II. The Child-Eaters
ii. Hansel and Gretel
It
was a time of famine.
Even
when the weather favoured
kitchen crops − potato sets
and runner beans −
the pickings were lean, but
now
bellies bloated, guts
pinched and heaved with hunger…
the summer wet, the sun all
day
curtained
in low cloud no winds could shift,
their plantings rotted in
cold clay.
The
Father set off into the woods, each day
a little firewood cut, a few
cords more
to trade for grain
his wife milled for sour
bread.
The
Father set off into the woods, at first close by
their poor hut, and the boy
Hansel
could hear the steady chop chop chop
of his Father’s axe, but
with each day passing
the sound grew fainter,
until his sister Gretel said,
Hansel, our Father goes deeper in the
woods
each day, and now
the chop chop chop so faint
I cannot tell it from the calling birds.
One
night − a wishbone night stuck
between yesterday and
tomorrow − the woodcutter’s wife
whispered
to her husband, The food is nearly finished;
what wood
you find, there’s little grain to trade for.
She
looked towards the little loft
where the Father’s children
lay: It’s us or them, and better
we alone than four graves one by one.
The Father dragged his rough
hands across his face,
and sobbed until he’d rubbed
the tears and snot into his
beard. He sobbed
until he stopped, closed his
fingers, stretched
and popped his
finger-joints:
he knew she had a point.
In
the loft, Hansel and Gretel heard, knowing
their Stepmother as good as
her word
would see them off, arrange
an accident or worse,
abandon them to beasts.
Gretel whimpered, We’re lost. I’m too weak to run.
But
Hansel took his little sister’s hand
and kissed it, saying, I have plan,
and climbing from the loft,
stopped just once,
his rumbling belly startling
the Stepmother half-awake;
her snoring breaking
to a snort, she turned over
to the wall, and farted.
And Hansel slipped by, and
out the door,
gathering small stones as
white and bright
as stars he knew must still
be somewhere
through the cloud.
Back in the loft, they
whispered, Goodnight.
In the dark
Gretel reached for his hand
and held it tight.
*
There
was another plan…
The Stepmother, the next
morning,
called, Lazybones wake up. It’s deeper woods today,
and we’ll all be needed
if your Father’s hunch is right for easy cords.
Through the forest trail,
just out of sight of home,
Hansel stopped and turned,
and said,
Father, I think I can just see my little
cat
sitting on the roof,
and as he spoke, and walked
and stopped again and
turned,
a little stone, bright as a
bird’s egg
rolled to the ground.
The Stepmother said to the
Father: Tell him, it’s no cat.
It’s chimney shadows on the roof; we ate his cat long
since.
They walked and walked, a
little trail of white stones
winking in the grass behind
them,
until they came to a depth
of forest
so dark it could be night,
and nearly was by then…
The Stepmother said, We’ll be back. Deeper in these woods
the cuts are sweet with resin
and there to be had by those who’d walk that farther in. Stay
put.
There are beasts about: take two sticks and make a fire.
But
they did not return, and the children shared
their little bread, through
the night
picking their way home,
stone by shiny stone.
*
The Father opened the door,
jumped back.
Father,
Hansel said, we might be ghosts, you’ve
gone so white.
That
night, they heard again
the drip-drop drip-drop of
the Stepmother
wheedling, wheedling, until
they heard too,
their Father’s knuckles pop.
The next day, Lazybones, another journey,
and down the path they went,
but Hansel
was cold with worry. Last
night
he’d tried the door, but it
was locked − the Stepmother
whispering to the Father, I don’t know what he did,
but it won’t happen twice: I don’t trust that kid −
and now what little bread he
had
he pinched apart and
dropped, each
stop he made to turn to see
his home.
…Father, I think I see a little pigeon
there, just there around the eaves…
The Stepmother said,
Tell him, it’s chimney shadows
playing tricks. And besides, that pigeon never touched
the sides.
This time, deeper still, and
darker than the dark before,
and they, alone
walked
a night and day, a night and day and no way home,
knowing then each pinch of
bread
was tastier to birds than
stones.
And
after three days and nights
Gretel fainted, and everything
Hansel saw
swam before in twos and
threes, and hunger
whined in his ears, and
then, suddenly,
in a tree, a beautiful white
bird appeared,
flitting branch to branch,
so that Hansel understood
they were to follow.
He
pulled Gretel to her feet, and stumbled
through; three birds he saw,
but thought
the middle one would do.
*
The
place they came to was built of bread, cake and sugar.
Bread… Cake... Sugar…
Gretel
licked a sugar pane, and Hansel
scoffed a slate of cake,
then from within
from what on closer look
they took to be a cottage,
came a little voice,
Nibble, nibble, be my guest.
When you’re done, step in and rest.
The children answered,
We’re not here. We think we died. Our plan
went wrong, and now it’s heaven drenched in marzipan.
Through the door she came on
crutches, her red eyes
blinking in the daylight.
The
children fell back, against the sugared-almond shutters.
Don’t be afraid of me.
I’m just an old woman
who likes a little company for tea.
Hansel
followed in, and Gretel followed him.
When
the door was closed
and locked,
the crone came to Hansel,
pinched his cheek, and said,
You’ll do,
and dragged him through
and pushed him in a shed.
Gretel tugged the door and
windows,
but no escape, and to make
the bad dream stop,
hurled a pan. The old woman
halted it midair, charmed it
bird-like, snatched
and ate it, feathers and
all.
Gretel
screamed, Hansel, she’s a witch.
My dear, said
the witch, that’s so. I am as you say,
but
we all have our parts to play: you too.
Your brother’s rangy. I prefer a plumper meal −
chop some veg.
Weeks went by, and Gretel
cooked and cooked,
and the witch took pot after
pot of stew
to Hansel.
Give me your hand, she said, and he shoved
a chicken bone through a
crack in the door.
She pinched and thought, This one’s slow.
I’ll be starved before he fattens.
I’ll take them both and call it done, and hope
the girl’s not as chewy as she looks. Maybe this time
only lungs and liver…
all those weeks, was
stronger now, and saw
the way the witch poked the
air and tapped the floor
before her with her
crutches, and knew
the witch’s red, cross-eyes
were weak.
The witch instructed, Make a pastry. Get the oven warm,
and mused, for a pie dish big enough for two.
Climb in, human child, and see what heat there is,
was what Gretel
later said was said. Gretel,
now a little podgy, posed
slyly at the oven door: I’ll never fit in there.
The witch, squinting towards
the heated hole,
climbed in herself, and
said, See, any fool could do it.
Gretel slammed the oven
door,
threw on more logs, and
smelt the burning hair,
and listened to the squeals,
as fats from the flesh
bubbled and squeaked, and
could be any flesh
Gretel thought,
for a passing moment
considering her next square
meal…
She
and Hansel found a chest of jewels, pearls
and such they thought useful
and could carry in their
pockets.
They walked through the
wood, to the edge
of a lake, and noticed a
wedge of ducks in flight.
Hansel remembered the time
of year,
and the direction ducks took
in that season, and
remembered them
sailing over their little
cottage.
The children headed south,
and home.
*
Their Father said, I would never leave you really,
but they knew he had, and
watched him close
from then on.
The
Stepmother died the very day
she’d led them out a second
time to the forest.
She walked so long, and grew
so hungry
she ate black berries from a
bush, greenish-black
they were, that killed her
dead, their Father
vague about what happened
after that...
They
took the jewels
and shared them out, and
things were better for awhile,
but jewels are not bread,
when there is no bread,
nor grain to mill,
when there is no grain, even
with only
three mouths to feed.
It
was a time of famine.
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