By the time word had reached the ears of King Louis XI, the Minister's story had become well-known as an act of charity of him "willingly" adopting a deformed foundling. The whole situation seemed odd given Frollo's infamous reputation of being cold and dedicated solely to his position, prompting the monarch to have the judge summoned to explain himself before him. Louis himself had paid for the Minister to be brought to Tours, including all of his boarding along the way on this multi-day excursion—likely to prevent any notions of fleeing. Frollo had happily left his ward in the care of Notre Dame's clergy as he prepared to meet the monarch.
Louis XI had only been in power for about a year, but already he had become noted for his crackdown on French bureaucracy; needless to say that the newly-tenured Minister of Justice had thoroughly impressed him with iron-fisted rule. Though even Louis had to ensure that the judge could be counted on with his new bout of parenthood. There would be no chances taken under Louis's reign.
Despite the King's notoriety for being cunning and sly, Frollo knew that he could somehow outwit the monarch...it was all about finding the right angle. He had been formulating a new version of the night of the incident, counting his blessings that out of the only other two people that were there were either dead or would not dare be questioned by the King. As he sat before the King at Royal Château de Plessis-lez-Tours, the judge remained calm and calculative. He wouldn't let on the ever-growing fear coming over him when he had passed through the chateau gates.
"Judge Frollo," Louis said gruffly, looking every bit as commanding in his simple black frock. His reputation of his hatred of ostentatiousness preceded him, even down to one or two simple signet rings. He barely bothered to even glance at the Minister. "I know that you are no idiot—far from it! I've heard nothing but praise about you, so know that I have the utmost faith in your abilities as Minister of Justice."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Remaining stoic, Frollo nodded and kept his hands clasped before him at Louis's desk. His eyes never left the unreadable king, looking for any signs of weakness he could exploit.
Louis continued. "Therefore I must know the logic as to why one of France's most esteemed public officials has decided now of all times to adopt some hellish monstrosity, as I have heard?!" He whipped around and leered accusingly with his beady eyes at Frollo.
Frollo remained stone-like as he carefully thought out his response. "Your Majesty," the Minister spoke respectfully, locking eyes with his sovereign. "It appears that the information given did not contain the complete details of my situation."
Louis leaned heavily on his ornately designed desk, narrowing his dark eyes at Frollo. With an expression of slight disbelief and replied, "Is that so? Then tell me, Claude, what are these "details" that seem to have slipped my informants' minds?"
"You see, sire, I owe it to this child to take him and raise him as my own."
"And how on earth did that come about, Minister?" Louis asked doubtfully, a humorless smile now stretching over his lips. He now tapped his fingers against the desk surface as he waited for an answer.
"Well, the boy's mother was a gypsy—not just any street urchin—but an informant," Frollo blatantly lied, trying not draw his attention to a collection of swords over the mantle opposite him. "In order to uncover more underworld villainy committed by their kind, I thought that an inside source would be most beneficial. And you, of course, Your Highness, understand that their kind will do anything for the right price; it is all a matter of negotiating."
"But how did you come to be this thing's caretaker?"
"One of the wench's conditions was that should she meet any tragic ends during the time of our deal that I would look over her child—not to just be placed in the foundlings' bed in front of the church. However, I seemed to have overestimated her abilities, seeing as to how her usefulness came to abrupt stop. And since I am a man of my word, I took the boy in."
Frollo was not so much worried about lying to the monarch as he was that Louis would see through this fabricated tale. He prayed desperately that the man would just believe the story and send him away.
The King raised an eyebrow at the Minister before ambling aside to casually lean on the mantle, blankly eyeing the fire lit within. "How strange that a man so clever would seek assistance from the scum of the earth. Tell me, Your Honor, do you often make arrangements with gypsies?"
Frollo felt his heartbeat quicken but kept himself collected as he explained. "No, sire. But, please understand, that I only carried out this mission for the good of Paris. I would never have made such a pact if she was a fugitive of any kind. Given the turn of events that followed, I would never again attempt to associate with their kind for any other purpose than to decide the fate of their pathetic lives when presented in my court room." His cool façade hid the nervousness that he would be discovered. Take the bait, you inbred dolt! he prayed, discreetly letting out a breath of relief.
Louis turned to study the rigid judge and asked, "Will this turn of events compromise your ability to perform as Minister of Justice in any way? I cannot have your work suffering because of a deal gone wrong, Frollo. I don't think I need to remind you how vital Paris is to our kingdom."
He was almost in the clear! Smiling a little at the King's gullibility, he replied, "Rest assured, Your Majesty, that I have done everything in my power to make sure that this boy is in no way a threat to my influence over the city."
Louis nodded trustfully at Frollo's assured attitude. "Very well, Minister. Given your reputable name, I trust your judgment and ability. Besides, I understand that your intentions were for a greater purpose, and I admire that. Using one of their own to conspire against them—nothing that I wouldn't have done!"
How fortunate to have a ruler that understands, Frollo thought sarcastically, eager for this interrogation to be over and return to Paris.
"By the way, Claude," he continued, his tone now gentler and forgiving. "I have heard nasty rumors speaking of this child of yours, painting him as a grotesque demon. I must know: how true are these accusations?"
Frollo exhaled at the question, shame overwhelming him for a moment. At any other person's inquiry the Minister would have readily ignored or rejected such prodding; however, when the King asks, the circumstances are much different. Frollo recounted the hideousness of Quasimodo's deformity that he "braved to look at" each day as guardian, King Louis's face twisting in disgust.
"Dear God, Frollo! You've welcomed a changeling into your home?!" He questioned with odd fascination, jaw dropping as Frollo recounted the tale. "I hope for your sake that you've cleansed your home to rid it of any remnants of black magic left behind!"
"Believe me, Your Highness; I have done what I can to keep the demon at bay." Frollo smirked with satisfaction that the fool actually bought such a tale.
X
Months later…
The air in the bell tower was stale and stuffy, while outside the rest of Paris went about their day in the cool summer air. Much to the Minister's dismay, he was stuck here.
He had worked out a new schedule in the past few months where he would climb up to the top of the bell tower and visit his small hunchbacked ward for an hour in the morning, afternoon, then in the evening.
As usual, he was unenthusiastic about it. Since Quasimodo would no longer sleep for most of the day, the Minister's visit became more prolonged. Frollo would lift the boy out of his cradle and place him on the floor where Quasimodo would sit and take in the surroundings of his home. Frollo had presented the boy with a small clay rattle filled with peas that he had purchased off a street vendor, much to the infant's delight (anything to keep him entertained).
Frollo kept his eyes glued to the pages of his book, Bellifortis, an old one of military technology while trying to ignore the obnoxious rattling of the toy. Reading always was able to take his mind off most undesirable situations he found himself in.
Though Frollo was certain of his suspicion that the boy might be some hell-spawn demon, even he could not deny that Quasimodo possessed that same innocence that reminded him of his little brother all those years ago. Despite the unsightly lump of an eye, the protruding hump on his back, and mess of red hair, the judge would find himself captivated at times. Something about the tiny hunchbacked child's wonderment of the simple bell tower would briefly cause the Frollo's heart to swell before quickly turning his attention back to his reading material. Whenever Quasimodo smiled at his guardian, showing his tiny jagged teeth, Frollo would remind himself of the circumstances that led to his new job as surrogate father to ward off any strong attachment that might form.
All of a sudden the child began to cry, surprising the Minister before he realized what was wrong. Instantly he rose and shuffled towards the creaky cabinet where he extracted a small wooden bowl and flour. After scooping some into the bowl, Frollo ladled some water from the pail nearby, mixing it rigorously and creating a pasty substance.
Quasimodo's crying lessened as Frollo lifted him into his arms. "There, there," he cooed tiredly, seating the boy on the table then proceeding to carefully spoon the food into the baby's mouth, albeit reluctantly.
"Come then, Quasimodo. It's only pap," he encourage, the boy still barely taking the spoonfuls of brown goop. He himself was disgusted at such a meal, but it was the simplest source of nutrition that he could give the boy. Frollo's lips always curled in revolt as pap dripped down little Quasimodo's chin and piled onto the tabletop.
"I knew I'd find you here, Claude!"
With a sigh of annoyance and without turning around, Frollo answered, "What is it? I don't have any money."
"How kind of you to think of me, but no, that's not why I'm here," Jehan quipped, coming to his brother's side. "Afternoon, Quasimodo," he greeted, gently patting the boy on his head. "Am I interrupting on lunchtime?"
"If you aren't here to collect an allowance, then what do you want? I'm very busy at the moment." Frollo tried to concentrate on feeding Quasimodo, who continued to spit excess food at the Minister, much to his chagrin and Jehan's amusement.
"It's about that tenant of yours at Tirechappe," Jehan continued, once he quelled his laughter. "What's his name? Duval?"
Wiping off pap particles from his robe, Frollo answered, "What about him?"
Jehan smiled. "I ran into him today and…apparently he found something at the estate that might be of interest to you, Claude."
"And that would be what, might I ask?" Frollo inquired, his expression skeptical. The last thing he needed was to return to his childhood home and settle some tenant-landlord disagreement.
"Well," Jehan said. "You'll just have to come along with me to Tirechappe, won't you?"
x
*A/n: Shorter chapter, I know, but times are hectic because of graduation and other stuff. Just went to Disneyland a couple days ago and you know what senior year's like.
I literally just came up with this chapter about two days ago; turns out King Louis XI was a conspiring weasel, so it would make sense he'd sympathize with Frollo. That and he was really superstitious (like many at the time), which is why he might be a little unnerved at the thought of a "changeling".
And pap really was a meal that they'd give babies back then; they could use grain or flour, milk or water (milk soup).
I promise the next chapter will be more entertaining. Just hang in there! Btw: if you haven't read "Renascence" by Malakaii and you're a Fresme fan, you're missing out. It's beautiful!
Thanks! R/r!