The chains that binded her were cold and rusty; her environment just as deathly harsh with its moist stone walls, limited light from the nearby torch, and not a sound was made except for an occasional scurry and squeak from a rat passing by. Solitary confinement seemed to be the only effective way to break a gypsy.
Her wrists remained shackled to the wall above her head, now numb, and her bare feet were freezing from the damp air. She had concocted numerous scenarios and ideas that might be a possible escape plan, none of which were the least bit realistic. In the end she had given up and hung her head in exhaustion from a night without sleep, prepared to die at dawn in the square. Burned alive…in front of the city of Paris and, worst of all, by that maniac who claimed to be its servant and guardian, yet selfishly went out of his way to seek her out while wiping out any opposition and protest that might have crossed his path.
God, how she hated that man. The echo of his deep voice made her sick to her stomach, and the thought of his smug face made her grit her teeth in anger. Had she known that one teasing dance would be the cause of such mania, she would never have provoked him. Now her family and closest friends awaited their demise as well.
She could still hear her brother's words reminding her as a child, "Never poke the bear!" as she stared in awe at the intimidating judge atop his inky black steed while he continued to harass the gypsies of Paris.
She would not let him win; if she had to defy him to the grave, then so be it. Though the chances of escaping were very slim, she would not give him the satisfaction making it seem like she was completely at his mercy. It will be a cold day in Hell before she gave up her fighting spirit.
Suddenly she heard the echo of the wooden door creak from the top of the stairs, footsteps soon following. They were confident, striding closer to her cell. Instinctively the girl shut her eyes and turned away when they stopped, not wanting to look at whatever sadist pig had been ordered to try and intimidate her now.
"Well now," said not a doltish voice of a soldier, but a rich, commanding baritone. "This is every bit enjoyable as I had hoped. The witch is at last in her rightful place, soon to be cast to her eternal judgment before the Lord."
Her bright green eyes, filled with resentment, looked upwards to lock with the hungry gray ones possessed by the man who wanted nothing more than to see her suffer.
"What do you want?" she asked spitefully. "Your little cookout isn't until later."
His thin, dark lips smirked. "Simply charming, gypsy. I only wished to see how our most notorious inmate was on this most beautiful day." His tone was every bit pompous and egotistic as he was.
"Go to Hell!" she snapped angrily.
"Watch your tone, girl," he warned, narrowing his eyes at her small form. "Remember to whom you are speaking: the person who holds the fate of you and those you cherish in his hands. I can have each and every one of them slaughtered in a storm of arrow fire should I demand! Therefore, I would choose a more respectful tone of voice if I were you."
"Did you just come here to mock me?"
Frollo pursed his lips. "No, Esmeralda." He found it enchanting to finally address her by name. "As a matter of fact, that is not the purpose for my visit. To be frank…it is rather difficult to even be the same atmosphere as you."
She was sick of the man speaking in riddles, almost as some sort of con artist would. Suddenly the question that had plagued her for days erupted out of her before she could even prevent it. "What do you want with me already?!" she exclaimed. "Why go to such trouble for the sake of one gypsy, Frollo?"
The Minister suddenly went cold as he wished so desperately that the circumstances were different and he could say all that he desired.
Frollo's rings rang against the iron bars in front of him as he gripped them tightly and hung his head, avoiding her eyes. Esmeralda cowered a little at the sudden sight of this man crumbling before her.
Leering at her, his breathing ragged, he responded, "You have no idea of the magnitude of damage that you have inflicted upon me since that day at the Festival. What torment that has mercilessly plagued me! You have become the bane of my existence!"
Esmeralda could not tear her gaze away from him as he resembled a rabid animal ready to attack.
"You alone have unhinged me—forced me to tear this city apart in hopes of capturing you, gypsy."
In hopes of savoring you…Needing you…
"Never in my life would I have imagined that a woman would cause me to carry out such deeds against the Lord and my home. Why—I ask—must it be a gypsy of all creatures on God's green earth that leads me to do such things with such disastrous results?! I question whether you are sent by the Devil himself to lead my soul to a fiery damnation, or one of God's angels here to test my faith once again. And frankly, I am not sure which one is more terrifying."
Esmeralda listened attentively to the Minister's words of anguish as they continued to pour from his lips, too shaken to interrupt his monologue. She noticed the tension in his bony hands as they continued to clench the iron bars, as if he wanted to pull them apart himself. His gray hair fell out of place and his face illustrated the great mental distress that tortured him. Esmeralda was absolutely stunned that this was the same man who moments before beamed pretentiously at her upon first entering.
He went on, "Only an angel could possess beauty such as yours…but only from Hell could such a fire be born! Why must it be me who is chosen in such a test when there are so many wretched souls who should be subjected? I have done the best of my abilities to be a virtuous follower of God, and I am only rewarded with temptation? A pious man should not be forced to endure such affliction!"
Frollo's chest heaved laboriously and sweat beaded itself on his forehead as he backed away from the gypsy's cell. He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, briefly ashamed for such emotion overpowering him.
The silence between them was crushing and seemed like a lifetime before Frollo realized the amount of fright that he instilled in her. Tremulously, he said, "My ability to keep order alive in the city has been hindered by a witch's enchantment. Now I find myself torn between what my sacred duty requires of me, and this harrowing...carnal desire that should not be. I ask: what am I to do?!"
The quiet gypsy narrowed her eyes at the man. Her blood boiled with anger at him. How dare he hold her responsible for his slipping sanity, torching the city, and, worst of all, blaming her for his destructive lust? And he wanted her to feel sorry for him? To feel guilty for all this bloodshed and madness?
Arrogant son of a…
"You're insane!" she coldly announced.
Her hatred pierced him violently and the Minister felt his heart sink. Foolishly he had hoped that her known level of compassion and understanding could even extend to him, but he was proven to be terribly wrong.
Her words of admonishment did not cease there. "You've abused your power because you're weak! You couldn't control yourself and you've made the people that you've sworn to protect suffer for it! I didn't tell you to come after me since the Festival! I didn't twist your arm and make you set fire to the city, Frollo; everything that's happened has been by your own doing! You may think that it shows how above you are from the rest of us, but all it shows is that you're a cruel, selfish bastard!"
The judge stared blankly at the fuming girl, still shackled. In a tone with just as much acid, she then said, "Now why are you really here?"
That was it…Frollo had made up his mind. He had been drawn to her impassioned spirit, but right now it infuriated him more than anything. To have his use of power affronted and himself be insulted was something he could not allow to go unpunished. He would not give her the last triumph with her contemptuous words; a man like him would not let a gypsy gain an ounce of superiority over him.
A grim smile cracked across dark lips as his gray eyes met hers once again. "I wish to share some information that might…interest you."
Esmeralda averted her glowing gaze from him, hoping that his next words would not confirm the rumors that she had been hearing throughout the city regarding his feelings towards the girl.
"I will offer you a chance of salvation," he droned, stepping forward.
Please, please don't be what I think he's going to say, she inwardly prayed.
"I will not send you to your doom—no matter how deserving you are, with such heathen practices. In return, you shall remain here…with me." He grinned boastfully.
Finally she looked back up at him. Brows knitting together, she venomously replied, "You disgust me."
He was slightly taken aback with her response, yet expected nothing less from a girl with her attitude.
"You really are pathetic, you know that?" she chided. "You've ruined all of Paris, and for what? So that you could make me your whore? What happened to the virtuous God-fearing vigilante that you've made yourself to be?"
Frollo could feel his hands balling into fists at her apprehension, a furious heat washing over him. However, he couldn't find it in himself to strike this impertinent girl down, instead wanting to hear her beautiful voice continue to condemn him.
"Besides," she said. "What do you need a common dancer for? There are plenty of brothels around Paris that I'm sure you're not even aware of. Just go there and stop this insanity!"
Frollo at last found his voice, breathing, "That isn't what I wanted."
His statement was barely audible even in this silent space. Before giving her a chance to ask him to repeat himself, he quickly collected himself and said, "My offer stands as it shall, gypsy. Choose: either I send you to the pits of Hell in a fiery demise.…or my second option. You shall be fully pardoned and never again will you know the deprivation of shelter. "
For a moment she felt hopeless that there was any way around her fate. Esmeralda unwillingly pondered such a decision. No, she didn't want to perish at the hands of this self-serving pyromaniac, but she also didn't want to subject herself to such a man as well. Frollo hadn't always struck her as a man who could be easily swayed, but maybe he could be reasoned with.
She sighed. "How about a deal, then?" she asked, a plan already formulated in her head.
Frollo raised an eyebrow and studied her suspiciously. "I don't particularly make bargains with your kind."
A small frown appeared on her face. "Come on, Frollo. If you give me what I want, I'll give you what you want." Such words left a bitter taste in her mouth, feeling this utter defeat fill her with shame.
Eyeing her intensely, he responded, "Very well. State your offer."
Here goes nothing, she thought.
"If—and only if—you release the gypsies, Quasimodo, and Phoebus, then…" she breathed sorrowfully. "I'll stay here…with you."
Frollo's heart suddenly swelled with some unknown emotion at her words…Happiness, elation, jealousy… However, he couldn't afford to show any weakness to such an evil entity.
"Why would you sacrifice yourself for so many others? Sounds rather foolish to do such a thing, I should say," Frollo remarked.
"Because unlike you, I want to help others; they didn't do anything to deserve this. Everything that's happened in the past few days is between you and me, Your Honor. Don't punish them for the issues that lie with one gypsy. Do it for the crimes that they do commit, not your personal prejudices. That's my final offer, Frollo."
He shot her an icy glare. "And what makes you think that for a moment I would allow you to take the upper hand in our little strife?" His subsequent smirk showed that he was sure that he had verbally bested her.
"Well, you did allow yourself to hear my proposal. It shows that you do care about something other than yourself." Esmeralda tried not to sound too cocky, in fear that he might withdraw the offer altogether.
Frollo ran his hand over his face in contemplation. He wanted Esmeralda more than anything in the world, but detested the idea of allowing his greatest victory of capturing Paris's gypsy population to run free after so long. Over twenty years of agonizing over the whereabouts of the gypsies' Court of Miracles would all be for naught.
Still, he pondered. Perhaps it would make her more…yielding.
But how would explain the sudden release of gypsies? A change of heart? The citizens would never believe him; he'd have to conjure up a more reasonable story.
"You shall stay as long as I command," he ordered. "And I will free the rest of your godless brethren back into the city, including your friends, the former Captain and the hunchback."
Esmeralda sighed at the realization that soon her last shred of freedom would be obliterated. "Deal."
A smile found its way to the judge's pale face at the admittance of his victory. Taking the keys from his pocket, he opened the cell door and strode forward to unlock the latches on the gypsy's wrists, instantly grabbing her by the arm lest she get any ideas of trying to make a run. "Come along," he said firmly, leading her out and up the stairs from the dungeon.
"Do not make me regret my decision," he growled as he pulled her through the vast hallways of the Palace of Justice.