Page 51 of Hansel and Gerhardt
Hansel cut in with, “Surely the Queen has thousands of footmen, cleaners, builders, servants of every type who never even come in contact with her. Seems like a decent job to me.”
The corner of Herr Candy’s lips pulled into a grin. “She’d have one of her little helpers watching you. Always, always someone watching. The Queen and her Shadow, everywhere, all the time. And as soon as they get that shackle on your leg…” He flicked a hand up into the air, like he was stabbing the barbed inner edge of a tether deep into Hansel’s wrist. “But not here. Not deep in the Dark Forest. Where I am, it’s safe.” His eyes cleared a little, and he said, “For me, at least,” accompanied by another razor-edged laugh.
“Then what do you want from us?” Hansel asked in a low voice.
“Me?” Herr Candy responded, as though none of them had witnessed a single magical horror in that house. “I ask only for good company and cheer. Only that you eat your fill and don’t throw my hospitality in my face. It’s not often travellers pass through, and even less often I get to spend any time with them.” He took a scoop of potatoes and tumbled them onto Gerhardt’splate. “But look at you. So skinny. We need to get some meat on those bones.”
Then why didn’t he feed him meat? Hansel studied the pink flesh on Herr Candy’s plate. Where had that come from?
Worrying it was what was left of their own boar, which he’d dropped just outside the perimeter of Herr Candy’s property, he asked, “What kind of meat is that?”
“Oh this?” He poked at it with a sharp knife. “Just something I found.”
“There’s very little meat in the forest,” Hansel pursued. “Where did you find it?” A light sweat and a slight tremble took him. Maybe it was hunger. Maybe it was tension. It could be that this man’s motivations were no worse than those he’d expressed—the bizarre longings of a lonely warlock to have warm companionship and mirth. But Hansel was not going to eat his food. No matter how bad things got, he wouldn’t eat it, because Gerhardt’s eyes were swimming now.
“There’s plenty of meat in the forest if you know where to look,” said Herr Candy. “Take that rabbit on my lawn this morning, for example…”
Both men stiffened at the suggestion in his voice, even Gerhardt, in his hazy way.
“I didn’t see you kill it,” said Hansel.
“A little rabbit?” Herr Candy lifted a hand to his chest, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ in his supposed shock at the idea. “Why no, I could never kill such a sweet little creature. What kind of monster would do that?”
Gerhardt’s eyes turned down. Herr Candy watched him, each word sharpening, one upon another, as he spoke on. “Imagine the depraved cruelty of a man like that. To kill a furry little creature just to save himself. Lacking in moral fibre. The product, no doubt, of barbarian parents. Like father, like son, isn’t that what they say?”
There was no way Herr Candy could have known about the death of the hare, not as far as Hansel knew. There was no way he’d have had the vaguest idea of Gerhardt’s biological father, or of his treatment of Gerhardt and his mother. Yet it appeared as though that blade had been stuck expertly beneath Gerhardt’s rib, and the curl of hair Gerhardt let fall and hide his eyes showed that he had felt it.
“I think that’s a strange thing to say while you’re sitting there eating meat,” Hansel said sharply, pulling the man’s eyes off his brother. “It must have come from some animal, one way or another.”
“Ah, but not all animals are created equal, are they? Some are kinder, more intelligent than others. Some deserve our love, wouldn’t you say? While others…” He ran a peculiar glare over Hansel, then stabbed his fork into his food, cutting a piece off. “Others are food, plain and simple.”
A short, taut silence dropped over them all, broken only by the smacking of Herr Candy’s lips as he ate, the scrape of his knife on his plate, for Gerhardt had stopped eating. He remained inanimate in place, head dipped, staring down.
Herr Candy reached across and grabbed his plate. He set it on one of the very few empty spots on the table, then picked up a towering dessert. Four tiers high, gelatinous, shining, glazed with caramel, he settled it down in front of Gerhardt.
Gerhardt stared dumbly at it.
“Eat,” said Herr Candy.
Gerhardt’s fingers wrapped around a spoon.
Taken by that same inexplicable panic, “You’ve had enough,” Hansel cut in. “It’s enough, Gerhardt.”
Spoon mid-air, Gerhardt paused.
“Eat it,” hissed Herr Candy.
The spoon drifted a little closer.
“Stop!” cried Hansel. He slammed a hand on the table, making every dish jump. “What is happening? Gerhardt, listen to me. You do not want that. And…” His eyes flickered between the two as Gerhardt’s hand stilled again, millimetres from the dessert, shaking. “Why can’t we leave? Why won’t you let us leave?”
“What are you talking about, you ridiculous boy?” asked Herr Candy, not even hiding his dislike for Hansel, speaking as though he wasn’t fit to clean his boots, let alone sit at his table. But though his eyes remained fixed on Hansel, his next shouted word was for Gerhardt alone. “Eat!”
Gerhardt’s head smashed forward, burying his face in the towering cake, where he began to gorge himself.
Hansel’s chair smashed to the floor as he leapt up, running around the table. He wrenched Gerhardt up by the shoulder, then was shocked to find himself flung back against the wall by his powerful hands smacking into the centre of his chest. “Get off me, Hansel!”
“Oh dear,” sighed Herr Candy, sitting back with his wine in hand.
