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In a Place of Miracles

By: Corinne Renee Fowler & Elizabeth Le Blanc

By Corinne Renee FowlerPublished 3 years ago 37 min read
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In a Place of Miracles

By: Corinne Renee Fowler

& Elizabeth Leblanc

Once there was a young woman who won the hearts of a knight, a dark minister and a lonely bell ringer with just a single dance and a flask of water. But before that, Esmeralda was just a little girl when she realized that she and her family were not like the other people in Paris. After all, they were gypsies. Life was destined to be hard for her. She knew that, and accepted it. Because, what else was she going to do, fight it? It would be a losing battle. That didn’t stop her from enjoying herself whenever she decided to mess with the soldiers every once in a while. One of her favorite pastimes were dancing in front of them, while her friends would pick their pockets. It was hilarious! Despite the label of “gypsy” that she’d been given by those who judged her unfairly, she had lived her whole life in Paris. Or that’s how it seemed. When she was six years old, she and her mother had traveled to Paris through the catacombs underground. But that seemed like a lifetime ago now! She doesn’t even remember where she came from anymore. There was very little that she could remember from her time before her life in Paris.

Esmeralda’s birth name was Agnes. Her mother was named Paquette Guybertaut. For reasons that Agnes couldn’t fathom, her mother was nicknamed “la Chantefleurie.” Paquette was an orphaned minstrel's daughter who lived in Rheims. She had become a prostitute after being seduced by a young nobleman (Agnes could only assume it was her father), and lived a miserable life in poverty and loneliness. Agnes's birth, her mother told her, brought back happiness that her mother had long forgotten about. She had loved her mother for giving her such love in return. There were rumors of Agnes being kidnapped, and been replaced by a deformed baby. And then in her grief, Paquette fled to Rheims. That was the rumor, anyway. But then again, Esmeralda gave little attention to such rumors. They were a waste of time, as far as she was concerned.

In truth, Paquette didn’t “flee” back to Rheims. She went back to help her friends get through the catacombs. But she, along with the people she had tried to help, had been brutally killed by soldiers who didn’t want the gypsies to pass through Paris illegally. That was when had become an orphan. She remembered sitting in an alley, when she was eight years old, crying for her dead mother. And she remembered how lonely she felt then.

And this is where her story began.

Agnes, young and scared in a strange city she was not familiar with, cried in the cold, alone in the world, a strangely charismatic gypsy, dressed in the brightest colors little Agnes, and wearing a very big hat approached her. She had never seen so many different colors on one person before! “You should not be out here alone, little one. It’s not safe,” the man had said to her.

“I don’t know where else to go,” young Agnes whimpered. “Mama’s dead, and I’m all alone….”

The man of many colors gave Agnes a reassuring wink. “Ah, but you’re not alone, little one. I know where you can go,” said the man of many colors.

“Where do I go?” she asked.

“Where do you go?” he asked, as if in disbelief that she’d ask such a question. “Why, to the Court of Miracles, of course!”

The Court of Miracles? Agnes looked up at the man with curiosity. Why, that sounded like a wonderful place to live! She could almost imagine the most beautiful flowers growing there, and only good things happened there…. “Where… where is it?” little Agnes asked.

“Well, my little Esmeralda,” he replied, “you will need to come with me to find out.”

“I can’t…. I don’t know you…. Mama told me to never go with someone I don’t know….”

“Ah, clever!” the man said in approval. “Your mother was a smart woman, I see. But I will not harm you, little one. For I, Clopin, am the King of the Gypsies.” And with that, he bowed theatrically. “The Court of Miracles is a safe place for you to stay, petit. I will see to it you’re safe. I promise. You have my word as a gypsy.” He smiled gently, and extended his hand to her.

Agnes reluctantly took his hand, terrified of what might happen to her. “Merci,” she said.

“De rien,” he replied.

Together, little Agnes and the self-proclaimed King of the Gypsies went through the catacombs once more. It was dark, cold and damp. And the smell was horrendous! But still, Agnes followed Clopin to wherever they were going. She huddled closer to him, afraid of all of the skeletons. Finally, they made it to a stone door with a crucifix engraved into it. Clopin put a hand to his lips, and made a sound that was similar to a bird, and, like magic, the door opened. He looked down at little Agnes, and winked. “The Court of Miracles!” he said, and took her hand. Together, they walked through the door, and on the other side, it was unlike anything that Agnes had ever seen.

With her mouth open in awe, the little orphan gazed at the beauty before her. There were tents set up in different sections, all in different colors. Some were patched up after being worn and tattered over the years. Others were as new and bright as Clopin seemed to be. It was as if there was a whole other city underneath the streets of Paris! People were bustling about, going about their business... people just like her! She couldn’t believe it! She wasn’t alone after all!

“This is…!” If only Agnes could find the words for what she had beheld.

“The Court of Miracles,” Clopin whispered, and gently squeezed her tiny hand. “You can be a part of it, you know. Think of it! A place to call home!”

“Dans un lieu de miracles….” Agnes breathed in awe—in a place of miracles. “This is where Mama wanted us to go! This is where she was going to take me and the people she was trying to help! I just know it!” little Agnes in delight. But her joy didn’t last long, because her mother wasn’t here to see it. She burst into tears, surprising both herself and the King of Gypsies. He knelt down, and tussled her hair.

“All right now. That’s enough tears,” he said with gentle sternness as he wiped away her tears with his rough, callused hand. “We do not cry here, in the Court of Miracles. You must be strong now. Everything is as it should be, la Esmeralda. The Court of Miracles is your home now. But you will need to earn your keep here, just like everyone else. Do you dance at all?”

Agnes shrugged, unsure. “A little. Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked.

Clopin winked again, and pointed to the rhinestone emerald she wore around her neck. It was the last gift her mother had given her before their journey to Paris. She would probably never take it off for as long as she lived. Subconsciously, she brushed her fingers against the smooth rhinestone emerald. It occurred to her that here, in the Court of Miracles, she could be anything…. Esmeralda. Here, that was her name…. She liked the sound of that.

Over the next four years, six year old Agnes grew to be ten year old Esmeralda. And as expected by the man who raised her, Clopin the King of Gypsies, she danced for coins under his watchful eye. He even made Esmeralda her very own tambourine! Every morning, she and her closest friends, Gillie, Dukker, Drina, Taavi, Lenor, and Baal, with assorted instruments of their own, danced and played music for the people of Paris. Most citizens stayed away. But occasionally, they would have a sympathetic man walk by, and give them a coin or two.

For Esmeralda, dancing was enough of a reward. She loved to dance, especially with her friends. She had learned from some of the best gypsies she had ever met. People she had considered her friends. Like Baal, a girl she met when Esmeralda was still very young. Baal was not as outgoing as Esmeralda was, or even as Drina was, but she could play a good tune on her lute that Taavi stole for her. Taavi was a clever gypsy boy who often had sticky fingers. He loved to steal from some of the townspeople of Paris, and even from some of the guards, if he can get away with it. But mostly, he stole bread or other food he could stick in his pocket when the venders weren’t looking. He was the leader of a small band of gypsy thieves. While he did that, Dukker often gave people their fortunes, for a few coins, of course. He was actually a phenomenal seer, as it turned out. Many of his predictions came true. Drina sang for the people, while Baal played her lute and Esmeralda danced. Gillie played a small drum that he made from scraps, and Lenor was their look-out for guards, while the others made their hard-earned money. He was spritely and small for his age. He was ten years old, like the others, but he passed for a five or six-year-old. And lastly, there was Mirrapen, a small warrior of sorts. If anyone tried anything with Baal, Drina or Esmeralda, he would often arm himself with rocks to throw at the potential attackers. With Clopin as their unofficial father, they were their own little family.

Every day, Clopin would present these children to the world. This was often illegal, which was why Lenor was their look-out. The minister of Justice would often have the guards arrest them for trying to make a living. This was their norm of every day. But once a year, she and the gypsies were given sanctuary for the Festival of Fools, which, to Esmeralda, was a celebration for being odd and out of place. She loved the Festival of Fools. Esmeralda and the others couldn’t wait. This was the highlight of her year! The festival was lively as always mostly filled with children. The music seemed loudest here.

“Come one, come all!” Clopin called to everyone in the town square. “Get your fortunes told by our clever Dukker! Or feast your eyes upon Esmeralda, as she dances to the music of Baal, and the lovely singing voice of Drina!”

Drina stepped forward, and stood up straight, holding her hands together. Closing her eyes, Drina began to sing a catchy tune, while the boys played their instruments. Drina started singing in French about the struggles of the people of Paris in a voice too deep for her age and then as high as a child’s. Her voice ranged beautifully, effortlessly, as if she were an angel from Heaven. She had a gift...like many of them to captivate those who listened.

Esmeralda danced slowly to the ballad that Drina sang. It was difficult for her not to cry right then and there. Drina’s voice always made her so emotional. This was the power that music had over the gypsy children. The Parisians watch, as if in awe of the beauty of what they had beheld before them. And when Drina's beautiful voice ends the ballad, the people of Paris stood still, as though in a peaceful trance. This was nice. But now, it was time to change the mood a little. After all, this was a celebration! Esmeralda looked over at Drina, giving her the cue to sing something else a little more upbeat.

As directed, Drina began to sing a more upbeat song, to which everyone danced and clapped along.

"Come see her dance

"This is your chance

"Don't be afraid

"Everything's okay…”

“Everybody, clap, everybody clap!” And the other gypsies joined in on Drina’s chanting. Like magic, the audience began to clap! Esmeralda was impressed. Everyone was smiling at the gypsies, as if they were a part of this beautiful city all along! Even some of the soldiers started to clap! It was the most incredible thing, and again, Esmeralda was almost in tears as Drina continued her fun song, her beautiful voice ringing through the square.

"Come see the wonder--Oohhh

"Don't just stand there, and ponder.

"Everybody clap, everybody clap!

"Come and see me

"Dancing

"Come and see me

"Dancing into the night

"Come and see me

“Come and celebrate with me!

“Come and celebrate with me!”

As she sang, Esmeralda danced elegantly, swaying her hips and showing off. This was so fun! Again, the gypsies chanted. “Everybody clap, everybody clap!” and the crowd clapped along to a steady rhythm to the beat that Gillie was setting on his drum. And then, the crowd grew. More people with their families gathered around. Both rich and poor folk stood around the gypsy children. Baal began to play her lute with great delight. Fathers put their children over their shoulders so they could see this spectacular show! Esmeralda continued to dance as the audience cheered and clapped along. Never had there been such a turnout for their performance. Not for these gypsy children. Usually, they would sing one song, and that would be the end of it. But this…! Esmeralda was in awe of it all! Even Clopin got in on it, chanting with the children.

“Everybody clap, everybody clap!”

And again, Drina sang, this time in their native French, which Drina was fluent in.

“Venez la voir danser

“C'est ta chance

“ N'ayez pas peur

“Tout va bien

“Tout le monde, applaudissez, tout le monde clap!

“Venez voir la merveille

“Ne reste pas là, et réfléchis.

“Everybody, clap, everybody, clap!”

“"Viens me voir

“"Dansant

“Viens me voir

“Danser dans la nuit

“Viens me voir

“Venez célébrer avec moi!

“Venez célébrer avec moi! ”

When they finished their joyous song, the whole square erupted in cheers that would ring in Esmeralda’s ears for the rest of her life! The small band bowed humbly, as Clopin, smiling proudly at them, Taavi and Dukker watched in awe of what they were witnessing. “Encore!” the people shouted over and over. “Encore!”

“Let’s give them what they want!” said Drina with a smile, and the small band began to play an upbeat song about the festival.

Suddenly—

“Des païen!” called a man from behind Esmeralda, and grabbed her by her shoulder, which meant “heathens.” What is the meaning of this!” Esmeralda looked up, and, to her horror, there was a man dressed in long black robes. “What is this sorcery you are casting on these good people of Paris?!”

Esmeralda wiggled out of his hard grasp, and rubbed her hurting shoulder. “We-we were singing and dancing. That’s all….” she stammered. “We didn’t do anything wrong!” From behind her, she could hear Baal crying. Esmeralda looked over her shoulder, and saw as Gillie hugged her. The mood was changed in an instant. All feelings of love and fellowship and pure joy was instantly replaced with fear, dread and anger. Who was this man, anyway? Why was he trying to spoil everything?

Quick on his feet, Clopin grabbed Esmeralda, and stood in front of the children protectively. He gave the black-robed man a cheeky smile, trying to smooth a very bad situation from being potentially worse. “Come on, now, Your Grace. We’re not doing any harm, are we? In the grand scheme of everything, are we really behaving like heathens? Seems to me, Your Grace, that everyone is having fun! And isn’t that the secret to a happy life? To have more fun?”

“That you are picking these good people’s pockets is not fun. It’s theft. And I will not have it in this good city. You gypsy vermin leave at once, or I will have all of you arrested.”

Clopin pinched some powder from his pocket and tossed it down, As the Grace chocked the gypsies scattered to safety. Before she knew it, Esmeralda and her family of gypsies were back in the Court of Miracles.

She looked up at Clopin, panting heavily, and struggled to catch her breath. "That was... I mean...!"

"Impossible!" says Clopin, pacing around angrily. "One of these days, I swear, I'll—”

Baal, meanwhile, sniffled as she tried to calm down from crying. Mirrapin and Dukker both hugged her, trying to calm her down. “It’s all right, Baal,” Dukker murmured softly to her.

"Why was he soooo angry?” Drina sniffled. She was also very upset about what had just happened. Who could blame her? After all, they were having fun one moment, and the next, they were about to be arrested, and a white man in black robes almost killed them!

The King of the gypsies sighed, shaking his head. "That is Judge Claude Frollo. He is the minister of 'justice,'" Clopin replied, wiggling his pointer finger and his middle finger at the word, "justice." Then he continued. "He is not a man to be trifled with, or...." The children did not need further explanation, for they already knew the answer. That man wanted to execute them.

"Well we're safe..." Drina sighed

Clopin nodded in agreement. "Yes, we are."

Esmeralda fought back tears of anger, and walked away.

"Es..." Drina called worried for her friend.

Esmeralda went into her tent, and tucked her knees under her chin. Was her life as a gypsy going to be like this forever?

Drina wrapped her arm around Esmeralda and hugged her. "It will be alright,"

Esmeralda sniffled. "Do you really think so?"

"We're together safe and sound..." she shrugged.

"For now," said Clopin from behind them. They looked over, and there he was, leaning against a pillar that held up her tent. "We are safe for now. But we are gypsies in a world where gypsies are not wanted. Today could have gone so much worse, girls."

"What would have happened?"

"He was willing to kill you," Clopin replied.

"Jeez..."

"Yes. This is the world we live in, and we must make the best of it. Rob them blind the way they would to us, and then come home safely. That is your job," he says.

"We know..."

Esmeralda looked up at Clopin. "So... that's it? We steal, we hide, we die?"

Clopin shrugged. "It's either that, or the noose." Drina placed her hand over her neck, and trembled at the thought of being hung by the noose. In her mind, she couldn’t imagine a worse fate. "Again, my children, this is the world we live in."

"We got any bread...?"

"I managed to grab some," said Mirrapen. He broke it into even pieces among the children, and handed Clopin a piece.

Clopin shook his head. "No, go on. I'm fine."

The children ate happily...it wasn't much but was all they had... As the other children ate, Drina began to sing a little tune. Smiling, Esmeralda sings along. The music soothed them to sleep. Esmeralda sighed and looks up at Drina. "You're good," she says quietly.

Drina smiled in satisfaction. She knew she was a damn good singer. Then, she yawned. "I'm tired... Are you?"

Esmeralda nodded. "Yes. Goodnight, Drina."

"Sweet dreams," Drina said, and smiled sleepily.

Esmeralda yawned, and went to bed.

Tomorrow would be a new day...

The next day, they would be at a brothel, serving food while the whores serviced the soldiers' other needs. The worked wasn't easy and sometimes if they weren't careful the men would grab at them as well. Esmeralda glared at one man, and was tempted to smack him. Still, she kept her cool, and walked away."I hate working here," Drina whispered to her when they took a small break."Me too," Esmeralda replied, serving one man some ale and stew. “But we’re almost done, so hold on.”

"At least the coin is good..." Drina sighed going back to work. Esmeralda also went back to work, attempting to avoid another smack in the rear. Drina voice flowed through the place singing of a sweet unforgetably fantasy of a happy life. Hearing Drina's voice made Esmeralda tear up a little as she worked. But the music seemed to make the time go by a little faster, and made work a little bit more bearable. Every day, she thanked God for sweet Drina and her beautiful voice. There was nothing sweeter than the angelic voice that Drina had. As for Baal, she was struggling with some of the advances that some of the men were making on her. Angrily, Esmeralda stormed up to the man, and glowered at him. "She's not interested, so back off!"

"And what’s that to me?" he asked grabbing her wrist. "You’re that dancer!”

"Let go!" Esmeralda yelled, yanking away from him. The more she tried to get away, the harder the man squeezed her wrist.

"Dance for me..." he grinned.

"Do I look like one of these other women?" Esmeralda barked. "I'm only helping out here, not--”

"Esmeralda! Dance for your customer!" barked Clopin, glaring sternly at the young gypsy girl.

Esmeralda sighed, and reluctantly nodded. Some people start playing lutes and horns, making some music, and Esmeralda reluctantly swayed her body to the music. More men came and watched with glee in their eyes. Esmeralda finished her dance, and bowed as the men applauded.

"Come on," Drina says pulling her away to a hideaway. "You alright?"

Esmeralda nodded. "Yes, I'm all right," she replied, running her fingers through her hair.

"I can't believe Clopin making you do that...I thought he was supposed to protect us," Drina whispered, not bothering to hide the disgust she was apparently feeling.

Esmeralda shook her head. "I don't care," she said, and walked away.

"Children...it’s time," Clopin called ringing his bell. They all scurried up to him. Esmeralda glared at Clopin as she approached. "We'll be eating well tonight, my little Esmeralda," he says with a small smile.

"You used me," Esmeralda sneered.

"It’s never bothered before..." he shrugged. "We all must all do our part to survive, even when it makes us uncomfortable, Esmeralda. I am sorry, but that is the reality of our situation.”

He was right. She knew he was right. But that didn’t help. She was still angry and disgusted. She shook her head, and walked away.

They went home and have for once a good hearty meal. That was one of the perks of working at the brothel every now and then. On those nights, the children would have soup and meat! Sometimes even butter with their bread! And as much as they would try to save it for days when they were not so lucky, it was difficult not to eat everything up all at once.

Over the next several weeks, they went on, performing in the street as usual, and whenever possible, steered clear from the attention of the guards. But that proved to be difficult when guards grew bored and decided to go “gypsy hunting,” just to pass the time. Today was one of those “gypsy hunting” days. Esmeralda was dancing to another one of Drina’s songs, when out of nowhere, a guard grabbed Drina by the arm, and pulled her away from the others. “Drina!” gasped Esmeralda, and quickly grabbed some rocks to throw at the guard. She missed every single time. The only thing she hit was a young woman with a basket in her arm. “Sorry!” she called to the annoyed young woman, and chased after the guard. As she ran toward Drina and the guard, Esmeralda could hear Drina’s cries of pain and fear as her free hand reached out to her. “Drina! I’m coming!”

“Esmeralda!” Clopin called out, and ran after her, the others following behind him. “Come back here! Esmeralda, wait! Esmeralda!”

But Esmeralda didn’t pay him any attention. Her main focus was to get her friend back. With her heart pounding, and her adrenaline pumping, she ran and ran as fast as she could, when someone stuck out his foot, and she tripped over it, head first right into the dirt. As much as it hurt, she couldn’t pay any attention to it right now. “Damn it!” she grunted, and stood up to chase after the guard. Behind her, she could hear Clopin and the others run after her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t! Her friend needed her. As it turned out Clopin wasn’t going to give up on Drina either. He was a fast runner, too; Esmeralda was impressed, or would have been if she had the time to be. Suddenly, a guard grabbed Esmeralda by her arm, and held her back.

“All right, that’s enough out of you, gypsy!” he growled. His grip on her arm pinched her skin as he held her back. “Stop struggling!” he ordered, and he had no choice.

Clopin stopped short, and looked from Drina to Esmeralda, as if torn. Thinking on his feet, he quickly threw a rock at the guard who had Esmeralda, hitting him square in the face. “Aaaahhh!” the guard growled in pain, releasing Esmeralda from his harsh grip. Clopin took Esmeralda by her hand, and together, they bolted toward the guard holding Drina captive. The other children distracted the other guards around the square while Esmeralda and Clopin focused on their rescue mission. But by the time they reached Drina, it was already too late. They had her in a carriage, taking her to the dungeon.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!” Esmeralda screamed, stomping her foot over and over again.

Clopin cursed quietly, and angrily shook his head. “Let’s head back to the Court of Miracles,” he suggested. “We’ll devise a plan to get her out of there.”

“How?” Esmeralda demanded desperately.

“I don’t know yet, damn it!” Clopin replied irritably.

They all went back down to the Court of Miracles. Once they were all down there, Clopin and the children sat together, trying to devise a plan to rescue their most cherished singer. “All right, listen up,” said Clopin, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. “There are dozens of guards out in the square every day, just watching us. So, we will have to be especially careful.”

“Couldn’t we just plead with them?” Baal asked.

Taavi shook his head. “No, they would only arrest us for harassment,” he answered.

“Oh, yes, because that’s all we do, or something!” griped Gillie, shaking his head.

“So, what do we do?” Mirrapen asked in desperation. “We would need an entire army, just to get passed the guards from the street, let alone the Bastille, which is a heavily guarded prison.” Mirrapen had a point. After all, they were only gypsies, and a small group of gypsies at that! They would need all the gypsies to ban together to even have a hope of rescuing Drina!

Clopin paused, as if thinking for a moment, and then ran to the center stage of the Court of Miracles. He whistled loudly, gaining the attention of the other gypsies who dwelled here. “Madames and monsieur!” he called. “Who wants to cause a little trouble with me?” he asked the crowd with a cheeky smile on his face. Most of the gypsies in his audience cheered, while only a few hesitated. Maybe Minister Frollo was right about us gypsies after all, Esmeralda thought for a moment, but shook her head, laughing it off. Right, because all gypsies think about is causing trouble, or something! Please! Still, Esmeralda was impressed with how easily Clopin could captivate an audience with just a sly, simple little smile. She watched as the leader of the gypsies continued. “There is one among us who has been captured by the guards, and she’s been taken to the Bastille. Little Drina! You all know Drina?” he asked, and the crowd gasped in disbelief. Yes, they knew Drina and her sweet singing voice. She had sung many illnesses away, or so it would seem. Whenever someone was ill or ill of heart, Drina would always sing, and for whatever reason, it felt as though she sang away all the pain and heartache of the world. Everyone loved her. So, it was indeed a shock that the guards would arrest her for no reason at all.

“We need to rescue her, or, God-willing, they will kill her,” Clopin informed the crowd solemnly. “It has been us against the world from the very beginning. Now, they are waging war against a little girl. We must save her before that happens…. Are you with me, yea or nay?”

Inspired by Clopin’s words, Esmeralda stood up, and raised her fist, letting him know that she is with him. Mirrapen did the same, followed by Taavi. Then Baal and Gillie. Then, much to Esmeralda’s surprise, people from the crowd raised their fists, letting Clopin know that they were with him, too, until everyone in the gypsy hideout had their fists raised. Alas, the gypsies were not an army. Witnessing this gave Esmeralda chills down her spine. Perhaps this was why this place was called the Court of Miracles. Because once again, a miracle occurred.

Everyone prepared for battle, as the gypsies were split into different battalions, led by Clopin. Esmeralda led her own army of gypsy children, with her closest friends as the others in charge. She stood over a map of Paris, placing tiny rocks on different parts of it, while Clopin began instructing orders to adult gypsies. “The Bastille isn’t too far from the cathedral, if we go the right way,” Mirrapen stated. “Perhaps we could build a tunnel from Notre Dame into the Bastille, and get Drina out that way. What do you think?”

Esmeralda shook her head. “It would take too long, and Drina might not have much time,” Esmeralda pointed out. “The quickest way to get in without causing suspicion would be to disguise ourselves as monks. But where could we find enough cloth to make a whole bunch of old monk robes?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I can help you with that. A monk gave me sanctuary once when I was younger, and gave me some robes,” said Taavi, and rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask. Anyway, while I distract the guards, you, Baal and Mirrapen dress up as monks with the robes that were given to me, and tell the guards it’s Confession day, and you wish to have the prisoners to join you in prayer… or something. I’m not a priest. I don’t know how they do this sort of thing. It might be a long shot, but we don’t have that many options.”

Esmeralda nodded. “Good point. All right, Mirrapen and I will take a smaller group of us into the Bastille. Baal, while Taavi and his group distracts the guards, you and Gillie will entertain and distract the townspeople, so that the guards in the square will not suspect anything. I know you can fight, but the less of us in harm’s way, the better off we’ll be.”

Baal sighed, and nodded. “All right,” she said quietly. “But-but… What if you get caught?” she asked with fear in her voice.

Esmeralda shook her head. “We can’t think like that right now. But if that were to happen, I want you, Taavi and the others to go straight back to the Court of Miracles, understood?” Again, Baal nodded. “Does everyone know what they have to do?” she asked the group, and again, everyone nodded. “Good. I will inform Clopin of the plan. Now, let’s get to work!”

At last, a plan was in place, and everyone held their positions throughout the city of Paris. Many of the gypsies were dressed as beggars, jesters and other kinds of colorful people that no one would suspect. While they were entertaining, a small group of gypsies went to the small boats leading to the Bastille from the river, Seine, dressed as humble monks. “Now, remember,” Clopin told the group, “stick to the plan at hand.” Esmeralda and the others nodded. “If we run into trouble, scatter.” Again, the group nodded obediently. Clopin turned to Esmeralda. “Esmeralda, do the children know what they have to do?” Again, Esmeralda nodded. “Good.” Smiling slyly, he placed his pointer finger to his lips, urging everyone to keep quiet. Everyone lowered their heads, wearing hoods over them to cover their faces as a guard stepped toward the boat.

“What business have you?” the guard demanded.

“We are but monks. We wish to speak to the prisoners, for it is their Confession day today,” Clopin spoke up in a posh accent that sounded strange to Esmeralda’s ears.

“Wait. Where is the priest that usually comes here?” the guard asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. Esmeralda squeezed her eyes shut, fearing that they would surely be caught. Thankfully, Clopin was quick to think.

“He took sick,” he replied. “The Plague.” He smiled as the guard backed away. “Do not worry. I am not ill; I do not have the Plague. Quite the opposite.”

The guard looked relieved. “Good. Very well. You may enter,” he said, and opened up the gate into the prison. Clopin thanked him as he and the others got off the boat.

“That was close!” whispered Esmeralda. Clopin shushed her, and led the group further into the prison. He was right. She had to focus on the task at hand. But it was hard. With every passing second they went through the prison, searching for Drina, the smell of feces and urine grew stronger as the air grew colder and colder. The further the group walked, the more Esmeralda shivered from the cold. The stone walls were covered in mold and the bones of prisoners who had passed on. This place was terrifying. Esmeralda was only grateful that Baal wasn’t with them, for she knew that Baal would be shaking in her shoes and crying…. Not that Esmeralda would blame her.

Finally, they saw Drina, who was curled in a little ball, holding a small piece of bread, crying quietly and shivering. The sight of her broke Esmeralda’s heart. She seemed so small. Drina was in her own cell, which was great for the plan, but she looked so lonely. Esmeralda blinked back tears, and looked up at Clopin, silently asking him what they should do for her. Clopin took out some prongs to pick the lock of her cell door. Soon enough, they entered the cell, and kept the door open. Drina looked up at them, blinking. “Who… who are you?” she asked quietly.

Clopin walked toward her, and sat down, taking her hands. “Drina,” he whispered, “it’s us.” Drina blinked in shock, and dropped her jaw, about to say something, but he hushed her. “There isn’t much time before the guard comes to check on us. I need you to put this on,” he said, taking out another monk robe, provided thankfully by Taavi. Drina took the robe, and quickly put it on, covering her face. They moved quickly out of the cell, and closed the door behind them.

Soon enough, the guard checked on the cell, and realized that it was now empty. “The prisoner has escaped! Get those monks!” he ordered the other guards.

“Damn!” cursed Clopin. He quickly grabbed Drina’s hand, and the group ran as fast as they could. Blood pumping to her brain, and her heart pounding seemingly out of her chest, Esmeralda picked up a rock, and hit one guard square in the eye. Lurching back, the guard screamed in pain, and waved his sword around aimlessly. Mirrapen and Clopin knocked down some other guards as the gypsies ran, ran, ran, drawing the attention of the other inmates of the prison. The rest of the guards tripped over themselves, attempting to catch Clopin and the other gypsies dressed as monks. Thankfully, with their clanking armor slowing them down a little, they couldn’t catch up to Clopin and his band of gypsies. Still, it was difficult to run without tripping over rocks or other prisoners.

At last, they made it to the boats, but one man put his foot over it, making sure that the gypsies couldn’t leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” the man demanded, smiling smugly at the gypsies.

“Think fast!” Mirrapen shouted, and stabbed the man in the foot, and threw him off of the boat.

Quickly, the band of gypsies rowed out of the Bastille onto the river Seine. Finally, they were out of the sight of other guards, but they weren’t out of trouble’s way just yet, as they had to get out of the boat to get back to the Court of Miracles. “Try to act natural,” Clopin ordered the others. In a straight line, like other monks have done, they walked, mumbling some prayer. No one seemed to notice anything odd about them. As expected, the other gypsies carried on, entertaining the people of Paris. Other gypsies distracted the guards in town by causing mischief or otherwise annoyed the guards.

At last, everyone made it back to the Court of Miracles without being seen, which was a miracle itself. Esmeralda hugged Drina tightly. “Are you all right?” she asked, but Drina burst into tears.

“It was awful!” she sobbed. “It was so cold… and I’m so hungry!” Esmeralda blinked back tears, and wrapped her shawl around Drina in attempt to keep her warm. “I swear, I’m never going back out there again. I’m never going to dance again, and I’m never going to sing out there again. Those people are horrible! I hate them! I hate them all!”

Mirrapen blinked in disbelief. “Drina! Never sing again? You don’t mean that!”

Drina looked up at him, her eyes lacking the spirit it once had. “What is there to sing about, Mirrapen? Tell me, I’m curious. Because I was just locked up for singing! I’m done! It’s over!” With that, Drina shook her head, and walked away. When she was gone, Mirrapen and Esmeralda exchanged the same worried look, both mirroring the same thoughts. Drina? Not singing? That wasn’t like her. Music was her life! What could have happened in the Bastille that she wasn’t willing to tell them? And would she ever recover from it?

Esmeralda stayed cautiously away from the guards for the next several weeks. It was close to her thirteenth birthday, but she was nowhere near in the mood to celebrate. Since Drina’s prison escape, she had been hardly in the mood to dance anymore. She found other ways to earn money for a while, mostly working at the brothel, and kept her head down as she waited on customers. She felt as if there was nothing to feel joy for anymore. She was beginning to understand how Drina felt. After all, she was right. It wasn’t worth it anymore. Music, dancing, singing? What was the goddamn point? The only time people even tolerated gypsies was during the Feast of Fools, where everyone was plastered drunk and stupid anyway. It was stupid to even try anymore.

When people asked her why she didn’t dance anymore, she just shrugged and walked away. Mirrapen and Dukker would try to get her to dance, just as they had tried to get Drina to sing, but neither girl felt the need to do either. They didn’t bother to answer why they had stopped doing what came so naturally to them. What was the point of answering the obvious?

Mirrapen looked up at Clopin, pleadingly. “Talk to them,” he whispered, and walked away.

“I will try,” Clopin replied, and tussled his hair. “Now, run along.” Clopin watched as Mirrapen went off to join his friends, and shook his head. “I just hope that they will be willing to listen.”

One day, as Esmeralda finished a busy shift at the brothel, Clopin approached her, almost cautiously. “Hello, little one,” he greeted quietly.

“Hello,” she replied quietly, cleaning off the tables that the drunkards dined on just moments ago.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Esmeralda continued cleaning, and sighed. “I can’t talk right now. I’m pretty busy,” she replied.

“Please?”

Again, Esmeralda sighed, and put down the rag she was wiping tables down with, and turned to him with one hand on her hip. “OK. What is it?” she asked.

“I am worried about you,” he said quietly. “I’m worried about you and Drina both. Since we left the Bastille, neither of you have been the same since. Neither of you hardly leave the Court of Miracles anymore. Why is that, my dear?”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been pretty busy,” Esmeralda replied.

“Don’t give me that,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance. “What are you trying to avoid?”

“Nothing. I just don’t want to entertain a whole bunch of horrible people who don’t want us to begin with!” she snapped, and went back to work. It was quiet for a few seconds. The only sound was her wiping down tables.

“No one avoids anything if they are not afraid,” Clopin said quietly.

Esmeralda threw her cloth down on the table, making a slight slapping sound. “Really? Is that why you wear a mask all the time, Clopin? Because you like people?” she snapped. “Is that why we have the Court of Miracles to begin with? Because you just love people so much?”

“Fear is no way to live,” Clopin said. “We have the Court of Miracles for protection, yes. But we go back out there every day to show those bastards that we may fall, but we come back! What would you like the people of Paris to know about you, Esmeralda? That you are a coward who hides in a shithole? Or that you are a proud gypsy who has the power within to go back out there, and show them strength? We have the Court of Miracles to avoid being arrested, Esmeralda. We do not use it to hide from the world. Because we are a proud people! When things get hard, we prevail, no matter what! This is who we are!”

Esmeralda sighed, and shook her head. “I just don’t know anymore,” she said quietly.

Clopin shook his head in disappointment. “There was a time when you did,” he replied, and rummaged through his brown bag that, until just now, Esmeralda didn’t notice that he was carrying. He took out a tambourine, decorated with pink frills and purple frocks, and handed it to her. She looked at it, and sighed. When was the last time she played this thing? “At least think about what I’ve told you, all right?” With that, he left the brothel, leaving her alone with her tambourine.

Esmeralda sat down, hunched over, and ran her fingers through the frills of her tambourine, and she had to admit that she was beginning to miss the rattled sound that the tiny bells made. It had been a while, she had to admit. She shook it a little, and smiled to herself, amused for a moment. That was fun, she thought to herself. She tapped it against her knee again, and it made that delicious rattling sound again. She smiled to herself, and tapped it again. And then again. She stood up, and raised her arms up to the sky, rattling the tambourine again. Closing her eyes, she slowly swayed her hips to her own music, and spun around, shaking the tambourine again. All by herself, in the empty brothel, she danced to the sound of the tambourine, remembering why she loved to dance in the first place. Dancing was part of who she was as a young woman and as a gypsy. Music was her life. In her head, she heard the beautiful song that Drina had sung on the Festival of Fools, and danced to it.

"Come see her dance

"This is your chance

"Don't be afraid

"Everything's okay…

"Come see the wonder--Oohhh

"Don't just stand there, and ponder.

"Come and see me

"Dancing

"Come and see me

"Dancing into the night

"Come and see me

“Come and celebrate with me!

“Come and celebrate with me!”

“Venez la voir danser

“C'est ta chance

“ N'ayez pas peur

“Tout va bien

“Tout le monde, applaudissez, tout le monde clap!

“Venez voir la merveille

“Ne reste pas là, et réfléchis.

“"Viens me voir

“"Dansant

“Viens me voir

“Danser dans la nuit

“Viens me voir

“Venez célébrer avec moi!

“Venez célébrer avec moi! ”

Esmeralda had come so far since she was a child known as Agnes, and being welcomed into the hideout known as the Court of Miracles. She had learned and seen so much. She had friends there. And even though the Bastille had changed them all, nothing would change the fact that they were bound together for life. And in that moment, with tears streaming down her cheeks as she danced, Esmeralda was finally the gypsy she was always meant to be.

La Fin

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