Life changes drastically sometimes. So do people. Sometimes, you lose what you thought was the purpose of your life. Such circumstances can befuddle a person. But ultimately, life goes on. Work had to restart.
Marie was combing Esmeralda's hair. The cultural norms demanded married women to cover their hair with a veil at all times. Tresses were a mark of sexuality, as well as their societal status. Therefore, loose hair was a sign of loose morals.
Esmeralda wasn't married, per say, but she was taken. And after all that happened, it was probably the best to do everything in her hands to prevent unfavorable scrutiny. But it was the brink of August, and Paris was turning into an oven. The Romani dresses she used to wear were light and flowy, baring her shoulders. Here she had to dress in three layers, and to wear a headdress to? No, she would prefer to keep her hair like it was. The people hated her anyway.
But she was still a Romani at heart. She missed living how she used to; coming up with new tricks for her goat, bantering with Clopin, gossiping with others at dinner. She missed her friends, her tambourine, her songs and dancing. Oh, if only she could dance without care! Or sing in a lovely dialect she didn't understand.
Her only encounters of noblewomen had been at the windows of their mansions, equal amounts of them adoring and cursing her. It seemed like they had no shortage of time.
'Marie, what do upper-class women do in the day?'
'Usually they play games, go to church or meet other ladies.'
She didn't exactly have allies in those ladies that Marie was talking about. Nor was she interested in religious proceedings.
'Oh, and they also purchase.'
'Purchase what?'
'Clothes and jewellery, mainly. Mouthfuls too, particularly sweets.'
Sweets seemed like a good idea.
'Can't we purchase too? We can even look at some houses.'
'I'm sure we can, madame. But this morning, sir instructed us to not take you anywhere without asking him.'
The girl rolled her eyes. 'Where is he?'
--
King Louis the Eleventh was content; far too content. The monarch was over the moon from receiving good news the whole week, and he had requested an audience with the Minister of Justice to share them.
'You must be elated, are you not?' he asked. 'After twenty years, you have achieved what you wanted to.'
"I have achieved much more than you think, Louis" the minister thought.
'Definitely, your grace. The Lord has been particularly bounteous from the past few days.'
'It is probably even truer for you. I heard that you have taken up a paramour?'
The judge tapped the armrest of his chair. 'She had to live here owing to the agreement anyway. She agreed to mend her ways and take up the holy path. Now, instead of locking her up for the rest of her life, I thought it better to- '
The King interrupted with a chuckle. 'I assure you, Claude, I do not care what you do with the gypsy girl.'
He looked askance. 'You don't?'
'Why would I? I have far more important issues to heed to than you having a love doll. I was just a little surprised, that's all. You see, you're not the kind of man one expects to be interested in such things.'
Frollo shifted his eyes uncomfortably.
'Do not be so hard on yourself, Claude. All men have passions,' he tried to fight a giggle looking at Frollo's expression.
He tried to divert the subject. 'As luck would have it, I have just received another good news.'
Frollo looked at him questioningly.
'Mary the bitch is dead.'
His eyebrows raised. 'Is she?'
'Remember that hunting accident some weeks ago? Her horse threw her in a ditch, then broke her back? Apparently, the injury was greater than she was making it seem.'
'Maximilian must be devastated,' Frollo remarked.
Mary the Rich was the duchess of Burgundy. After losing her father in the war, she took up the role of establishing a Burgundian state, independent from France. She lost, but did not give up. Although given a chance to marry one of Louis's sons as part of a peace treaty, she refused, choosing to marry the Archduke Maximilian of Austria instead. The husband-wife pair had long been a pain in the neck for France.
'Sir,' a guard broke in their discussion. 'Madame wants to talk to you.'
'Tell her that I'm talking over important matters,' Frollo said, annoyed. The guard went outside to relay the message.
He resumed, 'That's splendid. Now we have no one to stop you from having Burgundy. Unless Maximilian hasn't let go of his wife's fantasies?'
'He is "under shock and will like some time to ponder before starting negotiations",' the monarch replied in a derisive tone.
Frollo leaned back, laughing.
The guard again came. 'Sir, she says that her work is urgent and wouldn't take much time- '
'This stubborn woman,' Frollo got up, presumably to go outside.
The King called out humorously. 'Peace, Claude! Let her come in. I too want to see this woman who has melted my most austere man.'
Frollo looked sheepishly. King Louis gestured the guard to bring the girl in, which he obeyed.
Esmeralda walked inside the room casually, having no idea of the aged man in exquisite attire in front of Frollo. She halted. She didn't know who the man was, but he was clearly important.
'Esmeralda, the King.'
So this was the King. How curious. Her people had requested an appointment to the royal court from decades, and she was the one to get the honor.
She went down on a knee, bowing her head. The sovereign nodded in acknowledgement.
'So this is the gypsy peasant for whom Paris lost its mind. I must admit, you are quite a thing.'
She remained quiet.
'Life is so curious, isn't it? Your lot and my army went to war for you. Wreaked havoc at the cathedral. But here you are, unharmed, as the mistress of the Palace of Justice. One lucky woman.'
She fixed her gaze to the floor. Lucky, she thought not.
'What do you want to talk about?' Frollo inquired. She came out of her daze.
'I wanted to ask your approval for purchasing some clothes.'
The King choked on his drink. 'Claude, I get that she is a beauty you would like to keep, but you need not constrain her from shopping of all things!'
The minister ignored Louis and turned to Esmeralda. 'You have it. Now leave.'
She bowed in front of the King again as was formality, then left.
Frollo frowned, sighing. 'I'm sorry for this inconvenience, your highness.'
The King, however, didn't look offended. 'No matter. So, Maximilian has decided to come to Paris for discussing a potential treaty.'
Like a flipping switch, Frollo's demeanor changed appropriately. 'Are we going to press any charges on him?'
'About that. He knows how helpless he is in front of the French crown. He also knows of your...notoriety. I want you to convey him; if he wishes to get away scot-free, he must agree to my offer of marrying his daughter to the Dauphine, and yield the entire County as dowry, even Franche-Comte and Artois.'
The judge grimaced. 'Tsk. The wretched widower may feel that we are going too hard on him.'
'If he had just convinced the bitch to surrender, he could have avoided this.'
'The work of fate,' Frollo knowingly stated. 'The fly had to get caught in the spider's net.'
--
Esmeralda looked up every cottage that the streets had to offer. It was for an old woman, so it had to be cozy and have everything necessary. She wished she had brought her mother along; perhaps she could ask one of the servants to show her the options later?
They also needed to visit the tailor. Frollo had unexpectedly called the chambermaids with instructions to take some clothes with them. There was little that she owned herself. And why not buy some for her mother too?
People on the streets still looked at her twice, but the death stares had begun to subside. From the lower-class, at least. They still hated her, yes, but just as one of the crèmes de la crème who lived off their hard work. Another gold-digger seducing her way to wealth. Nothing special, nothing supernatural.
When the tailor got to know that she was Frollo's concubine, he immediately directed his workers to show off the most richly-dyed taffeta, the prettiest patterns and the lightest silks.
She was dazzled. And she used to think that her jeweled belt as a Romani was tacky.
She leaned over to Marie, whispering, 'How much do we actually need?'
'As much as you like. We can call him to the Palace later as well.'
A worker spread open a glossy, green fabric. 'State-of-the-art silk from Bologna. Ladies are especially fond of it.'
Esmeralda smiled clumsily as she run her fingers over the cloth.
Another employee said something in his ear, after which the worker disclosed, 'Mademoiselle Gondelaurier has just bought the same material for her wedding.'
Her lips curved slyly. 'I would like something else.'
--
'These opportunists. Chance-hungry mercenaries,' she murmured to Marie as they exited.
'Your case was publicized a lot. They are always the first ones to fan the flames. Especially with the captain's wedding coming up-'
She stopped. Her mistress often became bitter and sometimes tearful at the mention of the couple. Being a servant she knew better than to ask undesirable questions, but she was intrigued. It was a quite interesting time to serve the Palace of Justice, no doubt.
If Esmeralda was irritated, she didn't have much time to show it. Her eyes caught hold of a display shelf at the baker's. There were candied fruits and pies, but she seemed to be fascinated by a kind of yellow pastry at the top. She didn't know what it was called, but it was certainly sweet.
'What is that?' she asked.
Marie walked closer. 'A custard tart.'
'Is it sweet?'
'It is sweet, madame.'
'Can we buy it?' she looked at her beseechingly.
The maid smiled, amused. 'I think we can.'
'Will you have one too?'
'Ah...I would love it. Thank you.'
The girl jubilantly walked inside the shop.
The servant giggled to herself, before taking a glance at the sky and sighing. It was getting dark.
So, history. The Valois-Habsburg rivalry will be a part of the story because it will move the plot. But this is still Quasi, Esme and Frollo's story. So while I will mention real-life events, do not expect the timeline or portrayals to be accurate. 😅