Pay the Piper

By Beka Gremikova

So many rats.

Mayor Osveld sidestepped a chittering swarm as he hurried down the cobbled streets of Hamelin. Children flocked, picking up the creatures and tossing them back into the gutters or at each other, laughing. Children and rats. The two main commodities of this stinking town.

He turned into a doorway and sprinted up a flight of steps, wishing he could truly escape the gnawing plague.

In the back room above the healer’s shop, his hero waited.

Osveld ducked through the doorway and stopped, gasping, hands on his knees.

A short, slim man sat on the threadbare chair before him, hands folded together neatly. Across his lap lay a reed-thin flute, as beautiful and shiny as a silver coin. At Osveld’s questioning gaze, he picked it up, a cruel smile curving his lips. “It attracts rats. Both real and metaphorical.”

“So you can help us, then.” Osveld nearly slumped to the floor in relief. “Hamelin’s been suffering from rats for so long…” He spotted one under the visitor’s chair and bit back the urge to curse. What sort of reputation would this town have—would he have, as its mayor—if this lasted much longer?

The man’s lips pursed. “Indeed.” He stood, balancing the flute across his hands, studying it. Then he looked up, spearing Osveld with dark blue eyes. “And what will you give in payment?” His gaze flicked to the money belt at Osveld’s waist.

Osveld tightened the ever-loosening straps that secured the bag of coins to his belt and gritted his teeth. His wife would insist he pay the piper his due. But Olga didn’t understand that they needed every spare coin for the city’s many repairs.

Without money, establishing Hamelin’s former glory would take far too long—beyond Osveld’s lifetime.

Thankfully Osveld was familiar with this man’s history, and he knew he could get what he wanted at a different price. He coughed. “I’ve heard you don’t always barter in coin, Piper.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. Then he laughed, high and shrieking like a donkey’s bray. Osveld winced. It felt like thousands of rats scurried across his skin. “So that’s why you called for me.” The man twirled the flute between his fingers, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want my services?”

Osveld adjusted his crooked collar and straightened his shoulders. “I’m doing what’s best for this city.” He crossed his arms.

“Even if that means giving up your own children?”

Osveld thought of the dirty throngs he’d pushed through. Snivelling children, gnawing rats. In the past few years, they’d all started to look the same. All of them chewing, crying, tearing his city apart.

He shuddered. He wouldn’t think of his own children playing hop-over-the-stick with their friends. He wouldn’t picture their golden braids or chubby cheeks or shining eyes. He blocked them from his mind. The future of Hamelin was his aim, and they needed to rid the town of the rats, at any cost.

Before they all perished from disease.

“I can always have another child,” Osveld said, shrugging. What couldn’t be easily regained were riches and power. Children hadn’t gotten him the mayor’s seat, hadn’t brought Hamelin its prosperity. Hard work and sacrifice, that’s what got the job done.

He’d given so much already—Hamelin’s citizens must do the same.

“Quite cold, aren’t you?” the Piper asked.

“You must meet plenty of men like me in your line of work. Wasn’t there a king who threatened to kill a girl if she didn’t spin straw into gold?” Osveld leaned against the wall. “I’m not the worst.”

“And that’s good enough for you? To simply not be the worst?”

Osveld rolled his eyes. “It’s all relative nowadays, isn’t it?”

The man stared at him, and then he shook his head, smiling. “Said like a true politician.” He straightened. “Very well, Master Osveld.” He offered him the flute with a tiny bow. “Would you do the honors of beginning the tune?”

This sign of respect from the magician tickled Osveld. He adjusted his collar, resisting the desire to bow. “I’d be delighted.” He plucked the instrument from the man’s hands and brought it to his lips.

At the first note, an icy sensation swept through his body, and he stiffened. Eyes widening, he tried to pry his mouth from the flute but couldn’t. Magic tightened around him, and the music surged on, driving him from the room, down the stairs, out into the street.

Rats fell in beside him, chittering, chewing on his heels, seemingly driven by that same musical magic. Children stopped their games to stare at the man and rats staggering through the city toward the river.

The music pushed him, stumbling, down the bank. The rushing river reached for him. For the rats. For all of them. Swing around! he screamed inwardly at his legs, but the song tightened its hold, plunging him forward.

The loops on his coin purse loosened, and it fell to the grassy bank, spilling open.

Buttons scattered across the weeds.

Buttons? Where were his precious coins?

The river snagged his ankles, yanking him farther into its depths. He screamed, and his cries mingled with the squealing shrieks of the rats.

Before long, only the rushing gush of water could be heard.

The Piper returned to the city square, where Hamelin’s citizens thronged around him. As he passed, they reached out to clasp his shoulders and clap his back. Two young children with bright golden hair watched him with shining eyes, fingers in their mouths. The woman beside them touched their heads and stepped forward to place a bag of coins in the Piper’s hand.

She met his gaze, cradling her rounded stomach. “I knew Osveld would try to cheat us,” she whispered, lips trembling. “I couldn’t let him give you our children.” She wiped at her eyes, and her little ones wrapped their arms around her legs. “Thank you for getting rid of all the rats of Hamelin.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova writes and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. Her passions include travelling, folklore and myth, and geeking out over The Legend of Zelda. Her work is featured in Havok’s Bingeworthy and Sensational anthologies as well as other collections. In 2020, she also received Havok’s “Most Prolific Author” Award. When she’s not watching anime or Youtube snake-hatching videos, she can be found curled up in a corner with a mystery novel.

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