Page 50 of Hansel and Gerhardt
“I promise,” Gerhardt said. “Anything you want.”
“Good,” said Herr Candy, hitting the ‘d’ of the word hard. “Then keep your animal under control, and we shan’t speak of this again.”
Feast of the Damned
Hansel’s arm smashed back into action with a crackle of toasted almond flakes scattering about the floor. He’d been mid-punch, and his arm flung out long, but there was nothing there to meet it. Herr Candy had taken Gerhardt to the kitchen, and by the time Hansel ran around the corner, Gerhardt was seated at the table, his plate piled up high, and his mouth stuffed full.
“Hansel,” he moaned over far too much food as his eyes flickered up, “you must join us. This is… This isto die for.”
A castle of baby potatoes, round and roasted, ruffled and golden on the edges, was accompanied by a cascade of garden fresh peas, sitting bright green beside a purple mountain of braised red cabbage. Heavy dumplings, plump with cheese and onion, sat steaming, swimming with gravy. Bright yellow käsespätzle, soft, creamy and unctuous, against yielding stewed apples. Bread, risen high and bursting from its tin, two thick slices laid decadently against Gerhardt’s mountain of food.
But amongst all this, any sort of meat was conspicuously absent.
Not for Herr Candy.
His plate displayed long strips of pink, rare and fatty, drizzled with gravy, prominent in the centre of all the other richness. He sat at the head of the table, cruel eyes dead on Hansel, his strong-lined face lit eerily by the light of the candles he’d set amongst the huge display.
“Sit,” said Herr Candy, and it wasn’t a polite request. Hansel knew failure to comply would likely spell disaster.
For the second time that day, he fell into a seat opposite Gerhardt.
His stomach screamed for the food on his plate. The smell invaded every pleasure centre, weakening his resolve. His mouth watered, his hands shook. The heat of the semi-dark room pressed in on him, and his eyes fell on an enormous black oven, scalding hot from all the work it had done to create this feast. The huge iron door was clamped shut, lit by a small window glowing orange from the fire within.
Herr Candy stabbed his fork into his meat, talking casually in regard to the object Hansel’s eyes had settled upon. “I had it brought in especially. All the way out here in the middle of the Dark Forest.”
Hansel regarded him coolly. “Why would you do that? A fireplace always sufficed for us at home.”
“It would have,” said Herr Candy, as disparaging as ever. He took a sip of wine, then lightened his tone. “As you can see, I like to cook. A lot. And that oven is the only one I could find that would handle such big loads.”
Hansel looked down at the mound of food on his plate. Just as generous, just as luscious as that which Gerhardt shovelled in. And the sounds Gerhardt made, the pleasure he got from eatingit… Hansel wondered how much of his enjoyment was magic, and how much was just the sheer joy of eating good food freely.
Were the potatoes enchanted, too? Was it only the candy? If Hansel ate, would one small bite really be enough to quell a hatred as strong as that which he felt for Herr Candy? Could he be calmed the way Gerhardt had?
“So,” said Herr Candy, pouring more wine into Gerhardt’s untasted glass. “Tell me a little more about yourselves. I so rarely keep anyone around long enough to talk.” Here he laughed, a little maniacally, and Gerhardt met it with a sweet laugh of his own.
“There’s very little to tell,” he said, lifting the wine. “You know we are woodcutters running from a mad father. You know we are—were—” Gerhardt caught himself “—weregoing to a city. We’re so happy we found you instead.”
“How kind you are,” hummed Herr Candy, watching him drink his wine with a devouring look in his eyes. “But that’s not really what I meant. The two of you… You have a…peculiarbond.”
“Peculiar?” Gerhardt raised his pretty eyebrows.
“What makes you say so?” asked Hansel. His stomach rumbled so loudly they all heard it.
“You are hungry,” Herr Candy observed. “Yet you do not eat.” That hard ‘t’ in his speech again.
“I’m not hungry,” Hansel lied.
Herr Candy narrowed his sharp eyes. “Yet I’ve cooked all this food just for you.”
“Do eat something, Hansel, for God’s sake,” Gerhardt hissed. “You’re being very impolite.”
Hansel noted the way his fingers pressed into his cutlery, the way he had begun to rock in his chair, just a little, so he reached out and took a bread roll from a pile in the centre of the table. It was hot. So hot it hurt his fingers to hold, and he was relieved tohave the excuse to drop it onto his plate. “And what about you?” he asked Herr Candy, by way of distraction. “Have you always lived here?”
“Oh, good lord, no.” He punctuated the sentence with a chuckle. “Out here in the middle of nowhere?” He glared towards the window. “No. I had been living in the Royal City.”
“The Royal City?” Gerhardt sat a little taller. “We were considering… If we’d ended up going in that direction, we were wondering if we’d find employment there. Maybe at the palace.”
“The palace?” He threw back some more wine with bitter joviality. “My boy, the Queen would eat you alive.” Those eyes raking over Gerhardt so that Hansel wanted to stab them out.
