by George Esler
no rules for which topics are and are not off limits. However, I question the logic in giving him information so soon after his tragedy that might cause him to begin questioning other things. I don’t think now is the time to burden him with such trivial details.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Esau must have seen it too, because a tiny smile played at his lips as he saw the recognition that must have dawned in my features.
“He doesn’t know about his mother, does he?” I said. The truth of it was almost too much for me to bear.
His answer was sharp and direct.
“No. And I had planned to keep it that way for a bit longer.”
The implications of that statement slowly made themselves known to me, as if they were sentient creatures with a will of their own rather than the indirect deductions of a mind madly reeling to fit puzzle pieces together.
I put my hand to my throat. “All those years. You. And Milton. And Emily. He knows nothing of it?”
“Nothing. Milton has not filled him in on our, shall we say, complicated history. I have seen fit to follow suit. It is for the best, I believe, until we can determine just what he is and is not capable of.”
“Capable of? What do you mean?” I said.
“Nothing. Forget I said that. It’s probably more information than you needed. The point is, we should just agree now, you and I, that any further revelations for young Henry should come from me, and me alone.”
On the one hand, I knew it would be easier to simply agree to those terms and continue on my way, forgetting that this entire ordeal ever transpired. It would be so easy to simply return to my previous night’s conviction to ignore the boy, and let him make his own way. But something else tugged at my heart, and it was caused by the knowledge I possessed, that this boy who had lost everything should be denied such basic information about his own family. I had loved Emily once, loved her like a daughter, perhaps in place of the children I had never been blessed with. Her loss still resonated in my heart. The resemblance between child and mother notwithstanding, I was not sure I could long tolerate living in such close quarters with Emily’s offspring, in full awareness of how little he actually knew about her.
“Are we in agreement, then?” Esau said.
Did I dare agree? I knew I need only acquiesce, and I would be free to return to my chores.
Another memory bubbled to the surface, one I had long fought to bury; one of my life’s greatest failures. It was something I had known and ignored, much as it hurt me to turn a blind eye. The words tumbled out before my mental filter could stop them, and once they were out there, in the air between Esau and I, there was no reigning them back in.
“You will do the boy great harm if you continue this path,” I said. “Much like the harm you caused his mother.”
“Harm? I’ve harmed nobody,” he said, his statement accompanied by a dismissive wave of the hand.
“I’ve already kept silent about so much. I know what you did to Emily. I know how it changed her.”
“You don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You didn’t force yourself on her that night?”
And there they were, those words I would never be able to take back, hanging in the air between us like a floating axe head, eager to cut.
4
The silence that followed my accusation was rife with all of the possibilities of a situation that was destined to end badly. I realized, listening to that quiet hum in the air, that with one simple question my life would change forever.
Esau looked at me for a time. His face was a picture of serenity, not even his eyes giving away so much as a hint of what he was thinking. Only his knuckles, whitening as he tightened his grip on the decanter of Scotch, indicated the change in his mood. Pure rage on his features would have been preferable, maybe a sneer or some bared teeth; this was worse. The blank slate before me caused me far more anxiety.
“Master Esau-” I began.
“It would do you well,” he said, his voice even, cutting me off, “to not go around throwing accusations at people. Particularly people like me.”
“I was not accusing, sir. I know what happened. I was there that night. I chose to do nothing, and to keep silent all these years, and I have long regretted it. I do not wish to see the boy destroyed in the face of your obsession, the way that his mother was destroyed.”
Now his face did begin to contort. “You know nothing of my relationship with Emily. You only think that you do. You cannot comprehend what she put me through. What we put each other through.”
“That’s not my concern, sir,” I said, trying to keep my composure in the face of the impending wrath. “When you led her out there that night, when you started to advance on her, she told you no.”
“And how can you know so much? Are you omniscient?” He set the glass down on the desk, folded his hands, and leaned forward, eyeing me with something akin to disdain.
“I was out for a walk that night. I was returning from my quarters, on my way back to the house. I saw and heard enough. I kept walking.”
“You did well to mind your business,” Esau said. “I might advise that you continue to do so.”
“Just don’t harm the boy.”
For one daunting moment, he lost his composure. All of that upbringing, congeniality, and forced graciousness fled him and he reached out, grabbing the closest thing at hand, which happened to be a large granite paperweight he kept on his desk, and he pitched it across the room. The smooth round stone cut through the air, and I heard it whizz uncomfortably close by my ear, before it struck and shattered a vase on a shelf along the far wall. After the tense but quiet tone of our conversation, the retort of breaking glass was so loud that I cringed in my seat, and cried out in alarm.
Esau rose, hands supporting his weight as he leaned on his desk, and spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at me. “Do not make demands on me! And do not presume to level your veiled threats in my direction!”
I sat there, shaking. I could not keep my hands steady. I wanted to flee the room, but I did not think my legs would carry me to the door just now.
He continued the verbal assault. “You do not know anything about what you saw and heard! Emily loved me! I know she did!” He took a moment to collect himself. He sat. Gradually, his ragged breathing calmed and became steady again.
“I know she did,” he said, with less certainty this time. “I apologize. I should not have lost my composure like that.”
It was a long moment before I could even bring myself to think about how to reply to that, so we just sat there, neither meeting the eyes of the other, and the silence returned. After what felt like an eternity, my heartbeat returned to its natural rhythm, and I felt the tightening in my throat begin to loosen, so that I might be able to speak again.
Esau rose from his seat and walked around the desk. At first I thought he meant to get in my face, or worse, but he crossed the room and began busying himself with cleaning up the broken vase. He began by retrieving the largest shards of glass and depositing them in a wastebasket.
“I can get that, sir,” I said. “It’s my job to clean up around here.”
“This is my mess. I will clean it up,” he said. Something about those words chilled my bones.
I rose to leave. “I should be going then.”
“I wish you hadn’t said such hurtful things,” Esau said, retrieving the paperweight, which looked so large in his hand. He stood to face me as I walked by him.
“I wish I had done many things differently,” I said. “We should talk again, when we have cooled off. I think this is important.”
“We’ll see.”
I walked past him. I was dimly aware that I did not like the way he was looking at me, or the curious expression that adorned his face, as if he were pondering some bizarre thought.
I reached for the door knob.
A blow to my head.
A bright flare of pain and a loud crack of noise.
Darkness.<
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Episode 3
Seth’s Fall
1
Oh, their faces! Their wonderful, confused, wary faces, all etched with surprise and wonder and shock. I followed the butler into the dining room, clapped him on the shoulder, and unslung my bow with all of the grace and surety that my years of practice had produced. I notched an arrow, held the bowstring taut, and swept the weapon from one wall of the great room to the other. They froze in their seats, their conversation dying off, forks hanging midway before their mouths, and you could have heard a pin drop.
Only Esau remained unimpressed.
“Welcome, Seth,” he intoned. The other two kids sat there with their mute expressions. I recognized Esau’s son easily enough. Trevor looked like a younger version of the master of the house, his hair just as red and just as coarse as that of his father, though considerably shorter and not spilling out of the neckline of his shirt in sweeping tufts. The other kid was about my age, but I had no idea who he was. He had a long straight nose and very dark hair, and just stared at me, like some great riddle had occurred to him.
“Do sit,” Esau said. “Have you had your breakfast?”
“I’m not a big fan of breakfast,” I replied, then nodded to my weapon. “You have a place where I can go shoot this thing, or should I start looking for targets here in this room?”
Esau clicked his tongue. He appraised me for several long moments, and then a wistful little grin crossed his face. “As it happens, the targets are already arranged out back. I had Jacob see to it this morning. Your father
