The Devil in the Tavern (Toledo, Spain)

In the 2020s, I visited Toledo for the first time — a peculiar town woven with narrow alleys and timeless stone buildings. Among its winding streets, a small bar caught my eye: La Taberna del Cardenal. I stepped inside and ordered a glass of wine with some tapas.

The barman, a gruff yet friendly man, quickly picked up on my unusual accent.

"Are you from an English-speaking country?" he asked, curious.

I smiled and explained that I wasn't — but that I had spent almost a decade living abroad before finally returning to Spain.

We struck up a conversation. As we spoke, he revealed that his family had lived in Toledo for over 300 years. With a certain pride — and a hint of unease — he told me about the old Jewish quarter nearby, and a narrow, forgotten alley known as El Callejón del Diablo — the Devil's Alley.

A shadowy corridor, flanked by crumbling stone walls, steeped in whispered tales and ominous legends.
And among all the stories, there was one that had haunted him since his earliest childhood.

Centuries ago, during a particularly frigid winter evening, the city's most renowned tavern was abuzz with merriment. Merchants, soldiers, and locals gathered around wooden tables, their laughter echoing beneath the vaulted ceilings as they shared stories over jugs of robust red wine.

As the night deepened, the tavern's heavy wooden door creaked open, admitting a stranger cloaked in black. His presence was commanding—tall, with piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an inner fire. He spoke little, ordering only a glass of the tavern's strongest brew (figure 1), which he sipped slowly, observing the room with a knowing smile.

Figure 1. The devil.

Intrigued by the stranger's demeanor, a group of patrons invited him to join their game of dice. He accepted, producing a set of ornate dice from his cloak, their surfaces etched with unfamiliar symbols. With each roll, fortune favored the enigmatic guest, his pile of coins growing steadily. The other players, frustrated and suspicious, accused him of cheating.​

In response, the stranger's smile widened. He stood, revealing beneath his cloak a pair of cloven hooves. Gasps filled the room as he declared, "You invited me to play, and now you must pay the price." With that, he vanished in a burst of sulfurous smoke, leaving behind only scorch marks on the floor and the lingering scent of brimstone.​

Since that night, his area has borne the mark of the devil's visit. Locals speak of unexplained occurrences—flickering lights, sudden chills, and whispers in the dark. And El Callejón del Diablo remains a place where few dare to tread after sunset, lest they encounter the devil seeking another game.

I have always wondered where the old tavern was located. I still visit Toledo once in a while, visiting more taverns and discovering more about the stories hidden in this unique town.

Location: Toledo, Spain

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