Quasimodo's Childhood - Part 1

"Care for the child, and raise it as your own."

That was what the Archdeacon had said to Frollo after he pushed the Gyspy woman down the steps of Notre Dame, causing her to break her neck.

Frollo did not know how to care for a baby. He asked some of the soldiers in town to observe their wives and how they cared for their children. If they asked him why he wanted to know, he told them he had adopted a child who would grow up to ring the bells of Notre Dame, but he would never be allowed outside or have any other human company but himself, so as to not be corrupted. He did not tell them anything about the tiny monster, how he obtained it, or what it looked like. Soon enough Frollo taught himself how to change and wash diapers, clean the baby, and sang hymns and prayers to it to make it sleep. Aside from basic care to keep it alive and content, he showed no tenderness towards the baby. He was temporarily living in the bell tower with the little monster to care for it until it was able to walk and talk, which he knew would take two to three years. When it was strong enough he'd teach it to ring the bells.

The only reason he did not drown this baby was because the Archdeacon had told him that raising it was the only way to atone for killing its mother and save his soul from the judgment of Mary, the Holy Virgin Mother, and the subsequent fire of eternity.

After thinking carefully for several days, he decided on a name. Quasimodo. It meant "half formed" or "almost a person." It fit this misshapen child.

The Archdeacon did not say he had to love the baby, so Frollo refused to do so. No matter how sweet Quasimodo looked as he slept, no matter how peaceful the tower felt when Frollo was able to make him stop crying, no matter how many times the child would grab at his long fingers and give him a toothless grin, he would not let its innocent mannerisms soften his heart. The child was a monster and would always be a monster.

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"Fa!" the child would cry when he saw Frollo enter his room, and would run to wrap his arms around the man's knees.

Quasimodo was three years old and getting better with his speech, but still insisted on calling Frollo Fa, Fatha, Da, Papa, or any other childish equivalent of Father. Once he had said "Mastah," but decided he didn't like it and refused to use it most of the time.

"Good morning, Quasimodo," Frollo greeted him loftily, raising his basket a little so the child would not his head on it as he hugged his legs.

"Guh morneen, Fa!" Quasimodo looked up at him and grinned, showing his pearly little crooked white teeth, dimples appearing in his cheeks and somehow making his hideous face somewhat endearing.

Frollo reached down and gently pushed the boy away so he could walk to the table, set his basket down, and fetch their plates and cups, a tall dark purple chalice for him and a small wooden goblet for the child, from the shelf and place them on the table where they ate.

"Time for breakfast, Quasimodo," he said coolly, uncovering his basket and taking out a flask of water and a bottle of wine. He poured wine into his own cup and water into Quasimodo's, adding a little bit of wine to flavor it and help keep the boy healthy. "Here is a boiled egg and a croissant and half an apple for you."

"Tank you, Da!" the boy squealed as he picked up his egg and took a big bite.

They ate in silence, until Frollo decided to work on his speech with him.

"Can you say your name? Quasimodo?"

"Qua...si. Quasi!"

"What comes next? Modo?"

"Modo... Quas-i. Mo-doe."

"Good. Now say it together. Quasimodo."

"Quasimodo," the child repeated slowly.

"Very good. Now, what are those?" Frollo pointed upward.

"Bells!"

"What is that?" Frollo pointed down.

"Frwoor!"

"Say your l, boy. L."

"Ell-uh."

"Floor." Frollo put emphasis on the L.

"Fuh-lore."

"Try again, Quasimodo."

"Flooooooor."

"Good. Now, who am I?"

"Papa!" Quasimodo exclaimed with a smile and clapping his hands.

"I am your master, Quasimodo. Say 'master.'"

"Ma... mas..."

"Master."

"Mas... tah. Mas-tah!"

"It will get better in time. Now, I must leave." And he stood up, cleaned from their breakfast, and turned to go. He was halfway down to the church when he heard pattering footsteps behind him.

"Quasimodo, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Go wif you!" the small monster said, holding his chubby little arms out to Frollo.

"No, Quasimodo." Frollo turned, placed his hand on the child's developing hunch, and guided him back into the tower. "You are to stay in here."

He led Quasimodo back to the table and sat him down. "Stay here, Quasimodo." At the child's sad look, he added, "I will return soon. Wait here." The boy still looked unhappy but he did not try to follow when his master left.