Flashback 8: Claude and Jean
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.