Chapter 16:
Returning to the same bar at which he had met with Jehan the night before was the door Phoebus opened to the welcome distraction he sought from images of Frollo the demonic goblin which pranced menacingly through his mind. Predictably enough, Jehan was there, bragging to several raggedy fellows that he was recently in the company of a woman possessed of a tremendous fortune, and she was much impressed with him.
Phoebus kept quiet, unwilling to speak as of yet, and only listened.
"She was so angry because her betrothed wasn't there to see her, but that was before I paid her compliments!" Jehan bragged, leaning against the bar. "It was some drivel about how pretty her hands are, and she got so red in the face she looked like she'd been drinking all night at one of these fine establishments!"
His sloshed companions joined in laughing, as Phoebus smirked at how lightly they were all taking an incident Fleur might relate to him in quite different terms. It would all revolve around how his friend had fallen to the ground to worship her beauty, and how he really should send the fellow around again when her friends were about so they could have a good laugh.
In the meantime, Phoebus ordered the best wine the house had, but the moment he smelled it he knew there was something amiss.
"Every time, it's that 1470 Burgundy…" he muttered. It was the unmistakable scent of the vineyard that had been spoiled by grapes which produced something much closer to vinegar than wine, but he had still paid his money for it, and the dreadful vintage may better suit his need to drown his ill-shapen memories.
"Ah, here's the good captain now!" Jehan clapped Phoebus on the back just as he had won the courage to down his first swig of the sour Burgundian wine, and very nearly made him cough his soul straight to the heavens. "Merci, mon Capitan! If not for you I would not have passed the day so agreeably! The lady was most accommodating, and I have never eaten so many trifles in my days!"
Phoebus rolled his eyes. "I suppose you had to spew various trifles before you were rewarded with more, or have I misjudged the lady?"
"Only a few," Jehan acknowledged with a smirk. "The primary trifle was that I told my dear lady Fleur all about how rich I am."
Phoebus bent over the bar as he laughed, his willingness to come loose from the moorings of propriety a direct consequence of his tiredness, and not the sour wine. "You? Rich?" he asked amid gasps and notes of his laughter. "Yes, sure, maybe if Claude died, you would be!"
"Did you not see him today? Don't you think that can happen soon enough?" Jehan asked.
Phoebus automatically crossed himself, before realizing that he wouldn't actually mind if Frollo were to die. It may make it easier to meet with Esmeralda and someone could instantly forget why soldiers' time was being wasted on patrolling the church for an innocent woman.
On the other hand, "You'd be a terrible man of fortune," he pointed out to Jehan.
"You would be right, but I know I wouldn't be rich long enough to be bad at it!" Jehan laughed, and stole a deep swig of Phoebus's wine. He frowned once it had gone down. "Ugh… you ordered 1470 on purpose, didn't you?"
"Call it a happy accident," Phoebus snickered.
It was then he caught sight of a curious set of emerald eyes gazing at him across the room. They looked so familiar…
He took another drink of the terrible wine and steeled himself.
There was nothing to say he wouldn't go the way of doddering old Claude and lose his mind, and the first thing his crazed mind would do would be to display images of Esmeralda to him when she was not there.
"What's the matter with you?" Jehan demanded of him, waving a hand before his eyes. "I want you to know how I represented you to your fiancée!"
Phoebus raised a brow at him. "Badly, I hope," he said only artificially in jest.
Those same eyes seemed closer than they'd been before, flashing with curiosity.
He drank again, and heard Jehan order more on his behalf. Of course, he would, so long as it was money spent from Phoebus's purse, and not his own.
Still the eyes were there. Actually, come to think of it, they could be there as a consequence of too much drink, at this point, and not too little.
She came still closer, and Phoebus noted that she was wearing something different from the last time he'd seen her, and did not have a goat with her, so it could be Esmeralda, but what did she do with the goat? Was it wrong to assume?
He at least shouldn't acknowledge that he knew her if it were Esmeralda, and if it wasn't her, she wouldn't want the added scrutiny.
At last she was at the bar, and he was almost sure he recognized her. He would know for sure if he wasn't beginning to question his sanity and sobriety, but as it stood, he was uncertain of both.
She counted out coins meticulously, and placed them before the bartender quietly, then asked for food and wine. The voice sounded like Esmeralda's as well, but for all he knew, she was back in the cathedral, and he was completely fabricating the presence of any Egyptian woman besides him, at all…
The fact that the bartender placed actual onion broth with floating lumps of something that looked vaguely like vegetables before the woman, and he could smell it, made Phoebus sigh with relief. It was an actual woman, thanks be to God!
He smiled at her, and muttered a greeting, hoping not to draw too much attention either to her, or to the fact he was being friendly with her.
She glanced up at him with a smirk, and winked. "What is someone whose armor is so shiny doing in a place like this?" she asked.
He wondered how to best respond, but glanced over at Jehan, who was regaling newcomers with his experiences with Fleur. They were slightly more licentious this time, probably a consequence of his having more to drink, and the way he was lauded as a hero for having done it.
Come to think of it, with Jehan distracted, and most of the men in the inn more concerned with the younger Frollo than with the possible Esmeralda, he could take liberties with actually talking to her.
"What may I call you?" he asked, leaving it open by doing so for her to reveal her name or not as she judged suitable.
"You can call me a friend," she replied, and gave him a smirk. "Unless you've changed your mind about arresting me."
That was as close as he could get to her actually admitting her identity, so perhaps he was neither overly drunk or overly mad.
A grin broke out on his lips. "With what I know of you, there could hardly be a point, now could there? You are such a fine clever girl, I am sure you would outwit me!"
When he saw her answering grin, Phoebus was close to forgetting anything could be wrong between them. She seemed so at ease with him, they may well have been friends, or… perhaps something better.
"Did our… mutual friend… tell you what I meant to convey to you?"
She tilted her head. "I didn't think we shared any friends," she whispered back to him.
"He works in… er… church music," Phoebus muttered.
"Oh, him! Are you really friends now? That is—" she cut herself off as she was about to get too loud, and had to cut back. "What did you say? I think you must have seen him more recently than me."
"I wanted him to let you know… I didn't mean for the church to become your prison… I hoped that it would get Frollo off your trail… but I'm glad to see it saved your life…" he placed a hand on hers instinctively, and though the hold was gentle, he clung to it.
Their skin did not meet, as though her hand was bare, his hand was swathed in leather. Still, he could feel the warmth through the gauntlet, and it quieted the turbulent paranoia in his head.
She was alive, and he had not doomed her… yet, anyway.
"How did you get into the cathedral?" she whispered.
"I'm more interested in how you got out," he replied, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Jehan, grateful when he did that nobody had come over to weasel in on their conversation, and they were in no danger of immediate interruption.
Even so, he opted for words that were less likely to incriminate either one of them. "I had the fullest intention of getting to you, myself, but it seemed we were meant to cross paths under different circumstances."
"Destiny walks the unknown road, I believe," Esmeralda whispered softly. "I was helped by our friend, he showed me the way, and now I won't go back unless I have to."
"Which I would not advise just yet," Phoebus said softly. "For now, people expect you to be in the church still, so don't let them change their minds."
"What miracle makes them think that?"
"Well, if a miracle is an act of God, then it wasn't one. I helped."
"Call it an act of the sun god, then?"
"If you want…" he chuckled, and watched her eat the food that was brought to her.
Had she gotten anything to eat while she was in the church? Where was she staying? Was it safe?
"I have to ask, and I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but I need to know where you're living."
Esmeralda raised a brow at him. "I don't think that's the sort of thing you ask a lady."
"Come now, mademoiselle, these are trying times. Have you heard about the printing press? Mon dieu, I think they're going to destroy architecture with it!"
Esmeralda smirked at him, then drank some of her broth. "I have heard something about that, too."
"My, what educated friends we both have!"
"Oh, la, we are so fortunate! But, do you really think we can remain friends much longer? I worry that something might…"
He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Nothing will make me forget what you did for that poor bell ringer, when my hand was stayed by duty. You are the sort of person who matters more than a thousand stuck up, ignorant nobles. I will never forget that. You can rely on that."
Her smile was warm when it reached her eyes, and she leaned close to him. He could smell the homey broth on her breath, and the unique, new and thrilling smell that was Esmeralda, as well.
If he leaned closer, he could kiss her…
But she was gone, pulled away and vanished before he could cross that middle distance.
He cast a bewildered glance around the inn, and found her waving at him from the door.
Mechanically, he raised a hand, and knew that when she was ready, he would see her again.