The Pied Piper of Franchville

The Pied Piper of Franchville

Once upon a time, a little seaside town called Franchville had narrow streets, stone houses, a market square, and boats in its harbor. It was a lovely place, until one year a strange trouble overtook it.

Rats appeared in such numbers that they were everywhere.

They rustled in the barns, gnawed at the sacks of flour, made their way to the cheeses, ran under the benches in the shops, and at night made such a noise that it seemed as if a small gray regiment was marching on the roofs.

The townspeople set traps, brought in cats, and locked their supplies in sturdy chests. But the rats were nimble and resourceful. Whenever the people sealed one gap, the rats found another.

At last the mayor called a meeting of the town council.

“We must do something,” said the baker. “They have already learned how to open a basket of buns.”

“And yesterday I lost a whole block of cheese,” added the shopkeeper.

“That’s nothing!” sighed the town clerk. “One rat stole my quill. I think he wanted to do the accounts himself.”

Everyone laughed, but there was little cheer in it.

Just then the doors of the town hall opened and a stranger entered the hall. He was tall and thin, and his cloak was made of scraps of all the colors of the rainbow. A long wooden pipe hung from his belt.

“I hear you have a problem,” he said.

“If you know how to get rid of the rats,” replied the mayor, “Franchville will pay you handsomely.”

“How much exactly?”

The councilors looked at each other. After a brief argument, they agreed on fifty gold coins.

“So fifty,” repeated the piper. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the mayor said solemnly.

The piper went out into the square, raised his pipe to his lips, and played.

The melody was amazing. It bounced like raindrops on a roof, then rolled like a sea wave, then circled quietly over the cobblestones.

Suddenly, a rat peeped out of a cellar.

Then a second.

Then ten.

Then hundreds.

They poured out of the barns, cellars, sheds, and yards and ran after the piper. The big rats hurried ahead, the small ones scurried behind, and the piper slowed down from time to time, as if waiting for everyone to catch up.

He led them through the town, along the shore, and down an old road far beyond the hills. A few hours’ walk from Franchville lay a broad, uninhabited valley full of reeds and streams, with plenty of room for rats to live without troubling people.

The piper played his last note, and the gray army scattered among the grass.

When he returned to Franchville, the town was celebrating. The baker brought out pies, bells rang in the square, children ran through the streets, and for the first time in ages, the cats slept peacefully.

The piper came to the town hall.

“I have fulfilled my part of the bargain,” he said. “Now it is your turn.”

The mayor coughed.

“Fifty gold coins is a great deal of money.”

“But that is exactly what you promised.”

“The work wasn’t all that difficult,” put in a councilor. “You only played your pipe.”

“We’ll give you twenty,” offered the mayor. “Then we’ll call it settled.”

The piper looked at him for a long time.

“The price was known before I started work.”

“We’ve changed our minds,” said the mayor.

The piper did not answer. He went out into the square and raised his pipe again.

But this time the melody was completely different.

This tune bubbled like summer streams. Laughter hid in it, wings fluttered through it, and distant bells called to one another. Children began peering out of windows.

“What lovely music!” cried a girl near the school.

“It sounds like an invitation to a party,” said her brother.

One by one, the children came into the street and followed the piper. He led them into an old green forest outside the town, keeping away from the sea and dangerous places.

At first the adults were not worried.

“They’ll have their fun and come back,” they said.

Half an hour passed.

Then an hour.

The sun began to sink, and still the children had not returned.

Then the mayor and the councilors turned pale.

The whole town set off for the forest. The adults called out to the children, but in response they heard only the rustling of leaves.

At last, the sound of a pipe drifted through the trees.

Following the music, the townspeople reached a clearing that none of them seemed to have seen before. The children were playing happily there: weaving flower wreaths, listening to birds, and eating apples from a basket. Every child was safe, content, and unafraid.

The piper was sitting on a stump.

The mayor ran up to him.

“Bring the children back immediately!”

“They’ll come back on their own,” said the piper calmly. “I only wanted you to feel what happens when someone decides their word means nothing.”

The mayor had already opened his mouth to argue, but he saw the faces of the townspeople. No one supported him.

Then the old baker came forward.

“We really promised fifty gold pieces,” she said. “He did what we asked. Why should we invent another price now?”

“Because I don’t want to part with the money,” the mayor admitted quietly.

“Does that make a promise no longer a promise?” she asked.

The mayor lowered his head.

Soon he went back to the town hall, opened the town’s money chest, and counted out fifty gold coins himself.

Then he brought them to the piper.

“We have acted dishonestly,” he said. “Here is the full payment. And one more thing: forgive us.”

The piper accepted the purse.

“Now that’s a different tune,” he said with a smile.

He played a cheerful march, and the children set off in a group back to Franchville. On the way, they laughed and told their parents about the secret clearing.

From that day on, a small wooden sign hung above the mayor’s desk in the town hall. It read:

“Think before you make a promise. Once you make it, keep it.”

They say that afterward, agreements in Franchville were kept brief, and promises were remembered for a long time.

And no one saw the colorful piper there anymore.

Sometimes, though, a faint melody drifted from the green forest on quiet summer evenings.

Then the grown-ups smiled, and the children knew the music was reminding them that honesty sounds sweeter than any excuse.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨