The next day brought terror. Frollo had learned that Esmeralda had somehow gotten past the guards he had posted around the cathedral. He hadn't stopped yet to think on how, it seemed, for he simply had his guards sweeping the city. He ordered people taken away on no charges at all, and was relentless in his hunt for the girl.
Belle slowed her walk to the cathedral as she passed Clopin's puppet cart. It was boarded up, abandoned where it sat, and somehow the reds, purples and greens did not seem as lively, nor the gold gleam as brightly, as they had when he was in it, telling stories to the children. Even the trinkets which had shone in the shifting sun yesterday as they hung from the eaves seemed to be dusty without their owner there to sing his song and play with his puppets.
"You're showing an unusual interest in a cart where no show is going on," a soldier commented lowly to her.
Belle blinked and turned in surprise. "Hm?" she asked. It wasn't either of the two she'd sent on a fools errand for her 'stolen' basket the day before, nor was it the new captain in his shining golden armour. "I was admiring the workmanship," she said lightly with a gesture that encompassed the entire cart. "I am a carpenter's daughter, you see," she explained with a smile. "Good day, Monsieur Guard," she bid with a dip of her head, and continued on her way to the cathedral.
He huffed, but let her on her way without further trouble.
In the church, Belle knelt to say her prayers, asking forgiveness for the lies she told to men who were supposed to uphold the law and keep the peace, and imploring safety for Clopin, Esmeralda and Djali from Frollo's persecution.
Silently she rose and wandered deeper into the church, seeking stairs that would take her up to the bell tower. With as busily as Frollo was hunting gypsies today, he would likely not be by to visit Quasimodo.
She'd just finally crested the last stairs when she heard a voice.
"Any sign of her?"
It was Quasimodo.
"Oh, it's a lost cause!" another voice wailed in answer. "She could be anywhere! In the stocks, in the dungeon! I'm a wreck!" the unknown, but male, voice, sobbed.
"Nice work, Victor," a wry voice quipped.
Belle stifled a giggle as she sought out these people who were with Quasimodo up here in his tower, following the voices to the owners.
"No, he's right. What are we gonna do?" Quasimodo asked, a lost note in his voice.
"What are you guys talkin' about? If I know Esmeralda, she's three steps ahead of Frollo and well out of harms way," insisted another voice.
"You really think so?" Quasimodo asked.
Belle finally spotted them, and smiled at the sight. It seemed there was a bit of magic in the church for those willing to believe in it. The statuary were the ones talking with the boy.
"Quasimodo?" Belle called, announcing herself.
The statues all froze up at the sound of her voice, fixed as stone where they sat.
"Oh please, don't hide on my account," Belle said with a smile as she lay a hand on the tallest of them. "How are you, Quasimodo?" she asked.
"Worried," he admitted. "These are Victor, Laverne, and Hugo," he added by way of introducing the statues.
"How d'you do," they all mumbled in greeting.
"Pleased to meet you," she answered with a smile, then reached into her basket. "Normally, I don't take this from the house, and I certainly never show it to anybody -" not after what happened last time she'd showed the mirror to anybody "- but here," she said, and handed over the mirror. "It can show you anything. You only need to ask it."
Quasimodo accepted the mirror, and the statues come to life moved to peer around him and look into it.
"Please," Quasimodo said to the mirror. "Will you show me Esmeralda?" he asked.
The mirror glowed, and there was a hunched figure wrapped in a cloak, face hidden, watching as Frollo ordered a house to be burned – with the family who lived there locked inside. His captain refused, and broke into the house to save the family when Frollo raised a torch to the windmill and thatched roof himself.
The captain was knocked down, about to have his head chopped off on the spot, but the hunched figure straightened and with a makeshift sling thew a stone to upset Frollo's horse. The captain freed himself and stole the horse, but he was shot as he was riding across a bridge. The hunched figure was revealed to be Esmeralda as she hurried to the river in the shadows of the bridge, then dived into the river to save the captain.
"She's alright," Quasimodo breathed in relief.
"And probably on her way here," Hugo pointed out. "Where else can she hide him after all? If he isn't dead already?"
"But what if Frollo comes?" Victor asked, worried.
"Esmeralda has already claimed sanctuary here," Belle pointed out.
"Right," Laverne agreed. "She'll be safe even if he does come up here and see her."
"It's the captain who'd be in danger if discovered," Quasimodo said softly.
Belle lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I heard him ask Frollo for permission to stop the cruelty committed against you yesterday Quasimodo," she assured him. "But as a soldier he has orders. You heard Frollo just then. The punishment for insubordination is death."
Quasimodo nodded. "I will make a place for him to hide and recover among the bells where Frollo never goes," he decided. "You'd best leave," he added to her. "It wouldn't be good for Frollo to find you here either."
Belle nodded and accepted back her mirror. She wrapped it up in cloth and tucked it back into her basket, and as she walked through the markets on the way back to her father's shop, she bought some things for their supper and piled them on top of the mirror as well.
As she passed Clopin's cart again, she studied the area around it. Stone and water. A wooden cart surrounded by stone lined streets and the stone parts of the nearby buildings and puddles on the ground from where it had rained in the night – and a few extra puddles from where children had been throwing buckets of water onto the sides of the cart so that it would be safe should Frollo try to burn it.
Clopin had some friends among the young Parisians at least.
~oOo~
After she had shared her meal with her father, Belle retreated to her room.
"Please, I wish to see Clopin," she asked the mirror, and breathed a sigh of relief to see that he was alive and well. Indeed, the man was eating his own supper and seemed to be planning a new puppet with the hand not occupied in holding his bread.
She wasn't normally one taken up with appearances, but she did know a handsome man when she saw one. She hadn't denied that Gaston was handsome, after all. He was just also rude, and conceited, and boorish, and brainless, and cruel...
Clopin was handsome. Not in the same way Gaston had been handsome. Not in the same way that the prince had been when the curse was lifted and he was himself again – dead, but himself again in death.
Belle spent a few moments just admiring his face, the one he kept hidden behind that bright mask of his whenever he ventured into the streets of Paris.
Assured now that he was safe, Belle shook herself. "I need to see Frollo," she told the mirror.
The image changed.
The wicked man was telling his guards to make ready to follow Quasimodo should he leave the bell tower. It seemed he'd finally figured out how Esmeralda had escaped Notre Dame.
"Where is Esmeralda?" she asked the mirror, now worried, she had spotted the gypsy as she was going down the steps of Notre Dame, but had known better than to greet her at the time.
The mirror's view shifted again. It showed Esmeralda kissing the injured captain where he lay in a corner of the bell tower where only moonlight shone through. That was unexpected.
"She couldn't have brought him there on her own," Belle said, determined to not be flustered by the sight. She was a grown woman after all, she'd given her first kiss (of that kind) to the Beast after he was restored to himself, just before he had died, and hadn't kissed anyone since, not even an affectionate peck to her father's cheek or increasingly bald head. Though... She bit her lip at the considerably more passionate kiss she was watching. Giving her first kiss to a dying man had not been like that... "Show me Quasimodo please," she asked the mirror.
The mirror showed her a boy who looked like his heart was breaking as he sat on his stool and carved a good likeness of Belle's father as he'd looked in his regalia as King of Fools.
"Good evening, Quasimodo," Frollo greeted.
Quasimodo's head snapped up. "Master, I did not hear you coming," he stuttered slightly. "I was not expecting you," he added. "You have been..." the boy gestured out towards the view of Paris from where he now stood, "very busy today."
"I am never too busy to share a meal with with you, dear boy," Frollo answered. "I've brought a little treat."
Quasimodo hurried to fetch two cups and two plates, vastly different from each other. One set fine pewter, the other set of simple, coarse wood.
Belle could not help but wrinkle her nose at the blatant display of differentiation that Frollo enforced. The fine things for the public official, the poor things for the teenager with the unfortunate face.
"This one's new," Frollo noted, as he picked up a carved figure that was an excellent likeness of Esmeralda. "It's very good," he praised indifferently. "It looks like... that gypsy girl," he finished with a scowl.
"I had opportunity to see her from up close before I carved it, Master," Quasimodo answered.
"I know," Frollo growled. "You helped her escape! And now all of Paris is burning because of you!" he spat, shifting the blame from his own shoulders as the one who gave the orders to Quasimodo, who had done nothing but show compassion to another person. "But it will be over soon," Frollo continued when Quasimodo said nothing. "I have discovered her hideout, and at dawn, I shall attack with a thousand men," he pronounced, and swept out of the room.
Belle set the mirror down on her vanity and thought about that. A clear bluff. Frollo would not be able to attack Notre Dame and get away with it. He was expecting Quasimodo to leave the bell tower to go to Esmeralda to warn her of the danger.
There was nothing that she could do now though, and it was late. She could truly only wait for morning to come, and hope that, come morning, things would be better. She tucked the mirror away and readied herself for sleep.
It was the only thing she could do.
~oOo~
After hearing Frollo say that he 'knew' where she was hiding, Esmeralda had waited until he had left before she came down again to Quasimodo.
"I must warn everybody," she said softly, worry lacing her tone. "Whether he really knows where I am or not, if he's found the location of the Court of Miracles..."
Quasimodo nodded in understanding. "Of course," he agreed. "I couldn't stand by and let you get hurt. I do not expect you to stay here when you could be warning your people of the potential danger."
"Quasimodo... will you come with me this time?" she asked.
"I..." Quasimodo hesitated, then sighed. "You'll need someone to help you carry the captain," he pointed out, "since I get the feeling you don't really want to leave him."
Esmeralda smiled gratefully. "Thank you, so much," she said. "I can never repay you for this."
Quasimodo chuckled. "Sure you can," he joked. "Introduce me to a nice blind girl."
"Oh, Quasi!"
He shook his head and climbed up to fetch down the captain.
Esmeralda led them through the shadows of Paris, through streets and into a graveyard. She took the captain from Quasimodo so that the strong young man could push aside the stone covering, and then waited for him to shift it back in place once more before she continued on.
"Esmeralda!" greeted gypsies as they broke from their posts as guards – where they were hidden, disguised as skeletons among skeletons.
"Frollo says he knows where the Court of Miracles is and plans to attack at dawn," she answered quickly, even as she hugged each man in greeting.
One of them immediately ran on ahead, intent on conveying the message.
By the time Esmeralda, Quasimodo and the injured captain reached the Court of Miracles, it was half-way packed up, and all in a flurry of motion.
"My dear," Clopin greeted, his voice dry. "You really do insist on annoying Frollo, don't you? And to his face, rather than behind his back so that he cannot punish you."
"Clopin," Esmeralda answered, and embraced the brightly-dressed, mask-wearing man tightly.
"Your cart is packed up," Clopin informed her. "I've been minding it for you, since mine is still at rest in the Parisian streets, and so for now out of my reach. Can I hope that it is not burned where it sits, do you think?" he asked.
"I don't know," Esmeralda admitted sadly, and looked to the captain who had been able to take his own weight as they descended into the catacombs.
He shook his head helplessly. "Frollo ordered a green cart pushed into the river not long into the afternoon," he admitted. "But I don't know what he has done since I was shot."
Clopin shook his head. His cart had bits of green paint, but it was hardly the predominant colour.
"Um..." Quasimodo hesitated to speak up. "Is it the bright red cart just a few streets away from the square?" he asked.
"It is," Clopin answered. "Do you know what has become of it my friend?" he asked hopefully.
"I saw it on the way here," he answered. "With a puddle of water around each wheel," he added.
Esmeralda, Clopin and the captain all blinked in surprise at the news.
"Water-logged?" Clopin asked, confused.
"When I noticed it from the bell tower, it looked like a game the children were playing," Quasimodo explained. "To see how high they could make the water splash on the sides of the cart."
Clopin smiled. "The children who watch my puppet show..." he said quietly, and raised a hand to his heart. It was touching, the concern of the children and their efforts on his behalf.
"He's in the catacombs!" came a shout from the main arch.
If activity in the Court of Miracles had been hurried before, then it was frantic after that announcement. When the soldiers flooded in, it rapidly became a very different type of chaos, with children and adults alike being arrested despite the best efforts of fathers and husbands to fend off the soldiers and give their women and children a chance to escape.
"After decades of searching," Frollo mused as he walked down the steps. "The Court of Miracles, and oh the wonders I have caught in my net. The gypsy witch, and even Captain Phoebus back from the dead. Another 'miracle', no doubt. I will remedy that," he promised the blonde man dangerously. "There's going to be a little bonfire in the square tomorrow," Frollo announced, "and you are all invited to attend."
"Master..." Quasimodo said softly, horror in his voice.
Frollo looked down at him. "Except for you, Quasimodo," he corrected, and directed some of his men to return the hunchback to the bell tower – and to make sure he stayed there. "You have been useful after all. Your distinctive form made following you here that much easier. But tomorrow you will do nothing but watch the festivities from the bell tower," he ordered cruelly.
Quasimodo wept as he was dragged away.