Anyway, I’m not blessed or merciful. I’m just me. I’ve got a job to do and I do it. Listen, even as we’re talking, I’m there for old and young, innocent and guilty, those who die together and those who die alone. I’m in cars and boats and planes, in hospitals and forests and abattoirs. For some folks death is a release and for others death is an abomination, a terrible thing. But in the end, I’m there for all of them.
Death, in Sandman #20: «Façade» by Neil Gaiman
A nice fairy tale that was collected by the brothers Grimm. I used the translation by Margaret Hunt as basis, but adapted the tale a little. Mostly making death less angry and more impartial, and a few other changes.
Godfather Death
A poor man had twelve children and was forced to work night and day to give them so much as bread. When his thirteenth child came into the world, he knew not what to do in his trouble.
At last he ran out onto the great highway and resolved to find a godfather from among the travelers.
First came a man in a fine cloak that had never known rain or hardship. Rain forgot it was wet for him. Thorns forgot they could tear him. When he came to a puddle, the water drew aside from his boots, and when a thorn branch leaned over the road, it lifted itself out of his way.
«Give me the child,» said the fine man, «and everything shall yield to him. What he desires shall be prepared before him. Where others are refused, he shall be welcomed. Where others must earn, he shall receive.»
«I thank you for your offer, good sir,» said the father, «but such a child grows a crown inside his skull and leaves no room for another living soul.»
Second came a man who was quick-eyed and light of foot, with a creditor behind him, shouting his name.
«You borrowed bread-money from me and swore by your name!» cried the creditor.
He seized the stranger by the cloak, but when he had grasped it, it hung empty in his hands. The stranger stood three paces behind him — his face became another man’s face, and his clothes changed color and cut. Then he passed the creditor, who did not know him any more.
«Give me the child,» said the stranger, laughing, «and no door shall hold him, no oath shall bind him, and no debt shall find his purse. When a hand is laid upon his shoulder, he shall already be elsewhere.»
«I thank you,» said the father, «but no son of mine shall learn to leave an empty coat where a man should stand.»
Third came a man with withered legs and a long stride, who said, «Take me as godfather.»
The father asked, «Who are you?»
«I am Death. I come to king and beggar alike.»
«You are hard,» said the father, «but you do not flatter and you do not flee. You shall be his godfather.»
Death answered, «I will give him a craft, and with it a measure.»
The father said, «Next Sunday is the naming. Be there at the right time.»
Death appeared as he had promised, and stood godfather quite in the usual way.
When the boy had grown up, his godfather appeared one day and bade him go with him. He led him forth into a forest, showed him an herb that grew there, and said:
«Now you shall receive your godfather’s present. I make you a renowned physician. When you are called to a sick man, I will always appear to you. If I stand at his head, you may say with confidence that you will make him well. Give him of this herb, and he will recover. But if I stand at his feet, his time has come. Then you must speak the truth — that all remedies are in vain, and that no physician in the world could save him. There your power to heal ends. If you put your hand beyond that line, you will not heal, but trespass.»
It was not long before the young man became the most famous physician in the kingdom. He was famous not only for his cures, but for never lying at a bedside. If Death stood at the head, he gave the herb. If Death stood at the feet, he folded his hands and spoke the hard truth.
People said of him:
«He has only to look at the patient, and he knows his condition at once — whether he will recover, or must needs die.»
From far and wide people came to him, and sent for him when they had anyone ill, and gave him so much money that he soon became a rich man.
Now it happened that the King became ill, and the physician was summoned to say whether recovery was possible. Men ran, doors opened, horses were lathered, gold was promised, bells were rung, and all spoke as if Death must stand aside because a king lay in the bed.
But when the physician came to the bed, Death was standing by the feet of the sick man.
«Here lies a king,» thought the physician. «Surely I was not brought to such a bed merely to stand idle. Death will take it ill if I outwit him this once. But I am his godson, and he will shut one eye.»
So he took up the sick man and laid him the other way, so that now Death was standing by his head. Then he gave the King some of the herb, and the King recovered and grew well again.
But Death came to the physician, lifted one withered finger, and said:
«You have stepped over the mark I gave you to see. This time I will let you step back, as you are my godson. But if you venture it again, the mark will close behind you. Be mindful of what is not yours to give.»
Soon afterward the King’s daughter fell into a severe illness. She was his only child. The King wept day and night, so that he began to lose the sight of his eyes. He made known that whosoever rescued her from death should be her husband and inherit the crown.
When the physician came to the sick girl’s bed, he saw Death by her feet.
But she lay with her hair unbound upon the pillow, her lips a little open, and beneath the coverlet her young breast rose and sank so faintly that his eyes were held there. The ring on her finger seemed more alive than she was.
«Death spared me once,» thought the physician. «Perhaps a warning is the worst he means to do. And shall I lose a kingdom, and such a bride as this, for the turning of a bed?»
Death raised his withered hand. The physician saw the shadow of it on the coverlet, but kept his eyes on the maiden’s face, as though the shadow of a warning were only a shadow.
Then he raised the sick girl up and placed her head where her feet had lain. He gave her some of the herb, and instantly her cheeks flushed red, and life stirred afresh in her.
When Death saw that for a second time the physician had meddled with the measure of a life, he walked up to him and said:
«I stayed the consequence once because you are my godson, but mercy has only taught you temptation. I can no longer stand between you and what you have done.»
He seized him so firmly with his ice-cold hand that the young man could not resist, and led him into a cave below the earth. There the young man saw thousands and thousands of candles burning in countless rows — some large, others half-sized, and others small. Every instant some were extinguished and others kindled, so that the flames seemed to leap hither and thither in perpetual change.
«See,» said Death, «these are the lights of men’s lives. The large ones belong to children, the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, and the little ones belong to old people. But some children and young folks likewise have only a tiny candle.»
«Show me the light of my life,» said the physician, and he thought that it would still be very tall. Death pointed to a long candle and said:
«Behold, it is there.»
But the candle had toppled over and lay flat on the stone. It was still burning, but it smoked, sputtered, and struggled to stay alight.
«Ah, dear godfather,» said the horrified physician, «please put it upright again.»
«I cannot right what you toppled. At the King’s bed your candle leaned, and I stopped its fall. At the maiden’s bed you pushed again, and I could not stop it from falling.»
«I did not know,» claimed the physician.
«You did know enough to act rightly without knowing everything.»
Then the wick drowned in its own melt, and the candle began to choke, though much of the wax still remained.
«Light a new one for me. Do it for love of me, that I may enjoy my life, be King, and the husband of the King’s beautiful daughter.»
«I cannot grant life,» answered Death. «This is not mine to give.»
«Then place the old one on a new one, so that it will go on burning at once when the old one has come to an end,» pleaded the physician.
«I cannot take from another to give to you,» answered Death.
«Then do not take me!» pleaded the physician.
«I cannot make you exempt from death without ceasing to be Death.»
«But my candle is not spent!» cried the physician.
«No,» said Death. «It is spoiled.»
Then the young man tried for himself to put it upright again. But his hands passed right through it. And while he was trying in vain to touch what was beyond his grasp, it flickered one last time and went out.
And then the physician fell into Death’s hands.