When Esmeralda woke up at her chamber in the Palace of Justice, it took her a while to understand what was going on. She felt her whole body sore, and had a terrible headache. And she was incredibly thirsty. What had just happened?
For a moment, she thought everything had been a nightmare. From the night of the storm, by the harpsichord… the kiss… her leaving the palace… the wound… When she thought about the wound, a sudden pain in her foot came into her consciousness. The pain was very real. So the wound had to be real as well. Everything had to be.
So what was she doing back in her bed, there? How had she gotten there? The memories she had from the past few hours were blurry and incoherent. She remembered being at the catacombs, but also at the cathedral. Had Clopin been at the cathedral? She also recalled the pyre, the fire reaching her skin and her own screams of pain. But how had she gotten to the pyre? Did Frollo sentenced her for not showing up to the cathedral in time for her daily report to Quasimodo?
The sharp pain in her head increased with the effort to understand. Her mouth was so dry, her tongue felt like sandpaper. God, she would kill for some water.
As if hearing her inner plea, her bedroom door opened. But her relief was quickly replaced by fear when she saw Frollo himself walking in.
However, he seemed glad to see her, and not threatening at all.
- You're awake – he noted with satisfaction.
Esmeralda sat in the bed, pulling up the covers to hide her barely dressed body. Who had changed her clothes?
Frollo walked towards her and sat at the bed's edge. She was still staring at him, distrustful, when suddenly her fear was in turn replaced by astonishment when she realized the man was soaking. His silver hair was stuck to his face, and his wet clothes were dripping onto the floor. However, he didn't appear to notice or care about any of this, his whole attention focused on studying her face.
- How are you feeling? - he asked, anxiously.
She opened her mouth to answer, but only a scratchy grunt escaped from her lips.
- Forgive me- he quickly reacted, offering her the cup he was holding in his hand.
Esmeralda reached for it, and her fingers accidentally touched his. Their coldness immediately took her in a flashback to the night before, when he had touched her shoulder with his icy hand. The whole scene came back to her memory, and she remembered him taking care of her at Notre Dame. That explained how she had gotten back to the palace, he probably had taken her himself. No pyres whatsoever. She briefly thought of Clopin, but now that she knew she was safe, the excruciating thirst became her only concern. So she grabbed the cup, avidly taking it to her lips, but the smell of it made her stop before taking her first sip. She looked at Frollo, confused.
- It's willow bark tea – he explained.- It will help with the pain, and not just the thirst.
She hesitated for a second, but she decided she trusted him enough not to turn down any kind of liquid. So she drank from the cup, and the warm tea cleared her throat and comforted her empty stomach, which, after a few sips, started to finally settle.
She felt as if she was drinking liquid clarity, for the whole recollection of the past two days was finally coming back and becoming separate from the visions she'd had during her fever. There had been no fire, no execution. Instead, she know remembered how Frollo had spent the whole night trying to help her get better. Why had he done that? Why did he care so much all of a sudden? It made no sense that he was just doing it to control her, or to win one of his twisted games. There was no victory at stake here. So why was he taking so much of his time to take care of her? Wasn't he, she thought bitterly, a busy man?
Frollo was watching her drink, expectantly. His scrutiny over her face determined that she was definitely feeling better. Though she looked tired for sure, her cheeks presented a nice, not pale nor heated color, and her eyes were bright, but not glazed by the fever.
- Can I take a look? - he asked politely, pointing to her foot. She nodded, her face still half covered by the cup to her lips.
He barely lifted the covers to expose the wounded ankle. The wound was still fresh, since he had been forced to reopen it the night before, but there was no swelling or signs of infection. He smiled to himself, proud of his work. She noticed his good mood, and it encouraged her to ask:
- So you know about healing herbs as well?- she said, rising her willow tea cup.
Frollo's smile quickly vanished and she could feel his body tensing.
- Well, I know the basic medical properties, yes. - he answered, seemingly alert.
- What's wrong? - she asked him, not sure if she would regret it.
But Frollo didn't seem mad, just pondering carefully what his next words should be.
- There is a fine line between what's considered healing arts and what's considered sorcery. - he finally explained in a low tone. - My study of the herbs and its preparations has occasionally been mistaken for a secret elaboration of magic potions by those not versed in the matter. - he confessed, visibly irritated by people's lack of judgment.
- I see – Esmeralda replied, trying to conceal a smile.
- What's so funny? - Frollo asked, suddenly defensive.
- Oh, it's nothing. I'm just thinking about how you're always condemning witchcraft and so, only to then be accused of it yourself. - she stated, fearing his reaction.
But Frollo must have been in a very good mood, because to her surprise, he narrowed his eyes with a playful expression and he yielded:
- I guess I can see the irony in that…
Esmeralda chuckled, covering her mouth with one hand, hoping she wouldn't offend him, but again to her surprise, he returned another small crooked smile at her. In that moment, despite her exhaustion, her heart took a double leap inside her chest. His smile was something to behold, even if just for the scarcity of opportunities to do so.
- Tell me more- she requested, leaving the empty cup in the nightstand, and accommodating herself in the bed.
- What do you wish to know? - he replied, removing a strand of wet hair from his forehead, and sitting a little more comfortably in the bed.
- How did you get into studying medicinal herbs? You seem to know a lot about many subjects- she finally asked, after pondering her options. She wanted to ask about the soaking dampness of his appearance, but she felt that somehow that would be sticking her nose in his business. So she decided on a more harmless matter. Or that's what she thought, at least.
Frollo evaluated her expression, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to trust her enough to tell her the truth. But her wide emerald eyes were fixed upon his, and her gaze was of pure curiosity and held no judgment. So he finally decided to tell her the whole story. He sighed, and inhaling deeply, he began:
- You're right, I've devoted myself to the study of several subjects. Law, theology, literature, music… and some other things as well. However, the medical subject was the first to caught my interest.
- Was it? - she asked, amazed.
- It was. - he hesitated for a moment.
He had only told this story to one person before in his entire life, and that was Quasimodo, the kindest and more trustworthy person he'd ever known. He knew his story was safe with him. And even so, he hadn't told him the crucial part, for he was so embarrassed about it. But Esmeralda was there, waiting for an answer, and he was just so glad that she was awake and talking, that he felt unable to deny her anything. So he kept going:
- When I was a young boy, thirteen, the Plague arrived to the city. Have you heard about the Plague?
- Of course. - she nodded, eager to listen the rest of the story.
- Well, whatever you heard probably doesn't make it justice. It was terrifying. People were dropping dead every day, and no one knew how it was spread so everyone lived in a paranoid state every minute of every day. We wouldn't leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary, and when we did, we would cover our heads in a thick cloth that made it nearly impossible to breathe.
Esmeralda was frowning, trying to imagine that way of life.
- But those precautions were eventually proven useless. One day, my mother woke up not feeling well, and in a few hours, both her and my father were evidently infected by the Plague.
Esmeralda gasped, taking her hand to her heart. But Frollo seemed absent, his mind immersed in his memories.
- I tended to them the best that I knew how, while trying to keep my little brother, Jehan, away from them so he wouldn't get it too.
- What about you? How did you know you wouldn't get it?- she asked, amazed.
- I didn't. - he replied simply. - But I was the only one left to take care of them. We had no other family, and I needed my parents alive.
Esmeralda nodded slowly, and he kept going:
- As the days went by it become evident that they weren't getting any better. One night, they were both shivering in bed, screaming in pain from the ulcers, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I decided to ask for help, to call my neighbors or anyone that could offer them some relief. I walked the dark streets knocking on doors, but no one would answer. People were terrified to open even the slightest slit on their windows, let alone their doors to someone who had been in contact with infected ones. I don't blame them. - he added, when he saw the condemning look on her face. - The Plague was ruthless.
But Esmeralda kept shaking her head slowly, with tears in her eyes, imagining the poor desperate boy knocking on every door and getting only silence for an answer.
- When I was about to give up – he continued – I heard someone snapping their fingers at me, to catch my attention, from a dark alley. I walked over there and saw an old woman, inviting me to follow her. I wouldn't have usually trusted her, but I was desperate, you see – he clarified, bitterly.
Esmeralda was listening perfectly still, as she began to intuit where the story was headed.
- She told me she knew my parents, and she wanted to help them. I was so relieved to have found someone willing to help that I didn't question her any further. She told me she had a newly discovered remedy for the Plague, but it was so rare and hard to find that she couldn't just give it away.
Frollo's teeth gritted, remembering his own credulity.
- I was willing to do whatever it took to get the remedy, so I offered her everything we had. Our gold, some old family heirlooms, all of it. Whatever she wanted, in exchange for the cure. She agreed to meet me at that same spot at dawn, and promised to bring the remedy with her, enough of it to save both of my parents, if I brought her the gold.
Esmeralda was speechless. She knew the end of the story before he even told her. And yet, she was still hoping to hear a different ending, one that wouldn't break her heart. But Frollo's next words confirmed her worst fears.
- So next morning I was there, holding a big bag full of gold in that dark alley. When the old witch finally showed up, she waved at me, holding the so-called remedy over her head, and inviting me to come closer. Then, from a corner, three men emerged and attacked me, robbing me the gold and leaving me with a bleeding nose in the ground. The woman walked towards me and threw a small flask at my feet. "Here's your remedy!", she said laughing, and disappeared in the darkness before I could do anything about it. It was just pee.
- Oh my God – Esmeralda gasped, her eyes overflowing uncontrollably. Her hands reached for his, but they were too far away, so she just stroked his elbow.
He flinched slightly at her touch, but didn't move away. His eyes were nailed to the floor, his hands resting on his lap.
- My parents died that very evening. - he finished, in a deadly calm tone.
- Oh my God – she repeated in a whisper. She couldn't conceive what he must had gone through. - I can't even… God, I'm so sorry. - she insisted, leaning towards him in an attempt to reach his arm.
But he turned to face her, unknowingly moving his arm further away.
- Why would you be? It's not your fault.- he claimed plainly.
Esmeralda looked deeply into his eyes, seeing his efforts to conceal his pain and speak of it so matter-of-factly. But she knew there was something else. A missing piece of information, that he hadn't been able to tell her, yet she knew with almost certainty. But she needed to ask him nevertheless. Not only for her, but specially because of him. She needed him to know that she knew, that she understood. So she gathered her strength and asked the hardest question of all:
- The woman who tricked you… and those men who attacked you… they... were gypsies, right?
Frollo stared at her, and she saw his own eyes tearing up in shame, anger and despise.
- Yes. Yes, they were.
Esmeralda cried silently, her tears rolling down her cheeks freely without any attempt on her side to stop them. Frollo cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual composure. When he felt like his voice wouldn't break down, he concluded his story:
- So that's how I got into studying medicinal herbs. I decided that next time someone I cared about was sick, I would be the one who know how to help them, so I wouldn't need to depend on anyone's good will, or lack of it. My brother and I were orphans and we needed a place to stay, so I offered my help to a barber, the only man I knew that had some knowledge about sickness and health. He taught me everything he knew, which wasn't much, and allowed Jehan and myself to sleep on his caravan, in exchange for my work and Jehan's help with his "house" chores. Eventually I grew tired of it, and decided to pursue more advanced education on my own. You can figure out the rest. - he pointed out, settling the matter.
Esmeralda nodded, absently. Her heart was still wrenched, and her mind was putting the pieces together. Now everything made much more sense. She wasn't justifying Frollo's behavior, but at least she could understand where he was coming from. Such a traumatic experience, being taken advantage of and hurt at his worst time of need, when he was just a child… no wonder he held such a strong prejudice towards her people.
Frollo was clearly uncomfortable, as if he had overshared and was now regretting it. He also looked exhausted and pale, and the water from his clothes was beginning to soak the bed underneath him. So he got up, and grabbing the empty cup from the nightstand, he said:
- Well, I think that's enough for now. You should try to get back to sleep. Your body still needs the rest. I will have this refilled for you. - he told her, lifting the cup. Esmeralda gave him a weak smile, still struggling to find the words. - Are you sure you're alright? - he asked her then, with a frown of concern.
- I'll be fine. I guess I just need to sleep… Thank you. - she answered, this time displaying a wider smile.
Frollo's frown vanished and a calmer expression replaced it. He sighed in relief, and right afterwards, he collapsed into the floor, the cup in his hand shattering into a million pieces.