I quickly climbed the stairs to the balcony, where the whole expanse of the town was visible. I saw Will on the street, with all the councilors and the Mayor behind him, all waiting expectantly. I saw Will lift the flute to his lips and begin to play. A crystalline, somewhat jagged melody poured out of his instrument, so beautiful, tears sprang to my eyes. It was indescribable, more memories and feelings than notes compiled together. My eyes widened in disbelief as I heard a faint rumble, like an oncoming storm. I saw the mayor and the councilors cry out in surprise. I followed their gazes to the north end of town, and saw a trickle, then a stream, then a torrent of rats running towards Will and his pitch black flute.
Rats popped out of doorways, and ran down chimneys. They skittered out of every house on the street. Young rats sprinting, old rats limping and tiny baby rats following, all with bright, shining eyes and quivering whiskers. Some were grey, some were brown and some were mottled black, but they all ran towards Will. They left the cheese, the bread, the ropes and the candles. They forgot all about their nests, the cats they’d chased and the dogs they’d sneered at. From every street and every corner, every building and every alleyway, every rat in Brentwood scampered down the widest road in town, running behind Will as he started to walk towards the Weiser River.
Everyone in town had heard and had rushed to the sides of the street, eyes fixated in Will as he made his way down the road with his lofty parade. Everyone gasped as Will made the short walk to the banks of the Weiser River, still playing he flute as he stopped rather abruptly. Then, row upon row of rats were pushed into the fast moving water, swept up by the current, still hungrily sucking in rats. First just a few, then dozens, thenhundreds more! Until every last rat in Brentwood was drowned.
And so that night, I knew Brentwood would feast. It would return to normal, and the people of Brentwood would go back to their quiet and tidy lives. I clattered down the steps as fast as I could and burst out into the fading daylight, fighting through the cheering, clamoring crowds as I looked for the distinctive flash of Will’s fiery cloak. Nut I couldn’t find him. Not here, not anywhere.
The celebrations continued until the people of Brentwood were all tired and they all departed for home. Town Hall became quiet, as it was just the councilors and the mayor left. My mother and I sat at our designated table in the corner, quietly finishing up our dinner in the shadow of our leaders. We listened to their conversation absentmindedly until my ears pricked up at a very interesting part of the conversation.
“…treasury is full and we got rid of the rats! We’ll be treated as heroes!” Mayor Wulf crowed.
“We’ll be re-elected year after year!” Steneken crowed.
“Yes, yes… Susan? Bring more wine-” councilor Roth quipped, not even glancing at my mother as she got up and put another bottle of wine on the table. He filled his glass and was about to pour more when the doors opened, for the second time that night, with a bang.
My head turned. “Will?” I whispered. There he stood, as bold as anything, the fluorescent lights making the gold in his hair stand out. “I’ve come for my payment.” He said quietly, his voice carrying throughout the cavernous hall. “1000£, as promised.”
Mayor Wulf sneered. “Why should we pay you? There’s not a rat left in Brentwood-except maybe you.” The councilors jeered and laughed boisterously.
“You promised me. You said you would pay anything if I got rid of your rats.” Will said calmly.
“Anyone could play a flute, anyone could do it! We’re not paying a penny.” Wulf snorted.
“You offered me anything. You offered me 5000£! I got rid of your rats, and now it is your turn to pay. Fair is fair.” Will said.
“Fine. We’ll pay you… 50£. That’s more than enough. Take it or leave it.” The mayor said.
“That’s right. 50£ is a fair price.” Herman said.
“Fair? I’d call it generous!” Steneken cried.
The other councilors nodded, murmuring their assent.
“Yes, 50£, take it or leave it.” Mayor Wulf said.
Will stared into each one of the councilor’s eyes, and turned to face the mayor. “I must be fair. I’ll give you until dawn to pay your fee. Just leave the money in the loose brick in the south wall of the church.” He then spun on his heel, and strode out of the hall, cloak billowing, leaving us all in a stunned silence.
