The change of scenery had given Claude Frollo a new refreshed perspective. He noticed this when he finally found himself alone, riding his horse along the rural trail that connected the property he was leaving with the main cobble-stoned road to Paris. It was Saturday morning, so even if he kept a slow pace, he still had enough day ahead to make it back home in time to attend to his business.
He had spent the last 24 hours at the Count's hunting palace, a small but elegant construction overlooking a lake and a pine forest where the count usually resided during that time of the year. He had summoned the judge there to settle the matter of some land he wanted to take from peasants to expand his hunting territories.
Frollo wasn't fond of the Count himself, though he enjoyed the chance to get some fresh air outside the city. However, he hadn't been able to enjoy it as much as he wished, for the Count had insisted on hosting a feast in his honor, and then the social gathering had turned into a party where the wine and cognac ran free.
But now, he was at last free from social impositions and could enjoy the silence from the countryside, as his horse trotted calmly down the path. It was warm enough for a winter morning and he appreciated the soft sunlight on his skin. Maybe it was the peaceful environment, but he was feeling quite peaceful himself. He had been so immersed in the confusing unfolding of events lately that he had lost touch with his usual leisurely disposition. He was an introspective man, who greatly valued his time alone. He had been like that for the past twenty years, since he acquired his position as the Minister of Justice in Paris. He devoted his free time to studying on his various interests, and he took pride on being one of the most cultivated man in France. He was efficient and unhesitating in his duties as a judge, and he always stood away from vulgar licentious habits, unlike the commoners. He was a strict man, and the strictest with himself to begin with.
Yes. That's who he was.
During the past few weeks he had forgotten that, feeling as if he was losing himself in that burning madness, that compelling magnetism he had felt towards the gypsy dancer. After all, he thought to himself, God had made him a fallible man. So it was only natural that, at least once in his life, he had succumbed to those earthly desires. But what matters is that he had regained control of his acts now, and vanished temptation from his home. No one had been significantly harmed in the process, which meant that there were no consequences to worry about any further. He could resume his life and leave behind this particular episode for good. He had passed God's test, admittedly not without some struggle, but passed nevertheless.
And now everything would be back under control.
Frollo breathed relieved, while absently petting his horse's neck and mane.
He couldn't begin to suspect what was coming for him.
It was well after sundown and Frollo was still inside the courtroom, listening to neighborly complaints. He usually held a short daily audience to solve those kind of matters that, truth be told, bored the hell out of him. Having to listen to those illiterates argue about cattle, crops or family quarrels was for certain the worst part of his job. But, since he had been away since Thursday afternoon, he was now facing three days worth of annoying commoners waiting on him to settle their situations.
He was tired from the journey, and quite hungry. But most of all, he was annoyed when he realized he wouldn't have time to visit Quasimodo in time for dinner. So he would have to wait until next morning to find out if Esmeralda had fulfilled her promise. Though he was pretty sure that she wasn't planning on escaping town and breaking her word to him, it nevertheless made him anxious to think about those extra hours of hypothetical advantage that she would get if she decided to do it.
However, he considered, while two men in front of him argued about a stolen duck, if she were to escape, she wouldn't do it by herself, leaving her people behind to suffer the consequences he had promised her. So, if someone was escaping, it would have to be all of them. And a whole crew of gypsies, with their wagons and animals, wouldn't get very far during night hours.
That thought comforted him, and allowed him to finally focus his attention on the dull disputes brought to his courtroom.
When he was finally done, he asked the housekeeper to fetch him something to eat and bring it to his chambers, where he prepared himself a bath to clean up and relax after the exhausting day.
The warm water relaxed his muscles, contracted from the long horse ride. He decided to go to bed early, so he could get up early as well the next day, and visit Quasimodo for breakfast before Sunday mass. That way, if any unpleasant surprises were waiting for him, he would have a faster reaction, and he would be able to send some troops after the escaping gypsies.
Everything was under control, he reassured himself again, before eating the hot meal Magdalene had brought him, and changing into his night clothes. The comfort of his own bed, fluffier that the one he had slept on at the Counts palace, was all it took to plunge him into a deep sleep.
An insistent knock on the door woke him up, in what felt like seconds later. He opened his eyes, confused. Was it morning already? But looking at the window he saw that there was no trace of sunlight behind the curtain. Furthermore, the fireplace in his chamber was still burning strong, as he had left it before getting into bed. So he couldn't have slept for long.
The knock on his door repeated. He sat at the edge of the bed, his body still kind of numb.
- Come in. - he granted.
Magdalene's face showed up through a small opening. She seemed concerned and embarrassed.
- I'm so sorry to disturb your rest, Sir.
- What is it? - he asked, feeling his mind clearing quickly. Never before had a servant interrupted his night sleep, so it had to be serious.
- There's someone at the door demanding to see you.
- What? Who? - he hissed in disbelief. If it was that fool Flamcourt again he would make sure to teach him a well-deserved lesson.
- It's… a … gypsy, Sir. - Magdalene pronounced hesitantly, afraid of her master's reaction. Frollo's face went livid. He jumped out of the bed so abruptly, it made her flinch involuntarily. Esmeralda? What was she doing there? His heart went ahead of his mind, and for a second he found himself wildly dreaming that she had come back to the palace to ask for his hospitality again. But his mind quickly caught up with his traitorous heart, discarding the fantasy right before Magdalene added: - I tried to send him off, but he insisted so much that I should wake you, he wouldn't leave.
He? Frollo was puzzled now. Who could that gypsy man be and what the hell did he wanted with him at that time of night? Though the anger started boiling in his veins at this outrageous disrespect, the intrigue he felt was greater.
- I'll be right down. - he announced, and Magdalene vanished from the door as he walked to his robes.
When he opened the main door into the dark square, he saw no one there. The anger and confusion he was feeling multiplied. Was this some kind of joke? Or worse… some kind of distraction, in order to make sure he was at the palace and not chasing after them while they fled? Frollo's nervousness increased. Perhaps he should have visited Quasimodo today instead of waiting, after all.
- Finally! - a voice broke the night silence, emerging from the shadows. - I thought you'd never come! - he said, exasperated.
- Who's there? - Frollo asked, suddenly alert. What if it was an ambush, an attack? He was there alone, with no guards or soldiers, or even his own sword at hand. What a fool, he scolded himself, while unconsciously taking a few steps back towards the door, to protect himself from any unseen attackers.
- And now you're leaving again? - the voiced asked when he moved. - I knew it was pointless!
The silhouette came nearer, and Frollo could finally discern his features. He knew the man, he had seen him before in the streets, and leading the Tupsy Turvy festival. Apparently, he was the gypsy leader. What was his name again?
- What do you want? - Frollo asked cautious but harshly. - Don't you know better than to disturb people in the middle of the night?
- Quasimodo sent me to find you here. Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere else but at this damned door again. - Clopin spat bitterly.
- Quasimodo? - Frollo repeated, puzzled. - Where is he? Is he okay?
- He's fine. He's not the one that needs you. It's Esmeralda.
Frollo felt his blood suddenly froze inside his veins. An unexpected surge of terror took over his entire body before he could even think about why. He felt dizzy and faint-hearted, so he put his palm to the wall to maintain balance.
- Let me get my horse. - he said hoarsely.
- Don't you know how to walk? - Clopin asked irritated.
- You want me to walk the streets with you in complete darkness? - Frollo replied, suddenly suspicious again. What if it was a trap after all? What if they were trying to lure him out of the palace to attack him where no one could see?
- I know you're not used to, Your Honor, but walking is actually a great way of transportation. - Clopin mocked him with a condescending tone.
- Fine. - Frollo agreed, reluctantly. - At least let me gather my guards then.
- We don't have time for that! - Clopin bursted suddenly, and all at once his previous mask fell down and a true expression of concern and impatience took over his face.
Frollo felt the stomach churning return.
- Tell me what's wrong. - he demanded, in a commanding ice cold tone.
Clopin stared deeply into his eyes, and Frollo could see the honesty in his gaze.
- She's sick. She's really sick.