- You look different. - a scoffing voice remarked from the alley.
Esmeralda turned around when she heard Clopin's words, hopeful. But when she saw his face, she immediately realized the man wasn't in a friendly disposition. She opened her mouth to answer, but no appropriate words came to her mind.
The gypsy walked towards her, circling her figure, examining her looks.
- I see the palace's life is treating you well. - he pointed out, bitterly. - They even got you to start wearing shoes! - he mocked her.
- Well, after almost cutting my foot in half, I began to see its benefits. - she defended herself.- My wound's better, by the way, thank you for asking. - she said, sarcastically.
Though she had been walking perfectly for a couple weeks now, it hurt her that Clopin seemed to not even remember the incident. After all, she had been seriously ill.
But her adoptive brother's face was clouded by resentment, and he showed no signs of caring about it at all.
- Frollo seems to be doing a lot better too. - he commented, casually.
- Why do you say that? - she asked cautiously.
- I saw him last Sunday, after mass. He seemed delighted to see me. - Clopin answered in a snarky tone.
Esmeralda recalled the moment she had saw his puppeteer caravan at the square, outside the cathedral. He must have seen Frollo after that, once she got back inside Notre Dame to avoid running into the archdeacon. Almost a week had passed, and, to be honest, she hadn't thought about Clopin until that very moment.
In her defense, it had been a very intense week. Frollo and her had finally given in to their mutual desire, and ever since that first night, they had been making up for the lost time. She had gotten used quickly to her new routine. During the day, Frollo belonged to the citizens of Paris, and he was working harder than ever to provide justice, though his ways to do so had become more merciful. And then, after sunset, he would come back to the palace, where she was awaiting him eagerly, after a day of practicing her writing and reading skills with Quasimodo, whom she was about to meet right now. Or hanging out with Pat, getting to know about horses, whom she was growing fond of.
They would have dinner, quite hastily to say the least, and then rushed to their private chambers. She felt that being with him was some sort of addiction. It wasn't just the fact that she was enjoying their physical connection way more than anything she had experienced before. It was also the fact that every passing day, the feeling she had had that first night with him was reinforced. The feeling that they were somehow two parts of a whole, and now that they had finally reunited, she felt more powerful and alive than ever. The love she was feeling was overwhelming, and she felt like it was cleansing her of everything that wasn't her true essence.
She felt different, and at the same time, she recognized herself more than ever.
- So… - Clopin interrupted her thoughts. - What is your excuse now?
- What? - Esmeralda asked, baffled, trying to remember what they were talking about.
- If Frollo is already better, - Clopin repeated – what is your excuse now to remain at the palace? You said you wanted to make sure he made it. Well… unfortunately, he did. So, why are you still there? - he asked bitterly, though she could hear the hidden pain and confusion in his tone.
- Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, do I? - she replied, throwing him a meaningful look.
Clopin snorted loudly.
- I have a feeling that you wouldn't leave even if you had, am I wrong?- he inquired, with a smug grin.
Esmeralda felt suddenly tired and irritated.
- What do you want me to say, Clopin? Why are you even talking to me if you hate me that much?
The man didn't answer. He just walked over to a metal bar that hanged from a wall, and jumped to grab it and swing back and forth hanging from his hands. Esmeralda knew him well enough to know he liked to distract himself with acrobatics when he was restless.
She sighed, exasperated, and walked towards him.
- Seriously, Clopin, I don't understand. First you call me a traitor, then you send me the blanket. Yes, I know it was you. - she quickly added before he could protest. - And I thought that maybe that meant you were willing to fix things between us… But now you come and start throwing accusations again. I'm lost here. - she said, throwing her hands in the air.
- You are lost? - Clopin repeated with disbelief. - I am the one who's been wrecking his brains trying to find an explanation as to why the hell you would choose the man who nearly killed us all and kidnapped you, over your damn family!
- It's not like that. - she mumbled, protesting.
Clopin jumped back to the ground, rubbing his hands and facing her.
- Then how is it? I'm dying to hear a single reason that makes sense.
Esmeralda held his gaze, evaluating how reasonable it would be to tell him the truth. She decided to take it slow.
- Well… for starters, he didn't kill us.
- He would have! - Clopin yelled.
- But he didn't! - she desperately tried to defend the judge. - And he didn't kidnap me either. I chose to stay, I chose to accept his deal.
- Well, when the other option is a mass execution, you don't really have much of a choice, do you? - Clopin stated.
Esmeralda took a deep breath, struggling to remain calmed. She knew the gypsy had a very valid point. She tried to switch strategies.
- Clopin… - she said, in a pleading tone. - I'm not trying to justify anything he's done. You're right, it was wrong, there's no other way to look at it. But that doesn't make him a bad person, it's more complicated than that.
- Is it? - Clopin asked, skeptically.
- Yes. Think about it for a second, will you? It's me. Do you think I would … - suddenly she stopped herself, realizing she was going to say "love". Clopin noticed her hesitation.
- You would what? - he invited her to continue, harshly.
- I would defend him, if I didn't have a valid reason? - she completed her sentence. - He has had a very hard life, you know?
- Oh, sorry then! How would I possibly understand what a hard life is when mine has been a walk in the park! - he yelled, ironically.
- God! - she exclaimed, frustrated. - You're not even trying to listen!
- Forgive me, Esmeralda, but it's going to take a lot more than "a hard life" for me to even consider what you're saying. - Clopin pointed out darkly.
- All I want you to consider is that he's much more than what you see on the surface. You don't know him.
- No. - Clopin agreed, before adding. - And I don't know you either.
- You do, Clopin! You know me. Why is it so hard for you to trust me on this?
He looked at her with a sad, resentful expression.
- I don't know what he's buying you with. Expensive clothes, or fancy food, or God knows what. But the Esmeralda I knew would have never turned her back on her values. Whoever you are now, you're no longer my sister. - he stated.
Esmeralda felt a deadly calm descending over her, like a cold dense fog.
- Maybe you're right. - she said slowly. - Maybe I never was.
She turned around, feeling her heart hardening with every step she took.
- Wait! - she heard the man calling her behind her back.
- What. - she asked harshly.
Clopin walked slowly towards her. He no longer looked angry, or bellicose. Just deeply sad and dissapointed.
- You gave your life for us. - he said in a low tone. - You traded your freedom for our safety. We will never forget that. If now that you got your freedom back you want to spend it on that… man. - he pronounced carefully.- then, as Quasimodo said, it's your choice. I have to respect that.
- Thank you – she said with a single nod.
- But you're making a huge mistake. - he warned her, getting closer, and suddenly she saw the desperate worry in his eyes - He is a murderous monster.
- He's… - she protested, wanting to deny his affirmation. But, with a sharp pain in her heart, she realized she couldn't. So instead, she said. - He's just doing his job.
- I'm not talking about the executions.- Clopin said, enigmatically. - Esmeralda... he's not who you think he is.
- What are you talking about? - she said, feeling a surge of terror freezing the blood in her veins.
Clopin held her gaze for a second, and then he shook his head, as his expression darkened.
- You should ask the archdeacon.
When Frollo arrived to Quasimodo's quarters, he was surprised to find the lad alone, concentrated on his carving of a piece of wood.
- Good evening.- the judge greeted him.
- Oh, master! - Quasimodo flinched, startled. - I hadn't heard you come in!
- How was your day, did you two have fun? Where is Esmeralda? - he asked, coming close to the table.
- Esmeralda? - Quasimodo repeated, puzzled. - I didn't see her today. - he said.
Frollo looked baffled.
- What do you mean? She told me this morning that she was spending the day with you.
- Yes, that's what we had planned, but she didn't show up. I thought she was busy doing other things. - Quasimodo explained, shrugging.
- That's weird. - Frollo commented, tracing back his steps mentally.
He had spent the morning out in the city, but had come back to the Palace of Justice for lunch. When he had left his horse at the stables, only Pat was there, so she couldn't have been with the stable boy. And she was definitely not at the palace for lunch. Where was she? He felt an uncomfortable nervousness taking over his stomach.
- Did she mention if she wanted to go somewhere else? - he asked Quasimodo, but the lad shook his head.
- Maybe she is with her family… - Quasimodo ventured tentatively.
- That's unlikely. - Frollo stated, reminiscing about the way Esmeralda's brother had looked at him when they saw each other at the cathedral a few days ago.
- Then where do you think she is? - the bell ringer asked.
Frollo shook his head, absently, trying to ponder despite the incoming worry that was filling his mind.
- Did you say something to her? - Quasimodo inquired out of the blue.
- What?- Frollo asked, puzzled.
- It wouldn't be the first time you two misunderstand each other. - Quasimodo explained, throwing him a meaningful look.
- No...- Frollo answered, replaying in his mind the last conversation they had had, that morning during breakfast. She had said goodbye with a swift kiss, throwing him a promising look as they agreed to meet at the cathedral later so he could pick her up and bring her to the palace that night. - No, we were good.
- Hmm… - Quasimodo mumbled, noticing the way Frollo had pronounced that "we". It definitely sounded like more than a simple pronoun. He smiled internally, glad that things were finally going well between them. - Then, I'm sure she will be waiting for you at home.
- I don't know… - Frollo said doubtfully. - I have a bad feeling. - he murmured, and just in that moment, a bright white light illuminated the interior of the bell tower, followed by a loud thunder sound.
Quasimodo chuckled nervously.
- That's ominous. - he tried to joke, but Frollo's face was getting paler by the second. - Hey, - Quasimodo called him softly. - You should go home, before it starts to rain. She's probably already there, wondering where you are.
Frollo hesitated, but he didn't have any other plan anyway.
- Look – Quasimodo insisted. - If she's not there, come back and I'll help you look for her, okay?
- Alright. - Frollo yielded at last, and he turned to the ladder quickly.
It was only half an hour later when he showed up at Quasimodo's tower again, soaking and anxious.
- Let me get my cape. - Quasimodo said without even asking.
Frollo had ridden his horse, so Quasimodo had to climb to the massive animal as well. His low height made it really hard to reach the horse's back, and he would have laughed at himself if it weren't for the circumstances.
- Where are we going? - he asked instead, trying to use the cape to cover himself from the rain.
- I don't know. - Frollo replied truthfully. He had just ridden to Notre Dame automatically, without considering his next move.
- Maybe we should try the Court of Miracles? - Quasimodo asked, hesitating.
- Hmm..- Frollo grunted. The Court of Miracles was the last place he wished to visit again, and its inhabitants probably felt the same way about him. But even if Esmeralda wasn't there, it was likely that the gypsies knew where to find her, for they knew pretty much everything that went down on the streets of Paris.
So, with a sigh of surrender, he pointed his horse towards the graveyard.
The entrance to the catacombs was apparently clear, but nevertheless, Frollo hesitated to descend the stairs.
- You should go ahead. - he told Quasimodo. - They know you. If they see me, they may run away and then we'll never find her.
- Alright. - Quasimodo agreed. - But come behind me. If you stay here alone, they could seize the opportunity. - he said, concerned.
- Go. I'll follow. - Frollo instructed him, nodding.
Quasimodo descended the stairs carefully, but there was no trace of people down there. He grabbed one of the torches from the wall, and took a few steps through the main corridor. He then realized that he had no clue of what was the right direction to go. The only time he had been down there was when he had come with Phoebus, to warn the gypsies of Frollo's ambush. But that time they had taken them as prisoners, and blindfolded them so they wouldn't know where they were going.
So he resolved to go back, up the stairs.
- What's going on? - Frollo asked, confused.
- There's no one guarding the entrance. - Quasimodo explained. - You should come with me. I don't know the way and if I get lost I won't know how to get back at you and you won't know what happened.
- Okay. - Frollo nodded, and he began descending the stairs along his adoptive son.
- This way. - he pointed when they got to the catacombs, gesturing towards a side corridor. - I do remember the way.
So they walked in that direction, trying not to step on the bones and skulls on the floor, among the stinking water. Frollo was holding his collar up to cover his mouth, trying not to breathe in the smell. Quasimodo was doing the same thing with his cape, in addition to holding the torch up.
They walked in silence for several minutes, excepting the few brief indications that Frollo whispered. Just when Quasimodo was beginning to fear they were lost, they started hearing a distant murmur, that grew in intensity as they moved forward. Then, after a curve, a dim light appeared in the darkness, coming from the main cave.
- There. - Frollo pointed.
- Let me go first. - Quasimodo said, stopping him with a hand gesture.
He walked past the judge and into the entrance of the cave. It was much less crowded than the last time he was there. He then remembered that Esmeralda had said that most of the gypsies had left Paris. Only a few tents here and there remained.
A small group of women were chatting in a corner. There was no one else around, so he walked towards them, clearing his throat to reveal his presence.
- Excuse me… - he said nervously.
The women reacted instantly, flinching and grabbing each other.
- What do you want? - one of them asked in a distrustful tone.
- It's the bell ringer! - another yelled.
- Clopin! - called a third one.
- I come as a friend! I'm looking for Esmeralda! - Quasimodo quickly explained, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture.
- She's not here. - Clopin's voice said, emerging from a tent. - How did you get here? - he asked, suspicious.
- I helped him. - Frollo intervened, stepping into the light. The women screamed and run to their respective tents to gather their children. Frollo kept a safe distance, watching Clopin adopting a defensive posture. - We just want to know where she is.
- She's not here. - the gypsy repeated, in a menacing tone – and neither should you. You're not welcomed here. - he hissed.
- I'm well aware, thank you. - Frollo stated, irritated. - Do you know where she is?
- What makes you think I would tell you? - Clopin said, while looking nervously at both sides, probably searching for soldiers.
- I've been benevolent. - Frollo said, lowering his tone and taking a few steps closer. - But make no mistake. I am still the Minister of Justice. - he pointed out in a threatening voice.
- What he means is – Quasimodo intervened, trying to calm the growing tension. -, we come in peace. We are just worried about Esmeralda. Do you have any idea on where she could be?
- Again, what makes you think I would tell you if I did?
- So you don't. - Frollo affirmed, getting impatient.
- No. - Clopin confessed, before smiling viciously. - But if she's smart, she's probably getting as far from you as possible.
- Alright. - Quasimodo interrupted him, foreseeing another fight between the two men. - Thanks for your help. Please, if you see her, let her know we're looking for her.
He turned around, willing to leave, but Frollo grabbed his arm to stop him. His hawk-like stare was fixed on Clopin's cruel smile.
- He knows something.- he muttered, so only Quasimodo would hear.
- I don't think he does. He's just trying to upset you. - the lad replied, annoyed.
- He does. - Frollo insisted, walking towards the gypsy. - What do you know? - he demanded.
Clopin's smile vanished instantly, and his fists became clenched. However, he kept a calmed tone when he replied:
- The question is not what do I know… but what does she know.
- What are you talking about? - Frollo asked, narrowing his eyes.
- What haven't you talked about? - Clopin replied, mockingly.
- Enough of your games, gypsy! - Frollo snapped.- If you don't tell me what you know, I swear to God I'll…
- You and what army? - Clopin interrupted him, displaying a cruel smile again.
Then, Frollo heard a loud thud, and turned around in time to see Quasimodo falling to the ground unconscious. Behind him, a huge man was holding a piece of wood with which he had hit Quasimodo's head.
- What are you doing? - Frollo yelled furiously.
- Oh, he'll be fine! - Clopin exclaimed with a gesture, as the huge man leaned down to grab Quasimodo's body and throw it over his shoulder.
- Where are you taking him? - Frollo asked, attempting to follow the man, but Clopin took a couple graceful leaps and stood between them.
- He will wake up outside in a couple hours. - he explained, and he tilted his head before adding. - You, on the other hand... won't ever see the sunlight again.
- Are you threatening me? - Frollo whispered with a dangerous dark look.
- Oh, no! - Clopin laughed. - This is not a threat. This is just information.
He clapped and two other men emerged from the darkness, each one grabbing one of Frollo's arms before he could react. The judge's insults and protests didn't make any difference as they carelessly dragged him towards the wooden platform where the gallows were.
- Come, everyone! - Clopin announced with a singsong voice. - It's not every day we get to witness the end of the big, bad wolf! - he cried, mockingly.
The women from before walked outside their tents, holding their children's hands. They looked equally curious and scared. The few people gathered under the gallows, and soon their murmurs became snarky comments and jokes at Frollo's expense.
So this was it, Frollo thought to himself. After all, this is how his story ended. Hung in the gallows in the filthy catacombs of his beloved city, by those he had sworn to eradicate. It had a certain poetic, ironic beauty to it, didn't it?. He wasn't afraid of death anymore, not after his previous experience with it. But he was afraid of pain. He was afraid of what the gypsies would do with his body, because he was sure they would not settle for a quick, merciful death. They were also probably going to profane his corpse after, in the worst way possible, to get revenge from everything he had done to them. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, he deserved it.
But as the gypsies placed the rope around his neck, and Clopin climbed to his side, getting ready to pull the lever, only one thought remained important.
- Please, Clopin! - he yelled, pleading.
The gypsy was surprised that he was addressing him by his name, but even more that he was doing so in such a pitiful, begging tone.
- What? - he mocked him. - The mighty judge has any final requests?
- Just one. - Frollo whispered hoarsely.
Clopin narrowed his eyes, but took a step away from the lever, listening.
- Please… tell me she's safe. Just tell me she's okay. And if you don't know… please, promise you will find her and keep her safe. - Frollo begged, his voice cracking with heartbreak.
Clopin hesitated. The pain in Frollo's voice caught him off guard, but soon his cold hate rushed in again.
- What is this, some kind of desperate attempt to soften me? - he asked, skeptically. - The verdict is clear, Your Honor. You of all people should know that sentences mustn't be revoked.
- I don't care what you do to me. -Frollo affirmed, and Clopin was taken aback by the honesty in his voice. - But I can't die without knowing she will be safe. Please, at least let me die in peace.
- Why do you care so much? - Clopin asked, getting closer so no one else would hear.
The people below protested at the delay, and they came closer trying to figure out what was going on between the jester and the judge.
- I just do. - Frollo stated, holding his gaze in defiance, challenging him to deny the truth in his eyes.
Clopin stood still for a few seconds, pondering his options. Despite his best efforts, Esmeralda's words from that very morning came back to his mind. Could she be right? Could there be more to Frollo that what met the eye?
No. What was he saying? He couldn't let the man fool him too! This was all a trick, for sure. Frollo was trying to manipulate him, and the moment he got what he wanted, he would probably arrest and execute every single one of them as a punishment for this. Things had gone too far. There was no going back now.
He turned around to grab the lever again, and the cheers from the small crowd below encouraged him.
- Tell her I love her!- Frollo yelled, with his last dose of air.
Clopin's hands froze on the lever. The gypsies protested loudly. But the puppeteer turned around slowly, and watched Frollo with his eyes closed and his teeth gritted, completely prepared to die any second.
He wasn't strategizing. This wasn't a manipulation. As unbelievable as it seemed, Frollo was telling the truth.
He walked to the judge, furiously. Frollo opened his eyes, realizing something was off.
- You... what? - Clopin hissed.
- I love her. - Frollo repeated, with a strangled voice. - You do know where she is, don't you? - he asked, hopeful.
Clopin studied his face for a few seconds, and he witnessed the genuine concern in his eyes.
- I don't- he said eventually. - But if it's true… If you love her… then you must let her go. It's best for her. You don't deserve her. - he whispered, bitterly.
- I know. - Frollo stated, lowering his head in defeat, before realizing what Clopin's words implied.
The gypsy grabbed the rope from his neck and took it off.
- I believe you. - Clopin said, almost inaudibly, with a frown. - And I believe that, somehow… she must love you too. - he murmured, shaking his head. - So I can't take your life. But I never want to see you, any of you, ever again. - he stated bitterly. - I don't care how many soldiers you bring with you, Frollo. If you show up here, or anywhere near my people again, I will personally kill you, even if it's the last thing I do. You understand?
At any other given moment, Frollo would have snapped at that explicit threat. But now all he could feel was relief, such a deep, overwhelming relief that he could have hugged the gypsy. So he nodded firmly, agreeing to his terms.
- Go. Before I can reconsider. - Clopin hissed, pushing him towards the ladder.
Frollo practically jumped down to the floor and then he ran into the darkness, leaving the noise of Clopin's voice dealing with dissapointed complaints behind as fast as he could.
Carrying Quasimodo's body to his horse and placing it on him was a titanic effort, specially under the pouring rain. But Frollo had so much adrenaline rushing through his veins that he didn't even feel the pain as he held the weight and kept Quasimodo's body straight while his horse raced back to the cathedral.
The lad started to wake up when the judge was helping him descend the horse.
- What… what happened? - he asked with a scratchy voice, before feeling the first blow of sharp soreness in his skull. He moaned in pain.
- It's okay, we're safe now. Can you walk? - Frollo asked, concerned, still holding his weight in his arms.
- Hmmm… - Quasimodo grunted, attempting to stand, but his knees were shaking violently.
- Alright, don't worry. I'll help you get upstairs. - Frollo indicated, and slowly but firmly, they began the climb to the bell tower. When they finally arrived at Quasimodo's quarters, the lad was feeling strong enough to climb the ladder by himself. Frollo followed him, focused on catching him if he slipped, but he didn't. He stumbled towards his bed, where he laid on his side, holding his aching head between his hands.
- Let me bring you some water. - Frollo said gently, rushing to get a cup and a jar.
- Where is Esmeralda? - Quasimodo asked at last, still with his eyes closed.
- I don't know. - Frollo confessed.- They didn't know either. But I can't ride around in this storm, and my horse needs to rest. I'm going to head back to the Palace, and tomorrow I'll search for her again.
- I'll go with you. - Quasimodo offered.
- No, you'll stay here. I'm so sorry for putting you at risk again. - Frollo murmured, feeling sick with guilt.
- You didn't do anything, it was them. - Quasimodo pointed out, weakly, with another moan of pain.
- I'll let you sleep. I'll check on you tomorrow. - Frollo said, lovingly touching his arm.
- Good luck.- Quasimodo replied, sinking his head in the pillow.
Frollo rode all the way back to the palace stroking his horse's hair and neck, thanking him for his strength and loyalty, marveling at the sensation of touch. Having been so close to death again made him remember how miraculous every feeling of his alive body was. However, he couldn't focus on enjoying that while the relentless worry was eating him alive inside.
Pat was already sleeping, so it was one of his night guards who took his horse to the stables when he got to the back entrance. He walked across the courtyard to the inside, his footsteps making a squeaking sound because of the water dripping from his shoes. He was so cold that he feared he might get sick again. But this time he had learned his lesson, and he would remove his clothes immediately as soon as he got to his chamber, and then put on some dry ones and stay by the fire to warm himself.
But when he entered his room and walked to the armchair by the fireplace, someone else was sitting there.
- Where were you!? Are you okay? - he asked, desperately relieved.
Esmeralda got up from the chair. Her hair was also dripping, which meant she couldn't have been there long, though she had already changed her clothes for dry ones. But her face was also soaking wet, and it took Frollo a second to realize it was because of the tears falling freely from her very swollen, reddened eyes.
He took a step closer, worried sick, but she instantly backed away. Frollo looked at her, utterly hurt and confused.
She looked back at him, and her stare looked colder and darker than it had ever been, even worse that the way she had looked at her that first day, at the dungeon. Frollo felt a shiver going down his spine, and his heart stopped.
- How could you? - she whispered, with a strangled voice.
- What…? - he asked, with acute despair at her obvious despise for him.
- How could you!? - she yelled then, and her voice broke into crying when she pronounced her next words. - You killed Quasimodo's mother!