A Tale Dark and Grimm

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?

He wouldn’t have to do anything, of course. If you are gambled away to the Devil (and this is a matter of public record—I’m certainly not making it up), you are damned to excruciating pain for all eternity, and no matter what you do, no matter how good you are, or how many times you ask, “Please pretty please with a cherry on top?,” the Devil will never, ever, ever let you out. It’s excruciating pain from the moment you arrive in Hell until the moment after eternity.

But Hansel did not know that. Which, for the moment, was probably best.

After a time, the Devil arrived at the manor. He wore a walking coat and carried a cane and had tiny spectacles that sat on the end of his nose. And his hair looked like a hundred thousand strands of shining gold. He approached Hansel and frowned.

“He’s a bit pure, isn’t he?” the Devil said, and sniffed. “He smells ... good.”

Hansel swallowed hard.

“Oh, yes, he’s very good,” the Lord said. “Too good to go to Hell.”

“Would you rather go?” the Devil said swiftly, turning on the Lord.

“Oh, no, no,” the Lord said. “No, take him!”

The Devil smiled and muttered to himself, “You’ll be there shortly anyway.”

“What?” the Lord said.

“Nothin ...”

The Devil turned to Hansel. “Well, you’re so good and so pure it makes me sick. I can’t touch you, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. It’d take me weeks to get the stench of you off me. So report to the gates of Hell in three days’ time.”

Hansel gathered his courage and said, “What will happen to me in Hell?”

“I love it when they ask that,” the Devil said, smiling. “You’ll be in excruciating pain for all eternity, and no matter what you do, no matter how good you are, or how many times you ask, ‘Please pretty please with a cherry on top?,’ I will never, ever, ever let you out. It’s excruciating pain from the moment you arrive until the moment after eternity.”

Well, the cat’s out of the bag now.

He came very close to Hansel, and Hansel could feel the heat of the Devil’s skin. “And if you’re not at the gates of Hell in three days’ time, I’ll flood the whole valley with fire, and everyone in it will die. And then I’ll find your soul, of course, and take my due.”

Now Hansel wanted to cry. But he held his breath, stuck out his chin, and said in his bravest voice, “I’ll be there.”

And the Devil said, “I know.” Then he turned for the door, waved a single pinkie at the Lord, and was gone.

In a forest near the Lord’s manor there wandered a very old man. He had a long nose, a bent back, and lips that puckered around a toothless mouth. He was searching for two children, a boy and a girl, who had been lost long ago.

He was about to sit and rest his aching bones beneath the branches of a comfortable-looking tree when, from a distance, he heard the sound of someone crying. He followed the sound to the foot of a great elm, where he found a boy cradling his head in his hands. The old man felt pity for the poor boy, so he comforted him, and asked him if he needed help.

“No one can help me,” the boy moaned. “I must travel to the gates of Hell in three days’ time and deliver myself to the Devil—to be in excruciating pain until the moment after eternity.”

“Hansel?” the old man said.

The boy looked up. “How do you know my name?”

For a moment, the old man said nothing—he just stared at the boy’s head of curly black hair and round eyes, dark as charcoal. Then he said, “Never mind, I thought you were someone else.”

He sat down beside Hansel gingerly and frowned. “So,” he said, “you must go to Hell?” Hansel sniffled hard, wiped the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve, and began to tell the old man why.

When he finished, the man was staring at him intently. “It’s not a lost cause, my boy. Nearly. But not completely.” He stopped.

“Yes?” Hansel asked.

“Well,” the old man said, “it is said that in Hell the Devil can have no power over one who has three of his golden hairs.” Hansel thought back to the bespectacled Devil with the thin strands of gold on his head.

“But how would I get them?” Hansel asked.

“That, I have no idea. But I can take you to the gates of Hell—I know where those are. And I can guide you back if you ever come out.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Hansel said, staring into the man’s unlovely face. And then he said, “But now can you tell me how you knew my name?”

The old man didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly got to his feet and began to walk. After he had gone a little way, he turned and saw that Hansel was still sitting on the ground under the great elm. “Well,” the old man said, “do you want to go to Hell or not?”

They journeyed all day, until, when the sun was low in the sky, they came to a small city, ringed by walls of stone. The old man asked the guard if he and Hansel could stay within the city walls for the night.

“No one stays in this city,” said the guard. “For our fountain of wine no longer flows, and we are all in mourning.” And he told them of a magical fountain that had once given wine without cease, until one day it didn’t. “Devil knows why!” the soldier said, throwing up his hands.

The old man was about to turn away from the city gate when Hansel said, “I’m going to see the Devil in Hell. Perhaps I can ask him why, and if ever I escape, I will come back and tell you.”

The soldier scratched his head. “I didn’t mean the Devil literally knows why.... It’s an expression.”

“It is?” Hansel replied. “Oh. What does it mean?”

“It means—” the soldier began, but stopped. “Wait, are you really going to Hell?”

Hansel nodded and so did the old man.

The guard stared at the little boy. “Never mind. Just come in.”

The next day, the old man and Hansel walked until the sun was low in the sky, and again they found themselves at the gate of a city with walls of stone. Again the old man asked the guard if he and Hansel could stay.

But the guard said, “No one stays in this city. For our tree of golden apples is now barren, and we are all in mourning.” And he told them of a magical tree that had once given golden apples without cease, until one day it didn’t. “Devil knows why!” the soldier said, throwing up his hands.

So Hansel said, “I am going to see the Devil in Hell. Perhaps I can ask him why, and if ever I escape, I will