Esmeralda arrived at the palace short of breath. But when Djali and her climbed the crack on the wall to enter through the stable's backyard, suddenly the rush and determination she was feeling vanished.
She was so focused on coming back to talk to Frollo, that she hadn't thought of what she was going to say to him. She now felt hesitant and reluctant again. Well, she thought to herself, I have all the time in the world, there is no rush. He took twenty years to admit the truth so I can take a few days to react to it, right?
So she entered the stables looking for Pat, hoping that would distract her and maybe fill her with good energy so she would feel stronger again. The stable's corridor was empty, but there were weird noises coming out from one of the furthest boxes.
- Pat? - she called timidly.
But there was no response. Intrigued, she walked down the corridor, towards the noise. A horse was neighing loudly, blowing and hitting the ground with its hooves.
As she came closer, she began hearing the boy's voice as well, uselessly trying to soothe the animal.
- Hey! It's okay! It's okay! - the lad kept saying, but his tone was anxious.
- Pat, where are you? - she called louder, so he could hear her over the noise.
- Over here!- his voice answered.
Esmeralda realized it came from Snowball's box. She walked to it and found the horse standing on his back legs, neighing vehemently.
If the animal was big when he stood on his four legs, now he looked monstrously huge. Pat looked so fragile beneath it, even with his arms raised high trying to grab the horse's muzzle. She feared for his integrity; if the horse decided to come down over him, his massive body would crush Pat's like a stick.
- Careful! - she yelled, terrified to come any closer.
The horse came down inches away from Pat, and his weight hitting the ground made the floor under her feet vibrate. It was scary as hell but for some reason, Esmeralda also felt mesmerized by such display of wild power.
- Are you okay? - she asked Pat, worried.
- Yes, miss! - the lad replied, sweating and panting heavily as he tried to touch Snowball's black neck.- There you go, it's okay!
But the horse moved away immediately, blowing and shaking his head.
- What's wrong? - Esmeralda asked baffled.
- I don't know! - Pat confessed, frustrated. - I heard him hitting the door from the inside, as if he was trying to escape. He's never done this before!
- Maybe he's sick? - she pondered.
- I don't think so. He was perfectly fine this morning!
The horse suddenly lunged the door again, where Esmeralda was standing.
- Watch out! - Pat cried alarmed, unsuccessfully trying to grab the reins.
Esmeralda jumped to her side to dodge the huge animal, but to her surprise, the horse stopped at the door and turned his head right at her. She was then able to look closer at Snowball's eyes and she saw the panic in them. The animal stared at her deeply, suddenly still. She felt as if he was trying to get her attention, to communicate with her somehow. The horse lowered his head and neighed with a sharp, anxious sound.
- Thank God he didn't get you! - Pat exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to finally grab the reins. - Master Frollo would kill me if he did!
When she heard those words, a strong chill went down her spine. They weren't just a figure of speech anymore. Now, they conjured real, horrible images in her head. But before she could be dragged back to those dark thoughts, something else caught her attention.
She hadn't been the only one to react to Frollo's name.
When Pat had pronounced it, the horse had suddenly turned his head to the lad, and was now hitting his shoulder with his muzzle repeatedly.
- What are you doing? - the boy asked, somehow amused by that unexpected behavior.
But Esmeralda felt as if she was getting closer to something, like her intuition was screaming inside of her gut to get her to understand.
- Is it Frollo? - she asked, out of the blue.
Again, the horse reacted when he heard his master's name. He began shaking his head back and forth, and hitting the floor with his front hoof.
Pat looked at her, confused. But the increasing feeling in her gut was becoming dangerously real.
- Something's wrong. - she muttered. - Something's really wrong.
- With the horse? - Pat asked, trying to follow.
- No. With Frollo. I have to go. - she said, and before the lad could add anything else, she ran towards the palace.
She wouldn't have normally given this much importance to a horse behavior, even if she knew from her own relationship with Djali, how intuitive and caring those animals could be. But the thing was, every bone in her body was also screaming that something bad was going on.
When she entered the palace's hall, the darkness inside compared to the sunlight left her momentarily blind, long enough to crash into someone. She heard the other person scream in protest, and she took a step back, trying to maintain her balance. Finally, her pupils adapted to the dim light.
- Magdalene! - she recognized the housekeeper. - Have you seen Frollo?
- Good afternoon, miss. - the woman replied, visibly irritated at her lack of manners and wild attitude. - Excuse me, I didn't see you coming in. - she added, with a hidden sarcasm in her tone.
- Frollo? - Esmeralda asked again impatiently. She didn't have time for polite talk. The adrenaline was rushing through her veins, and though she had no clue why, she knew she was right to worry.
The housekeeper frowned, deeply offended by her treat. She took a few seconds to answer, aware of the gypsy's impatience.
- I believe I saw the Minister earlier, miss.
- Where? - Esmeralda asked, almost yelling.
Her demanding tone made Magdalene's eyebrows lift with disbelief. She had never been disrespected like that, let alone by a mere gypsy. She made a huge effort to conceal the fury in her tone when she replied:
- He was headed towards the dungeons, I believe.
- Thank you! - Esmeralda nodded, already heading there.
- Wait, miss! - Magdalene called, taking great pleasure from Esmeralda's anxious look when she turned her head towards her. - Only soldiers are allowed to enter the dungeons. None of the servants have permission to go past that spot. - she indicated, pointing towards the heavy wooden door.
- I'm not a servant. - Esmeralda replied, turning around again.
- No guests either! - Magdalene yelled, in a desperate attempt to stall her, just to spite her.
- Well, I'm no guess! - Esmeralda answered, this time without turning back. - This is my home now! - she stated, and without second thought, she opened the door and raced down the stairs.
Being there again brought back the memories from when they had all been incarcerated. The humid cold, the unpleasant smell, the dim light from the torches… It resembled the atmosphere from the catacombs, but was somehow different as well. The catacombs were filled with skeletons, dead bodies… there, you could feel the subtle presence of death and decay, an iced stillness that wrapped you with reverent fear and made you long to find something alive and warm to cast away its spell.
But in the palace's dungeons the feeling was completely different. There was no death. Instead, there was life, anxious life force, desperate to escape the horror, the torture, the impending execution. It felt as if the stone walls had somehow been impregnated with that pain and suffering, that terror that the many prisoners they had seen must have felt.
She remembered her own night there, pacing back and forth anxiously, consumed with guilt and sorrow. She recalled her first true interaction with Frollo, when he had offered her the exchange, acting so cruel and ruthless before her defiant, furious self. It felt like she was a different person back then, and above all, like he was a different person himself. But they weren't. He was somehow the same man that later, she had found beautiful, and caring, and attractive. The man she had fallen in love with. And also… the man who had been keeping a horrible secret. All those facts were true. She remembered the first time she had looked into Frollo's eyes, at the festival. She had felt like she was looking into the depths of an ocean, an intricate, complicated soul. Complicated indeed, she thought with a bitter smile, shaking her head.
But her complicated man was nowhere to be found. She looked inside every cell, holding the torch up so it would illuminate every dark corner. She tried not to focus on the chains in the walls, and all the other diverse torture devices that she found deep within those tunnels. She tried calling his name a couple times, but only the echo of her voice replied, in a spooky, ghostly way.
The anxiety grew heavier in her chest, as she began to hear her own heartbeats pounding her eardrums. She tried to calm herself, thinking that maybe it was just the atmosphere around her, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.
Suddenly, she heard a faint noise. She stood still, trying to identify its origin. She fought to control her own breathing, so she could hear better. But she heard nothing else. She was about to conclude it had been a rat, and give up on her search of the dungeons, when she heard another noise, this time distinctively human, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
It came from the end of the corridor, so she ran, checking every cell on the way, but they were all empty. Finally she reached a different door. It was also made of metal but looked much more elegant and less prison-like.
She pushed the door open, which took a surprising amount of strength, for it was thicker and heavier than she had expected. She was also surprised by finding it unlocked, but that could only mean there was someone inside.
The room she stepped in looked nothing like the other cells.
For starters, she felt an immediate warmth the moment she entered through the door. There was a fire lit, over which a small black cauldron was brewing some dark liquid. The walls were filled with wood shelves at different heights, all of them displaying books and glass jars of various sizes. Some of the jars were empty, but most of them were filled with unrecognizable substances. There were also dried plants and herbs hanging from the ceiling.
In the middle of the room, she saw an immense table covered in open books, scribbled parchments, metal instruments and tools, and some objects she was unable to identify.
The richness of the room stole her whole attention, making her forget all about her anxiety for a second.
Until she saw him.
Claude Frollo was lying on the floor, with his lifeless eyes open but not looking. His semi-opened lips were stained with the same liquid that formed a tiny puddle under his hand. Around it, scattered, fragments of glass from a small bottle with a parchment label.
It didn't took her new reading skills to know it was poison.