Lordly Little Town

“Seize those ruffians!” The bulging skin under the Mayor’s chin flopped unceremoniously, pointing toward three boys who fled the scene.  

Lordly Little Town heard him, dashed out, made a fuss. Bang. Shut. Run. Chickens squawked their discontent within market stalls as groups of feet pounded the cobbled pavement past them. The sounds echoed from the Cathedral down to the old Bürgermeister’s Haus where the Mayor and his Council held court.

The town was soon engulfed in its citizens. They flooded out of their houses, packed tightly as they were, and opened out into the central town square where shops lined the periphery—their timber-lined, white-washed facades hidden under outstretched rooftops—all in neat and tidy order.

Every house, lane, and storefront was in place and kept that way too. The citizens also kept to their own ways as well within their surrounding city walls. But some places they avoided.

The most infamous of these landmarks, a shadowy passageway, lay adjacent to the central square. A sign swung overhead in the lane, written in archaic Deutsche Sprache, revealed an abandoned namesake, one that was talked about in hushed tones. They knew of the link connecting it to the nearby Cathedral with its painted scene on stained-glass hovering over all. The ancestral story came to life when the clock struck noon and the sun-drenched through this crimson window.

They saw and knew the dark figure in relief. A strange man toting an ancient woodwind instrument, dressed in his many-colored robes, striding through a facsimile of their town. A silent tune was played with a train of animals in his wake. The townsfolk streamed past this scene as they rushed madly to the call of the Mayor, chasing after the wakes just within reach.

The three youths looked back for a second, only to bump into the town butcher, Metzer by name.

“Just hold on there, youse three,” and Metzer caught them in one tight fist. “Where do you thinks youse a-going? Do you expects to be doing this again and not gets caught?” Metzer was an honest man, more brawn than brains, but he had a good soul.

“I likes youse three, but youse are getting in too much trouble. Especially’s you Hamlin, what being the Mayor’s son and all.”

Hamlin, the largest and roundest of the three boys yet to become men, blurted out first. “Honestly, we didn’t do nothing, sir. No harm from us Mr. Metzer, we…”

“Only didn’t finish our chores in time, that’s all,” continued Johann, the smallest boy.

“Ja, we were about to finish, but we kinda forgot, laid around a bit you know.” This came from Richardt, who did most of the talking for the three, a seasoned veteran to these kinds of predicaments. “It’s summer, and we should be out playing or swimming in the nearby lake, not staying at home and cleaning the floors.”

“Or dusting off old antiques in my parent’s basement,” said Johann.

“Or feeding the Council members’ pets,” complained Hamlin.

“Ja, or scrubbing my father’s dental office with an old icky toothbrush!” this from Richardt again. “We have to do all of the work around here and…”

“Enough!” Mr. Metzer interrupted the three bemoaning their fates. “This’n be the law, and as a cit’zen of Lordly Little Town, named after our fine Lairds, youse three all knows that every child needs to do his or her part to keep this schöne town of our’n clean like the back of me hand.” And Mr. Metzer showed his blood-stained hand, only to clean it off on his apron as soon as he saw this.

“There you are, Halt!” the Mayor shouted, with the rest of the town collapsing behind him.

“Oh shit!” Hamlin muttered under his breath.

“Hamlin, I have told you before to stay away from those two. They are nothing but trouble. Yet you still waste your time with them?”   

“Es tut mir leid, Vater” Hamlin stuttered, “I was only playing with my friends…”

“Deine Frienden?” the Mayor sneered, “These two Junglings are your friends?”

“Ja, Papa.”

“The son of a dentist and the spawn of the garbage collector are no friends for you, my son. Why, they hardly do a day’s share of work before they lay about like slugs in the noonday sun.”

“Hey, we work hard too!” Richardt spouted. “We’re not perfect like the rest of the town’s kids but we do our jobs. Maybe the Pfeifer oughta come back and kidnap us, better than staying in this Drecksloch.”

The crowd stood motionless, glaring at the outspoken youth. Even the other town’s children remained silent with the air suffocating around them.

“What did you just say?” the Mayor began.

“You heard me.  If the Pfeifer did come back, he would make life better for us. But what if he hadn’t come? What if he hadn’t taken away our ancestors’ kids in like the Middle Ages or something? I always thought it was a dumb nursery story anyway.”

The crowd murmured, some clearly showing their objections to him. Then there were those who looked up to the sky churning it over in their minds.   

“Would we still be slaves to everyone and especially Du!” and Richardt held up a dirty fingernail at the Mayor. “I don’t see you doing half of what the town and us Kinder do. What do you have against work anyway? Something you’re holding back?”

The Mayor’s face suddenly went white but he tried his best not to show it.

“Why don’t our parents chip in more too? Instead we have to cater to them and do everything around here.” And Richardt crossed his arms.

The Mayor went quiet. Then he snickered, looking down the end of his corpulent nose. His eyes flared for a moment. Richardt saw it and shivered.

“Now listen here, dummkopf,” the Mayor stood far too close. Richardt smelled onions on his breath. “We have provided a good living for you, our dear Kinderlein,” and the town’s children perked up, “after learning our lesson from the Pfeifer and have moved on. How dare you think otherwise. We have only done our best to keep you all safe within humble Lordly Little Town, which will thrive for years to come…”

“And lead to our bloody deaths,” Richardt finished.

“I have heard enough,” said the Mayor, who grabbed Richardt tightly by the arm and dragged him away to the old Bürgermeister’s Haus and down to the dungeon below. Richardt lost his balance as he was flung into a decaying cell. The Mayor rushed back upstairs after locking the boy up behind him.

Richardt slammed against the bars, again and again, but it did no good. What have I got myself into? Maybe I am a big dummkopf, he thought. He sank down and burst into hot tears, submerged in his hate for the Mayor—and self-loathing.

The Mayor came up to find the townsfolk shouting at him in unison, demanding justice. “How could you lock up mein Kinder!” Richardt’s mother and father screamed together. “You böse person, der Teufel with you!” another shot back.

 The Mayor planted himself at the topmost steps of the Haus, looking down like a vulture.

“You think he is out of line?” he addressed the town. And everyone fell silent.

“You think he shouldn’t be punished?” There was no answer.

“Well, I’m certain that Jungling should have known better. After all, we have lived quite content lives for a long time mind you.” The Mayor started to wring his hands rhythmically. All stared intently at him, including the children. Only Johann and Hamlin, flushed with sweat, stood near the back observing everyone drinking in the Mayor’s words.

“Sure, our Kinderlein do mindless tasks, but would not our streets be running with foul-smelling water and rubbish strewn everywhere? Would our clothes not be as soft and clean as they are now?” Johann and Hamlin saw everyone shake their heads as one. “May I remind you what life was like for our ancestors when He showed up…it was a travesty for them all.” He snapped his fingers. The whole town started recollecting now, living a life they were not born into…

Their ancestors breaking their backs in the fields, tanning hides, dying cloth, working hard to feed themselves and their children. Then He, the Pfeifer, saved them, retreated again, taking away what was most precious to them, the townspeople longing after their young ones who were stolen, never to be heard from again…

Everyone shuffled forward, their mouths open and eyes glazed over. The two boys in the back looked up at him. Something was too familiar about all this.

The Mayor snapped his fingers again, and continued. “That is why we are strict with our children, why our ancestors built the walls so high. Those that came before us established the rules that we still follow today. We do good work in our town even now. And we,” the Mayor indicated himself and his mesmerized Council with a sweeping motion of his hand, “have named Lordly Little Town wisely. We plan good works for all of you, our loyal citizens.”

In answer, the Mayor was abruptly hit on the side of the head by a stone thrown.

“No, I think enough is enough.” It was little Johann who spoke.

“What?” The Mayor came to. The town did too, stirred from its dream. 

“Set Richardt free!” Hamlin rang out.  

“What?!” The Mayor was mute.

“Set Richardt free. You think you can control us like He did, Papa. You’re just as bad as him, and you know it!”

The Mayor’s eyes flared up. “You think I’m not telling you ‘the whole story’?” he said quieting his voice. His yellow-stained smile making the newly awakened town cringe.

“You’re right.” And he giggled maniacally. “Who would believe that the Bürgermeister I’m descended from made a deal with Him back then. Oh, it was a dark deal indeed. Those children, our ancestor’s Kinder” and he licked the air deliciously, “were taken willingly after the rats had left. It was all they could hope for when death and disease had ravaged the town, carried in by those filthy beasts.” The town was again allowed access to the past at the snap of the Mayor’s fingers…

Mothers running frantically around, fearful for their husbands bulbous with welts lying in carts down feces-contaminated streets, soon to leave this earth, leaving nothing but their children to cope with…

The Mayor revived them with another snap. “The Pfeifer was a godsend, their Savior! He vanquished the pests and when he didn’t get his reward, what did he do? He turned the blame on the town, cited vengeance, REVENGE! Stole away with the little ones and their parents’ pride. That’s when everything changed.” The Mayor stretched out his arms and begged the crowd come closer. Some stayed behind, hesitant.

“The townsfolk came together one night after the incident had provoked them to tears. And for the first time in their lives they felt, relieved. There we no more mouths to feed. Their children were off on their own madcap crusade led by Him. And what if they could feel this lucky for the rest of their lives?

So what did our ancestors do? Well, they brought forth new life again. Put broom, mop and bucket into the hands of their brood, had them do all the work, safe out of harm’s way. Gave us the life we deserved, free from care.” More people stirred and smelled the air around them. They were not persuaded.

 “I have upheld the traditions passed down to me since they first began centuries ago, and will strive to do so for years to come. I will not see us fall to the Devil again. Praise Lordly Little Town, long may it last!” And the Mayor fell silent, with outstretched hands raised over the crowd.

The town lay disturbed at his feet, seething. Hands tightened into fists. Arms lay crossed. A convergence took form. They acquiesced as one.

 “GET HIM!”

The town stormed up the stairs and descended upon the Mayor, all claws and nails raised against him. His screams were silenced in the cries that rang throughout the mob. In the frenzy, Johann and Hamlin acquired the keys from off of the Mayor’s belt that was ripped off his huge frame. They stole down to the dungeon and soon freed their friend.

A spark caught the wooden framework of the Bürgermeister’s Haus which erupted in bonfire flames. The children raised their voices in celebration, encircling, dancing around. The adults staggered away in frayed bunches, calling out to their children who hung sheepishly back in their wild dance.

The town’s youth ran off together, breaking windows, burning stalls, setting the animals free from their trapped encasings. The livestock mingling with the children herding them towards the ancient gateway. They attempted to lift the almost rotten lever, straining against it. Finally, with a massive heave-ho!, the chain trailed up and the drawbridge timbered down to meet the other side and the great world beyond.

The children and the animals ran out into the world leaping for joy, leaving the town to starve. The adults continued their onslaught, before hurrying away to make amends with their children, long out of sight. Red footprints trailed off in different directions never to be seen again.

The skeletal remains of the town lay everything bare. The former Mayor was crumbled in a mass of his own flesh and bone, his blood dripping over the steps to the base of the once ancestral ruling seat where smoke curled out from every window. Houses were reduced to rubble, more spacious now than they had ever been when thronged with life.

Around the central square, vegetables had been trampled underfoot, storefronts were decimated and the marketplace was in pieces. The dark, forbidden street was silent, all except for the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks of doors that lay open, unhinged. The ancient sign, split in two, swayed in the breeze, ready to meet the ground.

The sewers became restless with waterfalls trickling up, bubbling to reveal a stream of stench and filth on padded feet. Creeping on all fours, the rats spread like the fire that engulfed the surrounding buildings, flowing in from all sides, until the entire town fell to their dominion.

At the Cathedral, the blood-stained glass window of the all-too-familiar story had been smashed. The broken pieces, now flung to the cobblestones, reflected back the dismal yet once proud home of a people who should have paid the Piper those many years ago. And whose vengeance, long in coming, had finally been fulfilled.