The Fires of Hell: Part Four
It was bitter cold as the sun began to set and Phoebus was lead towards the courtyard of the Palace of Justice. It was there, before the last rays of day departed, that the man would be beheaded as a traitor. A person without conviction would have begged for his life, pleading for his fate to be changed. But Phoebus said not a word, nor made any apologies. It was one of the reasons he had made such an excellent Captain of the Guard. He took what life gave him and he made the best of it. Not once had his men seen him wrongfully complain or back down. Not once had he asked why.
It was quite a walk to courtyard, but Phoebus enjoyed every second of it. If he was meant to die on this night, he would do so with a smile on his face and thoughts of Esmeralda's Someday replaying in his mind. That way, he wouldn't lose face and he could die with his honor still intact.
"Sir?"
Phoebus turned his head to look at the guard that was escorting him, giving the smaller man his full attention. "Yes, Saundier? What is it?"
The guard, whose surname was in fact Saundier, motioned with his head to the corridor behind them. "Look back, sir."
Phoebus heeded the guard's request and was met by an unexpected sight indeed. There standing behind them in the corridor, stood at least forty plus men, all guards, with their swords drawn in a salute. It didn't take the former Captain but a moment to recognize what the sign was used for. It was the position one would use at the funeral of a fellow soldier. It was the salute of ultimate respect and fellowship.
Phoebus bowed his head to them in return, his pale, gaunt cheeks turning up into a smile, and he called out to each by name, for he knew them all. "Thank you, my brothers" he said finally, in gratitude. "And may God guide and bless you all."
Phoebus' smile remained even after Saundier lead him onward, past the hallway of guards. For he was touched beyond words at his comrades actions.
"Was it you who summoned them?" The blonde haired man wondered aloud.
The young guard shook his head. "They came of their own freewill, Captain. . . All the men are faithful to you. And they wanted to say their goodbyes."
Phoebus closed his eyes as the words sunk in. The man had only served under Frollo for several months, and he had enjoyed his time there, more than at any other placement he had had in all his years of service. And besides the unjust capture of a handful of gypsies, Phoebus had honestly never been happier than when he was with his men, keeping order in the streets of the beautiful city of Paris.
"They are the best lads I've ever had the pleasure of serving with," the man said sincerely. "I will miss each and every one of them. Will you please tell them as much, when I am gone?"
Saundier shook his head, "No, Captain."
Phoebus studied him for several moments, not understanding why he would refuse such a simple request. But then the younger man stopped walking completely and gazed up at him. Saundier's expression told the former Captain more than words ever could. There behind the young soldiers eyes was respect, awe, and something akin to sadness.
"Why would I tell them such a personal thing, when you can do it yourself?"
To Phoebus' surprise, Saundier brought out his ring of keys and began to unlock the shackles.
"What are you doing, lad?"
"I'm setting you free," he whispered, as he slid the chains off of the older man's wrists. "You'll have to leave Paris. Lieutenants Genurs and Reginard are waiting at the doors to escort you to the docs. We've procured passage for you on one of the ships. It is bound for Spain. You will not be known there. . . You'll be free."
Saundier smiled at Phoebus and it reached it eyes. "I know it isn't much, but it was the best we could do without arousing the Judge's suspicion."
"You wish for me to escape?"
"Yes, Captain. . . We couldn't let you die. . . Not when you are innocent and have done nothing but your sworn duty, to protect the people."
Phoebus felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was saved! He could go to Spain and begin again. There would be no Frollo, and no past to follow him. He would be free to start over as a new man! But then a thought occurred to him. One that he couldn't push away.
"Esmeralda."
His smile vanished, as he realized what he had to do.
"I can't leave."
Saundier looked at him in confusion. "Captain?"
"I can't leave Paris. . At least, not yet."
The guard was silent for a moment before understanding crossed his face. "It's the Gypsy Esmeralda isn't it?"
Phoebus nodded once. "Do you know where she is?"
"She was taken to Frollo's chambers almost an hour ago."
The Captain held his hands out to the younger man, bidding him to replace the chains. "Can you take me there?"
Saundier reluctantly snapped the shackles back on his cracked, raw rubbed wrists. "If that is where you wish to go."
"It is."
"I won't try to dissuade you, Captain-" Phoebus thanked him, but Saundier wasn't finished. "But you must take this with you. To protect yourself from harm."
The Captain of the Guard looked down as the younger man place a small knife in his palm. When Phoebus looked up to meet his eyes again he could see that the his young friend was worried.
"Please be careful, Captain."
"I will, Saundier. I will." Phoebus promised, hiding the knife up his sleeve. And the two changed course, making their way back to Frollo's chambers to rescue Esmeralda.
Frollo sank to the cobbled floor as the realization of what he had just done crashed down on him tenfold. He had killed the gypsy. . . He had killed Esmeralda.
The Judge looked over at her fresh corpse with trepidation and pushed himself as far away from it as he could. But no matter how far away he moved, her bright green eyes seemed to follow him, with their unwavering and shadowed laced stare. But how could that be, if she was dead?
Frollo placed his hands over his face, fighting to block out her anguished face. He hadn't cared about her pain in life, so why did he now, when she was dead? The man shook violently as he began to pray, but for the first time in his life, he felt weak and uncertain.
"Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti . . . I Confess to God Almighty."
"Beatae Mariae semper Virgini . . . To blessed Mary Virgin."
"Beato Michaeli archangelo . . . To the blessed Archangel Michael."
"Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis . . . To the holy apostles, to all the saints."
"Quia peccavi nimis . . . That I have sinned."
"Cogitatione . . . In thought."
"Verbo et opere . . . In word and deed."
"Mea culpa . . . Through my fault."
"Mea maxima culpa . . . Through my most grievous fault."
"Kyrie Eleison . . . Lord have mercy."
"Kyrie Eleison . . . Lord . . . have . . . mercy . . ."
(* * * *)
"Like fire, Hellfire! This fire in my skin!
That burning desire that turned me to sin!
It's not my fault! I'm not to blame!
It is the gypsy girl! That witch, who set this flame!
It's not my fault!
If in God's plan, he made the temptation so much stronger than a man!
God, have mercy on her. . . God, have mercy on me. . .
For she was mine and I felt love!
Kyrie Eleison!
My lord, have mercy!"
As Frollo finished his prayer, he slowly stood from the ground and walked over to his bed. With shaking hands he drew the thick quilt up and moved back to Esmeralda's side. The once beautiful woman was now nothing more than a broken shell already beginning to crumble into dust. Cuts and bruises lined every visible part of her skin and her face and torso was swollen from the beating she had received. But even so, she was still the most beautiful woman in all of Paris.
The Judge slowly placed the large blanket over the corpse , blocking her from his sight , and slowly sank to his knees at her side. Why had she chosen the way of the devil? Why hadn't she come unto God's grace when he had given her the chance? Why did she love Satan more than him?
Frollo pulled back one edge of the quilt and brought out Esmeralda's hand to hold in his own. He thought that perhaps it might calm him down, just to hold her. As he held onto her delicate hand, Frollo noticed that it was already growing cold and stiff, and the man found that it was absolutely no comfort at all.
Why had she left him?
Why?
As Frollo clasped Esmeralda's hand in his own, the man began to sob. It was a desolate sound that was completely unfamiliar, but it came from within him all the same. And as the sound drew forth from his throat, it completely destroyed his attempts to comfort himself. He hadn't cried since he was a child, and yet here he was, sobbing, as he clung to the hand of a gypsy whore.
Frollo brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, passionately ,as his sorrows and the fires of hell consumed him body and soul.
Esmeralda was gone.
Author's Note:
Yes, Esmeralda is dead. But the story still has two more chapters before it is concluded! ^^ It has a nice ending, I can promise you that. What will happen when Phoebus confronts Frollo and finds out he killed Esmeralda? WHAT? XD
The song Frollo sang is the Latin Lyrics from the song Hellfire and the rest is just a reprisal of the English lyrics.
I think that Frollo is a sick, lonely, cruel, and confused man who just doesn't get it. I tried to show that in this chapter. Hopefully I was able to do that.
I will try to finish this story up in a timely manner. Love you guys! Thanks for all the faves, watches, reviews, and support! You are all amazing readers!
~Lyn Harkeran