A Girl of No Consequence: Chapter 1

Continued from: Prelude The Beginning of All Things

Esme Caulderon was a girl of no consequence, blown to and fro by the winds of chance.  She was the middle daughter of five children born to a tavern keeper and a failed mage.  She was a nobody with a bleak future lingering just over the horizon. But she had something, a spark of the divine and was blessed with a fateful mixture of curiosity and cunning that would pull her away from the path of drudgery and lead her to a destiny far beyond anyone’s reckoning.

This is the story of how a girl with every disadvantage wound up in small, blood-spattered shack in the bogs of Morthal.

~~~~

The soft spring light filtered into the small room that Esme shared with her younger sister Sara. It was early, the sun had barely peaked over the horizon, but already she could hear it. She tried putting a pillow over her head, but Haelga, her mother, had a voice that could bend steel.

“This was all that you could get?” Haelga’s voice slashed at Esme’s father, José .  

“There hasn’t been a lot of work since that bastard left; you know that,” he said with a voice that pleaded. “I did the best I could.”

“Your best is a poor day’s barter,” she hissed. “Gods, this work—my work, never-ending—is all that keeps this family fed and clothed. Thank gods we married Vicca off or that would be another mouth to feed. We should get rid of the rest of the girls, as useless as they are.”

“Sara is still a child,” José  retorted. “And Esme…”

“Your precious Esme is fifteen!”

“She’s still too young!”

Helga sniffed, “Old enough to bleed, old enough to breed.” Esme shuttered at that. She felt sickened and deeply embarrassed that her mother would even speak to her father about such things. But this was the norm. Day in and day out, Esme heard the screams of her shrewish mother and quiet pleas of her father.

Gods knows he worked hard; he would be out for weeks at a time, working as a mage in different courts throughout Cyrodiil.  But his best was never enough. As Esme listened to her mother’s verbal barrage, she said a wordless prayer for her father, who to her seemed utterly ill-matched in battle against the shrieking harridan that was her mother.

 “You’re sheer useless,” Haelga shouted.  Gritting her teeth, Esme started to rise.  That was enough. Her father wasn’t sheer useless; he was magic. He could turn a field of flowers into butterflies. He could mold water into fantastic creations.  He could turn a grey day gold with tales from his boyhood in High Rock. To Esme, her father was beautiful, with dark hair, clear grey eyes and a dimpled smile that could warm the coldest of hearts…well, maybe not the coldest.  He wasn’t useless at all.

“Don’t get up,” Sara pleaded softly. “I don’t want hear her. And you know she ends up hitting us after a row with Pa.”

“I know,” Esme said softly. She then looked over at the foot of the bed.  Her youngest brother, Sam, must have crept in during the night. He looked back at her with large, brown pleading eyes.

“Don’t make a sound sis. I don’t want her to hit me.”

Esme nodded. “Fine, we’ll wait till she charges out after Pa and then we’ll get some porridge.”

~~~~~

Esme watched the sun rise through the cracks of her room as she listened for any sound. Haelga hadn’t returned—there was no angry muttering or the tell-tale sound banging of pots and pans.  Esme rose from the bed, gently putting her feet on the cold floor. Tentatively she stood, and walked to door, ensuring that her footfall made no sound. As the door creaked slightly, Esme froze as still as a statue. She waited for a moment and when she heard no noise she signaled to her siblings to rise. 

Looking out into the great hall, she could see that that row had been particularly violent. On the ground were smashed tankards and the outside door was partially off its hinges.  The side door was open, but it wasn’t due to violence; the door appeared to be propped open by a mattress. 

“If it isn’t the three babies,” said Sven, her eldest brother as he dragged the well-used mattress outside. Esme quickly served Sara and Sam before he could stop her.

“Where’s Ma?” Esme said walking outside after her brother.

“Chasing after Pa,” he said casually. “You know, the old man can disappear really quickly when he wants to.” Esme nodded then turned to go inside to get some food.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sven demanded.

“To get some porridge before Sam and Sara eat it all.”

“You can eat after you help me with this,” Sven said has he handed Esme as stick. “We’re going to beat the fleas out of this mattress.”

“What, for the invisible guests?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, but we did have a customer last week.”

“Which is most likely why we have fleas now.”

Sven sighed, “Just pick up the bloody stick and help me.”

As Esme pictured her mother at the end of that stick, she wondered how a man like her pa ended up with a woman like her mother. Haelga, according to Sven, had once been beautiful—and at times when she wasn’t screaming Esme could see it.  Haelga was tall and buxom; she had the long, red hair and green eyes, typical of her Nord kind.

“So you missed a real humdinger this morning,” Sven muttered. “Ma actually threw a kettle at the old bastard.  You should have seen it.”

“I heard it, and that was more than enough—that along with her screaming. What was it about this time?”

“The same as usual. Money of course, but Ma has a new theory as to why pa stays gone for so long.”

“Oh really?”

“She thinks he got a girl on the side,” Sven said as he wiped the sweat from his freckled brow, pushing back a tuff of sweat-soaked red hair.  This information was a punch to the gut; Esme couldn’t imagine her father with anyone else. But after thinking on it for a moment, well, she could see why he’d want to leave the madness of their home.

“I don’t know why he’d want two women yelling at him,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “He’s got enough of that here.”

“When he’s here, which isn’t often.”

“How ever did they meet?” Esme asked as she and Sven battled the fleas.

“Why d’ya ask such questions?” Sven countered, amused by his sister’s query.

“Because I want to know.”

“Well, since you asked so kindly, I’ll tell you—though I’ll cut your tongue out if you ever repeat any of this.”

“Fine,” Esme said as she nodded gravely.

“Awhile ago, while Pa was gone, and the tavern was empty Ma told me of how they met,” Sven said quietly as he put the stick down and stopped beating on the mattress. “It was shortly after the war. According to Ma, our grandfather Harlun was a real son of a bitch. He owned this tavern and I guess he managed to piss off the wrong people, ‘cause the wrong kind of people came after him.”

“Who?”

“Pa,” Sven said simply.

“What do you mean, ‘came after him’? Are you telling me that dad is…”

“A part of the Brotherhood? Or at least he once was. Don’t look so shocked, Esme,” Sven said as his green eyes burned into his sister’s. “Look, I know you think Pa’s as pure as the driven snow and that Ma’s a howling bitch, but not everything is what it seems. I don’t know all the details, but according to Ma, Pa was supposed to kill Harlun and burn the tavern down.  But he saw her and he fell in love. Together they both killed Harlun and then took over the tavern.”

“Did they kill anyone else?” Esme stammered.

“I’m not sure.  You know yourself that Pa tends to disappear for long stretches of time… He was barely around when I was coming up and from what I understand it was during this time that the tavern prospered. There was money, but then it stopped.”

“No, I don’t believe you,” Esme said as she bashed the mattress with a stick. “Pa’s not like that. He can barely walk—“

“That limp wasn’t always there and you know it! It’s only been a couple of years since he started walking like that. And in case your flea brain doesn’t remember, you can ask Vicca. We’re both much older than you…but,” Sven said as reached out and grabbed Esme, pulling in close, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, “if you say anything about our conversation...I’ll make you pay.”

Esme shoved her brother, pushing him back. “I won’t say a word.”

~~~~~

José had gone and it wasn’t until leaves started turning gold that Esme would see him again. In the time he was gone, the tavern had become more prosperous. She instinctively knew from the creaking sound coming from her mother’s bed that it wasn’t quality of the mead that was bringing in the business.

Esme was now sixteen and though she wasn’t nearly as voluptuous as her mother, she often found the inn’s patrons leering hungrily at her.  She couldn’t count on her older brother’s protection as he had become an apprentice to a blacksmith in Chorrol and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before one of these men would prey on her or her younger sister. Esme vowed that when the coming spring reached its zenith, she would take her siblings and leave. Until then she would pilfer what she could from her mother and drunken patrons that were frequenting the tavern.

But next spring was some time off. Until then she would keep her head low and try to placate her mother, whose moods had grown more quixotic in the recent months.  One moment she would be gaily humming a little tune with Sam or dancing with Sara. Occasionally, Haelga even cracked a smile toward Esme. The very next moment, her mother would be shrieking like a banshee. From one morn to the next Esme never knew which Haelga she would wake to. Though on this crisp fall morning, Esme woke to the Haelga that wanted to talk.

“So you’re finally up,” Haelga said as she stood over the wood stove, stirring a mixture for the mead.

“I had a bit of a headache last night; I had a hard time sleeping. I’m sorry I wasn’t up sooner,” Esme answered sheepishly.

“No matter,” Haelga shrugged. “The kids are out in the fields picking melons. I could use your help in here. Any woman worth her salt knows how to make a good brew. It’s time you learned the family trade.” Esme startled at that, knowing what kind of trade her mother had been dealing in lately, but she decided that it was in her best interest to nod and say very little.

“Could you hand me one of those jars on table, Esme?”

 Esme nodded as she grabbed the jar and stood close to her mother. “You’re using a lot of honey there.”

“Yeah, we have plenty of it. The customer who was here last night had little in the way of coin, but lots in the way of honey.”

“That brew’s going to very sweet.”

“Eh, the sweeter it is, the more the men drink; the more they drink the more they’re willing to spend,” Haelga answered with a smirk. “That rings true in all circumstances. By the way, did ya see that young man in here last night?”

“No,” Esme answered, though of course she had.

“Quite the looker, and had you not been so busy pilfering his pockets you might have noticed it.”

Esme froze with fear as her mother said this. Quickly, she searched for some kind of excuse, but knew better than to lie; Haelga was quite capable of sending Esme flying.  “I was just trying to help—”

“No, no you weren’t,” Haelga interjected. “Esme, you’ve never helped me a day in your life. And now you’re going to give this tavern a bad reputation.”

“Couldn’t be worse than the one you’re already giving it!”

For a second neither of them moved. Esme’s mouth hung open in disbelief; astounded that she had allowed such words to escape her lips. Haelga stood trembling before Esme as she glared at her daughter. But the stillness that hung over the tavern’s hall was short lived; in a moment’s time, Haelga retrieved her bearing and said nothing as she reared back and hit Esme with her full force, knocking Esme’s head so hard it cracked and sent the girl reeling across the room.

In the corner, Esme whimpered as she shook, still in shock.  Trembling, she lifted her hands to her mouth in order to catch the blood that was trickling steadily from her lips. She looked at up at her mother, who had already turned back to mead. 

“That served you right, you little bitch,” Haelga said as she stirred vigorously. “None of your brothers or sisters would have dared speak to me so.” Haelga looked over at her daughter and tossed her a rag.  “I don’t want the patrons seeing this mess.”

Esme nodded mutely as she stared at the cracks in the wooden floor, afraid to look back at her mother. “Why do you hate me so?” as she spoke between sobs. Haelga said nothing as she continued to stir. “Tell me, please.  I know you’ve hated me all my life. I want you tell me why.”

Haelga still didn’t speak, but she put the spoon down and  walked into the tavern’s pantry then came out with a bottle of Colovian brandy, then motioned for her daughter to sit down at the bar.

Slowly, Esme rose, still shaken from the hit. She cautiously sat down on a bar stool and faced her mother.

“You really want to know?”  Haelga asked as she poured two glasses of brandy.  Esme nodded mutely. .Haelga leaned against the counter, and stared at her daughter intently. “I didn’t want you, Esme. I was tired of José Caulderon. He was constantly coming and going and each time he left I was never sure if I would see him again.”

“Sven told me what Pa was, or is and he said you knew.”

“Of course I knew. Who do you think summoned him?” Haelga said, rather delighted by the shock in her daughter’s eyes. “I hated my father. Harlun was a cruel beast of man, so day in and day out, I performed the dark ritual; stabbing at his effigy. I wasn’t even sure I was doing it right, but I kept at it.”

“You must have truly hated him.”

“He was a bastard,” Haelga murmured. “Second only to the man that killed him.”

Esme stared hard at her mother. “But I thought you loved Pa?”

“I did. And still do. And that’s what makes the pain so unbearable,” Haelga stated as she took a sip of the strong brew. “I hated him and loved him at the same time.”

Esme was puzzled by this. Either you loved someone or you didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too young; you’ve never loved, so you can’t possibly understand what that’s like. José was like a poison that crept through my veins. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, craving him. I worried that each time he went out would be his last. And when he was gone for long stretches, I wondered if he lay in other arms. These thoughts drove me mad, Esme. I swore that after Sven was born there’d be no more. I didn’t want anymore. I was rich tavern owner’s only daughter and I was sure there would be other interests…and there were.  But then he came back and it was like he never left. And then I found out I was carrying you. And I was so angry.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Haegla shrugged slightly. “I don’t give a damn. I don’t care if that’s irrational; its how I felt. I was sick and heavy throughout the pregnancy. And that heaviness never left.  I ached constantly. My heart was sore. I wanted to put you out and feed you to the wolves, and one night I did. And José brought you right back in. He even hired a wet nurse. I went back to tending the tavern while he held you like a bloody mother.”

“Like you should have.”

“I’m not here for your bloody recriminations, Esme. You wanted an answer and I’ve given it to you. I don’t know why I couldn’t love you.”

“I do,” Esme said as she braced herself for another hit. “You were jealous.”

Haelga laughed. “I was always  jealous, Esme. But your life marked the end of my freedom.  There was no escaping him. From then on, José was there more often, taking on shorter jobs. He even stuck around long enough to teach you and your brother and sister to read. We were quite the darling little family.”

Esme winced at the acid in her mother’s voice. “Why don’t you hate them—Sara and Sam?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was resigned to my fate at that point. I never felt the heaviness of heart with the others. Also, he was closer to you than the rest, despite the fact…”

“Despite what?”

“José was gone for a long while and as you pointed out earlier, I like the company of other men.  I’ve always wondered if you were really his. I always thought of you as some sort of changeling.  Something that shouldn’t have been there,” Haelga said softly as she took another drink.

“I have his eyes,” Esme said feebly.

“Lots of men have grey eyes,” Haelga said with a shrug. “So now while we’re tellin’ the truth, I want to know why you’re stealin.”

“I didn’t want them to come back,” Esme whispered.

“Well, they will and you’re pa’s gone and there’s nothing for it,” Haelga retorted. “I plan on making one of these men my next husband and you’d do yourself a favor looking out for one too. There’s nothing for it. This is the way of the world and you best make the most of it for you’ll never change it. Now, go upstairs, clean your mouth and change that dress. I don’t want you scaring your siblings. I’ll tell them you tripped.”

That night Esme slept with a lighter heart despite her aching lip. In the core of her being, in a tiny place that she kept locked away, she found herself relieved at thought that she may not be José ’s daughter.  She had always loved him, but in ways that weren’t always daughterly. On some nights she dreamt of him and in the morning she would wake up soaked and feeling ashamed.  What kind of girl craves her own father?  she asked herself over and over. But now, well, maybe she could dream of the man she loved without regret.

For the first night, in more time than she could remember, Esme slept soundly through the night.

~~~~~~~

It was on a cold Frostfall night  that José  finally returned and this time it was his shouts that woke Esme—that and  her mother’s terrified screams.

“I’m scared, Esme,” whispered Sam.

Esme looked at both her terrified siblings. “Both of you hide. I’ll see what’s going on out there.” As Esme entered the kitchen, she had to stifle a scream. The hatchet that was used for splitting fire wood was firmly lodged into another man’s bare back.  Turning to her right, Esme could see her mother on the ground; Haelga’s dead eyes peered lifelessly at the ceiling and in her hand was blood-caked carving knife.

“Papa? What’s happened?” she asked as her voice cracked.

“Go back to your room, Esme,” José said calmly. Esme found she couldn’t move. “I said go back to your room!”

Slowly, Esme backed away from the macabre scene and stumbled back into bedroom.  

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Pa’s home,” Esme whispered as she held her siblings close. “Papa’s home.”

Next Chapter: A Girl of No Consequence: Chapter 2