The Toymaker's Apprentice (35 page)

THE RAT SAT
in the corner of the tavern, his back to the broken chimney pipe that warmed the room. It was his habit every night to sit by the fire, as if drying out from the flood that drowned the ancient world. He despised water, avoided rivers and the shore. When asked, he would say death lived in the waves.

He worked for his supper, writing letters, sharing news. And sometimes, if he was in the mood, he would sing.

“Give us the one about the Piper,” an old rat called from the far side of the room, where he sat with his cronies from the docks.

Ernst Listz shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said.

A few of the rougher wharf rats jeered. The mice in the room looked at him curiously.

“Something else, then?” the barkeeper asked, knowing that songs kept his clients in their seats longer, buying rounds of ale and supper. “How about something new?”

Ernst took a breath and dropped his heavy coat to stand before them in his own gray fur, streaked prematurely white. A grizzled specimen that had seen better days. “I have a song for you. It's about a boy with six brothers, who comes to grief in a city called Nuremberg.”

The room shifted. The rats stared into their cups and the mice sighed collectively as they turned to face him. They knew this story. Many had lost family to the making of the tale.

Ernst had suffered as well. Like the rat in the ballad of Hameln, he was last to the river that Christmas Day, the river that ran beneath the city. He had walked beside the body of his King, seen him laid to rest beneath the roots of a weeping willow tree. And by the time he reached the tail end of the fleeing army, every last mouse from Boldavia had been drowned and swept away.

Ernst hung his head. Took a deep breath. Then lifted his voice, and sang.

The Ballad of Hameln Town

I travel the long way home

Although it leads nowhere

O'er track and field and stone

Through cold and bitter air

Hameln town is a long way down, a long way down

The sky grows dark and threatens me

The ground bites at my feet

The wind beats back my whiskers

With rain and snow and sleet

Still I go on

Through field and farm

To where my darlings lie

'Twas only the weight of bitter Fate

I lived while they did die

Hameln town is a long way down, a long way down

*They say that day the sun shone bright

And bellies were well filled

When the sweetest sound

Broke the hush

And beckoned down the hill

*Young lads they heard their true love call

Old mothers heard their young

And children heeded their families

Begging them to run

*And so they came

Unaware of the game

To frolic at the shore

Of the river wide and blue that sighed

Of summer green and pure

Family by family

Cousin, sister, son

They leapt in by the hundred

And drowned

Every last one

Except for me

And Woe is she

My constant companion still

For I was away from Hameln town

The day that tune played ill

And now I'm home

The rest have gone

Beneath the river black

I'm going too

Through bracken and rue

To the shore that took them back

From Hameln town.

It's a long way down. A long way down.

*Rare verses

Lament for the King of Mice

A boy with six bound brothers, in a kingdom by the sea—

No joy, no love, no sunlight is fated there for thee.

The clockmaker, Scourge of Mousedom,

He dug too far and deep,

Cracked the sky beneath Boldavia

And caused the world to weep.

The Queen of Mice, she sacrificed

To magicks dark and wild.

“Avenge my kin, my kingdom,

By giving me a child
!
”

A boy with six bound brothers, in a kingdom by the sea—

No joy, no love, no sunlight is fated there for thee.

The spell was cast, seven souls lashed

To the body of one wee babe.

Crushed 'neath the heel of a Drosselmeyer

Their mother they could not save.

“Follow me, lads,” the orphan kings howled

In a voice like the seven seas.

“The clockmaker's life is forfeit.

We'll press him to his knees
!
”

A boy with six bound brothers, in a kingdom by the sea—

No joy, no love, no sunlight is fated there for thee.

Onward to cursed Nuremberg,

Beneath the earth and above,

To the den of the Drosselmeyer,

All for a mother's love.

Hannibal, he led the charge;

Oh, how he fought and died
!

Julius, Genghis, Charlemagne,

Hard-pressed and side by side.

A boy with six bound brothers, in a kingdom by the sea—

No joy, no love, no sunlight is fated there for thee.

Roland, then Alexander fell,

Crushed by boot and blade.

Until one mouse stood alone:

Arthur, true and staid.

“Oh, Mother, we are sorely pressed;

My brothers leave me at last.

Would that I were the king you bore,

But I fear my time has passed.

“A boy with six bound brothers, in a kingdom by the sea—

No joy, no love, no sunlight is fated there for me.”

Golden sword and golden crown,

The King fell and lay still.

No longer above, but far below.

Was this his mother's will?

Where now your bright promise, Boldavia, your kings beneath one
crown?

Where lies the glory of Mousedom, seven fathoms down?

All is lost in shadow. Seven kings lie in one grave.

Unavenged, their mother and the kingdom they failed to save.

The Piper has been paid his due, the clockmaker his fee.

Who will harvest summer now, in that land beside the sea?

IN 1816,
E. T. A. Hoffmann (1776–1822) published a strange story called
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King
. In it, he spun the tale of a wooden princess, a sorcerer-like godfather, a young girl named Marie, and her beloved nutcracker prince. The story inspired Alexandre Dumas's retelling,
The Nutcracker
, which in turn inspired Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky's ballet.
The Nutcracker
ballet was first performed in Saint Petersburg, Russia, in 1892. It went on to become a holiday favorite and one of the most popular ballets of all time.

When I was a little girl, my mother took me to see the great Mikhail Baryshnikov dance the role of the Nutcracker. Alexander Minz performed the role of my beloved Christian Drosselmeyer, and Gelsey Kirkland danced the part of Clara. I can still see them on stage together—the Nutcracker transformed into a handsome prince, the beautiful young lady in her white nightgown, and the dashing, mysterious man in black.

For some reason, when Dumas wrote his version of the Nutcracker, he changed Marie's name to Clara, and the name stuck in the ballet. In fact, in the original story, Clara is the maid, which is why I have used both names here. A change in my own version is the spelling of “Drosselmeyer.” I have seen it spelled with both a “y” and with an “i”—“Drosselmeier.” I have opted to use the “y” spelling because it seems to lead to less mispronunciation.

Hoffmann never gave the Nutcracker a name. In the book, he is Christian Elias Drosselmeyer's cousin, son of the toymaker Zacharias Elias Drosselmeyer. In the ballet, he is also known as the Prince. I have named him Stefan after my high school German teacher. Can you guess where some of the other names in the book come from? (Hint: What do the “E” and the “A” stand for in E. T. A. Hoffmann?)

I loved Godpapa Drosselmeyer as a little girl. And when I discovered Hoffmann's original story (tucked between the sofa and the wall at my piano teacher's house when I was in elementary school), I knew it was only a matter of time before I would build on his story.

Hoffmann had a wild imagination. I hope I have done it justice. His original work, along with Tchaikovsky's music, and Baryshnikov's dancing, inspired this story. I hope my book, like Hoffmann's and the ballet, will also be a favorite for generations to come.

Sherri L. Smith
Los Angeles,
2015

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