Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [79]
“I have no intention of suing you!” Max said.
“As unfortunate as this situation is, I think that’s the wisest choice.”
“I intend to destroy you!”
“Now see here! There’s no cause for that sort of talk! We’re all civilized gentlemen and —”
“Wrap this up, Mister Mayor,” Diederick finally interrupted. “I have other appointments waiting.” And when Max turned his evil glare towards him, he said, “And you’d better watch what you say. Threats against public officials are a crime against the Empire, even those directed against useless ones like our dear mayor. And see that you don’t darken my door again. This trick you did ridding our town of rats was sweet enough, and you should be commended for it. But I don’t see that it has any military applications. So, in short, we’ve no further business with each other.”
Max was silent for a long time. Then he said in a low voice, almost imperceptible, even in a room as quiet as this, “You too, Baron So and So. You don’t escape blame in this mattet. After tonight you’ll both regret the despicable way in which you treated me today, for I realize now that it’s high time to enact the witch’s vengeance after all.”
“Get out now, or I’ll call my guards!” Diederick fairly screamed.
“Call whomever you wish,” Max said. “It makes no difference to me.” But he left all the same.
Wenzel was surprised to see the usually bold Baron Diederick do nothing but tremble behind his desk for some time — whether from fright or rage was beyond his powers to discern. Something in that odd boy’s eyes though, he thought. There was definitely something troubling there.
THAT NIGHT, LOW, SORROWFUL MUSIC played again in Hamelin, filling the enraptured air. But this time no rats responded to it. This time it was the town’s children who were affected. Before the third note sounded, a child stepped out of his mother’s house, into the street. Then another. And another.
There was a rustling throughout the city as first one door and then another creaked open. There was the slithering sound of leather slippers sliding over the hard surface of the streets, and also the sharp “tock” of wooden shoes against the cobblestones. Tallow-haired boys and rosy cheeked girls walked serenely, or scampered excitedly, or even skipped merrily. The smaller ones ran to keep up with the larger ones.
Till Eulenspiegel rose up from under his pushcart and joined the throng. Once more out and about on his nightly rounds, the young thief named Cort hopped down from a rooftop and skipped along with the others. And by extra special invitation, woven into the drifting notes of the piper’s tune, the children of the three former knights of the road stepped out to join the eerie parade. Here were Beatta and little Ulrich, who were the Baron Diederick’s children. And there walked Thorben, the proud falcon knight’s only son and heir. In little enough time they were joined by Alban, Erich, Frauke and Gretchen, the gryphon knight’s two sons and twin daughters. Finally, darling little Erna, the old mayor’s only granddaughter, took her place in the ever-growing procession.
The same magic that compelled the children kept everyone else frozen asleep in their beds, undreaming and unaware of the evil deed that was occurring just outside of their doors and hearths.
In all, one hundred and thirty boys and girls followed the piper out of town. They were never seen again, unto the end of days.
“LEAVE TWO OF THE YOUNGEST here with me,” the Black Forest Witch told Max. “I need to put them under my knife, to keep my powers strong through the coming year. The rest are yours to do with as you will.” Max had marched the children out of the city and down mile upon mile of winding forest roads, until they’d arrived here at the witch’s cottage in the deep woods. The sun had risen high in the sky by the time they’d come this far. Max had played the entire time, leading the company of doomed children ever onwards.
“I intend to take them far away,” Max said, “to lands beyond the fields that we know. I have old debts to pay among the principalities