CHAPTER III
Just as Emiline finished telling her story, she looked up at Pfeifer and was shocked to find an angry face, staring at nothing in particular. She was going to ask what the matter was when he started speaking.
"They should have paid me! The mayor and the councilors had money stashed away. They were so desperate to get rid of the rats but weren't willing to pay me for doing it. I should have..."
He suddenly stopped and looked down. Emiline was not beside him. She was standing some feet away and looking at him with...fear?
"Emiline..." Pfeifer began.
"I...I just remembered," Emiline nervously said, "My mother wants me to come home before lunch. I...I have to go. Goodbye." She turned to run.
"No Emiline, wait!" Pfeifer exclaimed, reaching for her arm and preventing her from running.
"Please let me go," Emiline whimpered. "Don't hurt me."
Pfeifer tried to assure her. "I am not going to hurt you. I'm sorry for frightening you. I should have...controlled myself."
Emiline kept trying to squirm out of his grasp. "You're not...well. You need help."
She thinks I'm a lunatic, Pfeifer realized. "Emiline, I'm not crazy." He stopped for a moment before coming to a decision. "I am the Pied Piper!"
Emiline seemed to get even more frightened at his revelation. Pfeifer seemed impossibly strong and held her in an unbreakable grip.
"That's not possible. The Pied Piper is a figment of people's imagination. He's not real. And even if he was, he's long gone, more than seven centuries ago."
Pfeifer's eyes widened and he seemed to stiffen. Still, his grip was sure and Emiline couldn't escape. She thought of screaming but he might hurt her if she did. She wished she had never set eyes on him. He lost himself in his thoughts again, she saw.
"Seven hundred years...," Pfeifer mumbled, "so long ago." He spoke as if he really was the Pied Piper. She still didn't believe him but if she could get him to talk and maybe relax, he might be persuaded to let her go. Or she could escape.
Pfeifer turned back to her. He said, "Promise me you won't run. I will let you go but please don't run. I'll prove to you who I am."
Emiline nodded but resolved to run at the first opportunity. He seemed to sense that and held on to her. "Promise me...or are you just like the people of Hamelin seven centuries ago who reneged on their promise to pay me what they promised?" The look of anger came back but not as fierce as before. Emiline decided she couldn't escape him quickly enough. Besides, his statement stung. Hamelin today was not the same as it was all those centuries ago. "I promise."
He slowly relaxed his hands. Emiline stayed where she was, ready to bolt if she saw the chance. Pfeifer reached into his cloak and slowly took out a black fife with gold ends. He stayed in front of her, watching her. Still too close to run. Pfeifer pressed his lips to the instrument and began to play.
Suddenly, Emiline's fear seemed to evaporate. The music coming from his pipe seemed to fill her every being. It had a calming effect on her and seemed to reassure her. She still didn't completely trust him but she knew he would not harm her.
Pfeifer stopped playing and put a hand on her shoulder. "How do you feel?"
Emiline nodded. "I feel better." Then she frowned. "What did you just do? Did you inject me with something?" she asked remembering his fierce grip.
A puzzled look came over his face. "Inject? I don't know what that means. I merely calmed you down."
Could he really be the Pied Piper? Emiline thought it over but the notion seemed too fantastic to consider. But the effect of the music from his pipe was unmistakable. Could he give more proof?
Pfeifer moved a few feet away. Lifting his fife to his lips once again, he played another tune. Expecting another hypnotic effect, Emiline tried to resist it. She didn't have to, the music was faint and she could hardly hear it even though he was right in front of her. What is he doing?
A pigeon landing nearby startled her. It was followed by another, and another. Soon, Pfeifer was standing in the midst of about two dozen pigeons. He moved into an alley, the birds running to catch up. Awestruck, Emiline followed slowly. When she rounded the corner, she gazed in awe as hundreds of pigeons were alighting near Pfeifer's feet. He moved further into the alley until he reached a cul-de-sac. Emiline gaped at the spectacle. It seemed as if every pigeon in Hamelin was in that alley. When the music ended, there was a pause before all the birds took to the air, leaving Pfeifer standing at the center of the now empty space.
"It IS you," Emiline said.
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