AN: This chapter gets a little timey-wimey. I figured it was narratively more important to start with the funeral than with the bell dedication, but I couldn't justify putting the funeral ahead of the pope's arrival. So forgive me for jumping around in the timeline a tad.
I was honestly surprised to find information about Romani funerals on the internet. They tend to keep the more intimate aspects of their culture close to their chests. Please bear in mind that these traditions can and do change between nations, groups and clans, and what is presented here is based on the information available to me.
Quasimodo learned that there was much to be done for a Romani funeral.
For days, none of the Roma combed their hair or shaved. They ate and drank only specific things. Mourners shuffled by the houses that Clopin's bereaved family occupied, bringing strong drink and comforting embraces. They were encouraged to weep loudly.
When the day of the funeral came, it was quite a procession. None of Paris could've missed it if they'd tried. Quasimodo's place in the procession was with his cousins. As one of Clopin's closest surviving relatives, he had a place of honor, and he couldn't remember the last time a crowd had put such effort into giving him so many words of encouragement.
The Archdeacon survived and recovered well enough from his injuries to attend. His doctor complained that he would've been better off missing the funeral, but the man insisted. Even though he hadn't known Clopin well, the Archdeacon felt it his duty to support his bell ringer's family, and was there on Quasi's invitation. Quasi made sure he had a comfortable place to sit and that he never had to get up for anything to eat or drink. Distrust still lingered between the Roma and the French Parisians, and thus the Archdeacon was one of the few non-Roma in attendance.
Another was Madellaine, who had been invited by Esmeralda. The two women had built a friendship over the last several days, and Esme had become something of an informal counselor for the newly emancipated girl. Madellaine stayed in her designated place throughout the service, but also remained where she and Quasi could see each other. She had spent the preparation time for the funeral trying to learn as discreetly as possible how best to honor the deceased in Romani custom. Sarousch had never once attempted to teach her about the culture of his birth, having practically sworn it off. Madellaine wouldn't let that stop her, and asked Quasi whenever she could what he was being instructed to do to prepare for the funeral, so that she too could be prepared and respectful.
Clopin was interred in a new graveyard that the Roma had managed to secure after moving into their section of Paris. Out of gratitude for the role Clopin played in the rescue of La Fidele, a local mason had carved and donated a beautiful headstone. He was not too proud to take constant oversight from Esmeralda and Jeanine to make sure it was just what Clopin would want.
After the graveside service came the bit that confused Quasi. The Roma, as it happened, didn't believe much in keepsakes. If the living didn't pass their valuables along to younger generations, these items were to be burned upon their owners' deaths. Clopin's most prized possessions—his jester's suit and mask, the hat with the ragged brim, his favorite puppets, his scythe—were neatly arranged on a pyre. Esme explained that the tradition had started as a way to prevent a Romani spirit from wandering back to the realm of the living, seeking what belonged to them. What couldn't be burned would probably be given away to non-Roma. Phoebus excepted, since he was auxiliary to the tribe.
Quasi hugged Zephyr close as they watched the puppet made in Clopin's likeness be consumed by the flames. Zephyr had tried very hard to be tough and not cry through the whole funeral. But he gave up the fight as Puppet burned. He turned his face into Quasi's tunic and sobbed himself into a bout of hiccups. Quasi thought he could make out muffled cries of, "all my fault," and, "I hate my birthday." It broke his heart. The bell ringer hugged his little buddy tighter and silently prayed that Zephyr would be able to heal from all of this in due time.
Somehow, it was just a little less sad to see the Frollo puppet reduced to ash. Quasi almost wished Clopin had gone ahead and made an effigy of Sarousch to be burned.
Before his friend and cousin was laid to rest, however, Quasi had to deal with the procession for the pope. After leaving the catacombs and making sure Esme and Zephyr were safely in Phoebus' care and on their way home, Quasi returned to Notre Dame and helped Joseph hang La Fidele in her designated place—a task that took well into the night. Quasi hardly slept. And since he'd agreed to not comb his hair, he looked every bit as tired as he felt the next morning. But he had one thing that he was bound and determined to do.
Crowds choked the street. It seemed that every Parisian who wasn't mourning the death of a loved one or laid up in a doctor's care was present. Phoebus had to be there as well, overseeing security. Particularly since most of Sarousch's men were still at large. People from out of town had also arrived in Paris to celebrate the pope, and the Parisian guard were stretched to their limit.
The crowd cheered as the pope's procession made its way slowly through the streets to Notre Dame. It was all very overwhelming for Quasi, and for the first time, he was grateful his hearing had diminished. The noise of the crowd was reduced to a dull roar in his ears. But it still managed to trigger his tinnitus. Not that he minded much. Tinnitus sounded like bells, after all.
At first, the pope was alarmed when told why the Archdeacon could not join the ceremony to dedicate La Fidele. But Quasi, in an act that he figured was probably sacrilegious, pushed his way to the front of the crowd to get an audience with the pope and explain the full story.
"Your holiness," the bell ringer greeted reverently. "I ring the bells in Notre Dame, and before you bless La Fidele, I need to tell you her story."
The pope was taken aback by the boldness of the half-deaf hunchback with the deformed face, but he nodded. "Yes, by all means, my son, please tell me the story."
And Quasimodo did.
The pope and his entourage listened intently with little more than the occasional question. When Quasi finished, the pope sat in deep thought. Then he stood and turned to address the crowd.
"My children, it has come to my attention that we owe a great debt to a man who made the ultimate sacrifice so that we could gather here in thankfulness and reverence today. The Gypsy called Clopin Trouillefou is an example of courage and love for all to follow in their daily lives, as he selflessly gave his own life to protect the innocent and to save this holy bell. Therefore, let the bell to be rung for the first time today be called..." he turned to Quasi and whispered, "Trouillefou? Are you sure that's his name?"
Quasi shrugged. "That was the only name he ever went by when I knew him, sir."
The pope resumed his speech, trying to hide his uncertainty. "Let this bell be from now on known as La Fidele de...Trouillefou!"
There was a pause, but then a cheer arose from the crowd. Quasi beamed. He slipped back through the crowd as the pope began his benediction and made his way up to the bell tower. He stuffed a pair of earplugs in before taking hold of the rope that dangled from La Fidele. He took a deep breath and tugged.
La Fidele's clear tone rang out across the city. The crowd fell silent as they listened to her. She had the most beautiful voice. Quasi could feel it deep in his bones. Clopin would've loved it. If there was one thing he could claim to share with Quasi beyond a recent common ancestor, it was that he genuinely did love the sound of church bells. Quasi's eyes grew misty as he recalled the poetic descriptions Clopin had given of the bells, every word full of genuine enthusiasm. "So many colors of sound, so many changing moods. Whatever their pitch, you can feel them bewitch you, the rich and ritual knells of the bells of Notre Dame."
The pope's christening of La Fidele did something even greater than give Clopin a bell of his very own in Notre Dame's tower. The blessing extended to all the Parisian Roma. Suddenly they were untouchable, but in the best way. King Charles could not even consider crossing them without losing face with the entire Catholic church. At long last, they were truly safe. The Gypsy King had fulfilled his role.
A week or so after the funeral, Quasi invited Madellaine to go for a walk. They spent hours treading the streets of Paris, passing between the Romani quarter and Notre Dame multiple times, just talking. As they passed through the Court a third time, Quasi gave a friendly wave to Xavier, who had been permanently installed as the tribe's new Rom baro after the council voted him in. Esmeralda, as per Clopin's request, supported Xavier completely and acted as a rallying point for the Court. She was the youngest member of Xavier's council, but her input was invaluable, and thanks to her, Xavier started his tenure with a 100 percent approval rating.
Clopin's kids still lived in the house he'd shared with them, though now it was considered the property of Jeanine and her husband (Chat had let the house pass to them, citing his intention to go away to law school soon and the fact that he never intended to marry or raise a family). The time for mourning had not yet passed for them, so Quasi hardly ever saw them outside. Chat resumed his advanced Latin lessons and seemed to have thrown himself into his studies even more intensely than before. A way of coping, Phoebus had suggested. The twins were subdued, both effecting an air of maturity and responsibility, particularly for their sister and her young family, frequently offering to look after their nephew without having to be volunteered. And the baby didn't have "gas" smiles anymore. It was pretty clear to everyone that he knew someone in his family was missing.
Esmeralda grieved in her own way. She wouldn't openly admit it to anyone but Phoebus in the quiet privacy of their home, but she was wracked with guilt. She had been the catalyst for everything that had happened to her family. Quasi didn't need to hear her say as much to understand what she was going through. All he could do was remind her when needed that none of this was her fault. Certainly no one in the Court believed she was responsible in any way for the loss of their leader, and many of them were old enough to remember when Sarousch challenged Clopin for Esme's hand. But Quasi knew that grief could lie. He knew that all too well.
And Zephyr still wasn't the same, spending the majority of every day shut up in his room while Djali snuggled with him to try and comfort him. Quasi wished he knew how to help the poor boy. Esme promised that Zephyr would come around eventually and be back to his old self in a few months, but Quasi honestly had his doubts. He didn't know what it was like to grieve such a loss at such a young age, but he knew it would be a long time before any piece of the cheery boy he knew started to poke through again. In the meantime, he was determined to be there for his little cousin. Just as he would be for Esme. Just as he would be for Madellaine.
"What are you planning on doing now, since you're officially, truly free?" Quasi asked Madellaine as they strolled.
Madellaine was quiet for a while. Then she said, "I'm still asking myself the same thing. Esmeralda already promised she'd be there to help me figure it out. I've got a place to stay for now, and I think I can find some honest work without too much trouble. But...I've got a lot of things to think about and decide on. I've belonged to Sarousch since I was six. That's...that's a long time."
"Well," Quasi ventured, "you know, you could always...I mean...I'll be here to help you too, you know." His hand brushed hers. "And I thought...maybe you and I could be...more than friends?"
Madellaine stopped suddenly and clasped Quasi's hands. She looked him in the eye. "Quasimodo, you are the most remarkable person I've ever met," she confessed. "And maybe, someday, we can be more than friends. But...I'm just...not there yet. Sarousch...the way he hurt me...I don't know if...I don't know how to..." She sighed as she fought back tears. "I see Esmeralda and Phoebus and how they love each other, and...I just don't have any way to understand that. Not right now. Not after everything that I've been through. I just...I need time. And it's not you, I promise! Like I said, maybe someday. But...not today."
Quasi folded her hands in his. "I understand," he said. "Really, I do. I want to be there every step of the way as you figure out this freedom thing, but I don't want to push you further than you're comfortable with. I promise I'll wait. I'll just be your best friend for now. And...maybe someday..."
Madellaine smiled. "Yeah, maybe someday."
The two of them walked hand-in-hand back to Notre Dame, each daydreaming about Someday.
Someday life will be fairer | Need will be rarer | And greed will not pay | God speed this bright millennium on its way | Let it come someday | Someday our fight will be won then | We'll stand in the sun then | That bright afternoon | Till then, on days when the sun is gone | We'll hang on | And we'll wish upon the moon
AN: Thank you to my readers for sticking with me! Let me know what you thought! Did you like it more than the DTV sequel we got? Do you have questions about the fate of any of the characters who survived this tale? Are you considering subjecting me to a musical lynch mob to avenge the jester? Leave a review to tell me!