink back and acquiesce.
Satisfied, Farrow put his dark gaze back on his captive. "It's disgusting how you goad them into lying for you. Admit it. You stole from the alms box. I should drag you straight to the Palace of Justice, but perhaps three days in a pillory will be enough."
Belle closed the gap between herself and Farrow. Her hands were fisted at her sides. In that moment, she was too angry to be intimidated.
It wasn't fair.
It was ridiculous!
Her eyes challenged the lieutenant. "Taking his money from his coin purse doesn't prove anything! You could arrest anyone here with that kind of absurd logic. It's nonsensical!"
Farrow bristled at words and seemed ready to arrest Belle, too, but he hesitated as the crowd's murmurs of agreement grew louder.
Clopin looked up at the soldier with the drawn sword. "She makes a good point, you know."
The soldier scowled deeply.
"Let him go!" an old man called. Others adults agreed with him.
The soldiers exchanged looks that Clopin didn't like.
The tension in the air thickened.
If things kept ramping up, they'd arrest him just to avoid looking weak before all the gathered peasants.
"Lieutenant Farrow," Clopin called, recapturing the man's heated gaze. "I'm not a thief, but when I visited Notre-Dame, I didn't leave anything in the charity box. How about I give what you've seized to make up for it? I would give more, but it's all I have today."
The soldier with the sword used its sharpened tip to lift Clopin's earring.
Clopin watched the blade from the corner of his eyes, not even breathing with it so close to his neck.
"What about this?" the soldier asked. "Even if it's just gypsy gold, it's got to be worth something."
"Oh, for God's sake," snapped a merchant who was close enough to hear the soldier, "isn't taking his money enough? You've done your job. Let him up already!"
Others around him agreed, their voices getting angrier.
"Don't you have real thieves to catch?" hissed an old woman.
To Belle's relief, most of the people gathered seemed familiar enough with Clopin that they didn't mind standing up for him. Or perhaps they just didn't like seeing the soldiers bully someone. Only a few people there watched in stony-faced silence.
As the soldiers shared more looks with each other to determine their best move, the crowd, which had grown quite big, pressed closer. Some looked prepared to take matters into their own hands.
Lieutenant Farrow addressed the crowd in a booming voice. "We have determined there was no crime here—this time! Move on then! All of you!"
With a hand on the hilt of his sword, Farrow took a menacing step towards a nearby group of peasants. They quickly hurried off. He did the same towards the children. This sent all but Charlotte running away in a fit of squeals. The crowd, satisfied, moved back and began to disperse, though many of them kept a scornful eye on the soldiers.
Farrow added Clopin's money to his own coin purse. "Don't worry, gypsy. I'll make sure these get where they belong."
Belle crossed her arms. "They belong back in his pocket."
Farrow rounded on her, and for a moment, Belle's heart skipped in fear at the anger in his eyes.
Danielle grabbed Belle's arm with both hands and pulled her back a few steps. "Please! She's just moved here from the countryside! She doesn't understand about them yet."
Danielle pointed her chin towards Clopin, who was still on his knees with the guards' heavy hands clamped down on each shoulder.
Farrow turned from the two women and directed his wrath towards Clopin instead, kicking him.
Clopin doubled over with a painful cry, but the soldiers flanking him grabbed his arms and forced him upright. Farrow whipped the back of his hand across Clopin's face, the strike knocking off his hat and leaving a rip in his mask. The soldiers released him and Clopin fell forward, catching himself with a palm. His other hand pressed against his ribs.
"Stop! Leave him alone!" Belle dropped down beside Clopin, putting herself between him and the guards. She gripped his shoulders to steady and ease him up. His sharp hiss of pain made her pause.
"It's alright," he assured her breathlessly. A tiny line of blood crept down his right cheekbone from beneath the mask's torn, bottom edge.
Clopin and Belle looked up to find Farrow and the other soldiers looming over them.
"Stay out of trouble," Farrow warned gruffly. "We'll be watching you, gypsy. The next time you cause a scene, we'll take you straight to the Palace of Justice no matter how many women and children you've bribed to shed tears for you. And as for you, woman, I'll be sure to keep an eye on you, too. You strike me as a troublemaker."
Belle looked around for help as the soldiers moved away, but the other townspeople were no longer paying attention. It had satisfied them enough to see he wasn't being arrested or outright murdered in the street.
Belle struggled to understand.
How could they be so fickle?
Belle's worried eyes caught his gaze. "Are you alright?"
Clopin nodded. "Thanks to you, I can keep working here in the square. I'm in your debt, Belle."
Belle was taken aback. "I only told the truth. You don't owe me anything for that. If I help, can you stand?"
Clopin put his hat on before hooking his left arm over her shoulders as she slipped her own around his waist. He took the deepest breath he could manage, and together, they made it to their feet. He was forced to close his eyes a moment, sucking in a shallow breath. Opening them, he fingered his ribs again with a deep frown.
Belle heard his strained breathing and bit her lip with heightening concern.
Charlotte, who'd been watching, finally felt confident enough to run over to them. The puppet she'd made was still safe in her arms.
To Clopin, she said, "I can't believe they thought you were a thief! If they had arrested you, I would have kicked them!"
He put on a grin for her. "You silly girl," he winced, "I was letting them hold me down. I could have gotten away whenever I wanted."
Belle cast her eyes about for a place to go. She looked to his caravan, but Lieutenant Farrow and the other soldiers were skulking around it, probably hoping he'd come over there so they could resume harassing him.
It made Belle's blood boil.
Danielle followed her gaze and sighed. "Come on. We can take him to my father's bookshop until they move on or he catches his breath."
Relieved, Belle thanked her and helped Clopin hobble the short distance to the shop with Charlotte on their heels.
Inside, he sat on the bench by the door, wincing as his weight settled.
Clopin gingerly touched his side, giving Danielle a pained smile. "I think you're right, Mademoiselle. I just need—" he sucked in sharply "—to catch my breath."
Danielle closed the curtains of her father's shop. She locked the door and then fixed him with a serious look, her hands going to her hips. "You're lucky the crowd sided with you. Do you have any idea how close you came to getting Belle arrested? Or do you even care?"
Belle threw Danielle an incredulous look. "You know that wouldn't have been his fault. You saw those guards. They were completely out of line."
Danielle shook her head before moving behind the bookshop's counter to take a seat on its high stool. She didn't look in the mood to argue. Instead, she crossed her arms and kept her rapt blue eyes on Clopin.
Belle sat beside him. Now that he wasn't standing or walking, his breathing had settled a bit. A dark bruise had appeared on his cheek, though most of it was hidden beneath his mask.
Belle touched his arm in concern. "You need a doctor."
Clopin scoffed.
"I'm serious," Belle said, mistaking his reaction for stubbornness. "In the village where I grew up, I saw a man fall off his horse. The way you're breathing now reminds me of how he sounded that day. It turned out he'd broke some ribs. It made him very sick. How badly does it hurt?"
"It was a cheap shot, but I've felt worse."
Belle peeked past the curtains. "They're still hanging around your wagon."
Clopin made a sour face. "With luck, they'll leave it alone."
Charlotte held her puppet up for Belle to see. Just like Charlotte, it wore a lavender dress and a white apron. Its blonde hair was made of yarn, and she'd given it a smiling face and two blue button eyes. "Her name is Little Charlotte. Do you like her?"
Belle smiled, appreciative of the child's creativity. "Very much. You did a wonderful job, Charlotte."
"Next you must make Little Charlotte some friends," Clopin encouraged. "That way, they can look out for each other."
"Can you walk yet?" Danielle asked from across the room.
Clopin tried to ease himself up, but a stab of pain brought a quick end to his efforts.
"It's seems I'm still stuck." He glanced around the shop before shooting Danielle a mischievous look. "Who knows? Perhaps I'll have to stay here forever. At least there are plenty of books."
Danielle flicked a long lock of blonde hair behind her shoulder. "We only have a very, very small selection of picture books, I'm afraid. Of course, I suppose you could always convince Belle to read to you."
"Who taught you to read, Mademoiselle?"
Danielle didn't like the subtle edge in his tone, and it showed on her face. "The grammar school, of course, and my parents. Everyone in my family is educated in literacy and mathematics so that we can do honest work."
Clopin looked at her in mock surprise and covered his heart with a gloved hand. "What a coincidence, my parents taught me the very same."
"Look how alike we are!" he added with a grin before cutting his eyes away to smile at Belle. His grin fell away as he took a sharp, shallow breath.
Speaking seemed to aggravate his injury, so Belle decided to take over the job of small talk. "Charlotte, are your parents teaching you to read?"
The child shook her head. "No, but I can count very high."
"I could teach you," Belle offered.
"Papa says girls don't need to read. If I want to know what something says, he'll read it for me."
"Oh." Belle's eyebrows drew together. "But wouldn't you prefer to know on your own?"
"Papa says reading is a waste of time. Well, unless you're listening to someone explain the holy scriptures."
A puppet appeared on Clopin's right hand to sneak up and surprise Charlotte. She giggled at the little doppelganger. It looked just like him!
"But your papa approves of puppet shows, yes?" Clopin asked.
"He says they're friv—frivol—" Charlotte gave up on the word. "He says they're silly, but okay for children so long as the storyteller doesn't say bad things about God or the King."
Charlotte poked the puppet in the chest, to which it dramatically fell backwards with a tiny gasp.
"You've wounded his frivolous heart," Clopin told her, "but don't worry—he'll survive."
Amused, Charlotte asked, "You had him hidden on you this whole time. But where?"
Clopin made a show of slipping the puppet off. He then performed a quick dance with his black gloved hands and the puppet seemed to vanish.
Charlotte gasped. Her blue eyes grew wide with alarm. "Papa says magic is evil!"
Clopin gave a short laugh. He gently prodded at the right side of his ribcage while his other hand reached to bring the puppet out from a hidden pocket in his particolored tunic. "It's not magic. There's no such thing. It's only an illusion, see?"
"Ohhh." Charlotte sighed in deep relief.
Clopin put the puppet away again, but this time, didn't bother with theatrics.
Heavy footsteps came from the staircase behind the shop's counter. Danielle's father, Monsieur Marchand, appeared. He looked around in bafflement. "What's going on here? Danielle, why is the shop closed?"
His faced darkened when his gaze fell on Clopin.
"I'll explain later, Father," Danielle said.
Belle glanced between Clopin and Monsieur Marchand. The two seemed to be exchanging thoughts, because seconds later, Clopin pushed himself up from the bench. With a hand still covering his injury, he hobbled to the door.
"Thank you for your kindness," he said to Danielle, though the warmth in his voice didn't reach his eyes. He tipped his frayed hat to her father and ruffled Charlotte's hair as he passed her.
"I hope you feel better," the child wished, fixing her bag hat from where he'd knocked it askew. She made her puppet wave goodbye.
Belle stood with concern. He was breathing off again. "Are you sure you're ready?"
"It's hardly bothering me now," Clopin said from the door. "I should go home. I'll repay your kindness, Belle. I promise."
Once Clopin left, Monsieur Marchand shook his head in disgust. "Danielle, why on earth did you allow a gypsy into our shop? Did you watch him?"
Her father scanned the counter—his eyes zeroing in on the box where they kept their money. He moved over, flipped open the lid, and seemed relieved. After considering a moment, he started counting to make sure it was all there anyway.
Belle's slim eyebrows drew together. "He was injured, so we brought him here."
Monsieur Marchand looked up from counting with skepticism. "I'm sure whatever was wrong with him miraculously healed up the moment he walked out of here. He's probably around the corner right now convincing some dimwitted girl he's blind. I can only hope no one noticed you girls bringing him in here."
"Don't worry," Charlotte said, "Clopin is a good gypsy. He wouldn't steal from you, Monsieur Marchand."
Anger colored Belle's cheeks. Without another word, she left the bookshop, unsure if she'd ever be able to bear going inside again. She looked back at the window as the curtains were drawn open.
Charlotte waved from behind the glass. Belle waved back and managed a smile for the child before facing the square.
It almost shocked her to see people bustling about their lives as if some soldiers hadn't just assaulted an innocent person and stolen his money.
Unease built in her heart.
The four soldiers at the center of her ire seemed determined to stake out her friend's property, or perhaps to make sure he couldn't use anything in it to make up for the wages they'd stolen that day. They stood casually around it, chatting amongst themselves.
Surely, he didn't go near them, Belle thought to herself. He would have needed to get somewhere safe to rest. He mentioned going home.
Making her way over to where she'd left Phillippe, Belle found herself wondering just how far Clopin's house was from the square.
Why didn't I think to offer Clopin a ride home? Belle inwardly chided herself.
Perhaps it wasn't too late. As slow as she'd seen him moving, surely her friend hadn't gotten far.
Belle searched amongst the people and vendors throughout the square, considering the different alleys connecting it to the city.
Which way had he gone?
In the alley behind the bookshop, Clopin found his path blocked by an irritated woman and her goat.
Esmeralda's hands were on her hips, but her vivid green eyes gave away her relief. A pink scarf held most of her wavy dark hair back, but a few strands had escaped. She tucked one behind an ear. "Were you planning on walking all the way back like this by yourself?"
"Don't be so overdramatic, Esme," Clopin said, unable to hide the shortness in his breath. He waved the hand that wasn't pressed to his ribs dismissively and tried to pass her. "It'll be fine in a few days. Maybe less."
Esmeralda blocked his path again before moving to slip an arm around him, offering to take on some of his weight in case it helped.
"Alexandre saw you in trouble," she explained as they carefully began walking. Djali trailed after. "He ran straight to me, but by the time I reached the square, there was no sign of you except for an empty caravan surrounded by soldiers. I thought we were too late, and you'd ended up in the stocks, or worse."
Clopin's brow furrowed. "I sent Alexandre to you. Looks like he stuck around to spy on me instead. Does anyone listen to me anymore?"
"I wouldn't be here to help you if he had. How'd you get the soldiers to let you go anyway? No, let me guess—you talked your way out of it."
"I didn't. It was the children, and a few others from the square."
Esmeralda's left eyebrow rose with disbelief.
"It's true," he insisted. "You should have seen the children. They threw such a fit, the soldiers gave in just to shut them up. I should hire them as bodyguards. What do you think?"
"I think you should be more careful." Esmeralda caught his gaze, her own eyes anxious. "I wish you would follow your own rules. What would the people do if we lost you?"
Clopin grinned wide enough she could see one of his chipped teeth. "Look to you, perhaps? Yes, I think we'd all get into less trouble if you were in charge. Want to," he paused, needing a sharp breath, "take over?"
"Definitely not."
"But there are so many perks."
Esmeralda and Clopin stopped, hearing swift footsteps approach. Henri hurried towards them along with Alexandre. Alexandre's parents were dead, so Henri had taken him in.
Before he could speak, Henri noticed another person coming. He nodded in their direction. "It's that girl from yesterday."
"She's the one I told you about," Alexandre told Henri.
"Clopin!" Belle called, catching up to the small group.
"Belle! Did you miss me that much?" Clopin asked as he and Esmeralda turned to her. "At this rate, you might as well come home with me."
He chuckled at the dirty looks his friends gave him. "I'm joking!"
Taking a hitched breath, he added, "Besides, everywhere I go with Belle, I seem to be the one getting in trouble. I think she's a bad influence."
Belle's laugh was short but warm. She offered the others a smile.
They didn't return it.
The way they watched her made Belle uncomfortable, so she focused on Clopin. "I wanted to offer my wagon to help you get home. It's small enough to fit through these buildings. And you really shouldn't be walking. It could make things a lot worse if your ribs really are broken."
The others blinked at her in surprise.
Clopin's mind stumbled for a polite way to decline, but he was distracted by the sweat pouring down his face and the terrible ache growing sharp in his chest. He wanted to suck in deep breaths but he felt as if an invisible band was wrapped tightly around his chest. He took a breath to speak, but Esmeralda was faster.
"Are you sure you want to help us?" Esmeralda looked Belle over with a skeptical face.
"Of course," Belle said eagerly. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Phillippe snorted at all the unfamiliar faces.
Henri and Esmeralda helped Clopin climb onto the wagon's flatbed. The effort left him panting and choosing to lay down.
Esmeralda picked up Phillippe's rolled up blanket and, shaking it out, draped it over Clopin.
"What are you doing?" Belle asked.
"Hiding him, of course," Henri said gruffly.
Clopin pulled the blanket away from his face. "People behave themselves better in the square. Perhaps it's because Notre-Dame is always watching."
"Trust us, Belle, it's better if we hide him. Nothing attracts a pack of dogs more than a hurt rabbit," Esmeralda added, drawing a hooded cloak around herself and her goat as Clopin disappeared under the blanket again. "I'll ride with you and let you know when we've gone as far as you can take us. I'm Esmeralda, by the way. This is Djali."
She gestured to the goat hiding in her cloak.
Feeling a little excited, but also a strange twinge of fear, Belle nodded. She wanted to ask why they were being so careful. Surely nobody would bother them if they were just riding through, minding their own business. The moment the naïve thought crossed her mind, Belle almost shook her head at herself. Clearly, there were people in the city who did not need an excuse to cause trouble for her new friends.
Esmeralda climbed into the front seat beside Belle, who held the horse's reigns. She pulled up her hood, concealing most of her face, but Belle could make out a little smile.
"Riding in a wagon probably isn't going to feel much better than walking, but it's faster. Thank you, Belle."
They left Henri and Alexandre behind. Belle, having ventured into very little of Paris, depended on Esmeralda's directions for the next hour. Their unremarkable wagon blended in with all the others moving up and down the streets.
The two women rode in a comfortable silence. Now and then they'd hit a snag in the road, and Belle would hear the soft jingle of the bells and coins adorning her friends' clothes. Fortunately, the sound didn't attract attention.
As afternoon deepened into twilight, Esmeralda pointed out a shadow-steeped alley and asked Belle to take them there. Once there, Esmeralda slipped down from the wagon. She pushed back her hood and set Djali down.
Belle followed her around to the flatbed.
When Esmeralda pulled the blanket back, they found Clopin curled in on himself, both arms protectively wrapped around his middle. He kept his teeth mashed together as he stiffly sat up, cradling his side with a hand. He reached for his hat, which he'd lost during the ride.
"Hurry," Esmeralda urged him. "We need to keep moving."
"I don't know if I can. It takes my breath away to move," he admitted. "Perhaps we should look for a place I can hide until morning. And if you have any mercy, it'll be somewhere close."
"You can't sleep on the street," Belle said. "You need to be somewhere warm and safe where you can rest until this heals."
Clopin couldn't stop a bitter scoff from escaping. He grimaced again. His dark eyes darted towards the direction they'd come from. "Someone's coming, Esme."
Esmeralda fisted her hands and turned to face them.
Djali joined her side with horns ready.
Henri approached along with half a dozen men. Belle noticed several wore weapons on their hips.
Beside her, Esmeralda sighed with relief.
"I rounded up some help," Henri held up a flask, "and even found some wine, too."
"Henri, you are a brother and a saint!" Clopin said with a pained grin.
Henri gave him the flask. "Perhaps you should stop talking. I think it's actually killing you for once."
Clopin raised the flask in agreement and drank all the wine without pausing, refusing to give into the pain each swallow sent crackling through his ribs.
Belle watched with open concern.
Clopin set aside the flask. Breathing hard, he asked Henri, "Did you bring more?"
Henri rolled his eyes and motioned for the others to help him get Clopin off the wagon. Once they had him off, he leaned on Henri for support.
Esmeralda addressed the group, "If we hurry, we can get back before there's any more trouble."
She turned to Belle. "Thank you again for your help."
"Do you know your way back?" Clopin asked.
Belle nodded with confidence. "Phillippe will get me home. …I'm sorry about what happened today. I wish I could have done more."
Esmeralda gave a knowing smile. "We won't forget how you've helped, I promise."
"Travel safe, Mademoiselle," Henri added in his deep voice, turning with Clopin. The others followed him deeper into the alley, disappearing around its dark corner and into a backstreet.
Belle watched them go, hoping she wouldn't have to wait too long to see her friend healthy again. Walking back to the front of the wagon, she gave Phillippe a pat before climbing back into the driver's seat. She was suddenly overwhelmed with a need to get home where she could think through everything that had happened that day.
"Come, Philippe. I don't think we should be here at night either. Let's hurry home to Papa."