Chapter 12:

It was like they were children again. Phoebus and Jehan had always been precocious children, the only difference between their current antics and when they were boys was that if Claude caught them, they would go to jail and not just get locked in a closet somewhere… They could even face worse fates, depending on how guilty Frollo's whims decided to call them.

With Jehan as soused as he was, Phoebus was confident that either he would forget their antics the next morning, or he would be so useless in explaining it to Claude when asked that nothing in particular could be pinned on them.

Essentially, Phoebus's unspoken plan was set, but as they approached the cathedral, it had time to reshape itself. Due to the lateness of the hour, it was likely the guards were of lesser quality than in the daylight. They were to be expected that they would be less capable of seeing something anyone escaping the cathedral, so there was that as an advantage.

He was not entirely certain what he would say to Esmeralda when he saw her again. Would he have to apologize? Helping her gain sanctuary was his only plan, and it had worked… so perhaps she had forgiven him for his profession by now.

To start out, he'd need a good opening line, something that would deter him from trying to kill him. Perhaps were he to pay her a compliment? No, she may just get angry if he did something like that.

"What did you do?" Jehan asked, startling Phoebus out of his stupor.

"I don't think I really did much of anything, she's just—" he paused, remembering that Jehan was not in his mind…

"Who is she?" Jehan waggled his brows at Phoebus in the moonlight. "So are you telling me this is a social call? Is there one for me?"

Phoebus snickered. "Maybe if you want to visit with Quasimodo… you're such good brothers, aren't you?" he asked.

Jehan made an irritated noise that caused Phoebus to chuckle. "I can at least keep him talking, the idiot can't hear properly so if I keep my voice low he'll be obliged to continually ask me what I've said."

"Is he really such an idiot?" Phoebus inquired.

"If I were feeling charitable, I would admit that he's just a child who's got a bit old without noticing. He ought to be a man, but he doesn't know how."

"I'm surprised at you, Jehan, you were always the one asking for charity, I didn't know you gave it, too."

"Never said I was feeling charitable, did I? Now, save your smart mouth for the soldiers, I see a patrol coming."

Luckily for Phoebus, once within sight of the soldiers, instinct fueled his wit. "Evening, men!" he called into the darkness.

They paused in their patrol, squinting at him.

"It is I, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers," he explained, "I've come to inspect the patrols."

All the men before him stood at attention, instantly. Word had probably gone out that he was prone to impromptu shaving if he found a soldier was not up to his standards. Their moustaches were practically quivering with fear.

Buoyant from the drink he'd downed, Phoebus's step remained light despite the creeping specter of exhaustion beginning to ease its way nearer to the forefront of his senses. "Have you seen anything suspicious?" he asked, with only a hint of slurring in his voice.

"The bells haven't rung on time," one of the soldiers said. "I think the bell ringer's still sore from this morning."

There was a ripple of laughter among the soldiers, though it was slightly uncomfortable, and more than a little guilty.

"I'm going to scour the church," Phoebus said. "With any luck, we'll frighten the girl into surrendering."

It did not speak well of the soldiers that they nodded vigorously, as if this would work. At least the lie held. Perhaps they only meant to appease their commanding officer and secretly thought it was a poorly conceived idea. Ah, well, Frollo would have a false report of his intentions, if not his movements.

"Is the church locked?" Phoebus asked.

"Oui," a soldier said.

"Then, I'll have to get creative," Phoebus said, and started off to the side of the church, with the patrol following him as well as Jehan. "I want you to help me test my soldiers," he whispered to the younger Frollo. "While I'm in there, keep them talking, and see if they're able to conduct their patrols as usual. Once I get paid, I'll give you some of my earnings as a reward for helping me discipline my men."

Even as he said it, he heard his predecessor's cries of agony, saw the man's weary sunken eyes, and then Frollo's smirk as he suggested that Phoebus could help to whip the men into shape. Well… at least it would appear that he was doing so…

"Sir? How will you get into the church? The Archdeacon had all the doors barred…"

"I wasn't made a captain for lacking creativity," Phoebus said, stopping at the wall of the church. There were so many weather vane gargoyles grimacing back at him, he saw them for what they were: an opportunity.

He considered taking off his armor in order to make the climb easier, but he rejected the notion. Either the armor would get stolen while he left it in the dark, or someone would see him without it and disbelieve the claims he made regarding his identity.

As he climbed up the side of the church, Phoebus found himself once again rehearsing in his mind what he would say to Esmeralda if he should actually see her.

"Good evening," he could say, "your knight in shining armor has arrived."

He quickly rejected that idea, as it would probably get him whacked with another candelabrum.

"I've created a distraction, sorry I couldn't do better earlier!" That was better! It was to the point, more likely to get out before he had his teeth knocked out.

It seemed inadequate, still, but at least as he turned over such possibilities in his mind, Phoebus was able to keep his mind on that, rather than the pain in his limbs from forcing himself ever higher. He was well aware that should any of the portions of the intricate masonry prove brittle enough, he would fall to his pointless death, but at least he could distract himself with that possibility.

He nearly met his death regardless, however, since the moment he could see the bell tower close by, he heard a thunderous crash, and the patrol below running off to check the alley. Phoebus held perfectly still, frozen so that he could not overreact and plummet to the cobblestones.

Was that someone on the roof attempting to distract the guards for an escape? He'd arrived at the perfect time!

It was a struggle to rise that last bit of distance to the roof, but he maintained his disciplined determination until a hand reached out from above and yanked him up. He'd just looked down in order to enjoy the fact that he'd made it, and also that Jehan was making a fool of the guards who were failing to properly investigate the alley.

Quasimodo!

Phoebus grinned and said, "Bonne nuit!" he cried in surprise, his automatic words falling free as he found someone he hadn't been expecting now glaring at him. Keep it cordial, he coached himself. "I'm looking for the Egyptian, have you seen her?"

The sound which then emerged from the hunchback in that moment defeated all of Phoebus's mental faculties as they attempted to categorize it.

Somehow it was simultaneously a wordless shout and a gargled howl. One of the massive, hairy arms of the fellow was swinging at him, and Phoebus instantly let his battle instincts take over.

This undoubtedly saved him from dented armor and broken ribs. He put his arms up in surrender, uncertain what he'd done to call down the other man's fury on his head, but he did his absolute best to calm the fellow down. "Ho la la, doucement!" Phoebus cried, backing away from Quasimodo.

He couldn't risk combat with someone he didn't want to harm, for the simple fact that only one of them was armed, and if he were forced to draw his sword, he could seriously wound or kill the poor confused bell ringer.

Phoebus found himself forced into the spiral staircase which led from the top of the bell tower to the sanctuary, while Quasimodo ranted at him about how no soldiers were permitted within the church.

"Wait!" he contended through the volley of insults the hunchback was spewing at him. "All I want is—!"

He was cut off once more as Quasimodo screamed at him to go, but he tried again, "I mean her no harm!"

Somehow still more furious than before, Quasimodo threw his head back and growled out a gravelly scream before grabbing a torch and swinging it at Phoebus.

It was a quarter of a breath in which instinct overcame Phoebus once more, and only once both he and Quasimodo had taken an instant to breathe did he focus on the fact that he was hovering over the stair he'd just been about to step back upon as Quasimodo held him by the front of his armor.

A moment's glance from Quasimodo's furious eyes assured Phoebus that he had successfully pinned the torch Quasimodo had meant to singe his face with to the stone wall.

He took stock of it all and after weighing it all decided that though he did not exactly have the upper hand—his skull could easily crack if Quasimodo threw him backward— he could not speak as if he were at a disadvantage.

Evenly, schooling both his voice and his features into military precision so as to allow the timbre of his voice to carry both authority and self assurance, he spoke. "I want you to tell her, if you see her, that Captain Phoebus did not mean to trap her here… That's my name, by the way. I was the one who told her to claim sanctuary, and I can see how she may have misunderstood."

Quasimodo just stared at him with his grotesque features, which were already twisted by nature, and were not flattered by his fury.

"I had to claim sanctuary for her," he continued with the same rumbling candor, saying, "it was the only way to save her life. I ask that you tell her that, will you do so?"

While Quasimodo did not verbally respond, Phoebus had seen the way his eyes widened for a moment. The trouble was he could not diagnose the cause. Was he still distrustful? He had not set Phoebus down yet… what was he thinking?

"Will you tell her what I said?" Phoebus pressed.

"If you leave immediately!" Quasimodo snarled.

That would have to do. Phoebus wouldn't remain longer than he needed to, it was best to appease this fellow and back down as quickly as possible. "I'll go," he said gently, then put on a smile, the sort which was ordinarily seen as charming. "Now, will you put me down, please?" he asked without showing a hint of how apprehensive he was.

It appeared that Quasimodo had just realized he was holding Phoebus over a much smaller drop than he had recently hung above, but a perilous one, nonetheless. Slowly, Quasimodo set Phoebus down until his feet were firmly upon the stair.

There was a moment during which Phoebus's knees wobbled and he forced them back into submission. He knew there was a long way down, but there was no way he could avoid that.

He was resigned to his sentence of climbing down the stairs without seeing the pretty damsel again, but paused. "Quasimodo…tell her something else if you see her… Tell her how lucky she is." The words were falling from him much more quickly than he could truly comprehend what he was saying, but somehow his smile was still on his face.

Still suspicious, Quasimodo watched Phoebus sheathe his sword. "Why?" he asked.

Phoebus's smile widened as he realized that he was truly assured of what he was about to say. "I'd say she's quite lucky to have a friend like you," he said gently.

With that, he turned from Quasimodo and traversed the dimly lit staircase to the sanctuary where he could see the Archdeacon and several monks beginning to make their rounds through the church and each of its chapels.

The Archdeacon caught sight of Phoebus, and as the candelabras made his features visible, it was clear the old fellow was just as furious at the sight of the captain as Quasimodo had been.

What did these people have against a man's honest work? The answer was simple: Frollo's corruption was broadly self-evident, and there was a great deal of work to do before Parisians learned to trust the law again.

"How did you get in here?" the Archdeacon demanded.

"With great difficulty, don't you worry," Phoebus said, offering the last ounce of charm left in his weary bones.

"Are there more of you?" the priest asked.

"Nobody is quite like me!" Phoebus said, glancing longingly at the door. "If you wouldn't mind… I've done my part here…"

"And what is that?" the Archdeacon and his attendants all stalked furiously toward Phoebus. "Did you harm the girl? You know the penalty for transgressions against the house of God! You saw her claim sanctuary this very day! I heard you admit to it!"

Phoebus raised his hands in the second surrender of the day. "I came to try and help her escape, however, Quasimodo would not let me see her…" his eyes drifted toward the doors once more, but on their way they settled on yet another set of stairs. Now where did they lead?

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at it.

Stunned by the sudden change of topic, the Archdeacon peered at the cell. "That is one of the places where someone who has been granted sanctuary may live, or those who are in the direst need…" The Archdeacon slowly maneuvered himself so that he stood between Phoebus and the stairs.

"Is that where Esmeralda has gone?" Phoebus asked in a low tone which did not echo through the arched room.

"That is none of your business, soldier. You are to leave, at once."

Something was nagging Phoebus, something about how protective Quasimodo had been of the upper floors. Was Esmeralda still up there?

If she were, or recently had been, Quasimodo would likely keep her safe from everyone except Frollo, from whom she had the most to fear. But if she were in the cell, the Archdeacon was her staunchest defender.

Either way, he could discourage a sweep of the church simply, and buy her a little more time before Frollo insisted on pressing the issue.

"I shall go at once," he promised, and began to walk to the door.

"Go and bear in mind your sins, my son," the Archdeacon said. "You cannot condemn the girl, and you know it."

"I don't," Phoebus said, fumbling as his over-strained arms struggled with the board the Archdeacon had undoubtedly been responsible for placing over the door. "I just wish I could see her again." His voice sounded pathetic in his own ears, and he just hoped the Archdeacon did not think less of him—though really how could he?—and left the church.

There among a clump of soldiers was Jehan, and he raised a hand in greeting, about to tell him that there was good news… except that he couldn't.

He shouldn't tell Jehan what he knew, not when the younger Frollo had no particular reason not to tell the elder something about Esmeralda, especially if there would be money or pain involved.

"How was it?" Jehan asked, and Phoebus saw him puffing himself up in front of the soldiers to make himself look more important.

"She still claims sanctuary, and she's living in the cell," Phoebus shrugged. "It's just too bad, I thought she might surrender. But I can't defy sanctuary or the church will be able to contest the legitimacy of our case against her."

The soldiers nodded as if they fully understood what he'd said, and to their credit, there may have been those who did.

This was really too much work for one day, and his first day in Paris was yet to draw to a close! He had yet to even see his town home, the first permanent structure in which he could rest his head in… had it really been years?

His eagerness to release himself once again from the burdensome shell of his armor and lay down his weary head began to overtake him before he'd even left the Ile de Cite. In his weariness, he didn't even register the fact that Jehan was still on his heels.

At the door, however, as he was fumbling for the key which had been sent to him, he glanced at Jehan. "You've been very helpful, Jehan, I hope that's the sign of a bright future ahead of you. Someday you may be helpful a whole week in a row!"

"I have been very, very helpful tonight, haven't I?" Jehan asked, his eyes glittering in the lamplight.

Phoebus sighed heavily. "What do you want?"

"It's just that it's going to be dawn soon, and you wouldn't want your friend stumbling around the streets all night, would you? I haven't got the money for a night in an inn…"

The younger Frollo brother may be a good-for-nothing in general, but Phoebus was not unfeeling, nor did he have the heart or the energy to turn him out. "You're free to spend the evening in some… corner here," he said, gesturing around the clumsily provisioned town home. Some servants had undoubtedly been there to prepare it for him, but of course he hadn't much in the way of belongings.

He recognized the handiwork of his own mother in some of the décor, but the lilies on his poor emasculated table were all down to Selene. Only she would go to the trouble to arrange a thing like that, her own way of saying that she cared.

Well, he'd have to dispose of them in some courteous way before he was forced to host someone serious in his house. It would not do to have a distraction like that making it seem that he had time for niceties.

"I won't be any trouble!" Jehan insisted, walking off to make a nest of the as-yet un-hung tapestries. "If you have to leave early, don't call on me! I am a university man, you know, and I need my sleep!"

"I know," Phoebus rolled his eyes as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, "I know."