With sightless, hungry eyes, they again began to eat.
Nocturne
The black skies contained no moon this night, and apparently the stars had fled as well. Richemulot was blanketed in the darkness of midnight, except for the candlelight the citizenry provided themselves. But since most of the good citizens had retired for the night, even the candlelight was feeble, and it could be spotted only here and there throughout the town of St. Ronges.
No candle burned in the home of Klaus Nellak. He had retired hours earlier; after all, his duties as burgomeister of St. Ronges required much devotion and even more energy. His day had begun at sunrise, and he had worked hard and long until well past the dinner hour. He had debated with members of the town council, made judgments on several important civic matters, dealt severely with a couple of chronic troublemakers, and, most importantly — at least to him — raised his salary for the next year. The two bottles of wine he had consumed at dinner might have had some small effect on his retiring early, too.
He slept soundly, but some slight vibration, some minor deviation from the normal calm of his room, caused him to open his eyes for a moment, and he stared into the almost complete darkness. He felt a weight upon his chest, as if someone were pressing a hand against his heart. Bah! he thought: perhaps the physicians were correct after all. Perhaps I should not drink so much. Perhaps the wine — and the tremendous stress of his civic duties — were taking their toll on his heart. Perhaps. .
The weight shifted on his chest. Had he not been half asleep at this moment, he would have sworn that the weight walked from one side of his chest to the other! He put his hand on his chest, expecting to feel his heart beating, but instead felt. . fur, and then a stinging pain in his thumb. Something bit him! He cried out, and his cry was answered with a throaty squeak. Then the weight leapt from his chest.
The burgomeister sat upright, lit a candle, and surveyed the room. In the far corner, two illuminated eyes gazed defiantly at him. His own eyes adjusted to the light, and he realized the source of the weight, the stinging pain, and the squeak: it was a rather large, mangy rat. The creature squeaked again and dashed out of the room.
'Hell's Bells!' Klaus Nellak exclaimed loudly. 'Those damnable creatures! Now they've invaded my home! I'll put a stop to this. . 'He yawned, closed his door and window, blew out the candle, and got back into bed. He pulled the blanket up around his neck and continued his thought: '. . tomorrow.'
The next morning, the St. Ronges town council was called in for an emergency meeting. The members muttered to each other, wondering what the source of the emergency could be.
'Perhaps His Lordship, the noble Claude Renier, has asked for an accounting of the town's funds,' suggested one member. 'God help the burgomeister if Richemulot determines the amount spent on his food and spirits!'
The rest of the council laughed, until a door opened and the burgomeister took his seat.
'And what is the source of this merriment, gentlemen? Klaus asked, reproach in his tone of voice. 'There is little to be jolly about.'
'And why is that?' asked the councilman who had caused the laughter.
'Vermin!' said Klaus.
Another councilman frowned. 'Good sir, there is no need to refer to us in that manner!'
'No, no,' Klaus corrected. 'Vermin, gentlemen! Specifically, rats. They are everywhere. They have overrun this town. One of those diseased, hideous rodents bit me on the hand in my own bed last evening. 'To confirm his statement, the burgomeister held up his bandaged thumb.
A councilman nodded in agreement and said,' You are correct, sir. I have heard the beasts in my own abode. I haven't had the courage to visit my own wine cellar in weeks. I believe there are scores of them hidden down there.'
'But there have always been rats in St. Ronges,' stated another civic leader. 'Rats exist everywhere. They are impossible to control, impossible to eradicate. We might as well hope to do something about insects.'
Klaus weighed the councilman's words, cupped his chin in his hand, and muttered,' Perhaps.'
Loud words from the rear of the chamber answered him: 'Perhaps not.'
The entire council turned to see the man who uttered these words. He was tall and handsome, resplendently dressed, and exceedingly arrogant in demeanor.
'Who the devil are you?' the burgomeister demanded.
'I, good sirs,' the man answered,' am simply a wandering tradesman. My trade is the extermination of pests. It is the trade my family is renowned for. I am a piper of Hamelyn. 'In his hand was a crude wooden flute.
The rat sat on her lap and squeaked continuously. Jacqueline Renier found the rodent's tale so amusing she bellowed with laughter. The rat, too, squealed with delight. When she was able to compose herself, she said,' That was a very amusing story, my friend. I hope your bite causes the burgomeister's thumb to swell as large as his opinion of himself.'
The rat leapt from her lap, ran around in a small circle, and squealed once more.
Jacqueline pondered for a moment, then said,' Yes, I think I will go to town, but not with you, my little friend. I shall remain in my present form. My grandfather will arrive in St. Ronges within the hour. He plans a surprise visit to that odious burgomeister and his council of cretins. I want to hear all about it from him.'
The beautiful young woman stood up and smoothed the wrinkles that had formed in her gown. Then she headed for the city square. 'Go, my friend, go dine on more of the burgomeister's menu of cheeses. . unless you prefer his appendages, that is!'
The rat bolted into a sewer as she headed off, amused at her own wicked sense of humor.
'Permit me to understand you correctly,' Klaus said. 'You are stating that you are the famed Piper of Hamelyn?'
The council members snickered, and one said,' And I am Lloth, Queen of the Spiders. 'The comment drew laughter from his colleagues.
'No, sir,' the piper corrected. 'You are merely a presumptuous boor.'
Flustered, the insulted councilman turned to Klaus. 'We must throw the scoundrel out, sir. How dare this rogue insult a member of the council!'
'Oh, settle down, Werner!' the burgomeister said in response. Then he turned to the piper. 'Speak. Do you claim to be the Piper of Hamelyn?'
The man smiled. 'I claim to be — and in fact I am — a piper of Hamelyn, blessed with the same abilities as my brethren. Like them, I possess the knowledge of magical airs and hypnotic ditties, which I am wondrously able to perform on this instrument.'
Interested, Klaus asked. 'So there are many pipers about? '
'Only a very few with the talent of enchantment.'
'And how is it that you arrive here in St. Ronges at this particular time, when we are indeed in need of an expert exterminator of filthy rodents?'
The piper stepped toward the council. 'Perhaps we should attribute it to a fortunate turn of the Wheel of Fortune, good sirs. For you and for me.'
The burgomeister and the councilmen whispered among themselves while the piper relaxed and gazed around the council chamber, noticing the marvelous carpentry of the furniture, the beautifully detailed if garish design of the stained glass windows, and the finely crafted goblets the men were drinking from.
But the piper grew impatient with the men. 'Sirs, if you do not wish my services, you merely have to inform me of that fact. There are, I am quite certain, many burgs not very far away that would gladly welcome me.' He let his pipe slip into a small leather compartment on his belt. 'But it is a shame. I assure you I could have rid you of every single rat within a ten-mile radius of this town square. My talent is infallible, my musical charms quite overwhelming.'
'You are a braggart, young man,' Klaus retorted. He turned briefly to the council members, then faced the
