|B  ut when I wrote home later that year, my letter was answered by my elder sister. My father had suddenly become sick and quickly died. His last request was that enough money be set aside so that I could at least finish my education. I would have been summoned, but there would not have been enough time. The very expense of the journey would've taken away from my studies. I was to stay and mourn him alone. Included with the reply was my mother's gold wedding ring, which my father had worn on a silver chain around his neck. I have worn this around my own neck since.

My friend had given me much comfort those long months, until I was able to return home to Knittlingen. I went to visit my sister Beth, my only living relative. She held my hand as she had when Mother died, when we went to visit the grave. It was a noble-looking stone, pure polished marble that was inscribed with a solemn ephitet. I left a bouquet of roses, tulips, and wildflowers for my parents, who were finally togther. The visit was not pleasant, in light of what I was searching inside of me, but I learned that I also had to remain strong, for Beth, too, had contracted my father's sickness. But it did not kill her. She said she had survived for my sake. But I knew, as she did, that the unborn child that was inside her might not.

Two weeks later, she went into labour. Beth wanted me close, for her husband was on a journey for the king, and would not return for at least a week. So, while she endured the pangs of labour, I held her hand. At first I thought that we were wrong about the harm done to the fetus while she had been sick. And as the midwife prepared her for the birth, I knew something had to be wrong. Suddenly Beth's face grimaced in agony. At first I thought this just be a minor complication. But nothing was minor about it. The baby, once born, did not move or breathe. Nor did Beth.

Mind Conventional Chaos