- Are you awake…?- she heard a low voice, whispering in her ear.
Esmeralda opened her eyes, dazed. When her pupils adapted to the semi darkness of the room, she was able to distinguish the features of the face from which the voice was coming.
It was Claude Frollo's face.
Probably the last face on earth she would have ever imagined waking up to. But also, as she had just realized, the first face on earth she would now choose to wake up to.
- Hi – she mumbled, still sleepy. It wasn't until she tried to turn on her side to face him that she realized, under all the blankets, she was still naked.
It took her an instant to recall the events that had occurred the night before, but when she did, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. Had she really…? Oh God. What must he think of her now? But, truth be told, she was in his bed, wasn't she? That had to mean something.
Frollo was staring at her so deeply, she felt his eyes piercing her soul. His smell was everywhere around her, on the pillows, the sheets. She felt completely surrounded by his presence, and to her surprise, that actually made her feel safer than ever.
- How are you feeling? - he asked cautiously. She could tell he was afraid of her reaction waking up to him. Maybe he thought that she had lost her mind last night, and wasn't sure of how he should handle her now.
But the reality was, Frollo was indeed afraid, though it was something else that was worrying him. He feared that she had got carried away in her angry confession and that now, looking at it under a different, new day's light, she would regret it and run away to hide herself again.
But, to his relief, Esmeralda smiled timidly.
- I'm good. - she said with a gentle nod. - How are you? - she asked then, tentatively.
- Not so good – he answered truthfully, and Esmeralda's heart flinched. But he quickly explained. - I have to go take that stupid tour of the city with Lefebvre.
- Oh… - she said, dissapointed. - Are you sure you don't want me to…?
- No. - he interrupted her firmly. - You should stay here and rest. I will handle this myself.
- Okay then. - she agreed, watching Frollo rise up from the bed, and realizing he was already dressed with his judge clothes.
The man looked at her unsure how to say goodbye. She was looking at him expectantly, so he nervously leaned down and swiftly kissed her forehead.
- I'll see you tonight. - he promised.
- Good. - she replied with a warm smile, wrapping herself tighter in the blankets and yawning.
Frollo looked at her for an instant as she closed her eyes to drift back into sleep. In his bed. Naked. It took every ounce of strength and self discipline in him to walk away from the bed and leave the room.
Gaspard Lefebvre was already waiting for him in the hall when he came downstairs. He had chosen a very ostentatious attire, a green vest with golden roses embroidered on it, green tights and shiny black shoes. He was also wearing a white scarf that contrasted with his dark hair and beard.
- Good morning, Minister! - he greeted him loudly.
God, even his voice was annoying, Frollo thought to himself before faking a polite smile.
- I hope you found your chamber comfortable, Mr Lefebvre- he said with a gentle gesture.
- Oh, most certainly! - the emissary reassured. - I slept wonderfully, specially after such a delightful evening. It's a shame that your beautiful guest won't be joining us today. - he pointed out, with a hint of hope in his tone that Frollo promptly extinguished.
- She needs the rest to heal, I'm sure you understand.
- Of course, of course – Gaspard nodded, dissapointed. - Shall we, then?
Frollo guided him towards the courtyard, where he expected to see his carriage, or Lefebvre's, already awaiting them. However, when they walked into the open, only Pat was there, holding the reins of two horses.
- I hope you don't mind. - Gaspard said, lightly – I took the liberty of asking your servants to prepare two horses for us instead of the carriage. That will give us a chance to blend in with the citizens and enjoy a typical Parisian day.
- You want to ride all day? - Frollo asked in disbelief.
- I would love to, yes! Unless, of course – he said casually – you find it too tiring.
Frollo's teeth gritted. Here it was again, the hidden poison in Lefebvre's words, trying to remark his age and to get him to admit weakness. Well, he wasn't going to give Lefebvre that satisfaction.
- Not at all – Frollo responded calmly – I'm just surprised that a man used to the king's court commodities would choose to ride his own horse instead of having someone else transporting him.
- Oh, but I wasn't born in court, Your Honor. - Gaspard replied, and though his smile remained fixed on his face, his eyes darkened menacingly. - I come from humble origins, such as yourself from what I've heard. I've had to ride a lot of horses to get to where I am now. I'm not afraid of getting my clothes dirty. - he pointed out with a meaningful look.
Frollo sensed the implicit threat on his words. Gaspard wanted to make sure he knew that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, even if he was still to reveal what exactly that was.
Though Frollo was starting to suspect it, and Lefebvre's next words fueled his suspicions.
- What a wonderful beast! - the emissary said, coming closer to Frollo's black horse.
If Frollo looked short in comparison to his horse, Lefebvre looked even smaller. But that didn't stop the man from admiring the animal from every angle, complimenting his strength and gracefulness. He was looking at Snowball with greedy eyes, and his voice sounded hungry when he asked:
- Would you be so generous as to spare him for the day? I would be more than honored to ride this powerful creature.
Frollo looked at the other horse Pat was holding. It was a shorter, smaller brown mare, slender and healthy, but in no way comparable to his own mount. However, once again Gaspard had trapped him with his formal request.
- Absolutely. -Frollo pointed out, at Pat couldn't help throwing him an astonished look, for he knew how protective the judge was when it came to his horse. - However, I'm not sure he… - he started to warn, but Gaspard was already grabbing the reins and climbing onto the horse's saddle.
Snowball neighed restlessly, but the emissary pulled hard from the reins and forced him to keep his head low. Frollo felt his fists clenching as he witnessed the lack of delicacy with which the man was treating his precious horse. But he forced himself to take a deep breath and climb onto the mare, which, even with his superior height, left him a little under Gaspard's one. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the emissary, who fought to conceal a smug smile.
Pat guided both horses to the back entrance, and after wishing them both a good day, he closed the iron door, leaving the two men finally alone.
Frollo soon noticed that the emissary's intention to "blend in" was just a mere pretense to brag around the city. He wanted to be seen in his royal attire, and he was definitely enjoying the attention and murmurs his presence caused among the commoners. He stood straight on Frollo's horse, taking a great satisfaction from the fact that he got to look at the judge over his shoulder. Frollo kept repeating himself that he just had to endure the day, let the man get his dose of admiration, and then maybe Lefebvre would leave him alone. So, with great effort, he just went along with the whole thing, trying to ignore the people's prying looks and snarky whispers.
At noon, Notre Dame's bells started to ring. Frollo quickly rushed his mare to reach Gaspard, who was keeping a fast pace to lead the way.
- Mr Lefebvre – he called, trying to conceal the anxiety in his tone. - May I suggest we take a detour around the river? With the sun so high, the views outside the city are something to behold. - he pointed out, trying to sound convincing.
- I don't see why not. - Gaspard replied. Frollo exhaled alleviated. He wanted to keep the emissary as far from the cathedral as possible. - I seem to recall there was a picturesque mill across the bridge. Let's head that way.
Frollo cursed internally, his relief being instantly swept away by his concern.
The mill Gaspard was referring to was the one he had set on fire during his frantic search for Esmeralda, when that coward Phoebus hadn't had the nerve to do it himself. Though the captain had rescued the miller's family and they were now safely hosted at one of Mr Flamcourt's properties, the mill itself had burned to the ground. But he didn't want to reveal his moment of madness to the emissary, so he kept silent as they rode across the bridge, waiting for some kind of miracle or divine intervention to save him from the embarrassment.
However, when they got to the burned mill, the only divine intervention felt like more of a cosmic cruel joke. For the whole miller's family was there, watching the reconstruction builders as they cleared the remaining debris and started placing the new stones in the walls.
- What happened here? - Lefebvre asked dramatically.
- A tragic fire. - Frollo answered briefly, trying to convince himself that there was no harm in not revealing the whole truth.
When they saw him, the miller's wife and kids hid behind the miller's wide body. Gaspard noticed this and pointed his horse towards them.
- Are you the miller? - he asked the anxious man, who nodded silently. - I'm so sorry to see what happened to your home. Were there any personal losses?
- N...no, sir. My wife and children are all safe, thanks to the Lord.
- That's wonderful news in the middle of such disgrace. - Lefebvre commented sympathetically.
Frollo was right behind him, listening carefully as he held his breath. The miller seemed confused by the emissary's questioning. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of test, and worried that the judge may had come back for further punishment. He desperately wanted to get on Frollo's good side, so he took a couple steps towards him and said, in a pleading tone:
- We're so very grateful for the hospitality you provided for us, Your Honor. Our family will always be in debt with you.
The judge felt sick with guilt, hearing the implicit terror in his words.
- It was the least I could do. - he reassured the man with a gentle nod.
- How come? - asked the emissary, to whom the quick exchange of words hadn't go unnoticed.
A thick silence followed. The miller kept his eyes fixed on his feet, and his family flinched tighter together behind him. Frollo swallowed, desperately trying to find a proper answer. Each second made the tension grow and Gaspard's avid look increased. Like a hound smelling a prey, he felt he was onto something there.
- Well… it is my duty as Minister of Justice to make sure every citizen in Paris is treated justly, isn't it?. - Frollo declared finally.
- Of course. - Gaspard agreed in a low tone, though he heard an almost inaudible snort coming from the miller's wife.
- It's past noon – Frollo announced, trying to change the subject. - I'm sure you must be hungry. May I interest you in a proper warm meal at the city's best canteen?
- That sounds wonderful – Lefebvre affirmed, and with a final deep stare at the miller, he grabbed the reins of his horse and turned away to follow Frollo back through the bridge.
When they arrived at the canteen, Frollo slipped a few coins into the server boy's hand to make sure he would take his horses to the back yard and gave them some water as they ate.
They entered the crowded canteen, and the noise covered their entrance. In that moment, Gaspard tripped onto a chair, making a loud sound, and everyone's heads turned around to look at them. The conversations instantly faded. Frollo was almost certain that the emissary had crashed into the chair on purpose to make himself noticed. He apologized with a fake embarrassed smile and stood tall so everyone could get a look at his elegant clothes. Soon, heads were close together again and murmurs were exchanged. Though this particular canteen was a gathering place for wealthy individuals, their social status was still far from the judge's, let alone the emissary's. So they were impressed and suspicious of their presence there.
Frollo took a step forward and guided Lefebvre towards an empty table at the corner, where they wouldn't be bothered by the people's indiscretion. People resumed their animated conversations, and soon the place was filled with noise again. However, as they were being served two glasses of wine, a loud nasal voice was heard, forcing its way through the crowded place.
Mr Flamcourt's prominent paunch hit their table as its owner arrived, short of breath.
- Your Honor! - he greeted Frollo, with a small reverence. - I heard you had come in and had to come check for myself. To what do we owe the honor? - he asked, visibly drunk. He then noticed Gaspard Lefebvre's presence across the table, and his eyes widened with surprise. - Oh, excuse my manners Sir. I'm Antoine Flamcourt, at your service. - he announced, with another reverence.
- It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Flamcourt. - The emissary replied pompously. - I'm Gaspard Lefebvre, an emissary from Your Majesty the King.
Frollo could see Gaspard's rejoice at Mr Flamcourt's bewilderment.
- Please join us, my friend. - Lefebvre invited him, with a gentle gesture. - I'd be honor to get to know such an important man in Paris. - he complimented Flamcourt, who seemed eager to get closer.
- Oh, I wouldn't dare interrupt… - Flamcourt said with a fake modesty tone, throwing Frollo an inquiring look.
- You're not interrupting at all. - Frollo replied politely, though he was very irritated at the man's intromission.
If he usually found it hard to withstand Flamcourt's annoying presence and shallow conversation, doing so while engaging in Lefebvre's subtle but constant battle of words seemed unbearable. Though, on second thought, maybe Esmeralda's strategy would work again during this conversation. Maybe Flamcourt and Lefebvre would dive into their own battle of prides and leave him aside.
To his relief, that's exactly what happened. While he ate as fast as he could without looking anxious, he observed the two men asking each other apparently innocent questions, each of them attempting to boast about their own accomplishments and positions. It was an unfair battle, not only because of Gaspard's obvious superiority in status, but also because of Flamcourt's inebriated state, which made him sloppy and slow. After a while, Lefebvre was bored, and without warning, he brought up a sensitive matter.
- Did you hear about what happened to that beautiful mill, Mr Flamcourt? - he asked, pouring the man another glass of wine.
Frollo immediately raised his eyes from his plate, alert.
- Of course I did. - Flamcourt replied, offended. - Everyone in town heard about the unfortunate event!- he explained without hesitation. But then he remembered Frollo's presence there, and his face turned to a nervous expression. - Though, if you ask me, it just had to be done. - he pointed out, trying to gain the judge's sympathy.
Frollo wanted to bury his face in his palms, or yell at the man for his indiscretion, or both. Instead, he cleared his throat uncomfortably, watching Lefebvre's eyes narrow.
- What do you mean, had to be done? Was it intentional? - the emissary asked, turning his sharp gaze to the judge.
- The miller was a suspect in a criminal search. - Frollo decided to intervene, hoping his explanation would settle the emissary's thirst for gossip. - There were reasons to suspect he was harboring gypsies that had taken part in a riot days before. When he refused to cooperate, we were forced to take action.
Frollo looked at Flamcourt by the corner of his eye to see his reaction. To his relief, the man was looking at his glass, nodding absently, and probably not even listening to what he was saying. Gaspard looked at him as well, and then he turned back to the judge.
- I see… what an unpleasant situation. -he commented.
- Indeed. - Frollo agreed, alleviated.
However, Lefebvre wasn't going to release his juicy prey so soon.
- So that gypsy riot… has that happened often?- he asked, clearly digging for dirt.
- Of course not. - Frollo replied, offended. - It was a one time thing and was quickly addressed and solved.
- You were too gentle on them, Your Honor, if you ask me – Flamcourt intervened again, though no one had asked him. - Not a single execution… the criminals let free… - he recalled, dissapointed.
- Is that so? - Gaspard asked. - I'm really curious… how did the situation go from burning down mills to liberating the criminals without punishment?
Frollo felt his throat tightening, as he struggled to breathe. He cleared his throat and tried to sound calmed as he stated:
- Different measures were taken.
He saw Gaspard's intention to ask further, but Flamcourt interrupted him with a loud exclamation:
- Those gypsies! - he yelled, shaking his head, his vision blurry from the alcohol. - They are a plague to this city! With their pagan sinful habits, and those grotesque indecent spectacles they make!
- They most certainly are, my friend. - Lefebvre agreed, forgetting about his question, adopting a self-righteous tone - Your Majesty has already received so many complaints from throughout His kingdom. In any important city, the gypsies nest and try to parasite from the commoner's hard honest work. It's a wide-spread plague, I'm afraid. Our King is working hard to eradicate the issue. I'm sure Your Honor keeps this situation as one of his priority concerns. - he stated, pointing to Frollo.
- Absolutely. - the judge replied.
However, the weirdest thing was happening to him. He didn't know if it was the fact that it was Lefebvre saying it, but he felt uncomfortable listening to those words. Granted, he agreed with every single one of them, rationally. But something inside him protested at their choice of words and their evident loathe towards gypsies. He felt a small but strong urge to speak on their behalf, to defend them from such hateful accusations. What was wrong with him? Had he gone soft because of Esmeralda? He was certain that she was an exception, and he hadn't and wouldn't change his mind about her people. But that uncomfortable little unknown voice inside his head was still protesting.
- We should be on our way. - Frollo stated, trying to distract himself from such confusing thoughts. - There's still so much to see before sunset.
- Of course. - Gaspard nodded, getting up from his chair and leaning towards Flamcourt.- It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Flamcourt.
- The pleasure was mine, Mr… ehm… - he doubted, his mind foggy with alcohol.
- Mr Lefebvre, your friend and servant. - the emissary said, with a slight bow.
- Mr Lefebvre! - Flamcourt repeated, embarrassed. - Of course! It's really good to know I now have not only one, but two influencing friends in Court, if I ever need it! - he said cheerfully, winking at Frollo.
- Is that so? - Gaspard asked in the same cheerful tone, encouraging the drunk man to speak further.
- Well of course! The Minister here still owes me for providing free hosting to all of his fires's victims, I haven't forgotten! - he pointed out with a friendly poke into Frollo's ribs.
Frollo could have killed him right then and there. He didn't need to look at Lefebvre to visualize the satisfaction in his face.
- Well – Gaspard said to Flamcourt, condescendingly placing a hand on his shoulder- , now you have a friend even closer to the King, Mr Flamcourt. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.
The man nodded happily, and turning around, he got lost in the crowd again. Gaspard turned to look at Frollo, whose face appeared paler than usual.
- Fires? Plural?- he inquired with a crooked smile.
- It was a hard week. - Frollo answered simply, walking past him to the door, hoping he hadn't noticed his hands trembling.
The rest of the afternoon, the judge tried to stall the emissary as long as he could, even when that meant asking him forced questions meant to make the man go on and on about his luxurious life in the royal palace. Frollo wanted to keep him busy until sunset, and then be able to use the dark as an excuse to return to the Palace of Justice right away. But even though his techniques worked for while, eventually Gaspard Lefebvre asked him the question he was dreading:
- When will we get to the cathedral, Minister? I most certainly cannot leave the city without paying Notre Dame a visit.
- Oh, I assumed you would be attending Sunday Mass with me tomorrow. - he said, hoping the man would settle for that instead.
He wanted to avoid the encounter between the emissary and the archdeacon. In mass, the priest would be so busy greeting everyone that they would barely have time to speak.
- Of course I will. But I wanted a chance to admire the architecture on the outside as well. - Lefebvre explained.
- Follow me then.- Frollo indicated reluctantly, pointing the mare towards the cathedral.
When they got there, Frollo saw true admiration for the first time in the emissary's eyes. Notre Dame had that quality to it, he thought to himself. It made even the cockiest of men feel humble and small. The giant granite lady held such a powerful presence, it almost felt like she was alive. She wasn't something, but someone.
Lefebvre was suddenly quiet and reflective, admiring the frontage with the tender gaze of a lover.
- She's a true beauty. - he mumbled, smiling at Frollo. The judge smiled back at him, with a silent nod.
It was their only honest interaction in the whole day. The sun was nearly gone, and Frollo was starting to feel hopeful. With the tour almost finished, the day was coming to its end. That meant getting rid of the emissary's presence, but, above all, reuniting with Esmeralda. He was dying to get some private time with her, though he wasn't sure what to expect from it now.
But, to his dread, as he opened his mouth to propose they headed home, the cathedral's lateral door opened and the archdeacon showed up, walking eagerly towards them.
- Frollo! - he called, waving his hand.
Damn it.
- Good evening, father.- Frollo answered, respectfully descending from the mane to be at his ground level - Allow me to introduce you; this is Mr Gaspard Lefebvre, an emissary from the King.
Lefebvre stood on the horse as long as possible, enjoying the height difference with Frollo. When the archdeacon reached them, the man quickly descended, and kissed the priest's hand.
- It's an honor to meet you at last. - he announced cloyingly.
The archdeacon seemed surprised by those words, and he looked at Frollo for clarification.
- I've heard a lot from you. - Gaspard explained. - The Bishop himself told the King about your dedicated labor here.
- Oh, the Bishop...- the priest exclaimed, blushing. - Well, I'm but a humble servant of God. I know nothing about royal affairs like the two of you do. - he said, looking at both men alternatively.
- That may be so, but the King does know about you. - Gaspard insisted with a smile.
Frollo felt the danger coming before the emissary even said the words.
- He got word from your concerned letter to the Bishop last month. - Lefebvre kept going.
The archdeacon was visibly nervous. He kept throwing anxious glances at Frollo, who was doing his best to appear calmed, even if his stomach was twisting with worry.
- That… that was a terrible misunderstanding – the priest said with a trembling voice, trying to justify himself. - I immediately sent word afterwards, trying to correct it… I didn't mean it to get to the King himself…
- I know, I know. - the emissary replied quickly, holding his hand in a condescending tone. - Rest assured that everything's been cleared up and the King is nothing but grateful to you for bringing the matter to our attention.
- Well, that's good to hear. - the archdeacon nodded, rubbing his hands. - I was really worried that this could affect Minister Frollo's reputation, you see? He is a valuable figure to our community, our protector.
- Thank you for your kind words, father. - Frollo said with a gentle nod.
- They're nothing but the truth, my son! - the priest replied firmly.- It wasn't your fault if that gypsy dancer got inside your mind. I knew from the moment I saw the spectacle that it would bring trouble to our city. She meant well, of course, but…
- Was this woman the one who started the riot? - Lefebvre asked with apparent innocence, but his pupils were dilated like a shark at the smell of blood. He could feel he was getting closer to the core of the matter.
And so could Frollo. His heart was pumping in his ears, and his mouth was so dry he could barely speak. Not that any words were coming to his mind anyway. He was paralyzed. This was it. If the emissary found out the truth, he was lost.
- I don't think she intended to cause any trouble. But their lack of decorum and excessive licentiousness are not compatible with a proper christian community. They have a way of polluting the mortal mind with unholy thoughts - the priest answered, thoughtful.
- Of course – the emissary agreed, before setting his trap – It's no wonder then that the Minister was confused by such demonstrations and unable to take the necessary action against them.
- Exactly! It wasn't Frollo's fault! - the archdeacon exclaimed, falling head first into it.
Gaspard smiled warmly at him, though Frollo knew his smile was actually coming from his deep satisfaction. He had succeeded at practically getting a confession.
- We won't keep you any longer, father. - Lefebvre said, kissing the priest's hand again. - I think we've seen all there is to see in this city, haven't we? - he turned to ask Frollo.
- Indeed. - Frollo hissed, between his gritted teeth.
The archdeacon made a blessing gesture, and walked back to the cathedral, feeling relieved that he had been able to clear things up. He had no clue that he had just thrown Claude Frollo to the wolves.