The Mother Witch

“Frau Margaret, you understand that the things we are questioning you about are very serious accusations. Little Hansel and Gretel have told many accounts of you using witchcraft to craft a house made of sweets, attempting to eat them, and having stores of wealth gained by evil means. How do you plead to these accusations?”

“Please Graf Ansell, We have known each other since we were children. Spare Hans and Gretel. They know not what they speak of. It has been terrible coming back to this town to bring my account. However, I will not stand to have my name slandered for saving my own children’s life. Here is my story.”

My tale is a sad one, but it began happily. Christoph, the children’s father, and I met in this little town when we were young. I had always fancied him, I often loved to watch him in the forest as he cut wood. I am not allowed to work, but I knew that woodcutting was not a profitable profession, so I traded the various medicines my mother had taught me how to make. Between tonics and wood, we were happy. Christoph and I lived humbly, but I had two successful births with Hans and Gretel. I was blessed by those two beautiful children. I still don’t know why Christoph insisted on naming beautiful Gretel after me.

This is when my story took a sad turn. I was in the market trading my tonics to whomever would buy. I came across a trader who claimed to be the fifth son of a far off king. He was ill when he came to our village. He had many riches, and said anyone who could cure him would have access to his fortune. I knew Christoph wouldn’t want me risking myself to help this stranger, but I knew the man's riches would provide for us. I struck a deal with him, thinking that his disease was simple and that I could cure it in a few months. He had a house constructed in the woods near, but hidden, from our home. He insisted on the construction being peculiar to his home, and I often burned ginger and rosemary to help with the smell of his decaying flesh. I thought the first month with the man was successful. My tonics were beginning to bring him back, that was when God struck me for my hubris.

The disease the man had was leprosy. Once I felt my hair begin to itch and my skin begin to peel, I knew that the tonics I had been using were useless. The man didn’t live much longer after that. I cursed him and his money for not telling me the name of his illness, I would’ve kicked the dust to him like all the doctors before me. But, he probably came all the way to Germany in hopes of a different answer. Poor Christoph. Our life was permanently changed. I couldn’t go and explain to him my ailments in risk of harming our children, so in the dead man’s house I stayed and let the disease feast upon me. My skin fell in bunches, as did my hair. Coming here was dreadfully difficult because my feet have long since lost feeling. I often have to use my crutches to get around. The most terrible thing of all though, was my eyes. I would often roam the forests, hoping to catch a glimpse of Christoph, or my children. However, as the disease progressed I soon became so impaired that leaving my house was terribly difficult. My only solace was my baking. I knew that the man had to be quarantined for a long time, so I used his funds to buy flour early and have a cellar constructed. The heat from the oven helped my aching limbs, too. I am a small woman, I don’t eat much. I would often bake all sorts of treats, thinking about my children and their insatiable sweet tooths I was so fond of.

This is where my children’s account begins, Graf Ansell. I didn’t know that there was a famine, with my solitude. However, you remember the famines we endured in our youth. I knew the faces of hungry children. I knew well that when the rye would smell of damp bark that you must throw it out, no matter how hungry you were. "If you ate bad rye, you would go mad." That's what my mother taught me.

I first heard my children when Gretel smashed in the glass window at the entrance of my home. I was terribly scared of robbers, so I carefully went around to try and see the culprit. However, as soon as I saw little Gretel I knew she was mine. I was a mixture of fear and elation. I had so terribly missed my babes, but I knew that I must not expose them to my ailment. I concealed myself in a cloak and my traveling hat, and put on gloves I had used when picking herbs. Clad in my eerie attire, I went to see my children, but what I saw broke my heart. Hans was so skinny his clothes hung from him, he was pale as death, and he was nibbling on the dried ginger I had left out to ward off bad spirits. Gretel was in better shape, but she too was licking at the window sill, trying to catch the last bits of the sugar of the cakes I set out on that same windowsill.I saw the faces of my children and saw those same hungry faces of my youth. I didn’t want to scare my children, so I spoke to them in riddles I told them as bedtime stories. They were laughing at first, but as I got closer to see Hans I realized how truly terrible a state he was in. His breaths came in wet shakes, and his eyes roved over the house. He was speaking some utter non-sense about the house being made of candy, so I knew I had to treat him.

The children were scared of me, which broke my heart. Between the disfiguring of my face and the crutches I now relied on, my children didn’t even recognize me. They looked at me suspiciously and wouldn’t leave each other's side. But, It was amazing being able to feed them again. They ate so desperately, I had to hold my tears. I made them cake after cake until finally they seemed to fill their clothes a little more. It was here that I learned of the famine, and also how Christoph had abandoned our children to the woods for three days! I was enraged. It may surprise you Graf Ansell, but our town knows well that terrible sin of leaving our children to the wolves so that the parents may live. I had taken the cursed prince's gold in hopes that Christoph would avoid this fate, but then that same gold was too cursed to be of any use for my children. Christoph, he had never listened to my warnings during times of struggle. I knew that he had fed my poor ducklings old, blighted rye bread. Hans smelled of rotten bark and his eyes roved in such maddening ways. He kept dropping the crumbs of the blighted bread on the floor, muttering about finding his way home. I had to sweep the crumbs away when they had gone to bed. After that, I carried Hans to a separate room to examine him. I regretted distressing the two. I had roused Gretel to teach her about medicine, much like how my mother taught me. I let some of Han's blood, to try and adjust his humors to be of a more reasonable nature. However, Gretel began screaming inconsolably when I tasted Han’s blood to get a better idea of his ailment. I spat it out of course. I’m no monster, but from then on Gretel was convinced I was going to eat them. I sent her away to bring more food for Hans. He was deathly thin, clearly giving more than necessary to maintain his sister. He was always a sickly babe. I knew how to take care of him. He needed a warm room and lots of good food. That was what usually helped when he was young. This continued for several days, but Hans wouldn’t gain his strength back. He stayed thin like a skeleton. I knew that the longer they stayed with me the more susceptible they were to my illness, so I vowed to try to warm Hans using the baking oven’s heat as a final attempt, then forcing them away from me. It was then that my clever ducklings tricked me. Gretel claimed to not know how to use the oven, so I showed her how to light it. I loved being able to teach her like my mother taught me. This is when she shoved me down into the oven and locked the iron door. I first thought this was simply a prank of some kind. But, then I heard them leave to the cellar. My heart sank when I heard that cursed door open. I knew they had found the dead princes' gold. That gold had brought me nothing but misery. I screamed and pleaded with them to let me out of the oven, but all I heard was their nonsense about triumphing over an evil witch. I was overcome with such sadness then. My children were once again gone from me, and now they had the diseased gold that had brought me nothing but loneliness. My sobs must have been what the children had heard as my fiery screams, but I did not die. The oven wasn’t even stoked yet. I stayed in that oven for a long time, until the men from town came to investigate the scene and found me. That is when they arrested me and kept me in that miserable cell. That is where we are today. I’m glad to hear that the gold and jewels I had so desperately worked to give my family were well spent. I thought that the gold would curseq them as it had cursed me, but even I have things to learn about disease. However, I am no witch. Hunger and blighted bread makes madmen of us all. I’ve seen women more innocent than I burn because Grafs more foolish than you refuse to realize their townsfolk suffer. No, I am simply a sad old woman. I have no desire to eat children or cast spells. I just want to go back to my house and try to appreciate my children’s happily ever after. Please, this is my account. Let me go in peace.

-Official statement of Margaret Koch, Executed year of our Lord 1375, by burning at the stake. Approved by Graf Heinrich Ansell for suspicion of witchcraft accounted by Hansel Koch and Margaret Koch II.