Music or the Misery

Preface: The Bells of Notre Dame

Under the cover of night, three gypsies, two men and a woman, traveled by boat into Paris. Suddenly, a cry pierced the silence as the boat emerged from under a bridge.

"Shut it up, will you!" hissed one of the men.

"We'll be spotted!" murmured the second.

The woman gently rocked the bundle in her arms, a baby, "Hush now, young one," she cooed softly. The other man wrapped his arms around the woman and the bundle, trying to calm the child with his embrace.

The boat stopped.

"Four gilders for safe passage into Paris," a cloaked boatman whispered greedily as he held out a gloved hand.

Then, a second sound pierced the night's calmness, the galloping hooves of a dozen horses. The cloaked man fled back under the bridge in terror, leaving the three gypsies, who had just stepped off the boat, to fend for themselves. Within seconds, they were surrounded with spears at their necks.

"Judge Claude Frollo!" gasped on of the gypsies in alarm.

The Judge, held high on a black steed, urged his horse forward towards the gypsies.

"Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice," Frollo ordered dismissively.

"You there," one of the guards grabbed the woman by her arm, "what are you hiding?" He tried to take the bundle from her arms, but she resisted his attempts.

"Probably stolen goods, no doubt. Take them from her," Frollo ordered once more. The gypsy woman's eyes widened in fear before she took off down the snow-covered street. She stole a glance back only to confirm her fears that she was being chased. Frollo galloped after her until they reached the steps of Notre Dame.

"Sanctuary! Please give us sanctuary!" the woman pleaded as she banged on the tall wooden doors of the mighty cathedral. But her efforts were in vain, as Frollo had caught up with her. Frollo tore the bundle from her arms, kicking her back against the stairs of the cathedral, rendering the gypsy woman unconscious. The baby began to cry. Frollo looked down at the bundle.

"A baby?" he questioned, removing the cloth from its head only to reveal a deformed face.

"No," he growled, "a monster."

Frollo quickly looked around before seeing a stone well. Urging his horse towards it, Frollo held out the baby in the cloth, about to throw it down the well. There was a flash of lightning.

"Stop!" cried the archdeacon as he emerged from the cathedral.

"This is an unholy demon. I am sending it back to hell, where it belongs," Frollo stated, unmoved by the holy man. Still, the archdeacon continued.

"See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame," he gestured to the woman who lay motionless on the ground behind him.

"I am guiltless – she ran, I pursued," Frollo claimed, slowing becoming uncomfortable with the situation.

"Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt?" the archdeacon pleaded, willing Frollo to change his mind.

"My conscious is clear!" exclaimed Frollo as he took the child back into his arms.

"You can lie to yourself and your minions, you can claim that you haven't a qualm, but you can never run from, nor hide what you've done from, the bells of Notre Dame," declared the archdeacon. Frollo glanced around the courtyard in fear; it seemed that ever statue was looking down at him in accusation.