"Come one, come all!" chanted the solemnly robed procession with their furled banners as they marched through the streets. "Leave your looms and milking stools, coop the hens and pen the mules. Come one, come all! Close the churches and the schools, it's the day for breaking rules."
The procession stepped into the square at last, the crowds of Parisians gathered around, but leaving enough space for the marchers to continue forward unhindered.
A figure swung in on a bannered rope, and landed there, in the middle of everything. Poor chap immediately started running for the crowd. Clearly an accidental arrival. He'd probably lost his balance while making sure they were secured, and gone flying.
But the marchers were chanting still. "Come and join the feast of -"
"Fools!" Clopin cried out as he appeared from beneath the robe of the central, leading figure of the parade.
The banners all were released, showing off bright colours in contrast with the solemn black robes of the people holding them up, but then they too all took their robes and turned them inside out, showing off bright colours hidden within.
Belle laughed happily and applauded the spectacle. Indeed, if she had not seen Clopin at the Feast of Fools, it would have been a surprising thing indeed.
Clopin, somehow, spotted her among those at the forefront of the crowd as well, and as he sang out in joyous proclamation of the holiday – as was his duty as the Lord of Misrule, the Prince des Sots, the, ahem, "officer" in charge of the Feast – he drew her out to dance with him.
"Once a year, we throw a party here in town. Once a year, we turn all Paris upside-down. Every man's a king and every king's a clown. Once again, it's Topsy Turvy Day!"
Belle laughed in delight as Clopin spun her around and applauded the clever individual (likely a gypsy) who had made a costume so that he looked like a king when walking on his hands, and a jester with shoes on his hands when he walked on his feet.
"It's the day the devil in us gets released," Clopin said, and turned Belle carefully to point to a figure hiding behind some devilish balloons. "It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest..." he continued. "Everything is Topsy Turvy at the Feast of Fools!"
And while the crowd cheered, Belle whispered a question in Clopin's ear.
"That's him, isn't it?" she asked swiftly and softly.
Clopin nodded, but he could not be distracted from his role. At that moment, he was a more important public figure than Frollo himself, and had to call out over the crowds: "Everything is upsy-daisy!" Which incited another chant from the gathered masses.
"I'll keep him safe if you like," Belle offered.
Clopin smiled, but shook his head. "Everyone is acting crazy!" he announced as he spun her around in his arms again. "Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet! That's the way on Topsy Turvy Day!"
While the crowd chanted the cry of the day, Clopin dipped Belle low and whispered in her ear. "It shouldn't be needed," he told her. "But merci, chérie."
Belle giggled as he rose, and drew her back up onto her feet again.
"Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!" he ordered the crowd happily as he danced with Belle through the crowds. "Join the bums and thieves and strumpets streaming in from Chartres to Calais. Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy on the sixth of January, all because it's -"
"Topsy Turvy Day!" Belle joined in the cry with Clopin, all the other gypsies in the square, and her fellow Parisians gathered all around them.
"Come one, come all!" Clopin declared loudly as he left Belle at last to grab hold of another's arm – the arm of the bell ringer he had pointed out to Belle not moments before. "Hurry, hurry, here's your chance," he declared happily. "See the mystery and romance," he added with a wink at Belle, before he leapt over the bell ringer and onto the stage. "Come one, come all!" he called loudly again. "See the finest girl in France make an entrance to entrance! Dance, la Esmeralda, dance!" he cried, making quite an impressive high note before he threw down... something that created a cloud of coloured smoke, and then Clopin was replaced by...
Belle blinked, and then laughed in delighted surprise. It was the same gypsy girl who had been dancing with her goat across from her father's shop earlier that day. Oh yes, her being arrested by the soldiers for 'stealing' would have definitely upset the festival. Belle was glad she'd lied to the guards about the theft of her basket. She'd pray forgiveness for the lie, but later.
"So Esmeralda is her name," Belle mused to herself as she watched the show from beside the bell ringer, poorly disguised in only a cape and hood. His shape was really rather singular.
"You know her?" the boy asked.
Belle smiled at him. "She was dancing outside my father's shop earlier," she answered.
"So it was you," Clopin said, reappearing at Belle's side. "She said that a girl and her father had saved her from the soldiers earlier. You want to be careful that Frollo does not learn of such things," he warned.
Belle smirked a little. "And who would tell him?" she asked slyly. "No one in the street saw, and here now? This is the Feast of Fools. No one cares for such distinctions now."
"Oh! Look at that, why, you make a liar of me Mademoiselle," he scolded with a smile. "I said on the stage that Esmeralda was the finest girl in France, and not seconds later you prove me wrong!" he declared and pressed a hand to his chest as though pained.
Quasimodo chuckled softly at the exchange, torn between watching Clopin and Belle, and watching Esmeralda on the stage. The conflict did not last long at least, for Clopin had to return to the stage to bow with Esmeralda as coins were thrown up to them.
"Here it is: the moment you've been waiting for," he announced once the coins stopped coming.
Belle noticed that Quasimodo looked confused. His face may have been strange, but it was still easy enough to read.
"Here it is! You know exactly what's in store," he called with a sly wink to the crowds. "Now's the time we laugh until our sides get sore!" he proclaimed, miming the act of laughing from his stomach so much that it hurt. "Now's the time we crown the King of Fools! Why?" he enquired of the crowd.
"Topsy Turvy!" they answered happily, Belle with them, and she smiled at Quasimodo in encouragement.
"Ugly folks, forget your shyness!" Clopin cried out.
"Topsy Turvy!" the crowd cried back, and Quasimodo joined in this time, with a shy smile at Belle as he did so.
"You could soon be called 'your highness'!" Clopin continued as he pulled men in great masks up onto the stage.
Belle held Quasimodo back when he seemed interested in going up as well.
He looked at her in surprise.
"Monsieur," she said softly, "you are the bell ringer of Notre Dame, aren't you?" she asked.
Quasimodo's eyes got as wide as they could in his face.
"Minister Frollo is right there," Belle said with a gesture to where the stern judge sat, presiding over the festival with an air of disapproval. "Enjoy this day, but do nothing to draw his gaze," she cautioned gently, and lay a caring arm over the boy's misshapen back. "He is well known to not be a tolerant man."
"Thank you," Quasimodo gulped softly, stunned, shocked, and a little frightened.
When Esmeralda came to tantalise another she believed to be wearing a mask up onto the stage, Belle intervened.
"Oh no," she said, an arm draped still over Quasimodo's back. "He is far too handsome beneath his mask to be King of Fools. Minister Frollo, on the other hand," Belle joked.
Esmerelda laughed, but winked, nodded, and danced off to tease up another contestant.
"Put your foulest features on display, for the face that's ugliest will be the King of Fools!" Clopin cried out, and invited Esmeralda to rip off the first mask in the line-up of people willing to try for the dubious title.
"Papa!" Belle cried in surprise when Esmeralda pulled a (borrowed or very recently bought, since Maurice hadn't been wearing a mask when they'd left the house) bull-head off Maurice.
He pinched his lips together, pulled them out and stuck out his tongue, and rolled his eyes up while also tugging down his lower eyelids.
The crowd cheered, and Belle couldn't help but laugh – that face always made her laugh – and her father had been crowned King of Fools. When he released his grip on his face, it returned to its usual, kind and affable expression as he smiled in delight at the crowning.
"I still say Minister Frollo should have been crowned," Belle quipped to Quasimodo, a smile on her face, "since he has an ugly soul to go with that sneer of his, but Papa's just so happy, I couldn't tell him that."
"Why -?" Quasimodo tried to ask, confused.
Belle looked curiously down at the boy, silently urging him to ask his whole question.
"Why do you say that of my master?" Quasimodo asked. "He's been so good to me..."
Belle lay a gentle hand on Quasimodo's back, and guided him over to one of the tables where feasting and drinking was going on.
"People are cruel," she said, "and they are shallow, and so few look beyond the surfaces they see. He is guilty too," she explained softly. "What has he told you of the people of Paris? How each of these people would react if they knew that this," she said as she lightly stroked Quasimodo's cheek with one hand, "was not a mask, but your real face?"
"I am deformed," Quasimodo said softly, "and I am ugly. I know that these are crimes for which the world shows little pity. He is my one defender. If they knew, they would revile me as a monster. If they knew, then they would hate and scorn and jeer. I am a monster..."
"No," Belle cut off sternly, a delicate hand on Quasimodo's well-muscled forearm. "You are not a monster. You are a man, unfortunate of face and form, but a man. People would stare, and they might fear, but they can learn to see past such things, because there is more to you than what people see with their eyes."
"There you are Mademoiselle! I was missing you," Clopin declared as he slid down onto the bench beside Belle. "And my friend, you as well! I was surprised you did not come onto the stage."
"Frollo would have seen me," Quasimodo answered.
Clopin pulled a face beneath his mask. "Ah, yes, that would have been a risk, I suppose," he conceded. "Belle, what think you of our friend and the minister of justice?"
"I think he's sweet, and that he's kind," Belle answered with a smile for Clopin and Quasimodo, which morphed into a frown as she considered Frollo. "While that one's mean, and his is coarse, but still refined. But you are dear," she assured Quasimodo, "if still unsure."
"It's a wonder that the streets haven't called to you before," Clopin added.
"Oh they have," Quasimodo assured them. "I just... never had the courage to leave the bell tower before..."
"Well, you picked the perfect day," Clopin assured the boy. "Not even Frollo will look twice at you today, if you keep from drawing his attention specifically. Today your face is just an excellent mask. Go, my friend, go and enjoy the Feast of Fools."
"Thank you," Quasimodo said with a smile, and pushed himself up from the table. "I will!" he declared, and then he was gone, vanished among the crowds.
"And may I engage the lady for a dance?" Clopin asked, turning to Belle and offering his hand.
"Your feet are not sore yet?" she teased, even as she slipped her hand into his. "You do not need to ask the King of Fools permission to dance with his daughter?" she added with a laugh.
"Oh!" Clopin cried in delight. "Your father is this year's king? Truly? How wonderful! As Prince des Sots, it is practically my duty to dance with our King's daughter then," he declared happily. "I do so enjoy when duty and pleasure align."
Belle laughed happily and let Clopin guide her seamlessly into the dance that was already taking place in one part of the square. All day they danced, and feasted, and laughed together. Clopin had to excuse himself now and then to his appointed duty, but he always returned to her, and he escorted her around the festivities, showing her the wonders of the holiday through new eyes.
~oOo~
Clopin introduced Belle properly to Esmeralda and her goat Djali, as it had been a very brief meeting earlier in the day, while the dancer and her goat were taking a quick break from entertaining the Parisians.
"And where is your handsome friend in his great mask?" Esmeralda asked once the introductions were done and she'd actually properly thanked Belle for distracting the guards and helping her collect back her earnings of the morning.
"Why, right here!" Clopin answered with some drama, a hand splayed over his chest as he bowed deeply.
Esmeralda rolled her eyes. "Not you," she scolded with a smile. "When we were getting people up onto the stage, looking for our King of Fools, she was standing with another guy," she explained.
"Oh," Clopin said softly as realisation struck him of exactly who she was talking about.
"He went to have as much fun today as he could," Belle answered.
Esmeralda nodded. "Fair enough," she agreed.
"Because it is the only day he can have fun," Belle finished softly.
Esmeralda frowned in confusion, and raised an eyebrow in silent demand for an explanation.
"He is the bell ringer," Clopin explained quietly. "Raised and kept away from the world by Frollo."
Esmeralda's eyes went wide and a hand flew to her mouth. "Oh that poor boy. No, knowing who he is, I could never pull him up onto the stage for such a thing."
"We just had to pull your papa instead," Clopin said with a smile just for Belle.
"I should probably go see him," Belle answered. "I haven't paid my respects to the king yet this year after all."
"Then, ma beauté, please allow me to escort you," Clopin requested, and gallantly offered his arm.
Esmeralda raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly at the gesture, even as Belle smiled and accepted the offered arm.
Belle sighed as she looked around the colourful pageantry that surrounded them.
"Is something troubling you, Mademoiselle?" Clopin asked. "On this day of all days?"
Belle shook her head and forced the melancholy away. "I'm going to miss it," she admitted.
"Ah, but it will come again in a year," Clopin reassured her with a smile, "and there are other festivals to celebrate between now and next year."
Belle shook her head. "Papa has taken it into his head to leave Paris and settle in a small, close-minded village where we have lived once before, a few days travel away," she said, "and I couldn't let him leave alone. Whatever he may say on the matter, Papa just isn't as young as he once was, and hasn't been without a woman in the house since... well, I don't think he's ever been without a woman in the house," Belle admitted thoughtfully. "His mother, and then mine, and then I filled the role when she passed away..." though there was that time when she had been a prisoner/guest of the castle. He'd been alone then. And look at what had become of him in that short time! Sick, near death because he could not be sensible about caring for himself.
"Ma chere," Clopin said gently, and forced her to stop walking, "what do you want, for yourself?" he asked earnestly, even took her chin between his gloved finger and thumb so he could force her to look him in the face when she answered.
Belle's eyes searched his frantically a moment, and then she took a deep breath. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell," she admitted, and then, more quietly, "and for once it might be grand to have someone understand: I want so much more than they've got planned..."
Clopin smiled down at her, and it was the most tender smile anybody had ever seen on his face that was not directed at a child. "There is a certain expectation of women of your class, isn't there ma chere?"
"Oui," Belle agreed unhappily, and buried her face a moment in Clopin's tunic. "We seem to be exchanging a great many confidences for one day's acquaintance," she noted softly when she straightened her back once more.
"It is Topsy Turvy Day," Clopin replied wryly, as if that explained it all. Perhaps it did.
Why else take strangers into confidences that had not even been truly shared with her only remaining family? Her father didn't know of her dreams for her life any more than Gaston had, though he understood her better in nearly every other way.
"There is my daughter!" Maurice called happily when they were close enough that he could spot them. "Belle, are you having fun?"
Belle smiled. "Of course I am Papa," she answered, and wrapped her arms around him to give him a brief hug. "It's the Feast of Fools, how could it be possible to not have fun?"
Maurice chuckled. "Well, Minister Frollo doesn't look like he's enjoying himself," he pointed out.
"Minister Frollo wouldn't know how to have fun if his life depended on it," Belle returned smartly even as she turned her head slightly so that she could see the dour man. "He looks constipated," she added dismissively.
Clopin could not help but roar with laughter, and he laughed so hard that he actually fell over where he stood. Maurice was only saved a similar indignity because he was already seated, though he did slide down a bit as he clutched his sides and laughed.
~oOo~
The gypsies were packing up and disappearing, and the festival was coming to a close when it happened. Someone discovered that Quasimodo was not wearing a mask, and screamed in... shock, surprise, likely a small bit of fear as well. It drew attention from the soldiers as well as the other Parisians. Frollo's soldiers, who dragged him up onto a platform where there was a wheel on its side, and tied him there. Another soldier threw a piece of fruit at the poor boy, and others soon followed his example while more soldiers saw to it that the wheel turned.
"What has that poor boy done to receive such treatment?" Maurice demanded.
"He left the bell tower," Belle answered her father softly.
Maurice's eyes went wide. "Oh," he said softly as he realised exactly who it was. Then he frowned in determination. "Come on Belle," he ordered her. "I'm not going to stand for this, and I'm king for today at least."
Belle and her father tried to push their way through the crowds to where Quasimodo was being so publicly humiliated... but Esmeralda beat them there.
"You there, gypsy girl, get down at once!" Frollo ordered.
"Yes your honour, just as soon as I free this poor boy," Esmeralda answered him over the silent crowd.
"I forbid it!" he snapped.
Esmeralda frowned, as did a number of others in the crowd, but it was she alone who drew a knife and cut the ropes holding Quasimodo in place.
"How dare you defy me?" Frollo demanded.
"You mistreat this boy the same way you mistreat my people!" Esmeralda answered him fiercely.
Belle and Maurice reached the stage of Quasimodo's humiliation then, and as he was free of the ropes, urged him to slip off the stage and down while Esmeralda had everybody's attention. Belle quickly wiped the spoiled fruit from the boy's face and Maurice gave him the kingly robe he'd been granted as King of Fools to wear as a new disguise so he could return to Notre Dame unrecognised and unhindered.
"Thank you," he said quietly, then wasted no time in hurrying away.
"You speak of justice, but you are cruel to those most in need of your help!" Esmeralda's words echoed around the square.
"Silence!" Frollo ordered.
"Justice!" Esmeralda yelled back passionately.
"Captain, arrest her," Frollo ordered the man in gleaming armour who had been at his side all day.
A circle of ten soldiers surrounded Esmeralda where she stood in prominence.
What followed was probably the perfect way to end the Feast of Fools – a great chase through the square where guards were humiliated at every turn and Esmeralda escaped dramatically to the cheers of all the Parisians – save of course Frollo and the guards who she had escaped from.
"Find her!" Frollo ordered fiercely.
"I do hope she gets away alright," Maurice said quietly to Belle as they left the square for their home. "Frollo's looking very keen on catching her."
Belle nodded in worried agreement, and hurried to her room once they were home. She checked that every window was shut and that no one would be able to see in before she reached into the hidden drawer of her small vanity and withdrew the elegant hand-mirror she had kept when she left Mrs Potts and all the others behind.
"I would like to see the gypsy girl Esmeralda, please," she asked of the mirror softly.
It glowed, and the image of her face reflected back to her faded in favour of Esmeralda's face – she was walking between rows of candles and apparently praying.
There was a knock on her door.
"Belle?" her father called.
"Come in Papa," she answered as she set the mirror face down, the glow dulling and the voice of Esmeralda's prayers fading slightly.
"Well?" he asked, and glanced at the mirror.
Belle followed his gaze. "I believe she has found sanctuary in Notre Dame," she answered him softly.
"Frollo will post guards," Maurice said. "If he hasn't already. The poor girl is trapped more surely than you were in the Beast's castle."
"And she will be made far less welcome than I was," Belle added wryly. "Certainly less comfortable," she added as she thought of the gypsy sleeping on the stone floors and compared it to the luxurious bed and fine clothes that she had been given with her imprisonment.
"There is nothing we can do in this," Maurice reminded her gently.
"I could take a basket of my clothes for her to disguise herself in and walk out of the church unnoticed by the guards," she suggested.
Maurice chuckled and smiled crookedly as he shook his head at his dear daughter. "I don't think they'd fit her," he pointed out. "You, my girl, are far more slender than she is."
Belle sighed. She knew that. She just couldn't let the thought go without consideration. "I could at least take her a blanket and something to eat..."
"I am sure that the archdeacon has such things in Notre Dame already," Maurice assured her.
Belle picked up the mirror again. It still showed Esmeralda, but now she was in company of Quasimodo, and he was carrying her down the outside of the church with none of the guards the wiser.
Belle smiled and showed Maurice the scene, who chuckled with satisfied delight before he kissed Belle's cheek and bid her pleasant dreams.
"You too Papa," she called softly after him as he closed her door. Then she turned back to the mirror in her hands. She bit her lip nervously a moment, then... "I'd like to see Clopin Trouillefou, please," she requested softly.
The mirror flashed a moment and the scene changed.
Belle shut her eyes quickly. "That was... maybe more of Monsieur Trouillefou than I needed to see," she said, a tremor in her voice.
The mirror's glow dulled, and Belle risked a peek again. She sighed with relief to see only her own reflection there once more. She put the mirror away and decided to do as Clopin had been doing in the mirror – that is, she changed for bed. She had a smile on her face and a blush on her cheeks as she lay her head down on her pillow, wondering what the next day would bring.