When
they finally see him approaching in the distance, the people of the
town move to stand shoulder to shoulder across the entire width of
the road. The closer he gets, the more nervous they begin to look,
tools are moved from hand to hand, anxious glances exchanged, chatter
stilted and edgy. While he's still a reasonable distance from them,
one of their number steps forward.
“That's
near enough, piper,” the man shouts, “Just turn yourself around
and be on your way.”
“Pay
me my due,” he calls in reply, “And I will gladly begone from
this territory.”
“Pay
you for what?” a second man cries, “To take your pets away?”
“What
pets?” he asks, “What are you talking about?”
“Sending
your rats into our town,” the first man shouts, “We see your
game, and we will not pay. Begone now, there is no welcome for you
here.”
“Begone!”
a third man yells, snatching a rock from the roadside to hurl at him.
“Begone!”
Several men break from the line, echoing their neighbour as they
copy his actions, sending more rocks down the road.
