Chapter 83: The Escape

"She's fine!" Claude blurted out. "I haven't hurt her, I swear!"

"You lie!" Clopin snapped, sliding the knife just enough to draw a drop of blood. "Tell me what you've done to her! NOW!"

Chills ran through Claude's skin. He realized his life could end right here if Clopin became too angry. This was an impulsive man who believed someone had hurt his sister. The danger could not be worse. Claude panicked.

"I can explain!" He insisted. "This may sound unbelievable, but I've come to my senses! I'm sorry! For everything!"

"LIES!"

"Ask Phoebus! He's right behind me!"

"What in the world are you talking about?!"

Claude faced yet another terrifying realization. Phoebus had been right behind him less than a minute ago and definitely would have followed him when he started to run. He should have seen Claude run into the alley. And yet, he was nowhere to be seen now. Instead of helping Claude out of this trap, he had vanished...

"Start telling the truth!" Clopin threatened. "Esmeralda! What have you done with her?!"

If Phoebus wouldn't help, Claude had no option but to attempt to talk his way out of this.

"You can see for yourself!" Claude said pleadingly. "That's all I came here for, to find you so you can see her! I'm only trying to make things right with her! With all of you!"

"Then why isn't she with you?!" Clopin thundered. "Surely, if you wanted to reunite us, you would have brought her here!"

Claude became aware of his foolish mistake. Of course Clopin wouldn't believe that Esmeralda was unharmed without seeing her.

"I don't know what kind of sick trap you are trying to set, Frollo." Clopin snarled. "But I will not be walking into it!"

Surprisingly, Clopin pulled the knife away from Claude's throat and stepped away from him.

"You asked for this..." He hissed.

Before Claude could respond, he was hit with a sharp slap.

"TELL THE TRUTH!"

Claude recoiled from the pain, but quickly collected himself.

"I mean it, she's fine! If you give me a chance I can- AAGH!"

A strong kick landed on his chest, over the burn scar.

"You're only making this worse!" Clopin yelled. "Don't think I'll just stop, I could do this forever!"

He held the knife threateningly in Claude's direction. But instead of taking it to his neck again, he plunged it into his shoulder. Claude screamed in agony while drops of blood creeped out of his skin.

"YOU. WILL. TALK!"

Claude screamed more as the blade was twisted. His eyes started to become wet from the anguish. Perhaps he really would die here. The truth was doing him no good, and even giving the kind of answer that Clopin thought he should give would likely result in his death...

"STOP!"

Claude looked over his shoulder to see a panicked Phoebus, slowly approaching with his arms up. Clopin stopped and stared at him, as did everyone else.

"Remember me?" Phoebus asked calmly. "I'm Phoebus. I'm Esmeralda's friend."

"You were there..." Clopin said in disbelief. "That night..."

"Yes." Phoebus confirmed. "That's right, I tried to help. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But what he's saying is true! He's changed!"

"Changed?!" Clopin exclaimed.

"I couldn't believe it either." Phoebus admitted. "But he's been making amends! That's why we came here! We just didn't tell Esmeralda because we weren't sure if we'd actually find you! We didn't want her to be disappointed!"

Phoebus came up close to the group.

"Trust me!" He begged. "I still don't like him, but he really has changed. We've come peacefully!"

Clopin stared confusedly, but his confused expression soon turned to a glare.

"Take him!" He snapped.

Before Phoebus could even react, the two men behind Clopin tackled him to the ground.

"NO!" Claude cried. "What are you doing?!"

Phoebus struggled against his attackers until they had him restrained. Clopin then approached him angrily.

"You WERE a spy!" He shouted. "You befriended Esmeralda so you could lead Frollo to us! You were with him then, and you're with him now!"

"No!" Phoebus responded. "I wasn't with him then! I-"

Clopin cut him off with a punch to the face, causing him to whimper in pain. Some blood started to drip out of his nose.

"STOP THAT!" Claude yelled.

Clopin turned back to him, looking even angrier than before.

"Don't worry, Frollo. I'm still not done with you!"

Claude quickly thought of one thing that might get him and Phoebus out of this. If Esmeralda were here, she'd vouch for them. But in her absence, Claude had his knowledge of her to use.

"He IS Esmeralda's friend!" Claude insisted. "So am I! I've gotten to know her very well!"

"And why would I EVER believe that?!" Clopin retorted.

"I'll prove it!" Claude offered. "You're her cousin, but she considers you a brother because you grew up together! She told me that!"

Clopin listened in shock.

That was good. Claude had his attention.

"She was an orphan," He continued. "So she was raised by her aunt, your mother, I believe. And since she died, the two of you have taken care of each other!"

Clopin looked more shocked with every word.

"You used to build tents together! And you cheered her up with strawberries!"

Claude continued to shout out everything he knew about Esmeralda. Anything that could possibly prove the relationship he had with her.

"She was attacked by four soldiers - I had them locked up - and sometimes she has nightmares about it!"

Clopin was fully gawking at this point.

"She's good at sewing, and she's good at card games! And she likes to read!"

Clopin's expression suddenly turned suspicious.

"She doesn't read!" He retorted.

Claude realized too late that he'd made a mistake.

"She does now!" He explained. "I taught her!"

"ENOUGH!" Clopin roared.

He yanked the knife out of Claude's shoulder, making him cry out in pain as blood shot out of the wound, seeping through his clothes.

"I know who you are, Frollo!" Clopin shouted. "You're a madman, and an oppressor, and a LIAR! I don't know how you tortured all that information out of my dear sister, but I will make you PAY for it!"

Claude wasn't able to say another word before he was hit over the head.

"What should we do?"

"Whatever it takes! We'll make him talk, one way or another!"

Claude's eyes barely opened. He felt a cold floor beneath him, but struggled to notice much else.

"Flog him! Surely that will do something!"

In his barely conscious state, Claude felt someone pull him up by his shoulders and roll the shirt off his body. But suddenly, there was an odd silence.

"Clopin... I don't think pain will do much to him."

Claude managed to open his eyes and take in the setting. He was in a small, wooden room. It looked like some kind of shed. On the edge of it, he saw Phoebus, visibly unconscious and lying on the floor. And right in front of Claude were two men, the stranger who was holding onto him and Clopin. They were staring in shock, and Claude realized they were looking at his freshly uncovered scar.

"...You may be right." Clopin said after some hesitation.

Claude came to understand what was going on. The disfigurement was a sign of unspeakable suffering, the kind of suffering that would make any future pain feel insignificant in comparison. That was clearly giving Clopin second thoughts about using torture. Still, Clopin came closer to Claude and looked into his eyes fiercely.

"Perhaps pain isn't the way to get answers from you." Clopin said menacingly. "But we'll be back in the morning. And if you don't decide to explain what is going on, I'll be forced to find other methods to make you talk!"

With his consciousness just returning, Claude was too weak to react. They tied him to one of the walls and left him sitting against it before exiting through a door, which they audibly locked from the outside.

Claude looked over at Phoebus, wondering if he was awake yet.

"Phoebus!" He called.

There was no response. Discouragingly, Claude realized Phoebus was also tied down. They wouldn't be getting out of here easily.

Defeated, Claude sighed in misery.

Could he possibly find a way out of here? Could he somehow convince Clopin to believe him? What if Clopin lost his temper and killed him? What if he was never able to make things right with Esmeralda, or even see her again? What if he never again saw any of his loved ones? He thought of Quasimodo, and Elaine, and Jean, all of whom would mourn if he died.

Claude kept his eyes closed in an effort to hold back tears, but they started to seep out anyway. Despite the cold air and pain of his injuries, he eventually started to fall asleep like that.

"There he is." Someone said.

Claude stirred from his faint sleep when he heard it. The voice was just barely familiar. He opened his eyes.

Two people had entered the room. One was the teenage boy whom Claude had saved from the whip. The other was an older, stone-faced man with a stocky build.

"So it really is you," The older man said. "Claude Frollo."

Claude hesitated, unsure if he should speak.

"My name is Pierre." The man went on. "My son says you helped him."

Claude glanced at the boy, who looked concerned for him.

"...Yes." He managed.

"I'd like to thank you." Pierre continued. "But if we believe as Clopin does... What you did was nothing more than an act to gain our trust."

"No..." Claude denied. "Even if I had come with ill will, I wouldn't have done it like this."

"How would you have done it?"

"If I wanted to fight, I would have brought an army. I wouldn't have come so alone and vulnerable. And I wouldn't have revealed myself in public, risking scaring your people into hiding. Nor would I have said those words to the crowd. If I still hated your people, I wouldn't have encouraged the world to think differently. And I wouldn't have asked them not to be afraid of contradicting authority. If I wanted to lie my way into gaining your trust, I would have done it out of the public eye. I would have done everything differently..."

Pierre looked at Claude with an unchanging expression.

"That is logical." He admitted. "But if you have not come to fight us, why are you here?"

"As I said to Clopin, I want to make amends. My only intention is to reunite friends and family."

"You took Clopin's sister. Now you want to reunite them?"

"I wish I hadn't... I saw her as a filthy witch, but I know better now. I have learned..."

"Have you hurt her?"

Claude nearly replied in the negative, but he remembered that it wasn't quite accurate. He closed his eyes in shame.

"Not physically..." He answered. "But I know I took everything from her..."

Pierre looked at Claude intensely.

"You are not what everyone described you as." He observed. "The Frollo they all fear would not have done what you've done here, or even admit the slightest wrong."

Claude didn't acknowledge the statement, unsure what reaction was expected of him.

"I would like to know why." Pierre added. "What has changed?"

Claude struggled to find a way to explain this, but he could see this stranger's sincerity and thought it best to tell the truth. He surely wouldn't say everything, but Claude felt that someone who was willing to listen to him this much was worthy of at least hearing enough information to make some sense of things, especially if that individual was one of the people he'd oppressed.

"I have... Issues..." Claude said painfully, looking down at his scar. "Serious issues... And I know this excuses nothing, but I dealt with them in the worst possible ways. By thinking I was better than everyone... And abusing my power... And hating your people..."

He paused, cringing at himself. But the cringe went away when he thought of Esmeralda.

"Esmeralda discovered those issues of mine." He went on. "I thought she would make me feel worse, but she didn't. She was kind... And caring... And I realized I'd done such awful things to such a lovely person. And that I judged you all so unfairly..."

Claude exhaled deeply.

"That's the short version of it." He explained.

The boy was eying Claude in wonder, mouth open in disbelief. His father was still stone-faced.

"What is Esmeralda to you?" Pierre asked.

"We... We have become very good friends." Claude replied.

"Your expressions when you talk about her... Are those of a man who is in love."

Claude hadn't realized it was that obvious, but it wasn't much of a surprise. His feelings for Esmeralda were far too strong to hide.

"Do you love her?" Pierre asked.

Claude was hesitant to answer, but he soon made an admission.

"Desperately." He replied.

"Does she love you?"

"Yes... She does."

There was a moment of silence, but it was followed by Pierre stepping toward Claude and drawing a knife.

"Wait!" The boy blurted out. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." Pierre said calmly.

Claude was frightened by the sight of the blade, but somehow didn't feel like he was under attack. Sure enough, he was not. Pierre knelt by Claude and quickly cut the ropes he was tied in.

"Untie his friend." Pierre said to his son.

The boy nodded and ran to the still unconscious Phoebus. Claude watched in disbelief as Pierre proceeded to help him off the floor.

"I believe you." Pierre said confidently.

"Why?" Claude asked.

"It is quite clear you have changed."

Pierre picked up Claude's shirt and helped to pull it over him, an assistance that Claude unfortunately needed due to the pain in his stabbed shoulder.

"I could have faked that." Claude reminded.

"Not easily." Pierre argued. "But even if I doubted that, I would have to consider what I know."

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard much about you. Much kinder things than the Parisians have said."

Claude was confused. Who could have possibly said anything good about him in this part of the country?

"My late wife knew you." Pierre explained. "Her name was Livia."

Claude nearly collapsed as the shock hit him.

Livia... Claude finally remembered hearing that name many years ago. That girl he'd met on the street in his childhood, the girl he'd kissed before being burned.

Livia was her name.

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten her name, but it certainly had been a long time since he'd heard it. Livia... Claude had tried not to remember her, or to wonder about her at all, for decades. This sudden reminder of her was a shock after so many years had passed. At times Claude had pretended that she wasn't even real, but here was her husband, and her child...

"She said you had a good heart," Pierre shared. "and that you cared for her. When people started to talk of the awful Minister of Justice who hated us, she didn't even believe it was you. She was certain it was some other Claude Frollo."

Claude frowned. It hurt to think that all this time, someone had thought so well of him, and wrongfully so.

"But I knew it was you when I saw you." Pierre added.

Claude immediately understood why. Livia had surely told her husband everything about him. The scar, no doubt, had given him away.

It made perfect sense now, that Pierre had believed what Claude told him. He would have known from Livia's stories that evil was not Claude's nature, and that the issues that had driven him mad were very real.

"I didn't know what to think," Pierre admitted. "since Clopin and so many others have known you to be ruthless. But when my son told me what you did today, I thought perhaps you had once again become the Claude Frollo that Livia knew. And clearly, you have."

Claude touched his face while shaking his head in disbelief.

"I didn't think she ever thought of me." He confessed. "I thought-"

"That she abandoned you?"

Claude froze. Was there something he didn't know.

"She would want you to know this." Pierre went on. "She came to talk to you on that last day because her family was leaving Paris. She wanted you to go as well. But when she saw you being burned, she became too scared to come back. She felt terrible about it for a long time."

Claude asked himself why he'd kept that grudge for so long. It had been natural when he was young, but he should have outgrown it. He should have come to realize, as a grown man, that a young girl's paralyzing fear was not worth such hatred.

"When did she die?" Claude asked sadly.

"Five years ago." Pierre replied. "But she had a good life. We had many loving years together, and five children in all."

"I'm sorry you lost her." Claude said sincerely.

"I've been alright." Pierre assured. "She left me a good family."

"Well, I'm truly glad she had a good life."

"She would be glad for you too, knowing that you've fallen in love."

Claude thought of Esmeralda again. He needed to get back to her, and soon. It would be unfortunate not to have much good news to share, but the most important thing was that she would see him alive.

With help from Pierre and his son, Claude carried Phoebus out of the shed, which turned out to be in a secluded area in the woods. Claude was grateful to be with people who knew the area. They were able to show him the way back to the streets of town, which he wouldn't have found on his own.

"I can take him from here." Claude insisted.

"Are you sure?" Pierre asked.

"Quite." Claude replied. "The inn is nearby."

"But you're hurt!" The boy argued. "You need medical attention!"

Claude glanced at his blood-covered shoulder.

"I can patch this up for now." He assured. "There will be time for proper treatment when we're a safe distance away from here."

"We should be going." Pierre said to his son. "If our neighbors notice that we left, Clopin could find out what we've done."

Claude became concerned when Clopin was mentioned.

"If Clopin does find out..." He said worriedly.

"He will not harm one of us." Pierre assured. "Clopin is my friend, I can handle him. You cannot, so it was very important for us to help you."

Claude nodded appreciatively.

"Please let me know if I can ever do anything for your family." He requested. "I will do it without hesitation."

Pierre returned the nod.

Claude started to walk down the road, carrying Phoebus. But suddenly, the boy rushed up to him.

"Sir!" He exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I passed on the message, but... I didn't know this would happen."

"There is nothing to apologize for." Claude assured. "You did exactly what I asked, and I'm glad you did. Besides, I would not have escaped that shed without you."

The boy smiled.

"Well, I wouldn't have escaped that sentence of thirty lashes without you."

"What is your name, son? I never asked."

"Claude, Sir."

Claude was taken aback. He never would have guessed that he had a namesake, but it was extremely flattering. He smiled.

"That is quite a good name." He jested.

"I never thought much of it before." The younger Claude shared. "But I really like it now. I'm glad I was named after someone like you."

If nothing else was to be gained from this journey, those words alone made it somewhat worthwhile.

Although the distance to the inn was walkable, it wasn't comfortable. Especially not while carrying a whole other person. Claude practically dragged his feet across the path, pain increasing with every step. He was strong, but regardless of strength, it simply wasn't realistic to carry a grown man far without pain, especially not while already injured. And Phoebus was not a small man, so moving him was a considerable burden.

Claude grunted as he struggled to move forward. There was surely some bruising on his legs from the attack he'd suffered earlier, and this walk was definitely not helping it. The cold night air also started to chill him. This was miserable.

"Phoebus!" Claude whispered, touching his companion's face to feel for any movement.

But Phoebus was still not awake. And even more concerningly, his skin was cold to the touch. Claude became worried. He had to get to the inn quickly.

He began to pick up the pace with urgency. But soon, his stride was interrupted by a sharp and warm pain.

Claude screamed as something stabbed into his foot, making him stumble and fall to the ground. He saw blood begin to cover his boot. The source of it was visible: A broken bottle that some traveler must have discarded.

Crying in pain, Claude kicked the boot off his injured foot and anxiously felt around it. He didn't feel any pieces of glass, thankfully. But the blood coming from the wound soaked his hands.

Again, he screamed. The pain pushed him to collapse on the ground. all but sinking into it. The pain in his shoulder was even worse, and the cold and fatigue kept him down easily. Claude told himself to get up, and he tried. But the pain worsened as soon as he put pressure on his wounded foot, forcing him back down.

Claude closed his eyes tightly in the misery. Shivering, exhausted, and warmed only by his own blood, his body seemed to shut down, dragging him into an uncomfortable sleep.

At the same time, Phoebus was beginning to wake up. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around in shock when he noticed the setting. How had he gotten here? He started to stand, but immediately noticed Claude's collapsed body. Fearful, Phoebus checked his pulse. There was a heartbeat, but that wasn't enough to ease many concerns. Phoebus panicked at the sight of the blood. Those injuries needed to be treated.

He remembered what had happened before he'd lost consciousness. He'd been nearly ready to run when the ambush had started. Phoebus wasn't cowardly, but he wasn't one to risk his life without a good cause, and Claude Frollo had not been a particularly good cause in his mind. What had forced him to try to help anyway was the unbearable thought of telling Esmeralda he'd let the man she loved die. But Phoebus hadn't been successful. He'd been attacked too and knocked out, only to wake up in this place.

He had the shocking realization that Claude must have somehow gotten him out of there and carried him this far. Phoebus was amazed by the idea that Claude was that strong, but he didn't have time to think about it. He needed to get him to safety and ensure that those wounds were tended to.

With a panicked rush of energy, Phoebus picked up the injured man and rushed through the remaining pathway back to the inn. There, he quickly laid Claude down on a bed and went about patching him up. He was no doctor, but Phoebus thankfully had some useful experience with injuries, thanks to his time at war. He at least knew how to patch up a wound until a doctor could better examine it, which was the best that could be asked for right now. And since he always planned ahead, he even had the supplies needed for this.

He cleaned and bandaged Claude's injured foot before turning his attention to the shoulder wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped in that area, but not before spilling over a large area. Phoebus went looking for the source of it, quickly removing Claude's bloodstained tunic. But before he could look for the wound, something else caught his eye.

Phoebus froze in a stare. He'd seen many gruesome things at war, including many disfiguring scars. But of every scar he'd ever seen, this one was the most brutal.

Thanks as always!