Chapter 18: Bitterest Truth

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"Bitterest Truth"

I leaned back against the wall, facing his cot. The doctor abruptly walked in, his face calm and composed. A wax tablet lay secured in his hands.

He whipped out his tablet and stylus, before he proceeded to ask, "Did you drink any of the wine from the dinner party? It seems that your symptoms are similar to the cupbearer but only that your symptoms took longer to manifest itself." Apollus and I gazed at grandfather for an answer. His lips quivered.

He cleared his throat. "I raised the cup to my lips, but I only took a small sip at the most. I must have licked the brim of the cup. The only symptom I recall is a bad stomach ache that night followed by weariness come morning. But I am still in good spirits," he assured, lifting his hands from the sheets. "Really I am doing fair as you can see. Now is not the best time for further examination," he said sternly.

The physician looked up from his notes. "Very well, I will leave you with your family for now." He carried his tablet and stylus and left. Just as the doctor was leaving, Barbarius came inside, casting him an icy glare.

"Well that was a very awkward moment," Apollus blurted. "Can we just pretend that we did not have this conversation? Besides we should be interested in your well-being," he said. While he rested a hand on Grandfather's shoulder, I rolled my eyes.

"You deserve to know the truth," grandfather murmured under his breath. My eye roll did not escape his notice. "I do not know what the future holds, but I do not want to die with a heavy heart. I know I should have told you earlier Troy, and I can see the hurt in your eyes. But," he sighed. "It was always bad timing of things," grandfather said.

"Yes this is very convenient timing!" I said briskly. "Her journal makes perfect sense now."

Apollus crinkled his brows. "What are you talking about?"

"The instance when she first writes about her pregnancy with her firstborn, then there are missing pages, and a new entry talking about her firstborn dated a year later."

"Oh, yes that," Apollus said as his hands fiddled with the folds of his toga.

My eyes narrowed in Apollus' direction. "Wait, you knew too!" I asked.

Apollus looked away. "Yes. I knew about it. Father made me swear I tell nobody else."

I shook my head. "I suppose everyone else knew before me, eh?" I sighed looking at the floor. "So what happened to this firstborn? It died?" I switched my gaze from Apollus to grandfather.

He faltered before answering, "You could say that." He had that pained look on his face, the same one when I failed to recognize him. "I did not want to remember such painful memories. We tried to suppress those events almost twenty-two years ago but now you deserve the truth...the whole truth." He motioned me to stand closer by his bedside.

He cleared his throat before recounting the memory. "When your mother first received the news she was pregnant she was excited and anxious all at the same time. Your father was ecstatic with the news and as the pregnancy carried on; your father announced to his council friends that his wife was carrying their "heir." Weeks before she was expected to give birth, your mother was experiencing complications and soon started feeling birth pangs. When it came time for delivery it was revealed that the baby was not a boy as everyone has hoped but a girl. She was born early. She was so small," he said, cupping his hands together, "that she could still fit nicely in the open palm of your father.

"Your father was greatly displeased, and thought it was best if the baby was put out its misery. So...the midwife carried the baby in a burlap sack to the physician. The physician wrapped up the burlap sack until the baby stopped whimpering. We all held our breath in this very room where it took place. The child was disposed in one of the waste receptacles inside the burlap sack. All the waste was to be shipped to the Valley where waste and undesirable things are dumped." His words paralyzed me. As he told the story I imagined the scene of the baby being strangled. Its little body taking its final breaths before it went limp.

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