The Servant of Judge Frollo

A Late Night Reading

The month passed and it soon became March, rain falling every so often. Healia sat in her bundle of rags, shivering slightly since she had been sent out to fetch the carrots and vegetables from the garden and had come back soaked and cold. But nobody had come to help her dry off so she had just gone to her rags and old sheets and bundled herself up, hoping not to fall ill. But soon she had begun to sneeze and she gave a small groan, why was she sick now? It was these damp clothes; she needed to get into something warm and dry. That's when she remembered Mrs. Bette and tucked her old clothes in a barrel beside the door. Once the others were asleep she rushed to the barrel and thanked god when she found her clothing all there. Unfortunately since it was so close to the door it was as damp as her own clothes. Giving a groan she decided to check for an old sheet in one of the old rooms, maybe she could get warm there. So she slowly slinked out of the servant's quarters and made sure not to awaken any of them unless she wanted to spend the night shivering and sneezing. Once she was out of the room she climbed the stairs slowly, glad she still didn't wear shoes or she probably would have made a lot of noise, awakening the house. Creeping into the hall she made sure to be extra quiet when she passed Frollo's door, definitely not wanting to be caught by him. But as she passed one room where she'd never been she noticed it had a roaring fire. This made her pause and glance in the room, a fire? At this hour? That was suspicious, but then again... It was a fire that would warm her up easily, at least them she wouldn't have to take off her clothes or take a sheet. Finally her need for warmth overruled her cautiousness and tugged her into the room. Once she entered the room she almost gasped at the shelves upon shelves of books all around the room, the floor a deep rich carpet of velvet. A desk lay to the side as well. The fire roared a deep red, the center core a gold that matched the jewels of a king. Never in her life had she been so relieved to see a fire in her short life. Walking to the fire she noticed a book beside the fire, the book open to no important page. Settling herself beside the fire she gave a happy little sigh before stuck out her hands, letting the heat gently caress her cold skin. Once she was a bit warmer her attention turned to the book, she hadn't seen one of these in a very long time, it's not like gypsies had much time for reading. Looking at the page she gave a small gasp, it was in Greek. That certainly was a coincidence. She remembered her mother teaching her how to read their symbols and glancing at the strange symbols that didn't make sense to anybody in this land they reformed into words into her mind, letting her read the book slowly as she refreshed herself. But not everyone in this land was so ignorant of this ancient language, in fact a man who could read these symbols just like her was sitting within that same room, watching her with dark interest. He sat in the darkest corner of the room, a cup of wine in one hand and a book in the other. His clothes of ebony blended easily with the background, making him almost invisible, other than his granite eyes that were colder than ice. He stared at the gypsy as she took in the book, never touching it more than the edge of the page to turn it. Even then she turned it with care, as if worried she'd break it. This made him stay silent and still for a little bit longer as he observed this strange little brat. What was she doing? Surely she couldn't read, she was an uneducated, ignorant, dumb child, no older than 7. Besides if he was correct the book she was looking so intently at was written in Greek! In this entire city there were probably about seven people who could distinguish words from that gibberish and they were all 30 and older, including him. After a moment more he flipped the page of his own book, and sipped his wine, just loud enough for her to hear. Her hair bounced and she spun to him, her eyes going wide and mouth opening slightly. The man who had been watching her was Frollo, her master. He set down his goblet and shut his book, "Now what might you be doing here? I specifically remember that all the servants went to bed a while ago." He said softly, voice cold and intimidating. She merely glanced at the fire, "I, I was cold, I had gotten wet and I began to sneeze. I was worried about getting sick and not being able to complete my year." Frollo raised an eyebrow; she wanted to finish her year? Well that was interesting indeed. His gaze turned to the book and then back at the girl, "What were you doing with that book?" He asked, rubbing his chin slowly. She looked at the book, "I was reading it, master." She thought he was going to laugh but he merely snapped his spindly fingers and beckoned for her to bring the book, "Bring it here brat, let me see." He commanded and dutifully Healia picked it up and handed it to him. Frollo flipped through the book and gave a snort, glaring at her, "Liar, this book is in Greek if you haven't noticed and no mere child can read a symbol of Greek!" He snarled but Healia shook her head quickly, "I can read it." She mumbled and he stared at her suspiciously, "I highly doubt that gypsy brat." She didn't wince at the way he said gypsy brat but stood their firmly, "I can read it." She repeated. Frollo shot her an icy glare but sneered, "Fine, let's see if you can read it aloud brat, this is a book of philosophy which means the words of those who go deep in the human mind. Begin." He handed her the book and she took it in her arms, glancing at the page he had turned to, a page he knew well so he could make sure she wasn't lying. Healia hesitated for a moment but he leered at her, "What? Scared? Well go on, use your so called talents and read the book, if you can of course." Healia felt her brow furrow slightly at his words before she took a deep breath and began to read, translating the Greek into French, "What lies beyond death? Is there really a holy kingdom of God called Heaven in which the good and pure go and a dark flame pit called Hell in which the sinful and evil go to suffer? Or do we linger here upon earth, invisible to our kin and alone for eternity, never seeing another soul. Or do we go to a place like Limbo, neither Hell nor Heaven in which we exist and yet do not, where we float aimlessly, not able to think nor speak in any tongues like leaves in a gentle breeze. Why is there death, but then again why is their life? Why did God place us upon the ground and give us life and thoughts and ideas, what did he want us to achieve in our time? Were we here to serve a greater purpose, to please our God above? Or are we playthings of the Devil, believing we are good when in truth we are wicked and malevolent creatures that reek of sin? When we claim to see angels are we merely seeing hellish creatures in disguise? Is everything in life not really there? Are we merely living in a dream-like state that is torn to shreds at death? Are our eyes truly opened to the world we lived when we die? As mortals, men of flesh and blood commit acts of evil and good, we may never know, but one thing is crystal clear, you can see all the good you've done and all the bad, the second before death claims your soul, taking it wherever it truly belongs." Healia finished, looking up at Frollo who looked slightly surprised while inside he was speechless. This seven year old brat that was a gypsy could read Greek. Never in his life had he known a child who could achieve such a thing. He had been 19 when he had been able to read that fluently in Greek but it had taken years of dedicated studying to achieve. How in the heavens was that possible?!!! Looking at her he noticed she was staring at the book intently, a faraway expression on her face. They shared a long moment of silence; the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Finally he spoke up, voice raspy from disuse, "How do you know how to read Greek at such a tender age? You're a gypsy and it's not like they have an education or books of any sort." He inquired, looking her in the eye. Healia sat down, "My mama taught me, I had to know how to read my native tongue if I wanted any future..." She began but he quickly held up his hand, brows furrowing, "Wait, what do you mean native tongue, weren't you born here in Paris? You look too young to have been born in India and the gypsies have resided here for generations." Healia looked slightly confused before murmuring, "I was born in Greece that is why I know Greek so well." She explained and Frollo was silent for a very long time indeed, taking in her words. His look was slightly far away, as if he was deep in thought. After a long moment he muttered, "I could beat you for getting out of bed and invading my study, but I won't. I hate to admit it but your ability to speak such a difficult tongue impresses me, and I am not easily impressed. By now you should be dry enough to go back to bed and I demand you do so this instant so you are able to get up at dawn tomorrow and complete your chores, my servants represent me so they must be in good shape and do even better work. Am I understood brat?" He retorted and Healia gave a quick nod beginning to rush to the door when his voice made her pause, "I do not want to catch you out of bed again brat, unless I request your presence since you are the only one in this house other than me who can read and sometimes I find it more helpful if a book is read aloud and since I do not want to look like an madman, reading aloud to nothing I will request when needed for you to read aloud. Do you understand?" He added and Healia smiled to herself before giving another nod and rushed off, leaving Frollo alone. Once she left he picked up the book she'd left and browsed it, yes, she had read it all correctly, impressing him more than any gypsy ever had. Her knowledge of such a demanding tongue is astounding, she could learn so much more and become an incredibly educated woman someday, in fact she could be more intelligent than any woman in France. If I were to school her... His mind began but his conscious paused those thoughts, No! She is a gypsy, a filthy little brat that I am waiting to get rid of but until than she will slave away in my household and save me the money of another servant. The reason she know this language is because she was born there! It was like being surprised a child could speak French if they lived in Paris. No, she was not his concern other than for work, though he would consider having her read aloud, that might benefit the both of them. With these thoughts running in his head he picked up his wine glass, finished off the last of the ruby liquid and went to bed, putting out the fire that had brought them together.