Chapter 27: The Confession

The boy was growing, which made it harder for Frollo to raise him. Quasimodo was now old enough to climb around the structure of the tower, sometimes dangerously. Currently, Frollo was lifting the child off the rail of the balcony.

"Stay away from there!" The judge scolded. "You'll fall!"

"I was just watching them." Quasimodo said timidly, pointing to some people on the street.

A woman was doing her best to keep two young children from running off, a struggle that Frollo could unfortunately understand.

"You mustn't be like those children." Frollo warned. "It is dangerous to wander."

"Why are they with that lady?" Quasimodo questioned.

"She must be their mother." Frollo replied.

"What is a mother?"

"A woman who gives birth to a child."

"Why don't I have a mother?"

Frollo was startled by the question. He realized that the boy was becoming curious, and there was little he could do about that. He would have to make something up to satisfy Quasimodo's curiosity.

An explanation occurred to him. One that would put the child in his place and make him show respect.

"Your mother didn't want you." Frollo lied. "She abandoned you on the stairs. You're very lucky that I found you and decided to keep you."

"Oh..." Quasimodo responded sadly. "But... Why did she do that?"

"You are ugly." Frollo insulted. "She was terrified to look at you."

"Really?" Quasimodo asked with a heartbroken expression.

"Anyone would be." Frollo told him.

The boy started to cry. Frollo touched his shoulder artificially.

"Don't be upset." He said with a cruel smile. "You have me. I am the only person who will care for you."

"Th-Thank you... Master..." Quasimodo sobbed.

Claude looked down at his clothes as he travelled up the tower stairs. He realized he had never come like this, out of his judge's robes. He'd always done his best to intimidate. But this time was different. There would be no more terrorizing of the hunchback. Claude had twenty years worth of wrongs to atone for.

Quasimodo was rearranging his carvings when he heard frantic footsteps coming through the tower. It had to be Frollo, and judging by the speed of his gait, he was likely angry. Quasimodo was frightened, wondering what he'd done to upset the judge.

"Quasimodo!'

The bell ringer jumped at the sound of Frollo's voice. He turned around frantically.

"Master!" He muttered. "I didn't know you were..."

He stopped when he saw Frollo approach, dressed only in civilian clothes and sporting an expression of distress. Quasimodo was at a loss for words. He didn't know what was stranger: The sight of Frollo out of his robes, or the evident unrest within him. This was not the man whom Quasimodo had grown up around. He had always known Frollo as a strict, proud, and fearsome guardian. Something odd was going on.

"Quasimodo..." Claude murmured with heartbreak. "Oh, my dear boy!"

Quasimodo was shocked as he was pulled into a hug. Frollo was holding onto him tightly, breathing heavily like he was in a panic. The bell ringer struggled to process what was happening. Never in his life had the judge done something so opposite to his expectations.

"Master..." Quasimodo muttered. "I don't understand..."

Claude's mind was full of things he regretted. He thought of all the years of mistreatment he had inflicted on Quasimodo, who had never so much as looked at him with anger. He had more to apologize for than he could name, but he would try.

He pulled away from the boy, but held onto his shoulders, looking into his eyes and barely holding back tears.

"Quasimodo... You needn't call me Master. And you needn't look at me so apologetically. And you needn't stay in this lonesome tower!"

"W-wh-what?" Quasimodo stuttered.

"I was wrong!" Claude declared. "I'm sorry I kept you locked up here, I'm sorry I let those people torture you at the festival, and I'm sorry I called you a monster! You are not a monster... You are a bright young man with a warm heart, and you are the son I never deserved to have!"

Quasimodo gaped in confusion. This couldn't be real. Frollo had never spoken to him like this.

"But..." The bell ringer struggled. "Why are you saying these things?"

"I have learned..." Claude responded. "I have come to understand the brutality of my ways, and I am here to right my wrongs. Oh my boy... You are worthy of so much more than I have done for you!"

"You've never said that..." Quasimodo said in disbelief. "You said I was a monster... You said I was lucky to have you... That my own mother didn't want me!"

"Oh God..." Claude cried grievously.

He took a step back, throwing a hand over his face as he shook his head miserably. He saw Quasimodo staring when he looked up.

"I'm sorry..." Claude said with devastation. "I hope you can forgive me..."

"Forgive you?" Quasimodo questioned. "For what?"

Claude struggled to speak. He was beginning to cry.

"I... lied..." He managed. "Your mother did not abandon you... She loved you..."

"What?..." Quasimodo asked in increasing shock.

"I... assumed she had stolen goods." Claude continued. "I chased her... By the time I realized it was a baby she was carrying... She was dead..."

In an instant, Quasimodo's life changed. He saw the incredible lie that he had been raised upon. Suddenly, his mother was not an absent figure who had left him.

"She died protecting you..." Claude said mournfully. "...From me."

He closed his eyes, but quickly opened them.

"I killed her..."

Quasimodo gasped. He gazed at Frollo in horror, then dropped to his knees, breaking into tears.

His mother had loved him, and she had been stolen from him, by the man he'd been raised by and trusted for years...

Claude tried to get closer to him.

"Quasimodo... I am so sorry..."

He touched the boy's shoulder, but was not met receptively. For the first time, Quasimodo looked up at him angrily, his tearful eyes full of rage.

Claude didn't have time to realize what was happening before a powerful fist slammed into his eye. He was overcome with pain and shock. In the next moment, Quasimodo tackled him to the floor and grabbed him around the throat.

"YOU KILLED MY MOTHER!" The boy yelled. "MONSTER!"

Claude choked as Quasimodo's grip cut off his breathing. He looked with terror at the boy's furious and devastated expression while his lungs cried out for air. He couldn't get out of this. The grip around his neck was too strong. So this was how he would die. This was how he would pay for the death of that woman, whose only crime was loving her child. Claude closed his eyes, accepting his fate...

Quasimodo was filled with a wrath that he'd never known he was capable of. He couldn't believe the injustice: That he had once had a loving mother, taken from him by the man who had raised him to think he was unlovable. He gripped Frollo's neck intensely, urging for the death of the man he had called his master.

But something caught his eye. In the dim candlelight, Quasimodo noticed several stitches in Frollo's tunic. He realized it was Esmeralda's handiwork. This had to be the tunic he had worn the night he'd been hurt, mended by the loveliest person in Quasimodo's eyes...

Esmeralda cared about the man he was strangling. And she wasn't the only one...

Memories flashed through the bell ringer's head. The better memories. He saw himself as a child. He saw Frollo teach him to carve wood, bandage his scrapes after a bloody fall from one of the bells, and lay blankets over him at night. And now, he saw that same man tearfully choking at his hands after desperately apologizing for his misdeeds...

He couldn't do this.

Claude suddenly felt his breath return with a gasp. The strangulation had ended. He opened his eyes and saw that Quasimodo no longer looked at him with rage. Instead he was closing his eyes, profusely crying.

The boy stumbled away from him, curling up into a ball.

"Get out of here..." He whispered. "I never want to see you again!"

"Quasimodo..." Claude said sadly.

"GO!" The bell ringer thundered. "BEFORE I HURT YOU!"

Frightened, Claude obeyed. He struggled to his feet and hurried away, down the stairs.

Claude sat in a pew, bent over with a hand covering his injured eye. He felt more broken than ever.

Esmeralda was still hurt and unprepared to forgive him. Quasimodo was destroyed and would probably never forgive him. His world had fallen apart tonight.

"Claude?" A voice called.

Claude looked up to see the archdeacon standing by the pew.

"Hello, Jean." Claude greeted sorrowfully.

"Your eye..." The priest noticed. "That looks painful. Can I get you something for it?"

"I'd appreciate that." Claude replied.

The archdeacon nodded and started away from him.

"Jean," Claude piped up. "Is it too late for us to be friends? I'm afraid I have no one left in the world."

Jean looked at his old classmate with sympathy. He wondered what had happened to prompt this question, but he was glad to hear it.

"It isn't too late as far as I am concerned." He replied. "Do you need someone to talk to?"

Claude nodded.

A few minutes later, Jean sat next to him while he held a cold wet cloth to his eye. Claude explained the events of the night in detail, from his failed attempt at apologizing to Esmeralda to his near death at the hands of Quasimodo.

"I couldn't make things right with them." Claude said painfully. "They won't forgive me."

"They still could." Jean reminded. "Perhaps they just need some time."

"But what if they don't?" Claude asked. "Will I never be able to right my wrongs?"

"Whether they forgive you or not, you can still do right by them." Jean assured. "You may not resolve everything, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't strive to right your wrongs however you can."

Claude thought about it. Perhaps he could repair the damage he had done, at least in some part. He would have to try.

Esmeralda was still asleep when her husband returned. That was a good thing. Claude needed silence right now.

He sat down at his desk with a candle and began to write. He began to compose several letters addressed to public officials in other cities, asking if they had witnessed a sudden influx of Romani people coming from Paris.

Claude intended to find Esmeralda's people. He didn't know where they had gone, as he had only sent them out of Paris. But he would find them. He would do whatever was necessary to reunite Esmeralda with her friends. And perhaps family... It occurred to Claude that he had never even bothered to wonder if she had a family. He felt horrible for that. It shouldn't have taken him so long to think of her as a person.

The sun eventually rose. Esmeralda woke to an unusual sight. Instead of lying by her side, her husband was writing at his desk.

She sat up in bed, trying not to think of the obvious fact that the judge must have carried her there.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

Claude stopped, frowning.

"Good morning." He greeted without taking his eyes off his desk. "I'm working on something very important."

Esmeralda was curious about this, but she rolled her eyes when she thought about it. This was probably part of some effort to gain her forgiveness.

The church bells rang, reminding Esmeralda of the bell ringer, who had suffered with Frollo for far longer than she had. Esmeralda took pity on her friend.

"If it has something to do with me," She said with contempt. "Put it aside. If you want to make it up to someone, go and apologize to Quasimodo."

"I already have..." Claude said mournfully.

Esmeralda was surprised.

"Already?" She asked. "How did that happen? What can I expect to hear from him when we go over there?"

"I won't be going..." Claude said with dread.

"Why not?" Esmeralda asked, even more surprised.

Claude turned his face toward her, showing his black eye.

"He doesn't want to see me." He explained.

Esmeralda was stunned. Every train of thought left her. Without another word, she scrambled out of bed and made a run for the church.

Redeeming Claude Frollo is a task I am willing to take up. But given his history of wrongdoings, I knew it wouldn't come easily. Things will have to get worse before they get better. Thank you for reading! And thank you for your comments! They mean SO much to me!