“How was your night?” He asked, his voice as maddeningly deadpan as ever. “We have many things to discuss, you and I, and as much time as nessecary to talk about them,”
“You can admit to the crime of witchcraft and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior, or you can deny the charges and be tried to the full extent of the law,” Frollo explained. “I don’t wish to see you burn, Pheobus- please, come to the light,”
“At the moment, I am in the light, and you are in the dark,” Pheobus pointed out blearily. Frollo chuckled.
“Indeed. Let’s change that,”
He strolled away, leaving Pheobus trapped under the thrumming of water. Slowly, the gloom around him lifted as Frollo moved about the dungeon, lighting the torches surrounding them.
“Get me out from under this leak!” Pheobus shouted at Frollo.
“Hush, my child,” Frollo said. “The Lord will move you if your soul is pure,”
“Judge Frollo, you know I am a Christian man-“
“Do I?” Frollo asked. “Perhaps I have, and our idea of Christian behavior radically differs- consorting with thieves, trespassing on holy ground, and tampering in the dark arts- is that what one calls Christian on a battlefield”
“I have not tampered with anything,” Pheobus said.
“Say what you will. We are not here to ask for your confirmation of the facts; they simply are. I notice there is only one charge on your list which you defend yourself from. Is that the one that still awakens you at night? Is this the one which makes you curse your own foolish mistakes? Is this what weighs heaviest on your mind?”
“It isn’t true,” Pheobus roared, his skull throbbing and cold. “Take me out from under the faucet!”
The door to the dungeon opened, soundless on it’s well-oiled hinges, and Clopin was dropped onto the stone floor. He lay, shuddering, his hands chained behind his back.
“Ah! My dear M’sieur Trouillefou, how kind of you to join us- or shall I call you Your Majesty?” Frollo asked.
Through the blearing of his eyes, Pheobus could see that Clopin had been whipped. His back was a mass of welts and blood. Frollo took him by the hair and pulled him upright.
“Unconscious!” Frollo noted. “They must have beat him harder than they meant to. I see he has bitten through his lip- he must have tried to keep himself from screaming,”
Frollo moved Pheobus from under the faucet, and lay Clopin there, instead. Again, he walked away from them, and as Pheobus’ vision began to clear, color came back to Clopin’s cheeks; slowly his eyes opened. His expression set, his eyes darted around the chamber to find something to settle on. At last, they found Pheobus.
Nothing in his face gave a hint to his thoughts.
“Good evening, M’sieur Trouillefou,” Frollo greeted. “How have you found your accommodations in the Palace of Justice?”
“I expect to see the landlady Liberty in the morning,” Clopin said. “We two must have a word,”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible- her sister, Justice, is expecting to see you,” Frollo said. He walked back into Pheobus’ field of vision with a collar, bearing two forks pointed out. He gestured to Clopin as a lecturer would direct attention to the board in class.
“You can admit to the crime of witchcraft and accept the Lord Jesus Christ as your Savior, or you can deny the charges and be tried to the full extent of the law,” Frollo explained. “I don’t wish to see you burn, Pheobus- please, come to the light,”
“At the moment, I am in the light, and you are in the dark,” Pheobus pointed out blearily. Frollo chuckled.
“Indeed. Let’s change that,”
He strolled away, leaving Pheobus trapped under the thrumming of water. Slowly, the gloom around him lifted as Frollo moved about the dungeon, lighting the torches surrounding them.
“Get me out from under this leak!” Pheobus shouted at Frollo.
“Hush, my child,” Frollo said. “The Lord will move you if your soul is pure,”
“Judge Frollo, you know I am a Christian man-“
“Do I?” Frollo asked. “Perhaps I have, and our idea of Christian behavior radically differs- consorting with thieves, trespassing on holy ground, and tampering in the dark arts- is that what one calls Christian on a battlefield”
“I have not tampered with anything,” Pheobus said.
“Say what you will. We are not here to ask for your confirmation of the facts; they simply are. I notice there is only one charge on your list which you defend yourself from. Is that the one that still awakens you at night? Is this the one which makes you curse your own foolish mistakes? Is this what weighs heaviest on your mind?”
“It isn’t true,” Pheobus roared, his skull throbbing and cold. “Take me out from under the faucet!”
The door to the dungeon opened, soundless on it’s well-oiled hinges, and Clopin was dropped onto the stone floor. He lay, shuddering, his hands chained behind his back.
“Ah! My dear M’sieur Trouillefou, how kind of you to join us- or shall I call you Your Majesty?” Frollo asked.
Through the blearing of his eyes, Pheobus could see that Clopin had been whipped. His back was a mass of welts and blood. Frollo took him by the hair and pulled him upright.
“Unconscious!” Frollo noted. “They must have beat him harder than they meant to. I see he has bitten through his lip- he must have tried to keep himself from screaming,”
Frollo moved Pheobus from under the faucet, and lay Clopin there, instead. Again, he walked away from them, and as Pheobus’ vision began to clear, color came back to Clopin’s cheeks; slowly his eyes opened. His expression set, his eyes darted around the chamber to find something to settle on. At last, they found Pheobus.
Nothing in his face gave a hint to his thoughts.
“Good evening, M’sieur Trouillefou,” Frollo greeted. “How have you found your accommodations in the Palace of Justice?”
“I expect to see the landlady Liberty in the morning,” Clopin said. “We two must have a word,”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible- her sister, Justice, is expecting to see you,” Frollo said. He walked back into Pheobus’ field of vision with a collar, bearing two forks pointed out. He gestured to Clopin as a lecturer would direct attention to the board in class.
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