The Orphan of Hamelin

Chapter 1: Naomi

Naomi squeezed Barton in her arms and boldly stepped out onto the street. It was a new day, and she knew that it was this day. Today was the day she’d make a real friend. No offense to Barton.

First, though she had to work. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat, and Naomi needed to eat. She started at Baker Malcolm’s. Before she even made it in the door, though, Malcolm stopped her. “Eh-eh, little Naomi. No rats.”

Naomi pinched her eyebrows together and squeezed Barton tighter, enough that he squeaked and squirmed in protest. “Barton’s not like other rats. He’s my friend.”

“Still, no. He’ll nibble the bread, and then what have I to sell, eh?” He plucked a roll out of a basket and tossed it to her. “You still have not had a breakfast yet, no? Here.”

“Thanks.” Naomi caught it and took a big bite. She peered past Malcolm into his kitchen, where a couple of rats snuck onto the counter. “I though rats weren’t allowed in the bakery?”

Malcolm looked back, then cursed loudly and began waving a knife around. Naomi decided he’d be busy for a while, so she went to see if anyone else had jobs for her to do.

Next she visited Arnauld and Janine, the candlemakers. Then Robert the butcher and Renee the tailor. None of them had work for her, either. While she walked around town she spotted twelve different rats scurrying about. That was a lot more than normal. Maybe Barton told all his friends and family what a nice town it was here?

While she walked over to Margaret the weaver woman’s shop, she over heard Old Ethel chatting with her friend, Agatha. “There she goes again, that Naomi, with her blighted rat. Stinks up the place something awful. Hasn’t she learned there are such things as baths?”

“Now, now. It’s not her fault, is it? And it could be worse. At least she’s the good, honest sort, not some sneak thief or pickpocket.”

Naomi frowned. She lifted an arm and sniffed; she didn’t smell anything. And she took a bath just four days ago. Did she really stink?

In the end, though, she shrugged and forgot about it. Margaret, it turned out, did need some help, so Naomi helped her weave baskets in the back room. Margaret was nice enough to treat her to lunch, and Naomi thanked her before she ran out to go play with the other kids.

Or, well, that was what Naomi had hoped for. Reality wasn’t always so kind.

She found the other children quickly enough, and hoisted Barton up to get a better grip on him as she got closer. It looked like they were playing some kind of tag. “Can I play?”

As soon as the other kids saw her, they froze, and many of them scowled. Grace, a blonde girl and a very fast runner, even stuck her tongue out. “Why would we let you play?”

Johan, a large boy a couple years older than Naomi, cut in at that point. “You don’t have to be mean about it.” That said, he still raised an eyebrow at Naomi. “But are you sure? Father Monroe might get mad.”

Father Monroe was Naomi’s caretaker at the orphanage. Naomi bit her lip. “Even if I don’t, he’ll get mad about something anyway. I want to be friends.”

Another of the girls, Beth, snorted. “Who’d want to be friends with you? You spend all day hanging out with rats.” She looked Naomi up and down and added, “I bet you’re the reason we’ve had to deal with so many of them lately.”

Naomi shook her head and squeezed Barton tighter. This wasn’t going very well. All the words she’d thought up and practiced had vanished right out of her head.

Charles, the son of the town constable, chipped in. “I-I don’t think you have to worry about the rats m-much longer. Pa said they g-got someone to come and get rid of them.”

“Ha! Better keep a tight hold on your pet,” Beth said. Then she looked thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll take Naomi away, too?”

A bunch of the other kids laughed, and tears pooled in Naomi’s eyes. She stood still for a moment or two, then turned and ran, heedless of the calls one or two of the other kids made to her.

Naomi sat at the edge of the fountain, sobbing. Some time later, a man’s voice called out to her. “Why are you crying, little one?”

She spun to see who spoke to her, and found a strange man staring at her. He wore a dark green shirt with bright red pants, with all sorts of bits and baubles dangling from his belt. His boots were well-worn but cared for, and a checkered cloak in yellow and black trailed behind him. In one hand he held a beautiful silver flute.

Naomi wiped her eyes. “It’s the other kids. They’re being mean, and say the rat-catcher is going to take me and barton away. All I wanted was a friend…”

“Why, that is quite a sad tale.” The man mused for a moment. “I know what I shall do, then. Shall I play a song for you?”

“But…I don’t have anything to pay you with.”

“Fret not, dear child. This time, the only payment I require is to turn that frown into a brilliant smile. Shall I, then?”

Naomi nodded, and the piper began to play. And oh, how he played! It felt like joy itself flowed out of his pipes. The music carried the piper away and he began to dance. It took but a moment for Naomi’s tears to vanish, replaced by a great toothy smile as she clapped along.

The piper had more tricks up his sleeve, though. He began to throw out small colored flags, and flowers of every kind. Naomi couldn’t figure out how he did it, as she never saw him take his hands off the pipes.

By this point, a sizable crowd had gathered around the fountain, but the piper kept his eyes on Naomi. He danced and twirled, faster and faster, until Naomi couldn’t keep track of what was what. For half a second, she even thought she saw hooves instead of the worn boots the piper wore.

He finished with a flourish, and swept off his hat and bowed to her. “And what did you think of my performance, fair lady?”

Naomi could only applaud. “It was amazing, Mr. Piper! How did you–”

“Naomi!” Out of the crowd, a tall man in a cassock glared at the girl. The wrinkles on his face were evidence enough that he wasn’t prone to smiling.

Naomi’s smile vanished, and she shrank into her shoulders. “G-good evening, Father Monroe.”

“And what is good about it, pray tell? And what are you doing idling away here? Have I not taught you that an idle mind is the devil’s playground?”

Naomi shrank herself further, and found herself wishing she could disappear right into the earth. The priest continued, “And worse, cavorting about with this… foppish peacock!”

The piper frowned for half a moment, then flashed Father Monroe the biggest smile Naomi had ever seen as he bowed. “Goodman Pietr at your service, Father! Gleeman, piper, and ratcatcher all in one.” He rose and smirked at the priest. “I believe it was you who called for my services, was it not? A thousand coin, to rid this fine city of a rampant infestation of rats, wasn’t it?”

Father Monroe looked as if he’d just eaten something phenomenally bitter. Naomi barely noticed, however; she was to busy trying to catch her breath. This was the ratcatcher? Was he going to take Barton away? She scooped up the rat where he’d been sitting and turned away from Pietr.

After a moment, Father Monroe asked, “You are Goodman Pietr?”

“Indeed I am, good sir.”

“And you can resolve our rat problem?”

“Indeed I can, good sir.”

Father Monroe scowled, then looked over where Naomi was trying to creep away. “Very well. You can start with that one.”

Naomi shrieked and backed away, but the piper just shook his head. “Tut, tut, tut. Now, now, good priest. You do not see me trying to tell you how to preach your sermons, do you? You tend to your duties, and I shall see to mine, you have my word.”

The priest choked back a thousand scathing replies. “Every rat, Goodman Pietr. If you want full payment.”

Naomi never heard Pietr’s reply, because at that point, she broke out of the crowd and hid herself away.

Chapter 2: The Piper

It was some time later when, from the alley where she’d tucked herself away, Naomi heard a song. It was distant, at first, but seemed to be getting closer; a jaunty tune that invited the listener to jump up and join the dance. Not that Naomi felt like dancing just then.

Soon, it had gotten close enough she could recognize Pietr’s voice, and then the words he was singing:

“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,

Rout-tout, do.

In for a penny, in for a pound,

Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.

There’s many a place to rest your head,

But none here in this town.

A plate full of bread, a bowl full of cheese

Come join and eat with us, whate’er ye please…”

Naomi struggled to pin down why, but something about the song unnerved her. Barton seemed fascinated by it, however. He even squirmed out of her grasp and ran out into the street. Naomi cried out and chased after him, but froze when she saw what was happening.

Pietr danced and sang his way down the street, playing his pipes all the while. How he could sing while playing the pipes, Naomi didn’t know; none of it made sense. But that’s what was happening.

That wasn’t what had caught Naomi’s breath, though. Behind him scurried a whole horde of rats, so think it almost looked like a river of fur flowing down the street. Rats sprouted from under doors and through cracks to join the throng.

Naomi snapped to her senses and found Barton a little ways ahead, rushing to join the horde. She yelped and chased after him. She’d nearly caught up to him, at the edge of the horde, when a strong pair of arms caught her and pulled her away.

“You don’t want to get caught up in that, little Naomi,” Baker Malcolm said.

Naomi squirmed and struggled to get free, but the baker’s grip on her was too strong. “Barton! BARTON!”

But the piper and the rats paid her no heed, if indeed the piper could even hear her over his own playing and the noise of the rats. He danced on his merry way until he was out of sight, and it wasn’t long before the last of the rats soon followed.

Malcolm finally let Naomi go, and she sank to her knees, to stunned to cry as she stared vacantly down the street where the piper had disappeared.

Around her, the other villagers began cautiously opening their doors. They looked around with pale faces before they slowly filtered out into the street. All of them huddled together, like they thought they’d just seen the devil himself.

As Naomi watched them, she saw a lot of the other kids clinging to their parents or siblings. Johan. Grace. Emma and Ruth. It struck at the hole inside her heart, and she squeezed her arms around her chest, as if she were hugging Barton close.

Only, now Barton was gone, too. And he wouldn’t be coming back. Once that sank in, the tears finally came, and the sound of her cries and sobs echoed throughout the village.

Perhaps an hour later, Father Monroe had gathered any willing to an impromptu, outdoor sermon. “Rats are unclean, the very spawn of the devil himself,” he said. “And any who can command them like that must be his servants. Indeed, eve those who merely consort with them are suspect!”

He glared across the square at Naomi. Ordinarily, she might quip back or at least return his glare, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care.

One of the other villagers, Robert, chimed in. “Yeah! If he can do that, how do we know he wasn’t the one as sent the rats in the first place?”

“Precisely.” Father Monroe nodded. “And it would be the gravest of sins to support one of the devil’s servants!” The crowd roared in approval, and he continued. “Therefore, we will not pay this foppish wretch so much as a single cent! We will not condone any witchcrafts or sorceries here. Instead, we must drive him from the village! If he will not, then worst comes to worst, we may be called upon to hoist this warlock on the pyre!”

Once again, the crowd roared, stirred up in a fervor of self-righteous zeal. Some part of Naomi thought she ought to go and warn Pietr, but the bigger part of her couldn’t be bothered. Besides, he was the one who sent Barton away.