Chapter 56: The Truth

Frollo entered the gloomy tower with the baby in his arms. He looked around at all the clutter and noticed a pile of blankets, which he pulled together to create a soft area for the infant. He then laid the baby in the blankets and stood back, satisfied.

"That will be comfortable enough." He said begrudgingly, turning around and starting away toward the stairs.

"Don't tell me you're planning to leave this child alone!" The archdeacon snapped.

"I'm busy." Frollo insisted. "He can do without me for now."

"Certainly not! Infants can't just be left alone! What if he gets too cold? What if he cries?"

Frollo growled.

"Look here, I'm an occupied man! I'm not prepared to handle a child! I was just out collecting criminals, and now all of a sudden I'm supposed to be a father! Do you understand-"

Frollo had a realization midsentence. It occurred to him that he didn't have to be burdened like this.

"Why am I doing this?" He asked rhetorically. "He has a father! I'll just give him back to the man."

Frollo picked up the baby and started down the stairs.

"Then I'm going with you!" The archdeacon declared, following close behind Frollo.

"Must you?" Frollo scoffed.

"I won't leave you until I know the child is safe!" The archdeacon insisted.

Frollo rolled his eyes. He was eager to be through with the holy man and the deformed infant.

Outside the Palace of Justice, Frollo caught up with the soldiers he'd been with earlier. He concealed the baby under his cloak, not wanting anyone to realize what he'd found.

"I need the man whom that woman was clinging to." Frollo announced.

The soldiers looked at each other nervously.

"Why?" One of them asked.

"Never mind that." Frollo brushed off. "Where is he?"

Another soldier started to answer slowly.

"He... He fought us, Sir. He demanded to know what was done with his wife and child. When we didn't answer, he started throwing hands..."

"He was too violent." Another man chimed in. "We had to kill him."

Frollo's heart stopped for a moment.

"He's dead?!" He blurted out.

"We didn't think you would mind. He wouldn't stop attacking us!"

Frollo shook his head disappointedly.

"Forget it." He murmured, turning around and walking away.

He was faced with the archdeacon's stern expression after a few paces.

"Tomorrow I will hire someone to watch him." Frollo promised, referring to the baby.

"Fine." The archdeacon accepted. "But you need to watch him tonight. He is your responsibility."

Frollo breathed an exhausted sigh.

"One other thing," The archdeacon started.

"What NOW?!" Frollo demanded.

"I want the father's body." The archdeacon requested.

"Why?!" Frollo asked in frustration.

"So I can bury him next to his wife."

Frollo supposed there was no harm in letting the deceased be buried. It was nothing to fight about, anyway, so he allowed it.

He soon ended up back in the cathedral belltower, where the archdeacon brought him extra blankets for the night. Frollo resented this humiliation. It was so unfitting for a judge to sleep on the floor of a place like this.

"Frollo," The priest said on his way out. "When the boy is old enough, you must tell him what happened to his parents, and where they are buried."

"If you say so..." Frollo sighed.

It was a lie. Frollo was already making a huge compromise by agreeing to raise this child. He had no intention of making this any harder than it had to be, and it would certainly be harder if the boy came to learn about the deaths of his parents.

The judge found it impossible to sleep that night. The hard wood floor was uncomfortable, and even worse was the eventual sound of the baby crying. Frollo tried to ignore it, but the cries became louder by the minute.

"SHUT UP!" Frollo finally yelled.

The baby kept crying, and Frollo was touched by a rare ounce of guilt.

He remembered when he'd cried alone in bed after being burned, and he remembered how he'd been yelled at then.

Frollo sighed. He sat up against the wall and took the infant in his arms.

"Shhh..." He hushed, slowly rocking the child back and forth until he fell asleep.

Frollo took a deep breath when the child was asleep in his arms. He looked down at the him with frustration, eyes fixed on the boy's deformed face.

"How could your parents love a face like this?" Frollo asked angrily. "How is it that I cannot be loved, but you can?"

It wasn't fair. Frollo envied this child for having received the love of his parents. He hated the fact that even the most rejectable of beings did not share his curse of being unlovable. It wasn't fair that he alone should suffer it.

"I will make you understand how it feels." Frollo promised. "It's as much as you deserve, you half-formed beast... Quasimodo..."

Quasimodo. That would be the boy's name.

Frollo was quick to hire a nurse the next day, whom he paid a hefty amount both to care for the baby and keep the task a secret. Next, he hired a young widow who desperately needed money to support her own children. Another time, he enlisted a woman who had been travelling and needed some temporary work.

While Quasimodo was young, Frollo always made sure to find temporary caregivers for him. He never left the boy with the same person for very long, lest an attachment form. And as soon as the child was past the point of needing constant attention, Frollo became the only person to tend to him. He made sure Quasimodo was isolated and aware of the fact that his deformities set him apart from society. Frollo would smile in secret at how much better that made him feel.


Quasimodo stood at the balcony after ringing the evening bells. He was alone now, since Elaine had gone off to bed.

Thankfully, telling her everything had been a relief. Quasimodo had been uneasy about letting Elaine find out just how unusual his life was, but now it was clear that she wasn't put off by it. That was the only bright side of this day.

Unexpectedly, Quasimodo heard movement inside the tower. What could that be? Surely Elaine wasn't back already.

The bell ringer ventured slowly inside, listening to the approaching footsteps.

"Hello?" Quasimodo called curiously.

A figure finally stepped into the light. The familiar figure of Claude Frollo, who was approaching more cautiously than ever.

Quasimodo scowled, clenching his fists.

"What are you doing here?!" He demanded.

"I know you don't want to see me," Claude started. "And I will leave. But there is something you need to know."

"What do I need to know?" Quasimodo asked rhetorically. "That it's not true? That you and Esmeralda aren't REALLY in love? That I didn't just see her kissing you with your shirt off, probably feeling your muscles? That you didn't jump at the chance to ruin my life even more by taking the only girl I've ever liked?! Is that what you came to say?!"

Claude frowned pitifully.

"I came to say..." He said in misery. "That what you saw was our last kiss."

"What do you mean by that?" Quasimodo asked.

"We're not... Together." Claude explained.

Quasimodo looked at him with confusion. None of this made sense.

"But she said-"

"She said we were in love. And that is correct... But she came to me at that moment to say we couldn't be together. Because of you..."

Quasimodo became speechless. Was this really true? Had Esmeralda really turned down a man she loved (for some reason) on his account?

"She knew you would be hurt." Claude continued. "She said she couldn't do that. She didn't want to lose you... And I completely agreed."

The bell ringer was frozen in shock. He remembered that Esmeralda had wanted to explain something to him earlier. So this was it...

"She just wanted to kiss me one more time." Claude explained. "Please, don't hold that against her. She is your friend, and a remarkably good one at that."

Since Quasimodo didn't appear to have any words for him, Claude decided he should leave to give the bell ringer some space. But he soon stopped in his tracks.

"I told you about your mother," Claude started. "But I didn't finish. Do you want to know about your father?"

Quasimodo resumed his earlier scowl.

"Did you kill him too?" He inquired.

"I had him arrested." Claude replied. "He fought with the soldiers, demanding to know what happened to you and your mother, and he was killed."

Quasimodo closed his eyes in grief. He would have cried, but he didn't feel capable of responding that way when he'd already cried for his mother. Besides, he hadn't had any kind of optimistic idea about his father, so this wasn't much of a surprise.

"You had them arrest him." Quasimodo brought up. "So you pretty much are responsible for his death."

Claude lowered his head in shame.

"Yes..." He admitted. "I'm very sorry..."

Quasimodo turned back toward the balcony.

"Just get out of here." He begged.

Claude complied, beginning the sad journey down the stairs.

Quasimodo looked over the balcony and started to think. But before Esmeralda even crossed his mind, he realized an unexpected observation he'd made.

Since when did Frollo have curly hair?


Jean was surprised when he saw his former classmate emerge from the belltower. Claude hadn't been around in a while, and he certainly hadn't ventured near Quasimodo's dwelling.

"Claude!" Jean greeted as he noticed the judge.

Claude looked at him with a pessimistic expression.

"Hello, Jean." He responded.

For a moment they looked at each other quietly, Claude waiting for the obvious question that Jean had, and Jean looking for a way to ask it politely. Claude eventually decided to break the silence.

"Did Elaine tell you what happened?" He asked.

Jean nodded.

"I must admit," The priest began. "I'm rather surprised."

"Don't be too surprised." Claude warned. "It's not quite what you think."

He quickly explained the situation to Jean, who looked more sorry for him than anything.

"I just came to tell Quasimodo." Claude informed. "In hopes that he doesn't resent Esmeralda over this."

"How did he take it?" Jean asked.

"It's hard to say. He was awfully quiet."

Claude shook his head at himself. He hated the mess he had created. This was his fault. It had all started when he'd killed that woman on the steps of the church.

He suddenly remembered an encounter he'd had with Jean at that time.

"I just remembered," Claude started. "You once told me to tell Quasimodo what happened to his parents. I've done that, but I didn't tell him where they were buried. Frankly, I forgot that detail."

Jean looked at him with sympathy.

"You needn't worry about that part." He assured. "I will tell him myself."

It was a good idea. Quasimodo was sensitive to the mere sight of Claude. It would be better for someone else to talk to him about this.

"Thank you." Claude said gladly.

He started toward the door, but Jean interrupted him.

"Claude," The archdeacon called. "I'm sorry about how things are right now. But I do believe it will all work out for the best. Just wait for it."

Claude only replied with a weak nod.

He truly hoped that everything would work out, but it didn't look too good at the moment.


As always, much thanks for sticking with me! I'm always excited to hear from readers and find out what you like in the story, so thanks for all the nice comments! It means a lot!