A Tale Dark and Grimm (10 page)

“Where do you plan to go?” the widow asked.

Gretel thought about it. At last, she said, “On.”

 

 

 

O
nce upon a time, a duke returned home from a hunt in a magnificent wood.

In his great hall the lords and ladies of his manor awaited him. Every year the duke brought back a great bounty from his hunt, and the lords and ladies would ooh and ahh, and then be treated to a feast.

There was much excitement when the duke finally entered the hall. The lords and ladies cheered, and he bowed and waved and shook hands all around. Trumpets were sounded, and the huntsmen began to file in.

But the first huntsman carried nothing. The lords and ladies wondered at this—but the duke smiled serenely. The second huntsman carried nothing. Still the duke smiled. The third, nothing. The fourth, nothing. The lords and ladies began to wonder if this was some kind of joke. One lord even ventured to laugh, but the duke turned an eye of such withering scorn on him that the laughter immediately ceased, and the laughing lord later sold all of his belongings and moved to a neighboring kingdom.

Finally, there were two score huntsmen in the great hall, and not one of them carried a dead animal of any kind.

The duke turned to his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen!” he said—and he meant this quite literally—“I present to you the worst hunt—and the best—that I have ever had. The fewest creatures! But the rarest prize!”

In came two more huntsmen. Between them they carried a pole. Hanging from that pole was the strangest, most grotesque beast that anyone had ever laid eyes on—it looked like something halfway between a wolf and a man, a bear and a boy.

Ladies screamed. Lords cried aloud. A servant fainted dead away.

The huntsmen cut the dead creature down from its pole. Two more huntsmen approached it with gleaming knives as the duke looked on proudly. They would take off the beast's hide and head and mount both on the duke's wall.

 

 

The huntsmen dug their knives into the beast's skin just below the jaw and began to run their blades between the fur and flesh. Their hunting knives shone red as clurnps of meat and animal hair stuck to their blades. The lords and ladies watched with disgusted amusement. The duke giggled with glee. Who else would have the hide and head of such a monster?

Soon the huntsmen skinning the beast began to gape. One sprang back from the creature, muttering, “It isn't right! It isn't holy!” Another huntsman stepped in for him, but soon he fell away, too, crying that there was something “terrible unnatural” about the beast. Finally, the task was left to one huntsman alone—a grizzled old man who bared his teeth and steadily, carefully finished the skinning.

He stepped back from the carcass so that all could see it before he cut off its head. Gasps echoed through the hall.

For beneath that beastly skin was another layer of skin—human skin. And beneath that beastly form was another form—a human form. The blood-soaked form of a boy.

Carefully, the grizzled huntsman returned to take off the beastly head. He sliced into the skin—but instead of severing the neck, he gently peeled away the top layer of hide and fur. After a few minutes' work, he stepped back again.

In the middle of the floor of the castle's great hall there lay a naked, bloodstained boy.

“I will cut no more,” the huntsman said. “He's breathing.”

 

After the commotion and hubbub had died down, and a doctor had come and gone, and the duke had bragged to one and all that not only was he the only hunter to ever kill a beast-boy, but that he was also the only hunter ever to not kill one (which left more than a few people scratching their heads), the question arose of who would take the bloody, unconscious boy home. A lord and lady who had never had any children of their own soon volunteered, and the boy was moved to their manor and cared for as well as a boy can be.

When, after a few days, the boy finally woke up, he informed them that his name was Hansel.

 

Hansel was comfortable in the rich, sprawling manor, with a lord and a lady for parents. But he was not happy.

Not a moment passed when he did not wonder what had become of Gretel. He felt ashamed at how he had acted in the Wood of Life. She had been so good to him, and he had been selfish and irresponsible. It made him sick to think of it.

He could not sleep for his shame. Each restless, sweaty night, he lay awake, staring into the darkness. Then, in the morning, he would rise and wander through the manor like a ghost.

Where was Gretel? What had happened to her? He feared it was something terrible. And if so, it was all his fault. He wanted to scream. How, how could she ever forgive him? It was like a private Hell of his own thoughts, and he knew no way of escaping it.

And then, one night, as he lay in bed and tossed and turned and sweat, he thought,
I will never do anything like that ever again. I will find Gretel and make things right with her. I will be responsible. I will be good. I swear it.

And because he wanted it so, so badly, he was.

And he felt better.

 

 

 

 

Once Hansel had sworn to be good, his life was quite bearable. The lord and the lady were fine parents: They cared for Hansel and spoke kindly to him and fed him good food. They had a wonderful library, and Hansel enjoyed sitting in it, reading books about knights and damsels, dragons and giants. He knew he couldn't stay in the manor forever, for he needed to find Gretel. But until he regained his strength he was very happy to stay with these new grown-ups. There seemed to be nothing wrong with them.

 

 

The Lord and Lady were not perfect, either, of course. Sometimes the Lady had a short temper. Usually the Lord had bad breath.

But worse than these things was that the Lord had a secret—a secret he kept from even his wife. It wasn't a terrible secret—nothing cruel or evil. It was a secret weakness, one that, try as he might, he could not control. The Lord loved to gamble.

He lived every day without giving in to his weakness, but at night, a cold sweat gripped him, and he could not help taking his and his wife's gold from their chest and creeping down to the back room of an alehouse in town and wagering on cards. Sometimes he won. Usually he lost. But never yet had he lost so much that his wife noticed the difference in the morning.

But one night, a stranger joined the game. His skin looked almost red in the dim light of the tavern's back room, and his beard was cut into a point below his chin. He bet with the Lord, and he won. He won and won and won again. The Lord knew he should go home, for his money was gone. But he knew that if he went home having lost all their gold, his wife would discover his secret failing. He was ashamed. He asked the bearded stranger if he could win his money back. The stranger said that he could, if he would wager whatever stood before the fire in his library that night. The man could think of nothing that stood before the fire in his library except his fine mahogany stool. It was a small price to pay for the chance to win all his money back. So he agreed.

The Lord lost. He returned home in despair. He walked into the library where the fire burned, wondering if there was some way to hide the loss of all that gold (and the stool) from his wife. But as his eyes fell on the stool before the fire, he saw Hansel sitting on it reading a book.

The Lord thought back to the gambling stranger, to his reddish skin, his pointed beard, and his strange wager ...

Knowledge smacked the Lord over the head like a tray of sausages. He staggered and fell to the ground. Hansel rushed to his side.

“Gambling ...” the Lord said.

“Are you all right?” Hansel asked.

The Lord's face was pale, and his eyes stared up at the ceiling blankly. “I was gambling with the Devil.”

The next morning, they waited for the Devil to come and collect his due. The Lord wrung his hands and apologized to Hansel over and over, as the Lady buried her face in her kerchief and wept. But Hansel just stood there, nervous and numb. It was too strange, too incredible to believe. He had been gambled away to the Devil? What did that mean? What would he have to do?