The Pied Piper

By Celeste Hall

An erotic twist on the classic fairytale…

Copyright © 2014 by Celeste
Hall

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This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It
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All sexually active characters in this book are 18
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Additional titles by
Celeste
Hall

~ Novels ~

Fealty

Lady Silence

Prison of Dreams

Simple Musings

His Pale Prisoner

Error: Please Try Again

Secret Admirer

Passionate Creatures

~ Seduction Series Books
~

Ethan

Kye

Rico

Gavin

All The Queen’s Men

~ Short stories and Anthologies
~

The Inventor’s Throne

A Touch of Irish

The Pied Piper

The Magic of Pan’s Flute

With great curving horns and the hind legs of a
goat, Pan stands above the flock, the god of shepherds and a lover
of beautiful women. His gaze falls upon Syrinx, a beautiful woman
known for her chastity.

He chases her and she runs to the river’s
edge begging for the river nymphs to help her hide.

In jealousy for her beauty, the nymphs
transform her into hollow water reeds, which played a captive
haunting tune as Pan’s heated breath blew across them. In grief for
the beauty he could never posses, Pan cut seven of the most
alluring reeds and made them into a set of pipes.

Thence forth known as the Syrinx, every note
played upon it carries the piercing sweet sadness of Pan’s eternal
longing.

The Pied Piper

“The rats are everywhere,” old man Johan
complained loudly enough for Chloe to clearly hear it from her
hiding place, behind the partially closed closet door in her
father’s private study.

As the group entered, she peeked out through
the crack and recognized nearly every affluent businessmen and town
leader of Hamelin.

“There isn’t a barn or a corn-rick, a
storeroom or a cupboard, that they haven’t eaten their way into.
There is not a cheese that they haven’t gnawed hollow, or a sugar
puncheon they haven’t cleared out.”

“Why the very mead and the beer in the
barrels are not safe from them,” Brewer Cole continued as Johan
stopped to take a breath. “They gnaw a hole near the top of the tun
and chew their way down as they drain the drink. But that is not
the worst of it. What of all the incessant squeaking and shrieking,
the hurrying and scurrying, so that you can neither hear yourself
speak nor get a wink of good honest sleep the live-long night!”

“Not to mention that mamma must needs sit up
and keep watch and ward over the baby's cradle, or there'd be a big
ugly rat running across the poor little fellow's face, and doing
who knows what mischief,” complained Farmer Tomas. “We cannot live
this way any longer, something must be done!”

“We have purchased entire armies of cats,”
Grocer Dan pointed out, “but the rats have driven them all
away.”

“We have used wagons full of poison,” old man
Johan jumped back into the protest. “So much poison that it fairly
bred a plague.”

“Rat catchers!” Brewer Cole continued, “Why
there isn't a rat catcher from John o' Groat's house to the Land's
End that hasn't tried his luck. But do what we might, cats or
poison, terrier or traps, there seem to be more rats than ever, and
every day a fresh rat is socking his tail or pricking his
whiskers.”

Chloe watched as her father patted his brow
with a handkerchief and shook his head in frustration. As mayor,
the men had come to him for some answers, but he had already
wracked his poor brain and come up empty of solutions. Yet just as
he was about to confess his helplessness in this situation, Chloe’s
mother came rushing into the room.

“Benedict,” she gasped, quite out of breath
and excited. “There is a very queer fellow here for you. I don’t
rightly know what to make of him, but he insists upon seeing you at
once."

"Show him in," gruffed the mayor, secretly
pleased at the temporary reprieve, while Chloe strained to look
upon the newcomer from her hiding place.

A queer fellow, truly, for there wasn't a
color of the rainbow that couldn’t be found in some corner of his
flowing traveler’s cloak. But he was tall and strong, with keen
piercing eyes that lingered a fraction too long as they passed over
Chloe’s hiding place. He had dark hair that was roughly cut,
hanging unkempt to shadow intelligent brows and lean, angular
cheeks. His jaw was stern, and her overall impression was that he
might be some lordly gentleman using the gaudy patchwork cloak as a
disguise to draw the eye away from his true appearance.

"I am called the Pied Piper," the mysterious
stranger began. "I have heard of your plague. So pray, what might
you be willing to pay me, if I rid you of every single rat in
Hamelin?"

Chloe felt her heart leap, for there was
something in the man’s voice that spoke of power and confidence
unlike anything the town had seen before. Her father must have
heard it too, for he didn’t jump to throw the man out for bragging.
Instead, the town council appeared to seriously consider his
offer.

Unfortunately, as much as they hated the
rats, they hated parting with their money more, and fain would they
have higgled and haggled for a week of Sundays. But the piper was
not a man to stand nonsense.

“Do not offend me by suggesting an amount
less than you have paid my predecessors. They have failed where I
shall exceed. Let us say fifty pounds and be done with it.”

From her hiding place, Chloe chewed her lip.
It was a great deal of money when the town’s coffers were already
so terribly low. But after a moment of deliberation amongst
themselves the town council agreed.

“All right then,” her father conceded rather
boisterously, “fifty pounds shall be yours when there is not a
single rat left to squeak or scurry in Hamelin.”

From the set of his fists on his hips and the
challenge in his eyes, the mayor did not think such a feat
possible, at least not anytime soon. The piper only offered a nod
of his head and stepped out into the hall, where he immediately
laid his pipe to his lips.

A shrill keen tune sounded through street and
house. And as each note pierced the air Chloe was greeted by a
strange sight, for out of every hole the rats came tumbling. There
were none too old and none too young, none too big and none too
little to crowd at the piper's heels and with eager feet and
upturned noses to patter after him as he paced the streets.

Up Silver Street he went, and down Gold
Street, and at the end of Gold Street is the harbor and the broad
Solent beyond. And as he paced along, slowly and gravely, the
townsfolk flocked to door and window, and many a blessing they
called down upon his head.

When he reached the water's edge, he stepped
into a boat, and every rat quickly followed it, splashing,
paddling, and wagging their tails with delight. On and on he played
and played until the tide went down, and each master rat sank
deeper and deeper in the slimy ooze of the harbor, until every
mother's son of them was dead and smothered.

When the tide rose again, the piper stepped
on shore, but not a single rat followed.

Chloe stood on the docks with her father and
the entire town council. They all stood in awe of what they had
just witnessed, yet as the piper stepped ashore Chloe saw her
father fidget with his coin purse in the subtle way he always did
when he felt that he was being cheated.