The next morning a servant came up to deliver a letter. Frollo tore off the seal unceremoniously. But upon reading it, his lips contorted. 'Your captain is getting married this Friday.'
The disgruntled girl tried to appear unfazed, proceeding to eat her white bread. She washed it down with stew, ignoring the announcement. He gave a soft chuckle. 'Will you accompany me to the community dinner?'
'Community dinner?'
'Yes. On Friday night, after the wedding.'
'So are we not going to see the wedding?'
He sneered, 'The Duke of Austria is coming to Paris on Saturday, and preparations about his visit will be held all week. You see, your captain is not more important than my work. Unless you want to see the wedding without me, of course, in which case I suggest your maid to keep a handkerchief at hand.'
She chose not to counter. And anyway, it wasn't like she wanted to see Phoebus kiss Fleur-Dy-Lys in front of a cheering crowd.
He got up to clean his hands in a basin at the corner of the room. Esmeralda took more of the stew, hoping that the warmth of the broth would dullen the pain weighing down her stomach, and below it. She massaged behind her ear to alleviate her head, impatient for the wretched cause of her discomfort to leave.
He put on his hat and signet, followed by other rings. She had noticed that he had a plethora on his fingers, despite his lack of love for any other ornament. Strange. He came off as so conscientious in his judge's attire, it irked her. For the world he was a principled man. Only with her did his less virtuous side emerged.
He bent down to peck both her cheeks, chuckling again at her stoic demeanor. 'Oh, how I love you.'
"Then why do you give me such suffering?"
-
She had convinced her mother to go along with her and look at the cottages available, as well as purchase some garments that were not nun's cast-offs. Although this time she preferred to take a cart. The pain was lasting longer than she had thought.
'Is everything alright with you?' Gudule asked concernedly, seeing her daughter shifting again and again in her seat. She wanted to attest that nothing was wrong but an unwelcome twinge made her loose the resolve. 'It's just a bit of soreness.'
'Where?' she inquired, looking agitatedly over her.
'Um...everywhere.'
'Why?' The former-nun was bothered. But Esmeralda had no mother till a month ago, having been raised by multiple people in the Court of Miracles over the years. They were warm and some even doted on her; but they were not parents. Neither were her friends particularly open to discuss these matters. Talks were held in hushed voices, always out of the ears of men or girls too young.
'Is it,' the mother dropped her voice to a whisper, 'is it your bleeding?'
She immediately shook her head. "I wish it was. At least that would vindicate that I didn't have that vampire's seed within me."
'Then what is it?'
She bit her lip and looked at her. The woman was seeking her answer. She shifted closer to whisper the embarrassing matter in question. Gudule raised her eyebrows, then gave an understanding nod. The girl was assured with the implication that her mother did know what she was talking about.
'Let us go back to my cell. I have some herbs we can brew up for you.' She held Esmeralda's face in her hands and tenderly kissed her cheek.
--
She drank up the potion. After six months in dungeons and cathedrals, it was relieving to have someone to talk to. But the shame would take some time to get used to.
'If you want, I shall write the method on a piece of paper. You can ask those servants at your house to prepare it.'
She nodded her head with gratitude.
Gudule watched her curiously, as if contemplating what to say next. 'When you are...in bed, with him,' she spoke in a most earnest manner. 'Tell him to go easy. If you feel like he is going too deep, ask him to stop.'
'I do, he doesn't listen,' she replied resentfully. You haven't seen him when he's...lustful,' the adjective rolled off her tongue with difficulty. 'It's like there is a demon lurking inside of him that breaks free at that time, and it is highly frightening. I feel as though he would split me open.'
Gudule's chestnut eyes reeked of sympathy and guilt. 'Oh, I feel like God is yet punishing me for my sins,' she lamented. 'It is but terrible enough to go through these woes oneself, but to see one's daughter go through the same and be so helpless about it,' she broke into a fit of coughing. It crushed Esmeralda's heart. She didn't want to see her mother be upset.
'I am alright!' she assured. 'Look after yourself, mother.'
She took a huge gulp of water to cease the coughing. 'I'm just worried. You are so delicate, you know. Your face is like that of a sweet angel. And to think that I cursed so many horrific things upon you...it scares me.'
Esmeralda sighed watching the recluse take out her rosary and murmur a short prayer. Finishing, she put it back and said words one would least expect to come of someone who had just prayed.
'Do you use oil?'
The daughter looked at her uneasily. 'Umm, no?'
'Use oil,' she urged. 'You may even have olive oil in the plenty there, that is the best.'
'Thank you for, the suggestion.'
'And if you can, don't jump at it. Slow him down, stroke him around his chest and nape.'
The girl stared with wide eyes.
Gudule ignored the horrified reaction. 'You see, men take less time to get their desires on than we do. And those lonely, old rich men love feeling like they're wanted. So play a little. Kiss behind his ear, moan his name and praise him. Tell him how much you want him.'
'How can I desire that monster?' she said curtly. 'His touch is like ice; his grasp is like the hand of death.' She tried pushing the unpleasant memories back in her mind.
'You need not desire him. You just need to desire the sensation and make him think that you desire him. Imagine that he is your captain.'
The stunned girl got up. 'Al-alright. Thank you for the brew, mother. I am a lot better. I think we can carry on our search.' She returned the cup.
--
"He is not Phoebus. He can never be Phoebus. Phoebus was kind and soft. I longed for his touch, not get disgusted by it. His lips didn't burn. He would never bite me like he does. He should have been my first, not him."
As much as she tried to fight them, thoughts of her captain invaded her mind the entire ride. And as it turned out, the bride of the object of her thoughts was coming out of the tailor's shop right when they reached. Fleur-Dy-Lys was sharing a laugh with her presumed bridesmaids, followed by servants carrying bundles of silk. Esmeralda tried hard to ignore the aristocrat as she gave a condescending glance their way. However, seeing the former nun made her look again.
'Sister? What are you doing with this gypsy?' she asked, amazed.
Gudule smiled kindly. 'This young girl is my daughter, Fleur-Dy-Lys. And she is not a gypsy.'
The aristocrats began murmuring among each other.
'Well!' Fleur said. 'This woman surprises me every day. If she is your daughter, sister, then I request you to prohibit her from using black magic on my wedding. I am aware of how much witches love to bewitch young brides.'
Esmeralda felt like leaping out and scratching the snob, but her mother put a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. Notwithstanding, she fumed-
'I shall die but not come to your wedding, you Glos Pautonnier!'
The bride scoffed, stepping inside her carriage.
'Calm down, Agnes,' Gudule hushed. 'Frollo is a public official. If you have to attend the wedding with him, what shall you do?'
'He will not,' she retorted.
'What if he has to?'
'He will not. He and other officials need to prepare for some Duke's arrival. Very important work.'
'Oh,' she responded. 'I did in fact hear about that. Didn't the man's wife die recently?'
'I do not know. I have had enough of politics for a lifetime.'
Gudule laughed in response. 'This drama with Burgundy has been quite the talk for a while. Perhaps the Duke's visit will end it for good.'
Esmeralda ceased walking. The words brought back a memory from what seeemed like ages ago, She turned to her mother with sudden bright eyes.
'The Duke of Burgundy, you say?'