53Esmeralda waited patiently to be left alone to continue her excavation, which included having to wait for her breakfast to be brought in. She was disheartened a bit that Lucile was not doing so, but a brusquer woman who barely glanced at the gypsy girl.
"So, Frollo's out with some member of the King's council, right?" Esmeralda began, nonchalantly. "How long will he be gone?"
Gathering the sooty bedsheet, the woman answered bluntly, "These official visits tend to take up the whole day—sometimes going into supper time." Before Esmeralda could ask any more questions, the servant woman was gone, locking the door behind her.
The gypsy pressed an ear to the door and listened for the retreating footsteps. After devouring her food, she sprung up and leaped toward the fireplace. Still listening for any intruders, Esmeralda reached into the fireplace and turned the crank. Her lips quirked up at hearing that scraping stone again and crouched in. She almost didn't believe that all her items from last night's excursion were still there, sure as day.
Sealing herself in, she lit the lantern and began her next journey.
Esmeralda followed almost the exact same route as last night. She unhooked latches and snuck looks into empty chambers. Still, she decided she might as well get an understanding of the hidden doors. She was impressed to find that not all were identical to her fireplace's secret entrance; some were merely doors hidden behind the stonework, others behind wood paneling.
Digging through chests and armoires in these rooms proved to be just as fruitless as the day before. Although, she was able to snatch up a musty old cloak left abandoned in one chest of drawers, figuring it might protect her from the cold of the corridors at night. Even luckier was finding an aged leather belt and pouch, allowing her to carry the backup candles in with ease.
She continued to wander through the passageways, finding herself almost disheartened that there was nothing left on this floor. Even seeing a couple of staff members meeting up in a secret liaison made her roll her eyes and keep on walking.
Ambling about, Esmeralda had finally come upon something of interest: another spiral staircase, this time leading upwards.
Up on the next floor Esmeralda kept a keen eye out for the usual latches and door handles, lantern stretched out before her and paring knife in hand. After a few unexciting discoveries of more empty chambers, her interest was piqued at the next latch she looked through. Within this chamber, the sunlight shone on a large wooden desk, upon which a neat stack of parchments lay, and bookshelves lined the walls opposite.
Frollo's office, she deduced, eyes darting around to see if the coast was clear. Unlatching it, she pushed the door and listened to the ancient creaking of the wooden panel as she entered. She blew away the dust particles that floated around her, indicating the entrance had not been used in years.
Esmeralda examined a few slips of parchment but failed to make sense of anything written on them. She ran a hand over a beautifully carved box sitting on the desk, opening it to find meticulously kept writing materials, from numerous quills to a chipped inkwell. Taking note of the books on the shelves, she imagined that this could have easily been any official's workspace—that any kind of personal touch was lost on her or nonexistent.
Behind the desk, Esmeralda saw that there were a number of drawers, only half of which required a key. After finding nothing but more paper in the unlocked ones, she decided to pick the lock on a bottom drawer. Taking a deep breath, she slipped the knife blade in and gently began to jimmy it open.
Slowly and holding her breath, she turned the blade until she heard that beautiful click and pulled the drawer open. Inside, she took hold of a large object wrapped in linen. In it was an ornately designed glass decanter. Esmeralda uncorked it and took a whiff, her nose assaulted with a sharp and bitter odor and making her recoil.
The man needs a strong drink sometimes, I guess. She had heard tell of men building machines used to make alcohol stronger than any wine or beer, and this light brown liquid probably came at a hefty price.
Finding the other bottom drawer only contained more parchments and a couple of ledger books, Esmeralda decided that she had about exhausted her search of Frollo's office. Briefly she wondered what she would find if she stumbled upon his personal chambers. Frollo did say that they were here on the same floor, she considered as she sealed herself back into the passageways. Although she wondered if his room were just as sparsely decorated as his study.
She continued on, not surprised that most of the other chambers on this floor were just as empty. Esmeralda was only curious when one latch revealed a large chamber that at least appeared the most lived in.
This has got to be his room, she thought mischievously as she unlocked the door. Emerging, she was relieved to find that the hidden door led out from the wood paneling lining the wall, adjacent the chamber's fireplace.
Esmeralda took in the spacious chamber: besides a large four-poster bed with no curtains, a small table and a couple chairs, some bookshelves, and a few chests and armoire, there was nothing too out of the ordinary. She paused and waited again for anyone to burst through the door, but none came.
Esmeralda approached the nightstand beside the bed and opened it. Within it, she found a small wooden box, decorated with patterns of vines and spirals. Carefully, she let her knife's blade go to work. Her lips turned downward a bit at finding a few things that might have been of personal value: besides some folded pieces of parchment, there was a small gold cross necklace, a silver medallion with some faded old seal, and a dagger with a dulled blade. She picked up a small frayed brown cord that carried two little squares on opposite ends, both pieces adorned with a faded cross.
Not as though you can ask him about these, she thought as she carefully placed the little box back.
Something suddenly caught her eye, sitting on top of a dresser. She let out a small gasp and raised her brows at the item, aghast. A carved wooden figure—maybe about the length of her forearm—stood tall and instantly disturbed her. Esmeralda picked up the figure an examined it: it was a wooden statuette of a man with one arm tied behind his back, while the other was raised and tied above his head to what looked like a tree branch. He appeared covered with arrows, with streams of blood painted from the wounds. The figure's face was stuck in a look of horror for an extra touch of shock.
How could anyone sleep with this thing watching over them? She thought, sickened, as she placed it back delicately.
Again she looked around the room and decided that the small collection of personal effects were likely the most interesting thing she might find here. With that, Esmeralda made her way back to the wood panel door and locked it behind.
The gypsy continued the journey through the corridors and still found more empty chambers. Even the next floor down, the most interesting thing to beheld was the dining room, whose space was taken up by the long oak table. She gritted her teeth at the idea of being forced to share a meal here with that despicable man.
She made sure to grab a few candles along the way, as a dead lantern was one of the last things she wanted to worry about. After some aimless wandering, Esmeralda descended the spiral staircase from last night and remembered something: that fork in the road that led her to the Palace's kitchen—she could take the opposite route and see what might be found in that direction.
Just barely remembering the path, Esmeralda found that familiar divide and headed left, clutching the cloak tighter around her. She found that this path was quite short and eventually led to yet another descending staircase, the temperature now dropping considerably. She walked until she reached the very bottom of the steps, only to find it led to a long tunnel, this one held up by ancient wooden beams rather than the usual stone.
Esmeralda hesitated, instantly wondering if they could give way while she journeyed under them. She shuddered at the image of being buried under a mountain of compact dirt under Frollo's domain. She patted a hand against the ancient clay walls, finding them to be sturdy and still intact. She now steadied herself with another thought: If they haven't given in now, what are the chances that they do now? With this less-than-assuring logic, she forced her feet to get moving.
The smell of earth surrounded her and contrasted the fine masonry of the upper floors' walls, momentarily offering a wistful and almost comforting sensation. She had never considered herself claustrophobic, but these compact dirt walls with no end in sight made her increasingly anxious. Esmeralda tried to keep the worry at bay by counting the seconds and minutes.
Esmeralda figured she must have walked over a mile before she caught sight of something: a row of horizontal bars bolted into what appeared to be a concrete wall and stretching upward. She rushed towards it, green eyes widening as she examined it: a ladder, she realized as she exhaled shakily, nearly wanting to cry. At that moment, she didn't care where they led—it only meant freedom.
She pondered it: she couldn't hold onto the lantern and the rungs of the ladder. With great reluctance, she placed the lantern down on the ground and began to climb. With each step, the light became fainter from above and she was plunged into even more darkness. Esmeralda tried to keep herself composed by reminding herself that this ladder had to lead somewhere—somewhere with light.
Her heartbeat began to quicken as she climbed through the inky blackness, becoming more worried that whatever was at the end might be sealed up and locked. Or more probable, that she might lose her grip or the rungs might give way. She imagined with horror plunging backwards, breaking open her head and leaving her to rot in this underground tunnel.
Before she could conjure up any more bleak images, she felt the top of her head brush against a hard surface above, making her momentarily grip the rungs harder as she secured herself. Holding one tighter, Esmeralda pressed carefully on the surface above. She was startled to find that it was a mere stone slab above, which she began to push and found that it moved. Delicately, she lifted and pushed the slab aside, listening to it scrape against the floor above. Letting her eyes adjust, Esmeralda saw that the space up here was dark as well, only illuminated by scant nearby torchlight. Invigorated by her discovery, the gypsy hoisted herself up and climbed out of the underground space.
Esmeralda crouched and kept still as her eyes flickered around this dark corner. After such an excursion, she breathed heavily as she tried to get as much air into her tired lungs as possible. Above her, a row of stone steps spiraled heavenward. With newfound hope, she crept close to the arched entryway and looked around, her jaw almost dropping.
It was Notre Dame—the entire floor laid out before her and blinding her with its luminary brilliance.
Esmeralda clasped a hand to her mouth to keep her grateful cry from escaping. Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed herself closer to the wall.
She had managed to escape.
Esmeralda collected herself and peeked around the doorway, keeping a watchful eye out for parishioners. To her relief, there were a handful of monks kneeling and praying before the altar and oblivious to her. Placing the stone back in place, Esmeralda promptly headed up the stairwell.
She could feel sweat beading on her forehead as she trudged upward, no doubt exacerbated by the trek and climbing out of the tunnel. But Esmeralda didn't care—she just needed to see her old friend.
Forcing herself to keep going, Esmeralda finally reached the bell tower. She was joyfully overwhelmed at the familiar sight of Quasimodo's workbench and shelves of bowls and tools. She removed the old cloak and threw it over her arm, calling out, "Quasimodo?" She kept still and listened, breathing heavily and feeling her throat go dry. Hearing nothing, she repeated herself, this time louder. She then heard a heavy shuffling from up in the rafters, making her freeze in place.
"Esmeralda?" A voice asked, one that she longed to hear. Esmeralda looked up and couldn't help a smile that stretched across her lips when she locked eyes with her friend above.
"Esmeralda!" The hunchback climbed down with swift alacrity, stopping before her and simply staring. Quasimodo looked as though he did not believe his friend was here before him, as bright and radiant as ever, if not a little dusty. His mouth opened and closed as he could not find his voice.
Wordlessly, the two stretched out their arms and locked each other in a tight embrace, both letting their tears flow as they clung together.
"You're here," Quasi breathed with disbelief when he broke away. "I never thought I'd see you again!"
Esmeralda wiped her eyes roughly and continued to beam at her friend. "It's so good to see you again," she offered warmly, studying that sweet disfigured face she had missed. She instinctively scanned his features for any bruises or cuts—anything to indicate that Frollo might have had the boy harmed. "Frollo didn't…he didn't have you flogged or anything, did he?"
The young man blinked, taken aback by the question. "What? No—no, of course not, I'm fine. But what about you? I-I can't believe you escaped! How-how did you do it?"
With that characteristic spark, she began. "You wouldn't believe it…" After being invited to sit and rest, Esmeralda began to regale her discovery of the tunnel system throughout the Palace of Justice and its underground route to the cathedral. Quasimodo listened attentively, his brows rising and furrowing at her words.
"…The strange thing is that none of them are sealed up," she mused, swirling the wine offered by Quasi before taking a sip. "It makes me wonder if Frollo even knows that they exist."
"So does this mean you're not going back?" Quasi asked, his teal eyes hopeful. "You can claim sanctuary again!"
Esmeralda fell silent and averted her eyes. Truly the idea had not even crossed her mind, as she had been so overjoyed with finally being out of her prison that she had forgotten about what might follow.
She smirked, the expression hollow. "Sanctuary," she repeated darkly. The Minister's unforgiving timbre resounded in her mind: "Then drag her outside and…" It all seemed so safe at the time: Frollo being put in his place regarding the law of sanctuary before he could unleash his fury. But all the destruction…he certainly showed his hand and willingness to overturn the law if he demanded it. And who would stop him? "I don't know if that's an option anymore."
"Of course it is. I swear, I can protect you."
"I don't think I can." The gypsy girl frowned a bit. "Given everything that's happened, I don't think it would be much use. Besides…" She looked dejectedly into her drink as though it could show her the very future. "If I go back on my word, Frollo will just start lighting fires again." The fact weighed heavily in her heart.
"I don't think so," Quasi countered and offered a shake of his head. Esmeralda drew her brows together as a response. "Things have changed—he doesn't have the power to burn the city again."
"What do you mean?"
"There's a man visiting from the King's council. Apparently he's looking at all the damage done and the King has forbidden Frollo from starting another witch-hunt. The Archdeacon says that this man's report can easily put Frollo out of office."
Esmeralda remembered the Minister's words about "entertaining" some official or another. "The King's proctor," she uttered, trying to recall anything else.
"That's it. I saw them both in here earlier. I couldn't hear them but Augustin says that Frollo's nervous about the whole thing."
Esmeralda tapped her finger against the wooden table in thought. Anyone who could make the Minister of Justice nervous was somebody she just might have to see for herself.
She coaxed the boy into telling her more about the aftermath of Frollo's chaos. Quasimodo told her that Clopin had resumed his puppet shows, but without much of that old flair and pizzazz he was famous for. He told her that Phoebus had been stuck with the mundane tasks of any foot soldier, disgrace clouding his previous fame. He had even heard people murmuring about her and offering prayers on her behalf, as the poor gypsy girl was viewed as a mere victim of the Minister's madness.
Esmeralda in turn recounted Frollo's hesitance to engage with her, and how the few exchanges they had were marked by swipes and insults. She reluctantly told him of the judge's explosive anger that caused him to break a chair against the wall. Of bargaining for Phoebus's reinstatement and how she had built a rapport with the maid Lucile. Esmeralda, however, was remiss to tell him of Frollo's forced kiss, the odd rumor about him told by Lucile, or even the puzzling trinkets she found hidden away.
She weighed the options in her head again: on one hand, she could stay in Notre Dame and claim sanctuary. There was no way Frollo would attempt to force her out again, let alone track her down if she slipped back to the Court of Miracles. Not with the King's official hanging over him like the sword of Damocles, and especially not without the monarch's support. On the other hand, if this proctor gave Frollo the King's blessing, no doubt he would use that to bypass the law of sanctuary and keep her prisoner anyway, either here or at the Palace of Justice. And she would still be at his mercy as he decided what to do with her. In either scenario it was a deadly gamble.
Still…remaining in the Palace of Justice might afford her the opportunity to collect more information on the Minister. This proctor would only be here for a few days, tops, then what? She'd be back at Frollo's mercy again. These few days the judge would be busy, awarding her more time to investigate him and his home. The notion of being able to sneak out so easily with Frollo none the wiser was a bit tantalizing to her. A strange tradeoff indeed…
"I still gave him my word," Esmeralda began, her tone pensive. "But maybe this man might give Frollo a change of heart." The bellringer offered her a wan look of doubt. "…Or at least twist his arm into letting me go. After all, no king in the right mind wants his cities torched by his own officials—not again anyway. Tell you what: worse comes to worse, I'll come back here and claim sanctuary."
Quasimodo laid a large hand on hers. "Esmeralda, you don't have to stay there."
She was touched by his earnestness. "I swear," she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "I can handle it. Now that Frollo knows he's not untouchable, I think I have a better chance of him letting me out of our arrangement." She had to assure him much like how she did for Phoebus, even though uncertainty still colored his expression. "Especially if I dig up a little dirt on him. And he's not stupid enough to jeopardize his position again."
"Are you sure? Any secrets he's keeping are probably buried too deep."
"All the more reason to keep looking," Esmeralda countered with newfound optimism.
Esmeralda rose from her seat and asked Quasimodo to accompany her to the roof of the cathedral, much like her first time in Notre Dame. Above, the two friends sat and gazed over the Paris landscape, the gypsy glad to finally be able to see the old sights again, from the Seine to the jumbled arrangement of townhouses. It was as though the whole world was laid out before her like a platter as she feasted her eyes on the familiar skyline. Though she grimaced a bit to see the Palace of Justice's ornate spires neatly perpendicular to the cathedral. Esmeralda closed her eyes and let the brisk wind whip through her thick hair. It was incredible to feel the fresh air after being surrounded by stone for these last few days. Even the brief trek into the courtyard last night did not satisfy her restlessness.
"So will you be going out into the city from now on?" the gypsy asked, drawing her knees up. "You're not still under Frollo's watch, are you?"
Quasi wrung his hands in thought. "No, I'm not. He actually hasn't come to see me since he had me unchained. Even then, all he said to me was that he wanted to "reform" you."
Esmeralda let out a sharp and humorless laugh. "The second he tries to teach me about those little prayer beads, I'm jumping out of the nearest window," she clipped, before remembering that she was still on holy ground.
Trying not to look at the Palace, she offhandedly remarked, "I'm glad that this official to the King was able to drag him away for a few hours."
"Well, Augustin said that this man made Frollo take him on a tour of the city."
Esmeralda wrapped her arms around herself as she visualized Frollo making another grand entrance into the Court of Miracles. She knew that there was nothing stopping him from doing so, especially to save his own skin. Hopefully it won't come to that, she thought with faint hope.
Steering the conversation back, she asked, "You're sure you won't try to get out more?"
Quasi looked away, shyly running a hand over his red locks. "I don't know. I'm not sure people will be any kinder than they were at the Festival."
Esmeralda placed a hand on his arm. "Quasi, you owe it to yourself to get out of this place. Now that more people see Frollo for the monster that he is, they'll see you're a better man than him. You went out to find the Court of Miracles, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, but—"
"But nothing—you deserve to start over, and be part of the world."
"I just don't know if someone like me could…"
Esmeralda's eyes pierced his. "How about this: I'll sneak back here, and I'll show you more of the city. After all, you can't see everything by just the rooftops."
"Esmeralda, people would recognize you—everyone knows who you are. It's too dangerous!" the boy warned, instinctively looking over his shoulder.
"Nothing a disguise wouldn't fix," she said with great confidence as she recalled a simple cloak and Djali on her shoulders doing the trick. "We could cobble something together. I've done it a million times."
Quasimodo finally smiled. "Alright….alright. Yes, I…I'd like that."
A new idea suddenly dawned on the gypsy. "Quasi, I need to ask you for a favor."
"Of course."
"Could you pass along a message to Clopin for me—please? Have him meet me up here tonight. Would you be able to sneak him in, say, at midnight?"
Quasimodo offered an unsure shrug. "I…I can try but no one's supposed to be here that late. But I can do it."
"Thank you, my friend." She had to make sure that her brother knew that she was safe.
The two continued to sit above the city, delighted to be reunited after all this insanity. Esmeralda took the opportunity to refamiliarize herself with the cathedral, with Quasimodo showing her even more nooks and crannies of Notre Dame. It wasn't until the sun began to dip, snuffing out most of the light from the cathedral, that Esmeralda figured it was time to leave. She wouldn't throw away this small means of freedom by returning to the Palace late and getting caught.
At the bottom of the tower stairwell, Esmeralda examined the stone slab that covered the tunnel entrance and found a small chip in the floor. This chip allowed for someone to just barely use their fingertip to lift up the stone. The bellringer guarded the doorway as she removed the stone and began to descend the ladder. Both of them promised not to breathe a word of this secret route and Quasi begged her to be safe.
"Don't worry about me," Esmeralda chirped, flashing a confident smile. "Remember: I was never here. I'll see you later."
X
*A/N: This story, along with my others, are most likely going to resume on AO3: the amount of bots, spam, and creative censorship have really hurt this site. So if you're still interested in the stories, look for them on Archive under the same names.
Thanks for reading!