Eventually, I reached the other side of the chasm and understood the differences between the two men. I no longer hated Daddy: he had been a shitty father and a shitty husband - a man who's made two bad choices based on lust and coveting and then been too weak either to live with them or undo them. But he had not been a rapist.
It was the history of the family, written by Melquades, down to the most trivial details, one hundred yea rs ahead of time. He had written it in Sanskrit, which was his mother tongue, and he had encoded the even lines in the private cipher o f the Emperor Augustus and the odd ones in a La cedemonian military code.