Post on 23-Jan-2023
FIRSTBLOOD
Hespatandbeckonedmeforwardwithonehand,rollingthebladeintheother.“Comeon,Assassin,”hegoadedme.“Comebeawarriorforthefirsttime.Comeseewhatitfeelslike.Comeon,boy.Beaman.”Itwassupposedtoangerme,butinsteaditmademefocus.Ineededhimalive.
Ineededhimtotalk.Ileaptoverthebranchandintotheclearing,swingingalittlewildlytopush
himbackbutrecoveringmystancequickly,beforehecouldpressforwardwitharesponseofhisown.Forsomemomentswecircledoneanother,eachwaitingfortheothertolaunchhisnextattack.Ibrokethestalematebylungingforward,slashing,theninstantlyretreatingtomyguard.ForasecondhethoughtI’dmissed.Thenhefeltthebloodbegintotrickle
downhischeekandtouchedahandtohisface,hiseyeswideninginsurprise.Firstbloodtome.“You’veunderestimatedme,”Isaid.Hissmilewasalittlemorestrainedthistime.“Therewon’tbeasecondtime.”“Therewillbe,”Ireplied,andcameforwardagain,feintingtowardstheleft
thengoingrightwhenhisbodywasalreadycommittedtothewronglineofdefence.Agashopenedupinhisfreearm.Bloodstainedhistatteredsleeveandbegan
drippingtotheforestfloor,brightredonbrownandgreenneedles.“I’mbetterthanyouknow,”Isaid.“Allyouhavetolookforwardtois
death...”
AcetitlesbyOliverBowden
ASSASSIN’SCREED:RENAISSANCEASSASSIN’SCREED:BROTHERHOOD
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Contents
TITLEPAGECOPYRIGHTPROLOGUEPARTI:1735
6DECEMBER17357DECEMBER17358DECEMBER17359DECEMBER173510DECEMBER173511DECEMBER1735
PARTII:1747,TWELVEYEARSLATER
10JUNE174711JUNE174718JUNE174720JUNE17472–3JULY174714JULY174715JULY174716JULY174717JULY1747
PARTIII:1753,SIXYEARSLATER
7JUNE175325JUNE175312AUGUST1753
18APRIL17548JULY175410JULY175413JULY175414JULY175415NOVEMBER17548JULY17559JULY175510JULY175513JULY17551AUGUST17554AUGUST175517SEPTEMBER1757(TWOYEARSLATER)21SEPTEMBER175725SEPTEMBER17578OCTOBER17579OCTOBER175727JANUARY175828JANUARY1758
PARTIV:1774,SIXTEENYEARSLATER
12JANUARY177427JUNE1776(TWOYEARSLATER)28JUNE17767JANUARY1778(TWOYEARSLATER)26JANUARY17787MARCH177816JUNE177817JUNE177816SEPTEMBER1781(THREEYEARSLATER)
EPILOGUE:16SEPTEMBER1781
2OCTOBER178215NOVEMBER1783
LISTOFCHARACTERSACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PROLOGUE
Ineverknewhim.Notreally.IthoughtIhad,butitwasn’tuntilIreadhisjournalthatIrealizedIhadn’treallyknownhimatall.Andit’stoolatenow.ToolatetotellhimImisjudgedhim.ToolatetotellhimI’msorry.
6DECEMBER1735
i
TwodaysagoIshouldhavebeencelebratingmytenthbirthdayatmyhomeinQueenAnne’sSquare.Instead,mybirthdayhasgoneunremarked;therearenocelebrations,onlyfunerals,andourburnt-outhouseislikeablackened,rottedtoothamongthetall,whitebrickmansionsofQueenAnne’sSquare.
Forthetimebeing,we’restayinginoneofFather’spropertiesinBloomsbury.It’sanicehouse,andthoughthefamilyisdevastated,andourlivestornapart,thereisthattobethankfulforatleast.Herewe’llstay,shocked,inlimbo—liketroubledghosts—untilourfutureisdecided.
Theblazeatemyjournalssobeginningthisfeelslikestartinganew.Thatbeingthecase,Ishouldprobablybeginwithmyname,whichisHaytham,anArabicname,foranEnglishboywhosehomeisLondon,andwhofrombirthuntiltwodaysagolivedanidylliclifeshelteredfromtheworstofthefilththatexistselsewhereinthecity.FromQueenAnne’sSquarewecouldseethefogandsmokethathungovertheriver,andlikeeverybodyelsewewerebotheredbythestink,whichIcanonlydescribeas“wethorse,”butwedidn’thavetotreadthroughtheriversofstinkingwastefromtanneries,butchers’shopsandthebacksidesofanimalsandpeople.Therancidstreamsofeffluentthathastenthepassageofdisease:dysentery,cholera,typhoid...
“Youmustwrapup,MasterHaytham.Orthelurgy’llgetyou.”OnwalksacrossthefieldstoHampsteadmynursesusedtosteermeaway
fromthepoorunfortunateswrackedwithcoughs,andshieldedmyeyesfromchildrenwithdeformities.Morethananythingtheyfeareddisease.Isupposebecauseyoucannotreasonwithdisease;youcan’tbribeitortakearmsagainstit,anditrespectsneitherwealthnorstanding.Itisanimplacablefoe.
Andofcourseitattackswithoutwarning.SoeveryeveningtheycheckedmeforsignsofmeaslesorthepoxthenreportedonmygoodhealthtoMother,whocametokissmegoodnight.Iwasoneoftheluckyones,yousee,whohadamothertokissmegoodnight,andafatherwhodid,too;wholovedmeandmy
halfsister,Jenny,whotoldmeaboutrichandpoor,whoinstilledinmemygoodfortuneandurgedmealwaystothinkofothers;andwhoemployedtutorsandnursemaidstolookafterandeducateme,sothatIshouldgrowuptobeamanofgoodvaluesandofworthtotheworld.Oneoftheluckyones.Notlikethechildrenwhohavetoworkinfieldsandinfactoriesandupchimneys.
Iwonderedsometimes,though,didtheyhavefriends,thoseotherchildren?Iftheydid,then,whileofcourseIknewbetterthantoenvythemtheirliveswhenminewassomuchmorecomfortable,Ienviedthemthatonething:theirfriends.Me,Ihadnone,withnobrothersorsistersclosetomyageeither,and,asformakingthem,well,Iwasshy.Besides,therewasanotherproblem:somethingthathadcometolightwhenIwasjustfiveyearsold.
Ithappenedoneafternoon.ThemansionsofQueenAnne’sSquarewerebuiltclosetogether,sowe’doftenseeourneighbours,eitherinthesquareitselforintheirgroundsattherear.Ononesideofuslivedafamilywhohadfourgirls,twoaroundmyage.Theyspentwhatseemedlikehoursskippingorplayingblindman’sbluffintheirgarden,andIusedtohearthemasIsatintheschoolroomunderthewatchfuleyeofmytutor,OldMr.Fayling,whohadbushygreyeyebrowsandahabitofpickinghisnose,carefullystudyingwhateveritwasthathe’ddugfromtherecessesofhisnostrilsthensurreptitiouslyeatingit.
ThisparticularafternoonOldMr.FaylinglefttheroomandIwaiteduntilhisfootstepshadrecededbeforegettingupfrommysums,goingtothewindowandgazingoutatthegroundsofthemansionnextdoor.
Dawsonwasthefamilyname.Mr.DawsonwasanMP,somyfathersaid,barelyhidinghisscowl.Theyhadahigh-walledgarden,and,despitethetrees,bushes,andfoliageinfullbloom,partsofitwerevisiblefrommyschoolroomwindow,soIcouldseetheDawsongirlsoutside.Theywereplayinghopscotchforachange,andhadlaidoutpall-mallmalletsforamakeshiftcoursealthoughitdidn’tlookasiftheyweretakingitveryseriously;probablythetwoolderonesweretryingtoteachthetwoyoungeronesthefinerpointsofthegame.Ablurofpigtailsandpink,crinklydresses,theywerecallingandlaughing,andoccasionallyI’dhearthesoundofanadultvoice,anursemaidprobably,hiddenfrommysightbeneathalowcanopyoftrees.
MysumswereleftunattendedonthetableforamomentasIwatchedthemplay,untilsuddenly,almostasifshecouldsenseshewasbeingwatched,oneoftheyoungerones,ayearorsomyjunior,lookedup,sawmeatthewindow,andoureyeslocked.
Igulped,thenveryhesitantlyraisedahandtowave.Tomysurpriseshe
beamedback.Andnextshewascallinghersisters,whogatheredround,allfourofthem,excitedlycraningtheirnecksandshieldingtheireyesfromthesuntogazeupattheschoolroomwindow,whereIstoodlikeanexhibitatamuseum—exceptamovingexhibitthatwavedandwentslightlypinkwithembarrassment,butevensofeltthesoft,warmglowofsomethingthatmighthavebeenfriendship.
Whichevaporatedthemomenttheirnursemaidappearedfrombeneaththecoverofthetrees,glancedupcrosslyatmywindowwithalookthatleftmeinnodoubtwhatshethoughtofme—anoglerorworse—thenusheredallfourgirlsoutofsight.
ThatlookthenursemaidgavemeI’dseenbefore,andI’dseeitagain,onthesquareorinthefieldsbehindus.Rememberhowmynursessteeredmeawayfromtheraggedunfortunates?Othernursemaidskepttheirchildrenawayfrommelikethat.Ineverreallywonderedwhy.Ididn’tquestionitbecause...Idon’tknow,becausetherewasnoreasontoquestionit,Isuppose;itwasjustsomethingthathappened,andIknewnodifferent.
ii
WhenIwassix,Edithpresentedmewithabundleofpressedclothesandapairofsilver-buckledshoes.
Iemergedfrombehindthescreenwearingmynewshiny-buckledshoes,awaistcoatandajacket,andEdithcalledoneofthemaids,whosaidIlookedthespittingimageofmyfather,whichofcoursewastheidea.
Lateron,myparentscametoseeme,andIcouldhaveswornFather’seyesmistedupalittle,whileMothermadenopretenceatallandsimplyburstoutcryingthereandtheninthenursery,flappingherhanduntilEdithpassedherahandkerchief.
Standingthere,Ifeltgrown-upandlearned,evenasIfeltthehotnessinmycheeksagain.IfoundmyselfwonderingiftheDawsongirlswouldhaveconsideredmeratherfineinmynewsuit,quitethegentleman.I’dthoughtofthemoften.I’dcatchsightofthemfromthewindowsometimes,runningalongtheirgardenorbeingshepherdedintocarriagesatthefrontofthemansions.IfanciedIsawoneofthemstealaglanceupatmeonce,butifshesawme,therewerenosmilesorwavesthattime,justashadowofthatsamelookwornbythenursemaid,asthoughdisapprovalofmewasbeinghandeddown,likearcane
knowledge.SowehadtheDawsonsononeside;thoseelusive,pigtailed,skipping
Dawsons,whileontheothersideweretheBarretts.Theywereafamilyofeightchildren,boysandgirls,althoughagainIrarelysawthem;aswiththeDawsons,myencounterswererestrictedtothesightofthemgettingintocarriages,orseeingthematadistanceinthefields.Then,onedayshortlybeforemyeighthbirthday,Iwasinthegarden,strollingalongtheperimeteranddraggingastickalongthecrumblingredbrickofthehighgardenwall.OccasionallyI’dstoptooverturnstoneswithastickandinspectwhateverinsectsscuttledfrombeneath—woodlice,millipedes,wormsthatwriggledasthoughstretchingouttheirlongbodies—whenIcameuponthedoorthatledontoapassagebetweenourhomeandtheBarretts’.
Theheavygatewaspadlockedwithahuge,rustingchunkofmetalthatlookedasifithadn’tbeenopenedforyears,andIstaredatitforawhile,weighingthelockinmypalm,whenIheardawhispered,urgent,boyishvoice.
“Say,you.Isittruewhattheysayaboutyourfather?”Itcamefromtheothersideofthegatealthoughittookmeamomentorsoto
placeit—amomentinwhichIstoodshockedandalmostrigidwithfear.Next,IalmostjumpedoutofmyskinwhenIsawthroughaholeinthedooranunblinkingeyethatwaswatchingme.Againcamethequestion.
“Comeon,they’llbebeckoningmeinanyminute.Isittruewhattheysayaboutyourfather?”
Calming,Ibenttobringmyeyelevelwiththeholeinthedoor.“Whoisthis?”Iasked.
“It’sme,Tom,wholivesnextdoor.”IknewthatTomwastheyoungestoftheirbrood,aboutmyage.I’dheardhis
namebeingcalled.“Whoareyou?”hesaid.“Imean,what’syourname?”“Haytham,”Ireplied,andIwonderedifTomwasmynewfriend.Hehada
friendly-lookingeyeball,atleast.“That’sastrangesortofname.”“It’sArabic.Itmeans‘youngeagle.’”“Well,thatmakessense.”“Howdoyoumean,‘makessense’?”“Oh,Idon’tknow.Itjustdoessomehow.Andthere’sonlyyou,isthere?”“Andmysister,”Iretorted.“AndMotherandFather.”“Prettysmallsortoffamily.”
Inodded.“Look,”hepressed.“Isittrueornot?Isyourfatherwhattheysayheis?And
don’teventhinkaboutlying.Icanseeyoureyes,youknow.I’llbeabletotellifyou’relyingstraightaway.”
“Iwon’tlie.Idon’tevenknowwhat‘they’sayheis,orevenwho‘they’are.”AtthesametimeIwasgettinganoddandnotaltogetherpleasantfeeling:
thatsomewherethereexistedanideaofwhatconstituted“normal,”andthatwe,theKenwayfamily,werenotincludedinit.
Perhapstheowneroftheeyeballheardsomethinginmytone,becausehehastenedtoadd,“I’msorry—I’msorryifIsaidsomethingoutofturn.Iwasjustinterested,that’sall.Yousee,thereisarumour,andit’sawfullyexcitingifit’strue...”
“Whatrumour?”“You’llthinkit’ssilly.”Feelingbrave,Idrewclosetotheholeandlookedathim,eyeballtoeyeball,
saying,“Whatdoyoumean?WhatdopeoplesayaboutFather?”Heblinked.“Theysayheusedtobea—”Suddenlytherewasanoisefrombehindhim,andIheardanangrymale
voicecallhisname:“Thomas!”Theshocksenthimbackwards.“Oh,bother,”hewhisperedquickly.“I’ve
gottogo,I’mbeingcalled.Seeyouaround,Ihope?”AndwiththathewasgoneandIwasleftwonderingwhathemeant.What
rumour?Whatwerepeoplesayingaboutus,oursmallfamily?AtthesametimeIrememberedthatIhadbettergetamoveon.Itwasnearly
midday—andtimeformyweaponstraining.
7DECEMBER1735
i
Ifeelinvisible,likeI’mstuckinalimbobetweenthepastandthefuture.Aroundmethegrown-upsholdtenseconversations.Theirfacesaredrawnandtheladiesweep.Firesarekeptlit,ofcourse,butthehouseisemptyapartfromthefewofusandwhatpossessionswesavedfromtheburnt-outmansion,anditfeelspermanentlycold.Outside,snowhasstartedtofall,whileindoorsisasorrowthatchillstheverybones.
Withlittleelseformetodobutwritemyjournal,Ihadhopedtogetuptodatewiththestoryofmylifesofar,butitseemsthere’smoretosaythanI’dfirstthought,andofcoursetherehavebeenotherimportantmatterstoattendto.Funerals.Edithtoday.
“Areyousure,MasterHaytham?”Bettyhadaskedearlier,withherforeheadcreasedinconcern,hereyestired.Foryears—aslongasIcouldremember—shehadassistedEdith.ShewasasbereavedasIwas.
“Yes,”Isaid,dressedaseverinmysuitand,fortoday,ablacktie.Edithhadbeenaloneintheworld,soitwasthesurvivingKenwaysandstaffwhogatheredforafuneralfeastbelowstairs,forhamandaleandcake.Whenthatwasover,themenfromthefuneralcompany,whowerealreadyquitedrunk,loadedherbodyintothehearsefortakingtothechapel.Behinditwetookourseatsinmourningcarriages.Weonlyneededtwoofthem.WhenitwasoverIretiredtomyroom,tocontinuewithmystory...
ii
AcoupleofdaysafterI’dspokentoTomBarrett’seyeball,whathe’dsaidwasstillplayingonmymind.SoonemorningwhenJennyandIwerebothaloneinthedrawingroomtogether,Idecidedtoaskheraboutit.
Jenny.Iwasnearlyeightandshewastwenty-one,andwehadasmuchin
commonasIdidwiththemanwhodeliveredthecoal.Less,probably,ifIthoughtaboutit,becauseatleastthemanwhodeliveredthecoalandIbothlikedtolaugh,whereasI’drarelyseenJennysmile,letalonelaugh.
Shehasblackhairthatshines,andhereyesaredarkand...well,“sleepy”iswhatI’dsayalthoughI’dheardthemdescribedas“brooding,”andatleastoneadmirerwentsofarastosayshehada“smokystare,”whateverthatis.Jenny’slookswereapopulartopicofconversation.Sheisagreatbeauty,orsoI’moftentold.
Althoughnottome.ShewasjustJenny,who’drefusedtoplaywithmesooftenI’dlongsincegivenupaskingher;whowheneverIpictureherwassittinginahigh-backedchair,headbentoverhersewing,orembroidery—whateveritwasshedidwithaneedleandthread.Andscowling.Thatsmokystareheradmirerssaidshehad?Icalleditscowling.
Thethingwas,despitethefactthatwewerelittlemorethanguestsineachother’slives,likeshipssailingaroundthesamesmallharbour,passingcloselybutnevermakingcontact,wehadthesamefather.AndJenny,beingmorethanadecadeolderthanI,knewmoreabouthimthanIdid.SoeventhoughI’dhadyearsofhertellingmeIwastoostupidortooyoungtounderstand—ortoostupidandtooyoungtounderstand;andonceeventooshorttounderstand,whateverthatwassupposedtomean—Iusedtotrytoengageherinconversation.Idon’tknowwhy,because,asIsay,Ialwayscameawaynonethewiser.Toannoyherperhaps.Butonthisparticularoccasion,acoupleofdaysorsoaftermyconversationwithTom’seyeball,itwasbecauseIwasgenuinelycurioustofindoutwhatTomhadmeant.
SoIaskedher:“Whatdopeoplesayaboutus?”Shesighedtheatricallyandlookedupfromherneedlework.“Whatdoyoumean,Squirt?”sheasked.“Justthat—whatdopeoplesayaboutus?”“Areyoutalkingaboutgossip?”“Ifyoulike.”“Andwhatwouldyoucareaboutgossip?Aren’tyouabittoo—”“Icare,”Iinterrupted,beforewegotontothesubjectofmybeingtoo
young,toostupidortooshort.“Doyou?Why?”“Somebodysaidsomething,that’sall.”Sheputdownherwork,tuckingitbythechaircushionatthesideofherleg,
andpursedherlips.“Who?Whosaiditandwhatdidtheysay?”
“Aboyatthegateinthegrounds.HesaidourfamilywasstrangeandthatFatherwasa...”
“What?”“Ineverfoundout.”Shesmiledandpickedupherneedlework“Andthat’swhatsetyouthinking,
isit?”“Well,wouldn’tityou?”“IalreadyknoweverythingIneedtoknow,”shesaidhaughtily,“andItell
youthis,Icouldn’tgivetwofigswhattheysayaboutusinthehousenextdoor.”“Well,tellmethen,”Isaid.“WhatdidFatherdobeforeIwasborn?”Jennydidsmile,sometimes.Shesmiledwhenshehadtheupperhand,when
shecouldexertalittlepoweroversomeone—especiallyifthatsomeonewasme.“You’llfindout,”shesaid.“When?”“Allingoodtime.Afterall,youarehismaleheir.”Therewasalongpause.“Howdoyoumean,‘maleheir’?”Iasked.“What’s
thedifferencebetweenthatandwhatyouare?”Shesighed.“Well,atthemoment,notmuch,althoughyouhaveweapons
training,andIdon’t.”“Youdon’t?”ButonreflectionIalreadyknewthat,andIsupposeIhad
wonderedwhyitwasthatIdidswordcraftandshedidneedlecraft.“No,Haytham,Idon’thaveweaponstraining.Nochildhasweapons
training,Haytham,notinBloomsburyanyway,andmaybenotinallofLondon.Nobodybutyou.Haven’tyoubeentold?”
“Toldwhat?”“Nottosayanything.”“Yes,but...”“Well,didn’tyoueverwonderwhy—whyyou’renotsupposedtosay
anything?”MaybeIhad.MaybeIsecretlyknewallalong.Isaidnothing.“You’llsoonfindoutwhat’sinstoreforyou,”shesaid.“Ourliveshavebeen
mappedoutforus,don’tyouworryaboutthat.”“Well,then,what’sinstoreforyou?”Shesnortedderisively.“Whatisinstoreforme?isthewrongquestion.Who
isinstore?wouldbemoreaccurate.”TherewasatraceofsomethinginhervoicethatIwouldn’tquiteunderstanduntilmuchlater,andIlookedather,knowingbetterthantoenquirefurther,andriskfeelingthestingofthatneedle.
ButwhenIeventuallyputdownthebookIhadbeenreadingandleftthedrawingroom,IdidsoknowingthatalthoughIhadlearntalmostnothingaboutmyfatherorfamily,I’dlearntsomethingaboutJenny:whysheneversmiled;whyshewasalwayssoantagonistictowardsme.
Itwasbecauseshe’dseenthefuture.She’dseenthefutureandknewitfavouredme,fornobetterreasonthanIhadbeenbornmale.
Imighthavefeltsorryforher.Mighthavedone—ifshehadn’tbeensuchagrumbler.
KnowingwhatInowknew,though,weaponstrainingthefollowingdayhadanextrafrisson.So:nobodyelsehadweaponstrainingbutme.SuddenlyitfeltasthoughIweretastingforbiddenfruit,andthefactthatmyfatherwasmytutoronlymadeitmoresucculent.IfJennywasright,andtherewassomecallingIwasbeinggroomedtoanswer,likeotherboysaretrainedforthepriesthood,orasblacksmiths,butchersorcarpenters,thengood.Thatsuitedmefine.TherewasnobodyintheworldIlookeduptomorethanFather.Thethoughtthathewaspassingonhisknowledgetomewasatoncecomfortingandthrilling.
And,ofcourse,itinvolvedswords.Whatmorecouldaboywant?Lookingback,IknowthatfromthatdayonIbecameamorewillingandenthusiasticpupil.Everyday,eitheratmiddayoraftereveningmeal,dependingonFather’sdiary,weconvenedinwhatwecalledthetrainingroombutwasactuallythegamesroom.Anditwastherethatmyswordskillsbegantoimprove.
Ihaven’ttrainedsincetheattack.Ihaven’thadthehearttopickupabladeatall,butIknowthatwhenIdoI’llpicturethatroom,withitsdark,oak-panelledwalls,bookshelvesandthecoveredbilliardtablewhichhadbeenmovedasidetomakespace.Andinitmyfather,hisbrighteyes,sharpbutkindly,andalwayssmiling,alwaysencouragingme:block,parry,footwork,balance,awareness,anticipation.Thosewordsherepeatedlikeamantra,sometimessayingnothingelseforanentirelessonatatime,justbarkingthecommands,noddingwhenIgotitright,shakinghisheadwhenIdiditwrong,occasionallypausing,scoopinghishairoutofhisface,andgoingtothebackofmetopositionmyarmsandlegs.
Tome,theyare—orwere—thesightsandsoundsofweaponstraining:thebookshelves,thebilliardtable,myfather’smantraandthesoundofringing...
Wood.Yes,wood.Woodentrainingswordsweused,muchtomychagrin.Steelwouldcome
later,he’dsay,wheneverIcomplained.
iii
Onthemorningofmybirthday,EdithwasextraspeciallynicetomeandMothermadesureIwasgivenabirthdaybreakfastofmyfavourites:sardineswithmustardsauce,andfreshbreadwithcherryjammadefromthefruitofthetreesinourgrounds.IcaughtJennygivingmeasneeringlookasItuckedinbutpaiditnomind.Sinceourconversationinthedrawingroom,whateverpowershe’dhadoverme,slimasithadbeen,hadsomehowbeenmadelessdistinct.BeforethatImighthavetakenherridiculetoheart,maybefeltalittlesillyandself-consciousaboutmybirthdaybreakfast.Butnotthatday.Thinkingback,IwonderifmyeighthbirthdaymarkedthedayIbegantochangefromboytoman.
Sono,Ididn’tcareaboutthecurlofJenny’slip,orthepignoisesshemadesurreptitiously.IhadeyesonlyforMotherandFather,whohadeyesonlyforme.Icouldtellbytheirexpressions,tinylittleparentalcodesI’dpickedupovertheyears,thatsomethingelsewastocome;thatmybirthdaypleasuresweresettocontinue.Andsoitproved.BytheendofthemealmyfatherhadannouncedthattonightwewouldbegoingtoWhite’sChocolateHouseonChesterfieldStreet,wherethehotchocolateismadefromsolidblocksofcocoaimportedfromSpain.
LaterthatdayIstoodwithEdithandBettyfussingaroundme,dressingmeinmysmartestsuit.Thenthefourofusweresteppingintoacarriageatthekerboutside,whereIsneakedalookupatthewindowsofourneighboursandwonderedifthefacesoftheDawsongirlswerepressedtotheglass,orTomandhisbrothers.Ihopedso.Ihopedtheycouldseemenow.Seeusallandthink,“TheregotheKenwayfamily,outfortheevening,justlikeanormalfamily.”
iv
TheareaaroundChesterfieldStreetwasbusy.WewereabletodrawupdirectlyoutsideWhite’sand,oncethere,ourdoorwasopenedandwewerehelpedquicklyacrossthecrowdedthoroughfare,andinside.
Evenso,duringthatshortwalkbetweenthecarriageandthesanctuaryofthechocolatehouse,IlookedtomyleftandrightandsawalittleofLondon:thebodyofadoglyinginthegutter,aderelictretchingagainstsomerailings,flowersellers,beggars,drunkards,urchinssplashinginariverofmudthatseemedto
seetheonthestreet.Andthenwewereinside,greetedbythethickscentofsmoke,ale,perfume
andofcoursechocolate,aswellasahubbubofpianoandraisedvoices.People,allofwhomwereshouting,leanedovergamingtables.Mendrankfromhugetankardsofale;women,too.Isawsomewithhotchocolateandcake.Everybody,itseemed,wasinastateofhighexcitement.
IlookedatFather,whohadstoppedshort,andsensedhisdiscomfort.ForamomentIwasconcernedhe’dsimplyturnandleave,beforeagentlemanholdinghiscanealoftcaughtmyeye.YoungerthanFather,withaneasysmileandatwinklethatwasvisibleevenacrosstheroom,hewaswagglingthecaneatus.Untilwithagratefulwave,Fatheracknowledgedhimandbegantoleadusacrosstheroom,squeezingbetweentables,steppingoverdogsandevenoneortwochildren,whoscrabbledatthefeetofrevellers,presumablyhopingforwhatevermightfalloffthegamingtables:piecesofcake,maybecoins.
Wereachedthegentlemanwiththecane.UnlikeFather,whosehairwasunkemptandbarelytiedbackwithabow,heworeawhitepowderedwig,thebackofitsecuredinablacksilkbag,andafrockcoatinadeep,richredcolour.Withanod,hegreetedFatherthenturnedhisattentiontomeandmadeanexaggeratedbow.“Goodevening,MasterHaytham,Ibelievethatmanyhappyreturnsofthedayareinorder.Remindmepleaseofyourage,sir?Icanseefromyourbearingthatyouareachildofgreatmaturity.Eleven?Twelve,perhaps?”
Ashesaidthisheglancedovermyshoulderwithatwinklysmileandmymotherandfatherchuckledappreciatively.
“Iameight,sir,”Isaid,andpuffedupproudly,asmyfathercompletedtheintroductions.ThegentlemanwasReginaldBirch,oneofhisseniorpropertymanagers,andMr.Birchsaidhewasdelightedtomakemyacquaintancethengreetedmymotherwithalongbow,kissingthebackofherhand.
HisattentionwenttoJennynext,andhetookherhand,benthisheadandpressedhislipstoit.Iknewenoughtorealizethatwhathewasdoingwascourtship,andIglancedquicklyovertoFather,expectinghimtostepin.
InsteadwhatIsawwasheandMotherlookingthrilled,thoughJennywasstone-faced,andstayedthatwayaswewereledtoaprivatebackroomofthechocolatehouseandseated,sheandMr.Birchsidebyside,astheWhite’sstaffbegantobusythemselvesaroundus.
Icouldhavestayedthereallnight,havingmyfillofhotchocolateandcake,copiousamountsofwhichweredeliveredtothetable.BothFatherandMr.Birchseemedtoenjoytheale.SointheenditwasMotherwhoinsistedweleave—
beforeIwassick,ortheywere—andwesteppedoutintothenight,whichifanythinghadbecomeevenbusierintheinterveninghours.
ForamomentorsoIfoundmyselfdisorientatedbythenoiseandthestenchofthestreet.Jennywrinkledhernose,andIsawaflickerofconcernpassacrossmymother’sface.Instinctively,Fathermovedclosertowardsusall,asiftotryandwardofftheclamour.
AfilthyhandwasthrustinfrontofmyfaceandIlookeduptoseeabeggarsilentlyappealingformoneywithwide,beseechingeyes,brightwhiteincontrasttothedirtofhisfaceandhair;aflowersellertriedtobustlepastFathertoreachJenny,andgaveanoutraged“Oi”whenMr.Birchusedhiscanetoblockherpath.Ifeltmyselfbeingjostled,sawtwourchinstryingtoreachuswiththeirpalmsout.
Thensuddenlymymothergaveacryasamanburstfromwithinthecrowd,clothesraggedanddirty,teethbaredandhishandoutstretched,abouttosnatchmymother’snecklace.
AndinthenextsecondIdiscoveredwhyFather’scanehadthatcuriousrattle,asIsawabladeappearfromwithinashespantoprotectMother.Hecoveredthedistancetoherintheblinkofaneye,butbeforeitcleareditsscabbard,hechangedhismind,perhapsseeingthethiefwasunarmed,andreplacedit,rammingithomewithathumpandmakingitacaneonceagain,inthesamemovementtwirlingittoknocktheruffian’shandaside.
ThethiefshriekedinpainandsurpriseandbackedstraightintoMr.Birch,whohurledhimtothestreetandpouncedonhim,hiskneesontheman’schestandadaggerathisthroat.Icaughtmybreath.
IsawMother’seyeswidenoverFather’sshoulder.“Reginald!”calledFather.“Stop!”“Hetriedtorobyou,Edward,”saidMr.Birch,withoutturning.Thethief
snivelled.ThetendonsonMr.Birch’shandsstoodout,andhisknuckleswerewhiteonthehandleofthedagger.
“No,Reginald,thisisnottheway,”saidmyfathercalmly.HestoodwithhisarmsaroundMother,whohadburiedherfaceinhischestandwaswhimperingsoftly.Jennystoodclosebyatoneside,meatanother.Aroundusacrowdhadgathered,thesamevagrantsandbeggarswhohadbeenbotheringusnowkeepingarespectfuldistance.Arespectful,frighteneddistance.
“Imeanit,Reginald,”saidFather.“Putthedaggeraway,lethimgo.”“Don’tmakemelookfoolishlikethis,Edward,”saidBirch.“Notinfrontof
everybodylikethis,please.Webothknowthismandeservestopay,ifnotwith
hislife,thenperhapswithafingerortwo.”Icaughtmybreath.“No!”commandedFather.“Therewillbenobloodshed,Reginald.Any
associationbetweenuswillendifyoudonotdoasIsaythisverymoment.”Ahushseemedtofalloneverybodyaroundus.Icouldhearthethiefgibbering,sayingoverandoveragain,“Pleasesir,pleasesir,pleasesir...”Hisarmswerepinnedtohissides,hislegskickingandscrapinguselesslyonthefilth-coveredcobblesashelaytrapped.
Until,atlast,Mr.Birchseemedtodecide,andthedaggerwithdrew,leavingasmallbleedingnickbehind.Whenhestood,heaimedakickatthethief,whoneedednofurtherencouragementtoscrambletohishandsandkneesandtakeoffintoChesterfieldStreet,gratefultoescapewithhislife.
Ourcarriagedriverhadrecoveredhiswitsandnowstoodbythedoor,urgingustohurrytothesafetyofourcarriage.
FatherandMr.Birchstoodfacingoneanother,theireyeslocked.AsMotherhurriedmepast,IsawMr.Birch’seyesblazing.Isawmyfather’sgazemeethimequally,andheofferedhishandtoshake,saying,“Thankyou,Reginald.Onbehalfofallofus,thankyouforyourquickthinking.”
Ifeltmymother’shandinthesmallofmybackasshetriedtoshovemeintothecarriage,andcranedmyheadbacktoseeFather,hishandheldouttoMr.Birch,whoglaredathim,refusingtoaccepttheofferofaccord.
Then,justasIwasbundledintothecarriage,IsawMr.BirchreachtograspFather’shandandhisglaremeltawayintoasmile—aslightlyembarrassed,bashfulsmile,asthoughhe’djustrememberedhimself.ThetwoshookhandsandmyfatherawardedMr.BirchwiththeshortnodthatIknewsowell.Itmeantthateverythinghadbeensettled.Itmeantthatnomoreneedbesaidaboutit.
v
AtlastwereturnedhometoQueenAnne’sSquare,whereweboltedthedoorandbanishedthesmellofsmokeandmanureandhorse.ItoldMotherandFatherhowmuchIhadenjoyedmyevening,thankedthemprofuselyandassuredthemthatthecommotioninthestreetafterwardshaddonenothingtospoilmyevening,whileprivatelythinkingthatithadbeenahighlight.
Butitturnedouttheeveningwasn’toveryet,becauseasIwenttoclimbthestairs,myfatherbeckonedmefollowhiminstead,andledthewaytothegames
room,wherehelitanoillamp.“Youenjoyedyourevening,then,Haytham,”hesaid.“Ienjoyeditverymuch,sir,”Isaid.“WhatwasyourimpressionofMr.Birch?”“Ilikedhimverymuch,sir.”Fatherchuckled.“Reginaldisamanwhosetsgreatstorebyappearance,by
mannersandetiquetteandedict.Heisnotlikesome,whowearetiquetteandprotocolasabadgeonlywhenitsuitsthem.Heisamanofhonour.”
“Yes,sir,”Isaid,butImusthavesoundedasdoubtfulasIfelt,becausehelookedatmesharply.
“Ah,”hesaid,“you’rethinkingaboutwhathappenedafterwards?”“Yes,sir.”“Well—whataboutit?”Hebeckonedmeovertooneofthebookshelves.Heseemedtowantme
closertothelightandhiseyestostareatmyface.Thelamplightplayedacrosshisfeaturesandhisdarkhairshone.Hiseyeswerealwayskindlybuttheycouldalsobeintense,astheywerenow.Inoticedoneofhisscars,whichseemedtoshinemorebrightlyinthelight.
“Well,itwasveryexciting,sir,”Ireplied;addingquickly,“ThoughIwasmostconcernedforMother.Yourspeedinsavingher—I’veneverseenanybodymovesoquickly.”
Helaughed.“Lovewilldothattoaman.You’llfindthatoutforyourselfoneday.ButwhatofMr.Birch?Hisresponse?Whatdidyoumakeofit,Haytham?”
“Sir?”“Mr.Birchseemedabouttoadministerseverepunishmenttothescoundrel,
Haytham.Didyouthinkitwasdeserved?”Iconsidereditbeforeanswering.IcouldtellfromthelookonFather’sface,
sharpandwatchful,thatmyanswerwasimportant.AndintheheatofthemomentIsupposeIhadthoughtthethiefdeserveda
harshresponse.Therehadbeenaninstant,briefasitwas,whensomeprimalangerwishedhimharmfortheattackonmymother.Now,though,inthesoftglowofthelamp,withFatherlookingkindlyuponme,Ifeltdifferently.
“Tellmehonestly,Haytham,”promptedFather,asthoughreadingmythoughts.“Reginaldhasakeensenseofjustice,orwhathedescribesasjustice.It’ssomewhat...biblical.Butwhatdidyouthink?”
“AtfirstIfeltanurgefor...revenge,sir.Butitsoonpassed,andIwaspleasedtoseethemangrantedclemency,”Isaid.
Fathersmiledandnodded,andthenabruptlyturnedtothebookshelves,wherewithaflickofhiswristheoperatedaswitch,causingaportionofbookstoslideacrosstorevealasecretcompartment.Myheartskippedabeatashetooksomethingfromit:abox,whichhehandedtomeand,nodding,bademeopen.
“Abirthdaypresent,Haytham,”hesaid.Ikneltandplacedtheboxonthefloor,openedittorevealaleatherbeltthatI
pluckedquicklyaway,knowingthatbeneathwouldbeasword,andnotawoodenplayswordbutashimmeringsteelswordwithanornatehandle.Itookitfromtheboxandhelditinmyhands.Itwasashortswordand,though,shamefully,Ifeltatwingeofdisappointmentaboutthat,Iknewatoncethatitwasabeautifulshortsword,anditwasmyshortsword.Idecidedatoncethatitwouldneverleavemyside,andwasalreadyreachingforthebeltwhenFatherstoppedme.
“No,Haytham,”hesaid,“itstaysinhere,andisnottoberemovedorevenusedwithoutmypermission.Isthatclear?”Hehadcollectedtheswordfrommeandalreadyreplaceditinthebox,placingthebeltontopandclosingit.
“Soonyouwillbegintotrainwiththissword,”hecontinued.“Thereismuchforyoutolearn,Haytham,notonlyaboutthesteelyouholdinyourhands,butalsothesteelinyourheart.”
“Yes,Father,”Isaid,tryingnottolookasconfusedanddisappointedasIfelt.Iwatchedasheturnedandreplacedtheboxinthesecretcompartment,andifhewastryingtomakesurethatIdidn’tseewhichbooktriggeredthecompartment,well,then,hefailed.ItwastheKingJamesBible.
8DECEMBER1735
i
Thereweretwomorefuneralstoday,ofthetwosoldierswhohadbeenstationedinthegrounds.AsfarasIknow,Father’sgentleman,Mr.Digweed,attendedtheserviceforthecaptain,whosenameIneverknew,butnobodyfromourhouseholdwasatthefuneralforthesecondman.Thereissomuchlossandmourningaroundusatthemoment,it’sasiftheresimplyisn’troomforanymore,callousasitsounds.
ii
Aftermyeighthbirthday,Mr.Birchbecamearegularvisitortothehouseand,whennotsquiringJennyonwalksaroundthegrounds,ortakingherintotowninhiscarriage,orsittinginthedrawingroomdrinkingteaandsherryandregalingthewomenwithtalesofarmylife,heheldmeetingswithFather.ItwascleartoallthatheintendedtomarryJennyandthattheunionhadFather’sblessing,buttherewastalkthatMr.Birchhadaskedtopostponethenuptials;thathewantedtobeasprosperousaspossiblesothatJennyshouldhavethehusbandshedeserved,andthathehadhiseyeonamansioninSouthwarkinordertokeepherinthemannertowhichshe’dbecomeaccustomed.
MotherandFatherwerethrilledaboutthatofcourse.Jennylessso.I’doccasionallyseeherwithredeyes,andshe’ddevelopedahabitofflyingquicklyoutofrooms,eitherinthethroesofanangrytantrumorwithherhandtohermouth,stiflingtears.MorethanonceIheardFathersay,“She’llcomeround,”andononeoccasionhegavemeasidewayslookandrolledhiseyes.
Justassheseemedtowitherundertheweightofherfuture,Iflourishedwiththeanticipationofmyown.TheloveIfeltforFatherconstantlythreatenedtoengulfmewithitssheermagnitude;Ididn’tjustlovehim,Iidolizedhim.Attimesitwasasifthetwoofussharedaknowledgethatwassecretfromtherest
oftheworld.Forexample,he’doftenaskmewhatmytutorshadbeenteachingme,listenintently,andthensay,“Why?”Wheneverheaskedmesomething,whetheritwasaboutreligion,ethicsormorality,hewouldknowifIgavetheanswerbyrote,orrepeateditparrotfashion,andhe’dsay,“Well,you’vejusttoldmewhatOldMr.Faylingthinks,”or,“Weknowwhatacenturies-oldwriterthinks.Butwhatdoesitsayinhere,Haytham?”andhe’dplaceahandtomychest.
Irealizenowwhathewasdoing.OldMr.Faylingwasteachingmefactsandabsolutes;Fatherwasaskingmetoquestionthem.ThisknowledgeIwasbeinggivenbyOldMr.Fayling—wherediditoriginate?Whowieldedthequill,andwhyshouldItrustthatman?
Fatherusedtosay,“Toseedifferently,wemustfirstthinkdifferently.”Itsoundsstupid,andyoumightlaugh,orImightlookbackonthisinyearstocomeandlaughmyself,butattimesitfeltasthoughIcouldfeelmybrainactuallyexpandtolookattheworldinFather’sway.Hehadawayoflookingattheworldthatnobodyelsehad,soitseemed;awayoflookingattheworldthatchallengedtheveryideaoftruth.
Ofcourse,IquestionedOldMr.Fayling.Ichallengedhimoneday,duringScriptures,andearnedmyselfawhackacrosstheknuckleswithhiscane,alongwiththepromisethathewouldbeinformingmyfather,whichhedid.Later,Fathertookmeintohisstudyand,afterclosingthedoor,grinnedandtappedthesideofhisnose.“It’softenbest,Haytham,tokeepyourthoughtstoyourself.Hideinplainsight.”
SoIdid.AndIfoundmyselflookingatthepeoplearoundme,tryingtolookinsidethemasthoughImightbeablesomehowtodivinehowtheylookedattheworld,theOldMr.Faylingway,ortheFatherway.
Writingthisnow,ofcourse,IcanseeIwasgettingtoobigformyboots;Iwasfeelinggrown-upbeyondmyyears,whichwouldbeasunattractivenow,atten,asitwouldhavebeenateight,thennine.ProbablyIwasunbearablysupercilious.ProbablyIfeltlikethelittlemanofthehousehold.WhenIturnednine,Fatherpresentedmewithabowandarrowformybirthdayand,practisingwithitinthegrounds,IhopedthattheDawsongirlsortheBarrettchildrenmightbewatchingmefromthewindows.
IthadbeenoverayearsinceI’dspokentoTomatthegate,butIstillsometimesloiteredthereinthehopeofmeetinghimagain.Fatherwasforthcomingonallsubjectsexcepthisownpast.He’dneverspeakofhislifebeforeLondon,norofJenny’smother,soIstillheldouthopethatwhateverit
wasTomknewmightproveilluminating.And,apartfromthat,ofcourse,Iwantedafriend.Notaparentornursemaidortutorormentor—Ihadplentyofthose.Justafriend.AndIhopeditwouldbeTom.
Itneverwillbenow,ofcourse.Theyburyhimtomorrow.
9DECEMBER1735
i
Mr.Digweedcametoseemethismorning.Heknocked,waitedformyreplythenhadtoduckhisheadtoenter,becauseMr.Digweed,aswellasbeingbalding,withslightlybulgingeyesandveinyeyelids,istallandslim,andthedoorwaysinouremergencyresidencearemuchlowerthantheywereathome.Thewayhehadtostoopashemovedaroundtheplace,itaddedtohisairofdiscomfiture,thesenseofhisbeingafishoutofwaterhere.He’dbeenmyfather’sgentlemansincebeforeIwasborn,atleastsincetheKenwayssettledinLondon,andlikeallofus,maybeevenmorethantherestofus,hebelongedtoQueenAnne’sSquare.Whatmadehispainevenmoreacutewasguilt—hisguiltthatonthenightoftheattackhewasaway,attendingtofamilymattersinHerefordshire;heandourdriverhadreturnedthemorningaftertheattack.
“Ihopeyoucanfinditinyourhearttoforgiveme,MasterHaytham,”hehadsaidtomeinthedaysafter,hisfacepaleanddrawn.
“Ofcourse,Digweed,”Isaid,anddidn’tknowwhattosaynext;I’dneverbeencomfortableaddressinghimbyhissurname;ithadneverfeltrightinmymouth.SoallIcouldaddwas“Thankyou.”
Thismorninghiscadaverousfaceworethesamesolemnexpression,andIcouldtellthat,whatevernewshehad,itwasbad.
“MasterHaytham,”hesaid,standingbeforeme.“Yes...Digweed?”“I’mterriblysorry,MasterHaytham,butthere’sbeenamessagefromQueen
Anne’sSquare,fromtheBarretts.TheywishtomakeitclearthatnobodyfromtheKenwayhouseholdiswelcomeatyoungMasterThomas’sfuneralservice.Theyrespectfullyrequestthatnocontactismadeatall.”
“Thankyou,Digweed,”Isaid,andwatchedashegaveashort,sorrowfulbowthendippedhisheadtoavoidthelowbeamofthedoorwayasheleft.
Istoodthereforsometime,gazingemptilyatthespacewherehe’dstood,untilBettyreturnedtohelpmeoutofmyfuneralsuitandintomyeverydayones.
ii
Oneafternoonafewweeksago,Iwasbelowstairs,playingintheshortcorridorthatledofftheservants’halltotheheavilybarreddooroftheplateroom.Itwasintheplateroomthatthefamilyvaluableswerestored:silverwarewhichonlyeversawthelightofdayontherareoccasionsMotherandFatherentertainedguests;familyheirlooms,Mother’sjewelleryandsomeofFather’sbooksthatheconsideredofgreatestvalue—irreplaceablebooks.Hekeptthekeytotheplateroomwithhimatalltimes,onalooparoundhisbelt,andIhadonlyeverseenhimentrustittoMr.Digweed,andthenonlyforshortperiods.
Ilikedtoplayinthecorridornearbybecauseitwassorarelyvisited,whichmeantIwasneverbotheredbynursemaids,whowouldinvariablytellmetogetoffthedirtyfloorbeforeIworeaholeinmytrousers;orbyotherwell-meaningstaff,whowouldengagemeinpoliteconversationandobligemetoanswerquestionsaboutmyeducationornon-existentfriends;orperhapsevenbyMotherorFather,whowouldtellmetogetoffthedirtyfloorbeforeIworeaholeinmytrousersandthenforcemetoanswerquestionsaboutmyeducationornon-existentfriends.Or,worsethananyofthem,byJenny,whowouldsneeratwhatevergameIwasplayingand,ifitwastoysoldiers,makeamaliciousefforttokickovereachandeverytinmanofthem.
No,thepassagewaybetweentheservants’hallandtheplateroomwasoneofthefewplacesatQueenAnne’sSquarewhereIcouldrealisticallyhopetoavoidanyofthesethings,sothepassagewayiswhereIwentwhenIdidn’twanttobedisturbed.
Exceptonthisoccasion,whenanewfaceemergedintheformofMr.Birch,wholethimselfintothepassagejustasIwasabouttoarrangemytroops.Ihadalanternwithme,placedonthestonefloor,andthecandlefireflickeredandpoppedinthedraughtasthepassagedooropened.Frommypositiononthefloor,Isawthehemofhisfrockcoatandthetipofhiscane,andasmyeyestravelleduptoseehimlookingdownuponme,Iwonderedifhe,too,keptaswordhiddeninhiscane,andifitwouldrattle,thewaymyfather’sdid.
“MasterHaytham,IratherhopedImightfindyouhere,”hesaidwithasmile.“Iwaswondering,areyoubusy?”
Iscrambledtomyfeet.“Justplaying,sir,”Isaidquickly.“Istheresomethingwrong?”
“Ohno.”Helaughed.“Infact,thelastthingIwanttodoisdisturbyourplaytime,thoughthereissomethingIwashopingtodiscusswithyou.”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,nodding,myheartsinkingatthethoughtofyetanotherroundofquestionsconcerningmyprowessatarithmetic.Yes,Ienjoyedmysums.Yes,Ienjoyedwriting.Yes,Ionedayhopedtobeascleverasmyfather.Yes,Ionedayhopedtofollowhimintothefamilybusiness.
ButwithawaveofhishandMr.Birchbademebacktomygameandevensetasidehiscaneandhitcheduphistrousersinordertocrouchbesideme.
“Andwhatdowehavehere?”heasked,indicatingthesmalltinfigurines.“Justagame,sir,”Ireplied.“Theseareyoursoldiers,arethey?”heenquired.“Andwhichoneisthe
commander?”“Thereisnocommander,sir,”Isaid.Hegaveadrylaugh.“Yourmenneedaleader,Haytham.Howelsewillthey
knowthebestcourseofaction?Howelsewilltheybeinstilledwithasenseofdisciplineandpurpose?”
“Idon’tknow,sir,”Isaid.“Here,”saidMr.Birch.Hereachedtoremoveoneofthetinytinmenfrom
thepack,buffedhimuponhissleeveandplacedhimtooneside.“Perhapsweshouldmakethisgentlemanheretheleader—whatdoyouthink?”
“Ifitpleasesyou,sir.”“MasterHaytham”—Mr.Birchsmiled—“thisisyourgame.Iammerelyan
interloper,somebodyhopingyoucanshowmehowitisplayed.”“Yes,sir,thenaleaderwouldbefineinthecircumstances.”Suddenlythedoortothepassagewayopenedagain,andIlookedup,this
timetoseeMr.Digweedenter.IntheflickeringlamplightIsawhimandMr.Birchsharealook.
“Canyourbusinessherewait,Digweed?”saidMr.Birchtautly.“Certainly,sir,”saidMr.Digweed,bowingandretreating,thedoorclosing
behindhim.“Verygood,”continuedMr.Birch,hisattentionreturningtothegame.“Then
letusmovethisgentlemanheretobetheunit’sleader,inordertoinspirehismentogreatdeeds,toleadthembyexampleandteachthemthevirtuesoforderanddisciplineandloyalty.Whatdoyouthink,MasterHaytham?”
“Yes,sir,”Isaidobediently.“Here’ssomethingelse,MasterHaytham,”saidMr.Birch,reachingbetween
hisfeettomoveanotherofthetinsoldiersfromthepackthenplacinghimnexttothenominalcommander.“Aleaderneedstrustedlieutenants,doeshenot?”
“Yes,sir,”Iagreed.Therewasalongpause,duringwhichIwatchedMr.
Birchtakeinordinatecareplacingtwomorelieutenantsnexttotheleader,apausethatbecamemoreandmoreuncomfortableasthemomentspassed,untilIsaid,moretobreaktheawkwardsilencethanbecauseIwantedtodiscusstheinevitable,“Sir,didyouwanttospeaktomeaboutmysister,sir?”
“Why,youcanseerightthroughme,MasterHaytham,”laughedMr.Birchloudly.“Yourfatherisafineteacher.Iseehehastaughtyouguileandcunning—amongotherthings,nodoubt.”
Iwasn’tsurewhathemeantsoIkeptquiet.“Howisweaponstraininggoing,mayIenquire?”askedMr.Birch.“Verywell,sir.Icontinuetoimproveeachday,soFathersays,”Isaid
proudly.“Excellent,excellent.Andhasyourfathereverindicatedtoyouthepurpose
ofyourtraining?”heasked.“Fathersaysmyrealtrainingistobeginonthedayofmytenthbirthday,”I
replied.“Well,Iwonderwhatitisthathehastotellyou,”hesaid,withfurrowed
brow.“Youreallyhavenoidea?Notevenatantalizingclue?”“No,sir,Idon’t,”Isaid.“Onlythathewillprovidemewithapathtofollow.
Acreed.”“Isee.Howveryexciting.Andhe’snevergivenyouanyindicationasto
whatthis‘creed’mightbe?”“No,sir.”“Howfascinating.I’llwageryoucannotwait.And,inthemeantime,has
yourfathergivenyouaman’sswordwithwhichtolearnyourcraft,orareyoustillusingthewoodenpracticebatons?”
Ibridled.“Ihavemyownsword,sir.”“Ishouldverymuchliketoseeit.”“Itiskeptinthegamesroom,sir,inasafeplacethatonlymyfatherandI
haveaccessto.”“Onlyyourfatherandyou?Youmeanyouhaveaccesstoit,too?”Icoloured,gratefulforthedimlightinthepassagewaysothatMr.Birch
couldn’tseetheembarrassmentonmyface.“AllImeanisthatIknowwheretheswordiskept,sir,notthatIwouldknowhowtoaccessit,”Iclarified.
“Isee.”Mr.Birchgrinned.“Asecretplace,isit?Ahiddencavitywithinthebookcase?”
Myfacemusthavesaiditall.Helaughed.“Don’tworry,MasterHaytham,yoursecretissafewithme.”
Ilookedathim.“Thankyou,sir.”“That’squiteallright.”Hestood,reachedtopickuphiscane,brushedsomedirt,realorimaginary,
fromhistrousersandturnedtowardsthedoor.“Mysister,sir?”Isaid.“Youneveraskedmeabouther.”Hestopped,chuckledsoftlyandreachedtorufflemyhair.AgestureIquite
liked.Perhapsbecauseitwassomethingmyfatherdid,too.“Ah,butIdon’tneedto.You’vetoldmeeverythingIneedtoknow,young
MasterHaytham,”hesaid.“YouknowaslittleaboutthebeautifulJenniferasIdo,andperhapsthatishowitmustbeintheproperwayofthings.Womenshouldbeamysterytous,don’tyouthink,MasterHaytham?”
Ihadn’tthefaintestideawhathewastalkingaboutbutsmiledanyway,andbreathedasighofreliefwhenIonceagainhadtheplate-roomcorridortomyself.
iii
NotlongafterthattalkwithMr.BirchIwasinanotherpartofthehouseandmakingmywaytowardsmybedroomwhenasIpassedFather’sstudyIheardraisedvoicesfrominside:FatherandMr.Birch.
ThefearofagoodhidingmeantIstayedtoofarawaytohearwhatwasbeingsaid,andIwasgladI’dkeptmydistance,becauseinthenextmomentthedoortothestudywasflungopenandouthurriedMr.Birch.Hewasinafury—hisangerwasplaintoseeinthecolourofhischeeksandblazingeyes—butthesightofmeinthehallwaybroughthimupshort,eventhoughheremainedagitated.
“Itried,MasterHaytham,”hesaid,ashegatheredhimselfandbegantobuttonhiscoatreadytoleave.“Itriedtowarnhim.”
Andwiththatheplacedhiscockedhatonhisheadandstalkedoff.MyfatherhadappearedatthedoorofhisofficeandglaredafterMr.Birchand,thoughitwasclearlyanunpleasantencounter,itwasgrown-upstuff,andIdidn’tconcernmyselfwithit.
Therewasmoretothinkabout.Justadayorsolatercametheattack.
iv
Ithappenedonthenightbeforemybirthday.Theattack,Imean.Iwasawake,perhapsbecauseIwasexcitedaboutthenextday,butalsobecauseIwasinthehabitofgettingupafterEdithhadlefttheroomtositonmywindowsillandgazeoutofmybedroomwindow.FrommyvantagepointI’dseecatsanddogsorevenfoxespassingacrossthemoon-paintedgrass.Or,ifnotwatchingoutforanimals,thenjustwatchingthenight,lookingatthemoon,thewaterygreycolouritgavethegrassandtrees.AtfirstIthoughtwhatIwasseeinginthedistancewerefireflies.I’dheardallaboutfirefliesbutneverseenthem.AllIknewwasthattheygatheredincloudsandemittedadullglow.However,Isoonrealizedthelightwasn’tadullglowatall,butinfactwasgoingon,thenoff,thenonagain.Iwasseeingasignal.
Mybreathcaughtinmythroat.Theflashinglightseemedtocomefromclosetotheoldwoodendoorinthewall,theonewhereI’dseenTomthatday,andmyfirstthoughtwasthathewastryingtocontactme.Itseemsstrangenow,butnotforaseconddidIassumethesignalwasmeantforanyonebutme.Iwastoobusydraggingonapairoftrousers,tuckingmynightclothesintothewaistbandthenhookingmybracesovermyshoulders.Ishruggedonacoat.AllIcouldthinkofwaswhatanawfullysplendidadventureIwasabouttohave.
AndofcourseIrealizenow,lookingback,thatinthemansionnextdoorTommusthavebeenanotheronewholikedtositonhiswindowsillandwatchthenocturnallifeinthegroundsofhishouse.And,likeme,hemusthaveseenthesignal.AndperhapsTomevenhadthesamethoughtasIdid:thatitwasmesignallinghim.AndinresponsedidthesameasIdid:hescrambledfromhisperchandpulledonsomeclothestoinvestigate...
TwonewfaceshadappearedatthehouseonQueenAnne’sSquare,apairofhard-facedformersoldiersemployedbyFather.Hisexplanationwasthatweneededthembecausehehadreceived“information.”
Justthat.“Information”—that’sallhe’dsay.AndIwonderedthenasIwondernowwhathemeant,andwhetherithadanythingtodowiththeheatedconversationI’doverheardbetweenhimandMr.Birch.Whateveritwas,I’dseenlittleofthetwosoldiers.AllIreallyknewwasthatonewasstationedinthedrawingroomatthefrontofthemansion,whiletheotherstayedclosetothefireintheservants’hall,supposedlytoguardtheplateroom.BothwereeasytoavoidasIcreptdownthestepstobelowstairsandslidintothesilent,moonlitkitchen,whichIhadneverseensodarkandemptyandstill.
Andcold.MybreathplumedandstraightawayIshivered,uncomfortablyawarehowchillyitwascomparedtowhatI’dthoughtwasthemeagreheatof
myroom.Closebythedoorwasacandle,whichIlitand,withmyhandcuppedover
itsflame,heldtolightthewayasIletmyselfoutintothestableyard.AndifI’dthoughtitwascoldinthekitchen,then,well...outside,itwasthekindofcoldwhereitfeltasiftheworldaroundyouwasbrittleandabouttobreak;coldenoughtotakemycloudybreathaway,togivemesecondthoughtsasIstoodthereandwonderedwhetherornotIcouldbeartocontinue.
Oneofthehorseswhinniedandstamped,andforsomereasonthenoisemademymindup,sendingmetiptoeingpastthekennelstoasidewallandthroughalargearchedgateleadingintotheorchard.Imademywaythroughthebare,spindlyappletrees,thenwasoutintheopen,painfullyawareofthemansiontomyright,whereIimaginedfacesateverywindow:Edith,Betty,MotherandFatherallstaringoutandseeingmeoutofmyroomandrunningamokinthegrounds.NotthatIreallywasrunningamok,ofcourse,butthat’swhatthey’dsay;that’swhatEdithwouldsayasshescoldedmeandwhatFatherwouldsaywhenhegavemethecaneformytroubles.
ButifIwasexpectingashoutfromthehouse,thennonecame.InsteadImademywaytotheperimeterwall,begantorunquicklyalongittowardsthedoor.Iwasstillshivering,butasmyexcitementgrewIwonderedifTomwouldhavebroughtfoodforamidnightfeast:ham,cakeandbiscuits.Oh,andahottoddywouldbemostwelcome,too...
Adogbeganbarking.Thatch,Father’sIrishbloodhound,fromhiskennelinthestableyard.Thenoisestoppedmeinmytracks,andIcrouchedbeneaththebare,low-hangingbranchesofawillow,untilitceasedassuddenlyasithadstarted.Later,ofcourse,I’dunderstandwhyitstoppedsoabruptly.ButIdidn’tthinkanythingofitatthetimebecauseIhadnoreasontosuspectthatThatchhadhadhisthroatcutbyaninvader.Wenowthinktherewerefiveofthemaltogetherwhocreptuponuswithknivesandswords.Fivemenmakingtheirwaytothemansion,andmeinthegrounds,oblivioustoitall.
ButhowwasItoknow?Iwasasillyboywhoseheadbuzzedwithadventureandderring-do,nottomentionthethoughtofhamandcake,andIcontinuedalongtheperimeterwall,untilIcametothegate.
Whichwasopen.WhathadIexpected?Isuppose,forthegatetobeshutandforTomtobeon
theothersideofit.Perhapsoneofuswouldhaveclimbedthewall.Perhapsweplannedtotradegossipwiththedoorbetweenus.AllIknewwasthatthegatewasopen,andIbegantogetthefeelingthatsomethingwaswrong,andatlastit
occurredtomethatthesignallingI’dseenfrommybedroomwindowmightnothavebeenmeantforme.
“Tom?”Iwhispered.Therewasnosound.Thenightwascompletelystill:nobirds,noanimals,
nothing.Nervousnow,Iwasabouttoturnandleave,returntothehouseandtothesafetyofmywarmbed,whenIsawsomething.Afoot.Iedgedfurtheroutofthegatewherethepassagewaywasbathedindirtywhitemoonlightwhichgaveeverythingasoft,grubbyglow—includingthefleshoftheboysprawledontheground.
Hehalflay,halfsat,proppedupagainsttheoppositewall,dressedalmostexactlyasIwas,withapairoftrousersandnightclothes,onlyhehadn’tbotheredtotuckhisinanditwastwistedaroundhislegs,whichlayatstrange,unnaturalanglesonthehard,ruttedmudofthewalkway.
ItwasTom,ofcourse.Tom,whosedeadeyesstaredsightlesslyatmefrombeneaththebrimofhishat,skewwhiffonhishead;Tom,withthemoonlightgleamingonbloodthathadsheeteddownhisfrontfromthegashathisthroat.
Myteethbegantochatter.Iheardawhimperandrealizeditwasme.Ahundredpanickedthoughtscrowdedintomyhead.
Andthenthingsbegantohappentooquicklyformeeventoremembertheexactorderinwhichtheytookplace,thoughIthinkitstartedwiththesoundofbreakingglassandascreamthatcamefromthehouse.
Run.I’mashamedtoadmitthatthevoices,thethoughtsjostlinginmyhead,all
criedthatonewordtogether.Run.AndIobeyedthem.Iran.Only,notinthedirectiontheywantedmeto.WasI
doingasmyfatherhadinstructedandlisteningtomyinstincts,orignoringthem?Ididn’tknow.AllIknewwasthatthougheveryfibreofmybeingseemedtowantmetofleefromwhatIknewwasthemostterribledanger,infactIrantowardsit.
ThroughthestableyardIran,andburstintothekitchen,hardlypausingtoacknowledgethefactthatthedoorhungopenonitshinges.FromsomewherealongthehallIheardmorescreaming,sawbloodonthekitchenfloorandsteppedthroughthedoortowardsthestairs,onlytoseeanotherbody.Itwasoneofthesoldiers.Helayinthecorridorclutchinghisstomach,eyelidsflutteringmadlyandalineofbloodtricklingfromhismouthashesliddyingtothefloor.
AsIsteppedoverhimandranforthestairs,myonethoughtwastoreachmy
parents.Theentrancehall,whichwasdark,butfullofscreamsandrunningfeet,andthefirsttendrilsofsmoke.Itriedtogetmybearings.Fromabovecameyetanotherscream,andIlookeduptoseedancingshadowsonthebalcony,and,briefly,theglitterofsteelinthehandsofoneofourattackers.MeetinghimonthelandingwasoneofFather’svalets,buttheskitteringlightstoppedmefromseeingthepoorboy’sfate.InsteadIheardandthroughmyfeetfeltthewetthumpofhisbodyasitdroppedfromthebalconytothewoodenfloornotfarawayfromme.Hisassassingaveahowloftriumph,andIcouldhearrunningfeetashemadehiswayfurtheralongthelanding—towardsthebedrooms.
“Mother!”Iscreamed,andranforthestairsatthesametimeasIsawmyparents’doorflungopenandmyfathercomesurgingouttomeettheintruder.Heworetrousers,andhissuspenderswerepulledoverhisnakedshoulders,hishairuntiedandhangingfree.Inonehandheheldalantern,intheotherhisblade.
“Haytham!”hecalledasIreachedthetopofthestairs.Theintruderwasbetweenusonthelanding.Hestopped,turnedtolookatme,andinthelightofFather’slanternIcouldseehimproperlyforthefirsttime.Heworetrousers,ablackleather-armourwaistcoatandasmallhalf-facemasklikethekindwornforamaskedball.Andhewaschangingdirection.InsteadofgoingupagainstFather,hewaschargingbackalongthelandingafterme,grinning.
“Haytham!”shoutedFatheragain.HepulledawayfromMotherandbegantorundownthelandingaftertheintruder.Instantlythegapbetweenthemclosed,butitwouldn’tbeenough,andIturnedtoescape,onlytoseeasecondmanatthefootofthestairs,swordinhand,blockingmyway.Hewasdressedthesameasthefirst,althoughInoticedonedifference:hisears.Theywerepointed,andwiththemaskgavehimthelookofahideous,deformedMr.Punch.ForamomentIfroze,thenswungbacktoseethatthegrinningmanbehindmehadturnedtomeetFather,andtheirswordsclashed.Fatherhadlefthislanternbehind,anditwasinthehalfdarkthattheyfought.Ashort,brutalbattlepunctuatedbygruntsandthechimingofswordsteel.EvenintheheatandthedangerofthemomentIwishedithadbeenlightenoughtowatchhimfightproperly.
Thenitwasoverandthegrinningassassinwasgrinningnomore,droppinghissword,tumblingoverthebanisterswithascreamandhittingthefloorbeneath.Thepointy-earedintruderhadbeenhalfwayupthestairsbuthadsecondthoughtsandwheeledaroundtoescapetotheentrancehall.
Therewasashoutfrombelow.OverthebanistersIsawathirdman,alsowearingamask,whobeckonedtothepointy-earedmanbeforebothdisappeared
outofsightbeneaththelanding.Iglancedupandinthelowlightsawalookpassacrossmyfather’sface.
“Thegamesroom,”hesaid.And,inthenextinstant,beforeMotherorIcouldstophim,he’dleaptover
thebanistertotheentrancehallbeneath.Ashejumpedmymotherscreamed,“Edward!”andtheanguishinhervoiceechoedmyownthoughts.No.Myone,singlethought:he’sabandoningus.
Whyisheabandoningus?Mother’snightclotheswereindisarrayaroundherassheranalongthe
landingtowardswhereIstoodatthetopofthestairs;herfacewasamaskofterror.Behindhercameyetanotherattacker,whoappearedfromthestairwayatthefarendofthelandingandreachedMotheratthesametimeasshereachedme.Hegrabbedherfrombehindwithonehandwhilehisswordhandsweptforward,abouttodrawthebladeacrossherexposedthroat.
Ididn’tstoptothink.Ididn’teventhinkaboutitatalluntilmuchlater.ButinonemovementIsteppedup,reached,pluckedthedeadattacker’sswordfromthestair,raiseditabovemyheadandwithtwohandsplungeditintohisfacebeforehecouldcutherthroat.
Myaimwastrueandthepointofthesworddrovethroughtheeyeholeofthemaskandintothesocket.HisscreamtorearaggedholeinthenightashespanawayfromMotherwiththeswordmomentarilyembeddedinhiseye.Thenitwaswrenchedoutashefellagainstthebanister,toppledforamoment,sanktohiskneesandpitchedforward,deadbeforehisheadhitthefloor.
Motherranintomyarmsandburiedherheadinmyshoulder,evenasIgrabbedtheswordandtookherhandtomakeourwaybackdownthestairs.HowmanytimeshadFathersaidtome,onhiswaytoworkfortheday,“You’reinchargetoday,Haytham;youlookafterMotherforme.”Now,Ireallywas.
Wereachedthefootofthestairs,whereastrangequietseemedtohavedescendedoverthehouse.Theentrancehallwasemptynowandstilldark,thoughlitbyanominousflickeringorangeglow.Theairwasbeginningtothickenwithsmoke,butthroughthehazeIsawbodies:theassassin,thevaletwhowaskilledearlier...AndEdith,wholaywithherthroatopeninapoolofblood.
MothersawEdith,too,whimpered,andtriedtopullmeinthedirectionofthemaindoors,butthedoortothegamesroomwashalf-open,andfrominsideIcouldhearthesoundofswordfighting.Threemen,oneofthemmyfather.“Fatherneedsme,”Isaid,tryingtodisentanglemyselffromMother,whosaw
whatIwasabouttodoandpulledatmeharder,untilIsnatchedmyhandawaywithsuchforcethatshecollapsedtothefloor.
ForonestrangemomentIfoundmyselftornbetweenhelpingMothertoherfeetandapologizing,thesightofheronthefloor—onthefloorbecauseofme—wassoappalling.ButthenIheardagreatcryfrominsidethegamesroomanditwasenoughtopropelmethroughthedoor.
ThefirstthingIsawwasthatthebookcasecompartmentwasopen,andIcouldseetheboxholdingmyswordinside.Otherwise,theroomwasasalways,leftjustasithadbeenafterthelasttrainingsession,withthecoveredbilliardtablemovedandspacemadeformetotrain;whereearlierthatdayI’dbeentutoredandscoldedbyFather.
WherenowFatherwaskneeling,dying.Standingoverhimwasamanwithhisswordburiedhiltdeepinmyfather’s
chest,thebladeprotrudingfromhisbackdrippingbloodtothewoodenfloor.Notfarawaystoodthepointy-earedman,whohadalargegashdownhisface.IthadtakentwoofthemtodefeatFather,andonlyjustatthat.
Iflewatthekiller,whowascaughtbysurpriseandwithouttimetoretrievehisswordfrommyfather’schest.Insteadhespanawaytoavoidmyblade,lettinggoofhisswordatthesametimeasFatherdroppedtothefloor.
LikeafoolIcontinuedaftertheassassin,forgottoprotectmyflank,andthenextthingIsawwasasuddenmovementoutofthecornerofmyeyeasthepointy-earedmandancedforward.Whetherhemeanttodoitormistimedhisblow,I’mnotsure,butinsteadofstrikingmewiththebladeheclubbedmewiththepommel,andmyvisionwentblack;myheadconnectedwithsomething,andittookmeasecondtorealizeitwasthelegofthebilliardtable.Iwasonthefloor,dazed,sprawledoppositeFather,wholayonhissidewiththeswordhandlestillprotrudingfromhischest.Therewaslifeinhiseyesstill,justaspark,andhiseyelidsflutteredmomentarily,asifhewerefocusing,takingmein.Foramomentorsowelayoppositeoneanother,twowoundedmen.Hislipsweremoving.ThroughadarkcloudofpainandgriefIsawhishandreachforme.
“Father—”Isaid.TheninthenextinstantthekillerhadstrodeoverandwithoutpausingbentandpulledhisbladefromFather’sbody.Fatherjerked,hisbodyarchedwithonelastspasmofpainashislipspulledawayfrombloodiedteeth,andhedied.
Ifeltabootonmysidethatpushedmeontomyback,andIlookedupintotheeyesofmyfather’skiller,andnowmykiller,whowithasmirkraisedhis
swordtwo-handed,abouttoplungeitintome.Ifitgavemeshametoreportthatmyinnervoiceshadcommandedmetorun
justafewmomentsbefore,thenitgivesmepridetoreportthatnowtheywerecalm;thatIfacedmydeathwithdignityandwiththeknowledgethatIhaddonemybestformyfamily;withgratitudethatIwouldsoonbejoiningmyfather.
Butofcourseitwasnottobe.It’snotaghostwhowritesthesewords.Somethingcaughtmyeye,anditwasthetipofaswordthatappearedbetweenthekiller’slegsandinthesameinstantwasdrivenupwards,openinghistorsofromthegroinup.I’verealizedsincethatthedirectionofthestrikehadlesstodowithsavageryandmoretodowiththeneedtopullmykillerawayfromme,notpushhimforward.Butsavageitwas,andhescreamed,bloodsplatteringashewassplitasunderandhisgutsdroppedfromthegashtothefloorandhislifelesscarcassfollowedsuit.
BehindhimstoodMr.Birch.“Areyouallright,Haytham?”heasked.“Yes,sir,”Igasped.“Goodshow,”hesaid,thenspanwithhissworduptointerceptthepointy-
earedman,whocameathimwithhisbladeflashing.Ipulledmyselftomyknees,grabbedafallenswordandstood,readytojoin
Mr.Birch,whohaddriventhepointy-earedmanbacktothedoorofthegamesroomwhensuddenlytheattackersawsomething—somethingoutofsightbehindthedoor—anddancedtooneside.InthenextinstantMr.Birchrearedbackandheldoutahandtopreventmecomingforward,whileatthedoorwaythepointy-earedmanhadreappeared.Onlythistimehehadahostage.Notmymother,asIatfirstfeared.ItwasJenny.
“Getback,”snarledPointy-Ears.Jennysnivelled,andhereyeswerewideasthebladepressedintoherthroat.
CanIadmit—canIadmitthatatthatmomentIcaredfarmoreforavengingmyfather’sdeaththanIdidforprotectingJenny?
“Staythere,”repeatedPointy-Earsman,pullingJennyback.Thehemofhernightdresswascaughtaroundheranklesandherheelsdraggedonthefloor.Suddenlytheywerejoinedbyanothermaskedmanwhobrandishedaflamingtorch.Theentrancehallwasalmostfullofsmokenow.Icouldseeflamescomingfromanotherpartofthehouse,lickingatthedoorstothedrawingroom.Themanwiththetorchdartedtothedrapes,puthisflametothem,andmoreofourhousebegantoburnaroundus,Mr.BirchandIpowerlesstostopit.
IsawmymotheroutofthecornerofmyeyeandthankedGodshewasallright.Jennywasanothermatter,though.Asshewasdraggedtowardsthedoorof
themansion,hereyeswerefixedonmeandMr.Birchasthoughwewereherlasthopes.Thetorch-bearingattackercametojoinhiscolleague,hauledthedooropenanddartedouttowardsacarriageIcouldseeonthestreetoutside.
ForamomentIthoughttheymightletJennygo,butno.Shebegantoscreamasshewasdraggedtowardsthecarriageandbundledin,andshewasstillscreamingasathirdmaskedmaninthedriver’sseatshookthereins,wieldedhiscropandthecarriagerattledoffintothenight,leavingustoescapefromourburninghouseanddragourdeadfromtheclutchesoftheflames.
10DECEMBER1735
i
EventhoughweburiedFathertoday,thefirstthingIthoughtaboutwhenIawokethismorningdidn’tinvolvehimorhisfuneral,itwasabouttheplateroomatQueenAnne’sSquare.
Theyhadn’ttriedtoenterit.Fatherhademployedthetwosoldiersbecausehewasworriedaboutarobbery,butourattackershadmadetheirwayupstairswithoutevenbotheringtotrytoraidtheplateroom.
BecausetheywereafterJenny,thatwaswhy.AndkillingFather?Wasthatpartoftheplan?
ThiswaswhatIthoughtasIawoketoaroomthatwasfreezing—whichisn’tunusual,thatitshouldbefreezing.Aneverydayoccurrence,infact.Justthattoday’sroomwasespeciallycold.Thekindofcoldthatsetsyourteethonedge;thatreachesintoyourbones.Iglancedovertothehearth,wonderingwhytherewasn’tmoreheatfromthefire,onlytoseethatitwasunlitandthegrategreyanddustywithash.
Iclamberedoutofbedandwenttowheretherewasathicklayeroficeontheinsideofthewindow,preventingmefromseeingout.Gaspingwithcold,Idressed,leftmyroom,andwasstruckbyhowquietthehouseseemed.Creepingallthewaydownstairs,IfoundBetty’sroom,knockedsoftly,thenalittleharder.Whenshedidn’tanswer,Istooddebatingwhattodo,alittleconcernforhergnawingattheinsidesofmystomach.Andwhentherewasstillnoanswer,Iknelttolookthroughthekeyhole,prayingIwouldn’tseeanythingIshouldn’t.
Shelayasleepinoneofthetwobedsinherroom.Theotheronewasemptyandneatlymadeup,althoughtherewasapairofwhatlookedlikemen’sbootsatthefootofit,withastripofsilverattheheel.MygazewentbacktoBetty,andforamomentIwatchedastheblanketcoveringherroseandfell,andthendecidedtolethersleepon,andstraightened.
Iambledalongtothekitchen,whereMrs.SearlestartedalittleasIentered,lookedmeupanddownwithaslightlydisapprovinggazethenreturnedtoher
workatthechoppingboard.Itwasn’tthatMrs.SearleandIhadfallenout,justthatMrs.Searleregardedeverybodywithsuspicion,andsincetheattackevenmoreso.
“She’snotoneoflife’smostforgivingsorts,”Bettyhadsaidtomeoneafternoon.Thatwasanotherthingthathadchangedsincetheattack:Bettyhadbecomealotmorecandid,andeverynowandthenwoulddrophintsabouthowshereallyfeltaboutthings.IhadneverrealizedthatsheandMrs.Searledidn’tseeeyetoeye,forexample,norhadIanyideathatBettyregardedMr.Birchwithsuspicion.Shedidthough:“Idon’tknowwhyhe’smakingdecisionsonbehalfoftheKenways,”shehadmuttereddarklyyesterday.“He’snotamemberofthefamily.Doubtheeverwillbe.”
Somehow,knowingthatBettydidn’tthinkmuchofMrs.Searlemadethehousekeeperlessforbiddinginmyeyes,andwhilebeforeIwouldhavethoughttwiceaboutwanderingintothekitchenunannouncedandrequestingfood,Inowhadnosuchqualms.
“Goodmorning,Mrs.Searle,”Isaid.Shegaveasmallcurtsy.Thekitchenwascold,justherinit.AtQueen
Anne’sSquare,Mrs.Searlehadatleastthreehelpers,nottomentionsundryotherstaffwhoflittedinandoutthroughthegreatdoubledoorsofthekitchen.Butthatwasbeforetheattack,whenwehadafullcomplement,andthere’snothinglikeaninvasionofsword-wieldingmaskedmenfordrivingtheservantsaway.Mosthadn’tevenreturnedthefollowingday.
NowtherewasjustMrs.Searle,Betty,Mr.Digweed,achambermaidcalledEmily,andMissDavy,whowasMother’slady’smaid.TheywerethelastofthestaffwholookedaftertheKenways.OrtheremainingKenways,Ishouldsay.JustmeandMotherleftnow.
WhenIleftthekitchen,itwaswithapieceofcakewrappedinclothhandedtomewithasourlookbyMrs.Searle,whonodoubtdisapprovedofmewanderingaboutthehousesoearlyinthemorning,scavengingforfoodaheadofthebreakfastshewasintheprocessofpreparing.IlikeMrs.Searle,andsinceshe’soneofthefewmembersofstafftohavestayedwithusafterthatterriblenight,Ilikeherevenmore,butevenso.Thereareotherthingstoworryaboutnow.Father’sfuneral.AndMother,ofcourse.
AndthenIfoundmyselfintheentrancehall,lookingattheinsideofthefrontdoor,andbeforeIknewitIwasopeningthedoor,andwithoutthinking—withoutthinkingtoomuch,anyway—lettingmyselfoutontothestepsandoutintoaworldcloudedwithfrost.
ii
“Now,whatintheblazesdoyouplantodoonsuchacoldmorning,MasterHaytham?”
Acarriagehadjustdrawnupoutsidethehouse,andatthewindowwasMr.Birch.Heworeahatthatwasheavierthanusual,andascarfpulledupoverhisnosesothat,atfirstglance,helookedlikeahighwayman.
“Justlooking,sir,”Isaid,fromthesteps.Hepulledhisscarfdown,tryingtosmile.Beforewhenhe’dsmiledithadset
hiseyestwinkling,nowitwaslikethedwindling,coolingashesofthefire,tryingbutunabletogenerateanywarmth,asstrainedandtiredashisvoicewhenhespoke.“IthinkperhapsIknowwhatyou’relookingfor,MasterHaytham.”
“What’sthat,sir?”“Thewayhome?”Ithoughtaboutitandrealizedhewasright.Thetroublewas,Ihadlivedthe
firsttenyearsofmylifebeingshepherdedaroundbyparentsandthenursemaids.ThoughIknewthatQueenAnne’sSquarewasnear,andevenwithinwalkingdistance,Ihadnoideahowtogetthere.
“Andwereyouplanningonavisit?”heasked.Ishrugged,butthetruthofitwasthat,yes,Ihadpicturedmyselfintheshell
ofmyoldhome.Inthegamesroomthere.I’dpicturedmyselfretrieving...“Yoursword?”Inodded.“It’stoodangeroustogointhehouse,I’mafraid.Wouldyouliketotakea
tripoverthereanyway?Youcanseeit,atleast.Comeinside,it’sascoldasagreyhound’snostriloutthere.”
AndIsawnoreasonnotto,especiallywhenheproducedahatandacapefromwithinthedepthsofthecarriage.
Whenwepulledupatthehousesomemomentslateritdidn’tlookatallasIhadimaginedit.No,itwasfar,farworse.AsthoughagiantGod-likefisthadpoundedintoitfromabove,smashingthroughtheroofandthefloorsbeneath,gougingahuge,raggedholeintothehouse.Itwasn’tsomuchahousenowasaravagedrepresentationofone.
Throughbrokenwindowswecouldseeintotheentrancehallandup—throughsmashedfloorstothehallwaythreeflightsup,allofthemblackenedwithsoot.IcouldseefurniturethatIrecognized,blackenedandcharred,burntportraitshanginglopsidedonthewalls.
“I’msorry—itreallyistoodangeroustogoinside,MasterHaytham,”saidMr.Birch.
Afteramomentheledmebackintothecarriage,tappedtheceilingtwicewithhiscane,andwepulledaway.
“However,”saidMr.Birch,“Itookthelibertyofretrievingyourswordyesterday,”andreachingbeneathhisseatheproducedthebox.It,too,wasdustywithsoot,butwhenhepulledittohislapandopenedthelid,theswordlayinside,asgleamingasithadbeenthedayFathergaveittome.
“Thankyou,Mr.Birch”wasallIcouldsay,asheclosedtheboxandplaceditontheseatbetweenus.
“It’sahandsomesword,Haytham.I’venodoubtyou’lltreasureit.”“Iwill,sir.”“Andwhen,Iwonder,willitfirsttasteblood?”“Idon’tknow,sir.”Therewasapause.Mr.Birchclaspedhiscanebetweenhisknees.“Thenightoftheattack,youkilledaman,”hesaid,turninghisheadtolook
outofthewindow.Wepassedhousesthatwereonlyjustvisible,floatingthroughahazeofsmokeandfreezingair.Itwasstillearly.Thestreetswerequiet.“Howdidthatfeel,Haytham?”
“IwasprotectingMother,”Isaid.“Thatwastheonlypossibleoption,Haytham,”heagreed,nodding,“andyou
didtherightthing.Don’tforamomentthinkotherwise.Butitsbeingtheonlyoptiondoesn’tchangethefactthatit’snosmallmattertokillaman.Foranybody.Notforyourfather.Notforme.Butespeciallynotforaboyofsuchtenderyears.”
“IfeltnosadnessatwhatIdid.Ijustacted.”“Andhaveyouthoughtaboutitsince?”“No,sir.I’vethoughtonlyofFather,andMother.”“AndJenny...?”saidMr.Birch.“Oh.Yes,sir.”Therewasapause,andwhenhenextspokehisvoicewasflatandsolemn.
“Weneedtofindher,Haytham,”hesaid.Ikeptquiet.“IintendtoleaveforEurope,wherewebelievesheisbeingheld.”“HowdoyouknowsheisinEurope,sir?”“Haytham,Iamamemberofaninfluentialandimportantorganization.A
kindofclub,orsociety.Oneofthemanyadvantagestomembershipisthatwe
haveeyesandearseverywhere.”“Whatisitcalled,sir?”Iasked.“TheTemplars,MasterHaytham.IamaTemplarKnight.”“Aknight?”Isaid,lookingathimsharply.Hegaveashortlaugh.“Perhapsnotexactlythekindofknightyou’re
thinkingof,Haytham,arelicoftheMiddleAges,butouridealsremainthesame.JustasourforebearssetouttospreadpeaceacrosstheHolyLandcenturiesago,sowearetheunseenpowerthathelpstomaintainpeaceandorderinourtime.”Hewavedhishandatthewindow,wherethestreetswerebusiernow.“Allofthis,Haytham,itrequiresstructureanddiscipline,andstructureanddisciplinerequireanexampletofollow.TheKnightsTemplararethatexample.”
Myheadspan.“Andwheredoyoumeet?Whatdoyoudo?Doyouhavearmour?”
“Later,Haytham.Later,I’lltellyoumore.”“WasFatheramember,though?WasheaKnight?”Myheartleapt.“Washe
trainingmetobecomeone?”“No,MasterHaytham,hewasnot,andI’mafraidthatasfarasI’mawarehe
wasmerelytrainingyouinswordsmanshipinorderthat...well,thefactthatyourmotherlivesprovestheworthofyourlessons.No,myrelationshipwithyourfatherwasnotbuiltonmymembershipoftheOrder.I’mpleasedtosaythatIwasemployedbyhimformyskillatpropertymanagementratherthananyhiddenconnections.Nevertheless,heknewthatIwasaKnight.Afterall,theTemplarshavepowerfulandwealthyconnections,andthesecouldsometimesbeofuseinourbusiness.Yourfathermaynothavebeenamember,buthewasshrewdenoughtoseetheworthoftheconnections:afriendlyword,thepassingonofusefulinformation”—hetookadeepbreath—“oneofwhichwasthewarningabouttheattackatQueenAnne’sSquare.Itoldhim,ofcourse.Iaskedhimwhyitmightbethathehadbeentargeted,buthescoffedattheveryidea—disingenuously,perhaps.Weclashedoverit,Haytham.Voiceswereraised,butIonlywishnowI’dbeenevenmoreinsistent.”
“WasthattheargumentIheard?”Iasked.Helookedsidewaysatme.“Soyoudidhear,didyou?Noteavesdropping,I
hope?”ThetoneinhisvoicemadememorethanthankfulIhadn’tbeen.“No,Mr.
Birch,sir,Iheardraisedvoices,andthatwasall.”Helookedhardatme.SatisfiedIwastellingthetruth,hefacedforward.
“Yourfatherwasasstubbornashewasinscrutable.”
“Buthedidn’tignorethewarning,sir.Heemployedthesoldiers,afterall.”Mr.Birchsighed.“Yourfatherdidn’ttakethethreatseriously,andwould
havedonenothing.Whenhewouldn’tlistentome,Itookthestepofinformingyourmother.Itwasatherinsistencethatheemployedthesoldiers.IwishnowIhadsubstitutedthemenformentakenfromourranks.Theywouldnothavebeensoeasilyoverwhelmed.AllIcandonowistrytofindhisdaughterforhimandpunishthoseresponsible.TodothatIneedtoknowwhy—whatwasthepurposeoftheattack?Tellme,whatdoyouknowofhimbeforehesettledinLondon,MasterHaytham?”
“Nothing,sir,”Ireplied.Hegaveadrychuckle.“Well,thatmakestwoofus.Morethantwoofus,in
fact.Yourmotherknowsnexttonothingalso.”“AndJenny,sir?”“Ah,theequallyinscrutableJenny.Asfrustratingasshewasbeautiful,as
inscrutableasshewasadorable.”“‘Was,’sir?”“Aturnofphrase,MasterHaytham—Ihopewithallmyheartatleast.I
remainhopefulthatJennyissafeinthehandsofhercaptors,ofusetothemonlyifsheisalive.”
“Youthinkshehasbeentakenforaransom?”“Yourfatherwasveryrich.Yourfamilymightwellhavebeentargetedfor
yourwealth,andyourfather’sdeathunplanned.It’scertainlypossible.Wehavemenlookingintothatpossibilitynow.Equally,themissionmayhavebeentoassassinateyourfather,andwehavemenlookingintothatpossibilityalso—well,me,becauseofcourseIknewhimwell,andwouldknowifhehadanyenemies:enemieswiththewherewithaltostagesuchanattack,Imean,ratherthandisgruntledtenants—andIcameupwithnotasinglepossibility,whichleadsmetobelievethattheobjectmayhavebeentosettleagrudge.Ifsothenit’salong-standinggrudge,somethingthatrelatestohistimebeforeLondon.Jenny,beingtheonlyonewhoknewhimbeforeLondon,mayhavehadanswers,butwhateversheknewshehastakenintothehandsofhercaptors.Eitherway,Haytham,weneedtolocateher.”
Therewassomethingaboutthewayhesaid“we.”“AsIsay,itisthoughtshewillhavebeentakensomewhereinEurope,so
Europeiswherewewillconductoursearchforher.Andby‘we,’ImeanyouandI,Haytham.”
Istarted.“Sir?”Isaid,hardlyabletobelievemyears.
“That’sright,”hesaid.“Youshallbecomingwithme.”“Motherneedsme,sir.Ican’tleaveherhere.”Mr.Birchlookedatmeagain,inhiseyesneitherkindlinessnormalice.
“Haytham,”hesaid,“I’mafraidthedecisionisnotyourstomake.”“ItisforMothertomake,”Iinsisted.“Well,quite.”“Whatdoyoumean,sir?”Hesighed.“Imean,haveyouspokentoyourmothersincethenightofthe
attack?”“She’sbeentoodistressedtoseeanyonebutMissDavyorEmily.She’s
stayedinherroom,andMissDavysaysI’mtobesummonedwhenshecanseeme.”
“Whenyoudoseeher,youwillfindherchanged.”“Sir?”“Onthenightoftheattack,Tessasawherhusbanddieandherlittleboykill
aman.Thesethingswillhavehadaprofoundeffectonher,Haytham;shemaynotbethepersonyouremember.”
“Allthemorereasonsheneedsme.”“Maybewhatsheneedsistogetwell,Haytham—possiblywithasfew
remindersofthatterriblenightaroundheraspossible.”“Iunderstand,sir,”Isaid.“I’msorryifthatcomesasashock,Haytham.”Hefrowned.“AndImay
wellbewrong,ofcourse,butI’vebeendealingwithyourfather’sbusinessaffairssincehisdeath,andwe’vebeenmakingarrangementswithyourmother,I’vehadtheopportunityofseeingherfirst-hand,andIdon’tthinkI’mwrong.Notthistime.”
iii
Mothercalledformeshortlybeforethefuneral.WhenBetty,whohadbeenfullofred-facedapologiesforwhatshecalled
“herlittlelie-in,”toldme,myfirstthoughtwasthatshehadchangedhermindaboutmygoingtoEuropewithMr.Birch,butIwaswrong.Dartingalongtoherroom,Iknockedandonlyjustheardhertellmetocomein—hervoicesoweakandreedynow,notatallhowitusedtobe,whenitwassoftbutcommanding.Inside,shewassittingbythewindow,andMissDavywasfussingatthe
curtains;eventhoughitwasdaytimeitwashardlybrightoutsidebut,nevertheless,Motherwaswavingherhandinfrontofher,asifshewerebeingbotheredbyanangrybird,ratherthanjustsomegreyingraysofwintersunlight.AtlastMissDavyfinishedtoMother’ssatisfactionandwithawearysmileindicatedmetoaseat.
Motherturnedherheadtowardsme,veryslowly,lookedatmeandforcedasmile.Theattackhadexactedaterribletollonher.Itwasasthoughallthelifehadbeenleechedoutofher;asthoughshehadlostthelightshealwayshad,whethershewassmilingorcrossor,asFatheralwayssaid,wearingherheartonhersleeve.Nowthesmileslowlyslidfromherlips,whichsettledbackintoablankfrown,asthoughshe’dtriedbutnolongerhadthestrengthtokeepupanypretence.
“YouknowI’mnotgoingtothefuneral,Haytham?”shesaidblankly.“Yes,Mother.”“I’msorry.I’msorry,Haytham,Ireallyam,butI’mnotstrongenough.”SheneverusuallycalledmeHaytham.Shecalledme“darling.”“Yes,Mother,”Isaid,knowingthatshewas—shewasstrongenough.“Your
MotherhasmorepluckthananymanI’veevermet,Haytham,”Fatherusedtosay.
TheyhadmetshortlyafterhemovedtoLondon,andshehadpursuedhim—“likealionessinpursuitofherprey,”Fatherhadjoked,“asightasbloodcurdlingasitwasawe-inspiring,”andearnedhimselfacloutforthatparticularjoke,thekindofjokeyouthoughtmighthavehadanelementoftruthtoit.
Shedidn’tliketotalkaboutherfamily.“Prosperous”wasallIknew.AndJennyhadhintedoncethattheyhaddisownedherbecauseofherassociationwithFather.Why,ofcourse,Ineverfoundout.OntheoddoccasionI’dpesteredMotheraboutFather’slifebeforeLondon,she’dsmiledmysteriously.He’dtellmewhenhewasready.Sittinginherroom,IrealizedthatatleastpartofthegriefIfeltwasthepainofknowingthatI’dneverhearwhateveritwasFatherwasplanningtotellmeonmybirthday.Althoughit’sjustatinypartofthegrief,Ishouldmakeclear—insignificantcomparedtothegriefoflosingFatherandthepainofseeingMotherlikethis.So...reduced.SolackinginthatpluckFatherspokeof.
Perhapsithadturnedoutthatthesourceofherstrengthwashim.Perhapsthecarnageofthatterribleeveninghadsimplybeentoomuchforhertotake.Theysayithappenstosoldiers.Theyget“soldier’sheart”andbecomeshadowsof
theirformerselves.Thebloodshedchangesthemsomehow.WasthatthecasewithMother?Iwondered.
“I’msorry,Haytham,”sheadded.“It’sallright,Mother.”“No—Imean,youaretogotoEuropewithMr.Birch.”“ButI’mneededhere,withyou.Tolookafteryou.”Shegaveanairylaugh:“Mama’slittlesoldier,uh?”andfixedmewitha
strange,searchinglook.Iknewexactlywherehermindwasgoing.Backtowhathadhappenedonthestairs.Shewasseeingmethrustabladeintotheeyesocketofthemaskedattacker.
Andthenshetorehereyesaway,leavingmefeelingalmostbreathlesswiththerawemotionofhergaze.
“IhaveMissDavyandEmilytolookafterme,Haytham.WhentherepairsaremadetoQueenAnne’sSquarewe’llbeabletomovebackandIcanemploymorestaff.No,itismewhoshouldbelookingafteryou,andIhaveappointedMr.Birchthefamilycomptrollerandyourguardian,sothatyoucanbelookedafterproperly.It’swhatyourfatherwouldhavewanted.”
Shelookedatthecurtainquizzically,asifshewastryingtorecallwhyitwasdrawn.“IunderstandthatMr.BirchwasgoingtospeaktoyouaboutleavingforEuropestraightaway.”
“Hedid,yes,but—”“Good.”Sheregardedme.Again,therewassomethingdiscomfitingabout
thelook;shewasnolongerthemotherIknew,Irealized.OrwasInolongerthesonsheknew?
“It’sforthebest,Haytham.”“But,Mother...”Shelookedatme,thenawayagainquickly.“You’regoing,andthat’stheendofit,”shesaidfirmly,herstarereturningto
thecurtains.MyeyeswenttoMissDavyasthoughlookingforassistance,butIfoundnone;inreturnshegavemeasympatheticsmile,araiseoftheeyebrows,anexpressionthatsaid,“I’msorry,Haytham,there’snothingIcando,hermindismadeup.”Therewassilenceintheroom,nosoundapartfromtheclip-cloppingofhoovesfromoutside,fromaworldthatcarriedonoblivioustothefactthatminewasbeingtakenapart.
“Youaredismissed,Haytham,”Mothersaid,withawaveofherhand.Before—beforetheattack,Imean—shehadneverusedto“summon”me.Or
“dismiss”me.Before,shehadneverletmeleavehersidewithoutatleastakiss
onthecheek,andshe’dtoldmeshelovedme,atleastonceaday.AsIstood,itoccurredtomethatshehadn’tsaidanythingaboutwhathad
happenedonthestairsthatnight.Shehadneverthankedmeforsavingherlife.AtthedoorIpausedandturnedtolookather,andwonderedwhethershewishedtheoutcomehadbeendifferent.
iv
Mr.Birchaccompaniedmetothefuneral,asmall,informalserviceatthesamechapelwehadusedforEdith,withalmostthesamenumberinattendance:thehousehold,OldMr.Fayling,andafewmembersofstafffromFather’swork,whomMr.Birchspoketoafterwards.Heintroducedmetooneofthem,Mr.Simpkin,amanIjudgedtobeinhismid-thirties,whoIwastoldwouldbehandlingthefamily’saffairs.HebowedalittleandgavemealookI’mcomingtorecognizeasamixofawkwardnessandsympathy,eachstrugglingtofindadequateexpression.
“IwillbedealingwithyourmotherwhileyouareinEurope,MasterHaytham,”heassuredme.
IthitmethatIreallywasgoing;thatIhadnochoice,nosaywhatsoeverinthematter.Well,Idohaveachoice,Isuppose—Icouldrunaway.Notthatrunningawayseemslikeanykindofchoice.
Wetookcarriageshome.Troopingintothehouse,IcaughtsightofBetty,wholookedatmeandgavemeaweaksmile.Thenewsaboutmewasspreading,soitseemed.WhenIaskedherwhatsheplannedtodo,shetoldmethatMr.Digweedhadfoundheralternativeemployment.Whenshelookedatmehereyesshonewithtears,andwhenshelefttheroomIsatatmydesktowritemyjournalwithaheavyheart.
11DECEMBER1735
i
WedepartforEuropetomorrowmorning.Itstrikesmehowfewpreparationsareneeded.Itisasthoughthefirehadalreadyseveredallmytieswithmyoldlife.WhatfewthingsIhadleftwereonlyenoughtofilltwotrunks,whichweretakenawaythismorning.TodayIamtowriteletters,andalsotoseeMr.Birchinordertotellhimaboutsomethingthatoccurredlastnight,afterI’dgonetobed.
IwasalmostasleepwhenIheardasoftknockingatthedoor,satupandsaid,“Comein,”fullyexpectingittobeBetty.
Itwasn’t.Isawthefigureofagirl,whosteppedquicklyintotheroomandshutthedoorbehindher.SheraisedacandlesoIcouldseeherfaceandthefingersheheldtoherlips.ItwasEmily,blond-hairedEmily,thechambermaid.
“MasterHaytham,”shesaid,“IhavesomethingIneedtotellyou,whichhasbeenpreyingonmymind,sir.”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,hopingmyvoicewouldn’tbetraythefactthatIfeltsuddenlyveryyoungandvulnerable.
“IknowthemaidoftheBarretts,”shesaidquickly.“Violet,whowasoneofthosewhocameoutoftheirhousesthatnight.Shewasclosetothecarriagetheyputyoursisterin,sir.AstheybundledMissJennypastherandthecarriage,MissJennycaughtViolet’seyeandtoldhersomethingquickly,whichViolethastoldme.”
“Whatwasit?”Isaid.“Itwasveryquick,sir,andtherewasplentyofnoise,andbeforeshecould
sayanymoretheybundledherintothecarriage,butwhatVioletthinkssheheardwas‘Traitor.’Nextday,amanpaidVioletavisit,amanwithaWestCountryaccent,orsoshesaid,whowantedtoknowwhatshe’dheard,butVioletsaidshe’dheardnothing,evenwhenthegentlemanthreatenedher.Heshowedheranevil-lookingknife,sir,outofhisbelt,buteventhenshesaidnothing.”
“Butshetoldyou?”“Violet’smysister,sir.Sheworriesforme.”
“Haveyoutoldanyoneelse?”“No,sir.”“IshalltellMr.Birchinthemorning,”Isaid.“But,sir...”“What?”“WhatifthetraitorisMr.Birch?”Igaveashortlaughandshookmyhead.“Itisn’tpossible.Hesavedmylife.
Hewastherefightingthe...”Somethingstruckme.“Thereissomeonewhowasn’tthere,though.”
ii
OfcourseIsentwordtoMr.Birchatthefirstopportunitythismorning,andhereachedthesameconclusionIhad.
Anhourlateranothermanarrived,whowasshownintothestudy.Hewasaboutthesameagemyfatherhadbeenandhadacraggyface,scarsandthecold,staringeyesofsomespeciesofsealife.HewastallerthanMr.Birch,andbroader,andseemedtofilltheroomwithhispresence.Adarkpresence.Andhelookedatme.Downhisnoseatme.Downhiswrinkled-with-disdainnoseatme.
“ThisisMr.Braddock,”saidMr.Birch,asIstoodfixedintoplacebythenewcomer’sglare.“HeisalsoaTemplar.Hehasmytotalandutmosttrust,Haytham.”Heclearedhisthroat,andsaidloudly,“AndamannersometimesatoddswithwhatIknowtobeinhisheart.”
Mr.Braddocksnorted,andshothimawitheringlook.“Now,Edward,”chidedBirch.“Haytham,Mr.Braddockwillbeinchargeof
findingthetraitor.”“Thankyou,sir,”Isaid.Mr.BraddocklookedmeoverthenspoketoMr.Birch.“ThisDigweed,”he
said,“perhapsyoucanshowmehisquarters.”WhenImovedtofollowthem,Mr.BraddockglaredatMr.Birch,who
noddedalmostimperceptiblythenturnedtome,smiling,withalookinhiseyesthatbeggedmyforbearance.
“Haytham,”hesaid,“perhapsyoushouldattendtoothermatters.Yourpreparationsforleaving,perhaps,”andIwascompelledtoreturntomyroom,whereIsurveyedmyalreadypackedcasesthenretrievedmyjournal,inwhichtowritetheeventsoftheday.Momentsago,Mr.Birchcametomewiththenews:
Digweedhasescaped,hetoldme,hisfacegrave.However,theywillfindhim,heassuredme.TheTemplarsalwayscatchtheirmanand,inthemeantime,nothingchanges.WestilldepartforEurope.
ItstrikesmethiswillbemylastentryathomehereinLondon.Thesearethelastwordsofmyoldlife,beforemynewonebegins.
10JUNE1747
i
Iwatchedthetraitortodayashemovedaroundthebazaar.Wearingaplumedhat,colourfulbucklesandgarters,hestruttedfromstalltostallandtwinkledinthebright,whiteSpanishsun.Withsomeofthestallholdershejokedandlaughed;withothersheexchangedcrosswords.Hewasneitherfriendnordespot,itseemed,andindeed,theimpressionIformedofhim,albeitoneIformedatadistance,wasofafairman,benevolenteven.Butthenagainit’snotthosepeoplehewasbetraying.ItishisOrder.Itisus.
Hisguardsstayedwithhimduringhisrounds,andtheywerediligentmen,Icouldtell.Theireyesneverstoppedmovingaroundthemarket,andwhenoneofthestallholdersgavehimaheartyclaponthebackandpressedonhimagiftofbreadfromhisstall,hewavedtothetallerofthetwoguards,whotookitwithhislefthand,keepinghisswordhandfree.Good.Goodman.Templar-trained.
Momentslaterasmallboydartedoutfromthecrowds,andstraightawaymyeyeswenttotheguards,sawthemtense,assessthedangerandthen...
Relax?Laughatthemselvesforbeingjumpy?No.Theystayedtense.Stayedwatchful,becausethey’renotfoolsandthey
knewtheboymighthavebeenadecoy.Theyweregoodmen.Iwonderediftheyhadbeencorruptedbytheteachings
oftheiremployer,amanwhopledgedallegiancetoonecausewhilepromotingtheidealsofanother.Ihopednot,becauseI’dalreadydecidedtoletthemlive.AndifitappearstobesomewhatconvenientthatI’vedecidedtoletthemlive,andthatmaybethetruthhasmoretodowithmyapprehensionofgoingintocombatwithtwosuchcompetentmen,thenthatappearanceisfalse.Theymaybevigilant;undoubtedlytheywouldbeexpertswordsmen;theywouldbeskilledinthebusinessofdeath.
Butthen,Iamvigilant.Iamanexpertswordsman.AndIamskilledinthebusinessofdeath.Ihaveanaturalaptitudeforit.Although,unliketheology,
philosophy,classicsandmylanguages,particularlySpanish,whichissogoodthatI’mabletopassasaSpaniardhereinAltea,albeitasomewhatreticentone,Itakenopleasureinmyskillatdeath.Simply,Iamgoodatit.
PerhapsifmytargetwereDigweed—perhapsthenImighttakesomesmallmeasureofgratificationfromhisdeathatmyhands.Butitisnot.
ii
ForthefiveyearsafterweleftLondon,ReginaldandIscouredEurope,movingfromcountrytocountryinatravellingcaravanofstaffandfellowKnightswhoshiftedaroundus,driftinginandoutofourlives,wetwotheonlyconstantsaswemovedfromonecountrytothenext,sometimespickingupthetrailofagroupofTurkishslaverswhowerebelievedtobeholdingJenny,andoccasionallyactingoninformationconcerningDigweed,whichBraddockwouldattendto,ridingoffformonthsonendbutalwaysreturningempty-handed.
Reginaldwasmytutor,andinthatrespecthehadsimilaritiestoFather;firstinthathetendedtosneeratalmostanythingfrombooks,constantlyassertingthatthereexistedahigher,moreadvancedlearningthancouldbefoundindustyoldschoolbooks,whichIlatercametoknowasTemplarlearning;andsecond,inthatheinsistedIthinkformyself.
Wheretheydifferedwasthatmyfatherwouldaskmetomakeupmyownmind.Reginald,Icametolearn,viewedtheworldinmoreabsoluteterms.WithFatherIsometimesfeltasifthethinkingwasenough—thatthethinkingwasameansuntoitselfandtheconclusionIreachedsomehowlessimportantthanthejourney.WithFather,facts,and,lookingbackoverpastjournalsIrealizeeventheentireconceptoftruth,couldfeellikeshifting,mutableproperties.
TherewasnosuchambiguitywithReginald,though,andintheearlyyearswhenImightsayotherwise,he’dsmileatmeandtellmehecouldhearmyfatherinme.He’dtellmehowmyfatherhadbeenagreatmanandwiseinmanyways,andquitethebestswordsmanhehadeverknown,buthisattitudetolearningwasnotasscholarlyasitmighthavebeen.
DoesitshamemetoadmitthatovertimeIcametopreferReginald’sway,thestricterTemplarway?Thoughhewasalwaysgood-tempered,quickwithajokeandsmile,helackedthenaturaljoy,evenmischief,ofFather.Hewasalwaysbuttonedandneat,foronething,andhewasfanaticalaboutpunctuality;heinsistedthatthingsbeorderlyatalltimes.Andyet,almostdespitemyself
therewassomethingfixedaboutReginald,somecertainty,bothinnerandouter,thatcametoappealtomemoreandmoreastheyearspassed.
OnedayIrealizedwhy.Itwastheabsenceofdoubt—andwithitconfusion,indecision,uncertainty.Thisfeeling—thisfeelingof“knowing”thatReginaldimbuedinme—wasmyguidefromboyhoodtoadulthood.Ineverforgotmyfather’steachings;onthecontrary,hewouldhavebeenproudofmebecauseIquestionedhisideals.IndoingsoIadoptednewones.
WeneverfoundJenny.Overtheyears,I’dmellowedtowardshermemory.Readingbackovermyjournals,theyoungmecouldnothavecaredlessabouther,somethingI’msomewhatashamedof,becauseI’magrownmannow,andIseethingsindifferentterms.Notthatmyyouthfulantipathytowardsherdidanythingtohinderthehuntforher,ofcourse.Inthatmission,Mr.Birchhadmorethanenoughzealforthetwoofus.Butitwasn’tenough.ThefundswereceivedfromMr.SimpkininLondonwerehandsome,buttheyweren’twithoutend.WefoundachateauinFrance,hiddennearTroyesinChampagne,inwhichtomakeourbase,whereMr.Birchcontinuedmyapprenticeship,sponsoringmyadmittanceasanAdeptandthen,threeyearsago,asafullyfledgedmemberoftheOrder.
WeekswouldgobywithnomentionofeitherJennyorDigweed;thenmonths.WewereinvolvedinotherTemplaractivities.TheWaroftheAustrianSuccessionhadseemedtogobblethewholeofEuropeintoitsgreedymaw,andwewereneededtohelpprotectTemplarinterests.My“aptitude,”myskillatdeath,becameapparent,andReginaldwasquicktoseeitsbenefits.Thefirsttodie—notmyfirst“kill,”ofcourse;myfirstassassination,Ishouldsay—wasagreedymerchantinLiverpool.MysecondwasanAustrianprince.
Afterthekillingofthemerchant,twoyearsago,IreturnedtoLondon,onlytofindthatbuildingworkwascontinuingatQueenAnne’sSquare,andMother...Motherwastootiredtoseemethatday,andwouldbethefollowingdayaswell.“Isshetootiredtoanswermyletters,too?”IaskedMrs.Davy,whoapologizedandavertedhergaze.AfterwardsIrodetoHerefordshire,hopingtolocateDigweed’sfamily,tonoavail.Thetraitorinourhouseholdwasnevertobefound,itseemed—orisnevertobefound,Ishouldsay.
Butthen,thefireofvengeanceinmygutburnslessfiercelythesedays,perhapssimplybecauseI’vegrown;perhapsbecauseofwhatReginaldhastaughtmeaboutcontrolofoneself,masteryofone’sownemotions.
Evenso,dimitmaybe,butitcontinuestoburnwithinme.
iii
Thehostaleowner’swifehasjustbeentovisit,throwingaquicklookdownthestepsbeforesheclosedthedoorbehindher.AmessengerarrivedwhileIwasout,shesaid,andhandedhismissivetomewithalasciviouslookthatImighthavebeentemptedtoactuponifIhadn’thadotherthingsonmymind.Theeventsoflastnight,forexample.
SoinsteadIusheredheroutofmyroomandsatdowntodecypherthemessage.IttoldmethatassoonasIwasfinishedinAltea,Iwastotravelnothome,toFrance,buttoPrague,whereIwouldmeetReginaldinthecellarroomsofthehouseinCeletnaLane,theTemplarheadquarters.Hehasanurgentmattertodiscusswithme.
Inthemeantime,Ihavemycheese.Tonight,thetraitormeetshisend.
11JUNE1747
Itisdone.Thekill,Imean.Andthoughitwasnotwithoutitscomplications,theexecutionwascleaninsofarasheisdeadandIremainundetected,andforthatIcanallowmyselftotakeameasureofsatisfactioninhavingcompletedmytask.
HisnamewasJuanVedomir,andsupposedlyhisjobwastoprotectourinterestsinAltea.Thathehadusedtheopportunitytobuildanempireofhisownwastolerated;theinformationwehadwasthathecontrolledtheportandmarketwithabenignhand,andcertainlyontheevidenceofearlierthatdayheseemedtoenjoysomesupport,eveniftheconstantpresenceofhisguardsprovedthatwasn’talwaysthecase.
Washetoobenign,though?Reginaldthoughtso,hadinvestigated,andeventuallyfoundthatVedomir’sabandonmentofTemplarideologieswassocompleteastoamounttotreachery.WeareintolerantoftraitorsintheOrder.IwasdespatchedtoAltea.Iwatchedhim.And,lastnight,Itookmycheeseandleftmyhostaleforthelasttime,makingmywayalongcobbledstreetstohisvilla.
“Yes?”saidtheguardwhoopenedhisdoor.“Ihavecheese,”Isaid.“Icansmellitfromhere,”hereplied.“IhopetoconvinceSeñorVedomirtoallowmetotradeatthebazaar.”Hisnosewrinkledsomemore.“SeñorVedomirisinthebusinessof
attractingpatronstothemarket,notdrivingthemaway.”“Perhapsthosewithamorerefinedpalatemightdisagree,señor?”Theguardsquinted.“Youraccent.Whereareyoufrom?”HewasthefirsttoquestionmySpanishcitizenship.“Originallyfromthe
RepublicofGenoa,”Isaid,smiling,“wherecheeseisoneofourfinestexports.”“YourcheesewillhavetogoalongwaytobeatVarela’scheese.”Icontinuedtosmile.“Iamconfidentthatitdoes.IamconfidentthatSeñor
Vedomirwillthinkso.”Helookeddoubtfulbutstoodasideandletmeintoawideentrancehall,
which,thoughthenightwaswarm,wascool,almostcold,aswellasbeing
sparse,withjusttwochairsandatable,onwhichweresomecards.Iglancedatthem.Agameofpiquet,Iwaspleasedtosee,becausepiquet’satwo-playergame,whichmeanttherewerenomoreguardshidinginthewoodwork.
Thefirstguardindicatedformetoplacethewrappedcheeseonthecardtable,andIdidasIwastold.Thesecondmanstoodback,onehandonthehiltofhisswordashispartnercheckedmeforweapons,pattingmyclothesthoroughlyandnextsearchingthebagIworearoundmyshoulder,inwhichwereafewcoinsandmyjournal,butnothingmore.Ihadnoblade.
“He’snotarmed,”saidthefirstguard,andthesecondmannodded.Thefirstguardindicatedmycheese.“YouwantSeñorVedomirtotastethis,Itakeit?”
Inoddedenthusiastically.“PerhapsIshouldtasteitfirst?”saidthefirstguard,watchingmeclosely.“IhadhopedtosaveitallforSeñorVedomir,”Irepliedwithanobsequious
smile.Theguardgaveasnort.“Youhavemorethanenough.Perhapsyoushould
tasteit.”Ibegantoprotest.“ButIhadhopedtosaveitfor—”Heputhishandtothehiltofhissword.“Tasteit,”heinsisted.Inodded.“Ofcourse,señor,”Isaid,andunwrappedapiece,pickedoffa
chunkandateit.NextheindicatedIshouldtryanotherpiece,whichIdid,makingafacetoshowhowheavenlyittasted.“Andnowthatit’sbeenopened,”Isaid,profferingthewrapping,“youmightaswellhaveataste.”
Thetwoguardsexchangedalook,thenatlastthefirstsmile,wenttoathickwoodendoorattheendofthepassageway,knockedandentered.Thentheyappearedagainandbeckonedmeforward,intoVedomir’schamber.
Inside,itwasdarkandheavilyperfumed.Silkbillowedgentlyonthelowceilingasweentered.Vedomirsatwithhisbacktous,hislongblackhairloose,wearingnightclothesandwritingbythelightofacandleathisdesk.
“Wouldyouhavemestay,SeñorVedomir?”askedtheguard.Vedomirdidn’tturnaround.“Itakeitourguestisn’tarmed?”“No,señor,”saidtheguard,“althoughthesmellofhischeeseisenoughto
fellanarmy.”“Tomethescentisaperfume,Cristian,”laughedVedomir.“Pleaseshowour
guesttoaseat,andIshallbeoverinamoment.”Isatonalowstoolbyanemptyhearthasheblottedthebookthencame
over,stoppingtopickupasmallknifefromasidetableashecame.“Cheese,then?”Hissmilesplitathinmoustacheasheshiftedhis
nightclothestositonanotherlowstool,opposite.“Yes,señor,”Isaid.Helookedatme.“Oh?IwastoldyouwerefromtheRepublicofGenoa,but
IcanhearfromyourvoicethatyouareEnglish.”Istartedwithshock,butthebiggrinheworetoldmeIhadnothingtoworry
about.Notyetatleast.“AndthereIwas,thinkingmesoclevertohidemynationalityallthistime,”Isaid,impressed,“butyouhavefoundmeout,señor.”
“Andthefirsttodoso,evidently,whichiswhyyourheadisstillonyourshoulders.Ourtwocountriesareatwar,aretheynot?”
“ThewholeofEuropeisatwar,señor.Isometimeswonderifanybodyknowswhoisfightingwhom.”
Vedomirchuckledandhiseyesdanced.“You’rebeingdisingenuous,myfriend.IthinkweallknowyourKingGeorge’sallegiances,aswellashisambitions.YourBritishNavyissaidtothinkitselfthebestintheworld.TheFrench,theSpanish—nottomentiontheSwedes—disagree.AnEnglishmaninSpaintakeshislifeinhishands.”
“ShouldIbeconcernedformysafetynow,señor?”“Withme?”Hespreadhishandsandgaveacrooked,ironicsmile.“Iliketo
thinkIriseabovethepettyconcernsofkings,myfriend.”“Thenwhomdoyouserve,señor?”“Why,thepeopleofthetown,ofcourse.”“AndtowhomdoyoupledgeallegianceifnottoKingFerdinand?”“Toahigherpower,señor.”Vedomirsmiled,closingthesubjectfirmlyand
turninghisattentiontothewrappingsofcheeseI’dplacedbythehearth.“Now,”hewenton,“you’llhavetoforgivemyconfusion.Thischeese.IsitfromtheRepublicofGenoaorisitEnglishcheese?”
“Itismycheese,señor.Mycheesesarethebestwhereveroneplantsone’sflag.”
“GoodenoughtousurpVarela?”“Perhapstotradealongsidehim?”“Andwhatthen?ThenIhaveanunhappyVarela.”“Yes,señor.”“Suchastateofaffairsmightbeofnoconcerntoyou,señor,buttheseare
themattersthatvexmedaily.Now,letmetastethischeesebeforeitmelts,eh?”Pretendingtofeeltheheat,Iloosenedmyneckscarfthentookitoff.
Surreptitiously,Ireachedintomyshoulderbagandpalmedadoubloon.WhenheturnedhisattentiontothecheeseIdroppedthedoubloonintothescarf.
TheknifeglitteredinthecandlelightasVedomircutoffachunkofthefirstcheese,holdingthepiecewithhisthumbandsniffingatit—hardlynecessary;IcouldsmellitfromwhereIsat—thenpoppeditintohismouth.Heatethoughtfully,lookedatme,thencutoffasecondchunk.
“Hm,”hesaid,aftersomemoments.“Youarewrong,señor,thisisnotsuperiortoVarela’scheese.ItisinfactexactlythesameasVarela’scheese.”Hissmilehadfadedandhisfacehaddarkened.IrealizedIhadbeenfoundout.“Infact,thisisVarela’scheese.”
HismouthwasopeningtoshoutforhelpasItwirledthesilkintoagarrottewithaflickofmywristsandleaptforwardwithcrossedarms,droppingitoverhisheadandaroundhisneck.
Hisknifehandarcedup,buthewastooslowandcaughtunawares,andtheknifethrashedwildlyatthesilkaboveourheadsasIsecuredmyrumal,thecoinpressinginonhiswindpipe,cuttingoffanynoise.Holdingthegarrottewithonehand,Idisarmedhim,tossedtheknifetoacushionthenusedbothhandstotightentherumal.
“MynameisHaythamKenway,”Isaiddispassionately,leaningforwardtolookintohiswide-open,bulgingeyes.“YouhavebetrayedtheTemplarOrder.Forthisyouhavebeensentencedtoexecution.”
Hisarmroseinafutileattempttoclawatmyeyes,butImovedmyheadandwatchedthesilkfluttergentlyasthelifelefthim.
WhenitwasoverIcarriedhisbodytothebedthenwenttohisdesktotakehisjournal,asIhadbeeninstructed.Itwasopen,andmyeyefelluponsomewriting:“Paraverdemaneradiferente,primerodebemospensardiferente.”
Ireaditagain,translatingitcarefully,asthoughIwerelearninganewlanguage:“Toseedifferently,wemustfirstthinkdifferently.”
Istaredatitforsomemoments,deepinthought,thensnappedthebookshutandstoweditinmybag,returningmymindtothejobathand.Vedomir’sdeathwouldnotbediscovereduntilmorning,bywhichtimeIwouldbelonggone,onmywaytoPrague,whereInowhadsomethingtoaskReginald.
18JUNE1747
i
“It’saboutyourmother,Haytham.”HestoodbeforemeinthebasementoftheheadquartersonCeletnaLane.He
hadmadenoefforttodressforPrague.HeworehisEnglishnesslikeabadgeofhonour:neatandtidywhitestockings,blackbreechesand,ofcourse,hiswig,whichwaswhiteandhadshedmostofitspowderontheshouldersofhisfrockcoat.Hewaslitbytheflamesfromtallironcressetsonpolesoneithersideofhim,whilemountedonstonewallssodarktheywerealmostblackweretorchesthatshonewithhalosofpalelight.Normallyhestoodrelaxed,withhishandsbehindhisbackandleaningonhiscane,buttodaytherewasaformalairabouthim.
“Mother?”“Yes,Haytham.”She’sill,wasmyfirstthought,andIinstantlyfeltahotwaveofguiltso
intenseIwasalmostgiddywithit.Ihadn’twrittentoherinweeks;I’dhardlyeventhoughtabouther.
“She’sdead,Haytham,”saidReginald,castinghiseyesdownward.“Aweekagoshehadafall.Herbackwasbadlyhurt,andI’mafraidthatshesuccumbedtoherinjuries.”
Ilookedathim.Thatintenserushofguiltwasgoneasquicklyasithadarrivedandinitsplaceanemptyfeeling,ahollowplacewhereemotionsshouldbe.
“I’msorry,Haytham.”Hisweatheredfacecreasedintosympathyandhiseyeswerekind.“Yourmotherwasafinewoman.”
“That’squiteallright,”Isaid.“We’retoleaveforEnglandstraightaway.There’samemorialservice.”“Isee.”“Ifyouneed...anything,thenpleasedon’thesitatetoask.”“Thankyou.”
“YourfamilyistheOrdernow,Haytham.Youcancometousforanything.”“Thankyou.”Heclearedhisthroatuncomfortably.“Andifyouneed...youknow,totalk,
thenI’mhere.”Itriednottosmileattheidea.“Thankyou,Reginald,butIwon’tneedto
talk.”“Verywell.”Therewasalongpause.Helookedaway.“Isitdone?”“JuanVedomirisdead,ifthat’swhatyoumean.”“Andyouhavehisjournal?”“I’mafraidnot.”Foramomenthisfacefell,thenitgrewhard.Veryhard.I’dseenhisfacedo
thatbefore,inanunguardedmoment.“What?”hesaidsimply.“Ikilledhimforhisbetrayalofourcause,didInot?”Isaid.“Indeed...”saidReginaldcarefully.“ThenwhatneeddidIhaveofhisjournal?”“Itcontainshiswritings.Theyareofinteresttous.”“Why?”Iasked.“Haytham,IhadreasontobelievethatJuanVedomir’streacherywent
beyondthematterofhisadherencetothedoctrine.IthinkhemayhaveadvancedtoworkingwiththeAssassins.Nowtellmethetruth,please,doyouhavehisjournal?”
Ipulleditfrommybag,gaveittohim,andhemovedovertooneofthecandlesticks,openedit,quicklyflickedthrough,thensnappeditshut.
“Andhaveyoureadit?”heasked.“It’sincypher,”Ireplied.“Butnotallofit,”hesaidequably.Inodded.“Yes—yes,you’reright,thereweresomepassagesIwasableto
read.His...thoughtsonlife.Theymadeinterestingreading.Infact,Iwasparticularlyintrigued,Reginald,byhowmuchJuanVedomir’sphilosophywasconsistentwithwhatmyfatheroncetaughtme.”
“Quitepossibly.”“Andyetyouhadmekillhim?”“IhadyoukillatraitortotheOrder.Whichissomethingelseentirely.Of
course,Iknewyourfatherfeltdifferentlyfrommeconcerningmany—perhaps
evenmost—ofthetenetsoftheOrder,butthat’sbecausehedidn’tsubscribetothem.Thefactthathewasn’taTemplardidn’tmakemerespecthimless.”
Ilookedathim.IwonderedifIhadbeenwrongtodoubthim.“Why,then,isthebookofinterest?”
“NotforVedomir’smusingsonlife,thatmuchiscertain,”saidReginald,andgavemeasidewayssmile.“Asyousay,theyweresimilartoyourfather’s,andwebothknowourfeelingsaboutthat.No,it’sthecypheredpassagesI’minterestedin,which,ifI’mright,willcontaindetailsofthekeeperofakey.”
“Akeytowhat?”“Allingoodtime.”Imadeasoundoffrustration.“OnceIhavedecypheredthejournal,Haytham,”hepressed.“When,ifI’m
right,we’llbeabletobeginthenextphaseoftheoperation.”“Andwhatmightthatbe?”Heopenedhismouthtospeak,butIsaidthewordsforhim.“‘Allingood
time,Haytham,’isthatit?Moresecrets,Reginald?”Hebristled.“‘Secrets’?Really?Isthatwhatyouthink?WhatexactlyhaveI
donetodeserveyoursuspicion,Haytham,otherthantotakeyouundermywing,sponsoryouintheOrder,giveyoualife?Youknow,Imightbeforgivenforthinkingyouratherungratefulattimes,sir.”
“WewereneverabletofindDigweed,though,werewe?”Isaid,refusingtobecowed.“ThereneverwasaransomdemandforJenny,sothemainpurposeoftheraidhadtobeFather’sdeath.”
“WehopedtofindDigweed,Haytham.That’sallwecouldeverdo.Wehopedtomakehimpay.Thathopewasnotsatisfied,butthatdoesn’tmeanwewerederelictinourattempt.Moreover,Ihadadutyofcaretoyou,Haytham,whichwasfulfilled.Youstandbeforemeaman,arespectedKnightoftheOrder.Youoverlookthat,Ithink.Anddon’tforgetthatIhopedtomarryJenny.Perhapsintheheatofyourdesiretoavengeyourfather,youseelosingDigweedasouronlysignificantfailure,butit’snot,isit,becausewe’veneverfoundJenny,havewe?Ofcourse,yousparenothoughtforyoursister’shardship.”
“Youaccusemeofcallousness?Heartlessness?”Heshookhishead.“Imerelyrequestthatyouturnyourstareonyourown
failingsbeforeyoustartshininglightonmine.”Ilookedcarefullyathim.“Younevertookmeintoyourconfidence
regardingthesearch.”“Braddockwassenttofindhim.Heupdatedmeregularly.”
“Butyoudidn’tpassthoseupdatestome.”“Youwereayoungboy.”“Whogrewup.”Hebenthishead.“ThenIapologizefornottakingthatfactintoaccount,
Haytham.InfutureIwilltreatyouasanequal.”“Thenstartnow—startbytellingmeaboutthejournal,”Isaid.Helaughed,asthoughcaughtincheckatchess.“Youwin,Haytham.All
right,itrepresentsthefirststeptowardsthelocationofatemple—afirst-civilizationtemple,thoughttohavebeenbuiltbyThoseWhoCameBefore.”
Therewasamoment’spauseinwhichIthought,Isthatit?Thenlaughed.Atfirsthelookedshocked,perhapsrememberingthefirsttimehe’devertold
meaboutThoseWhoCameBefore,whenI’dfounditdifficulttocontainmyself.“Thosewhocamebeforewhat...?”I’dscoffed.
“Beforeus,”he’drepliedtightly.“Beforeman.Apreviouscivilization.”Hefrownedatmenow.“You’restillfindingitamusing,Haytham?”Ishookmyhead.“Notamusingsomuch,no.More”—Istruggledtofindthe
words—“hardtofathom,Reginald.Araceofbeingswhoexistedbeforeman.Gods...”
“Notgods,Haytham,first-civilizationhumanswhocontrolledhumanity.Theyleftusartefacts,Haytham,ofimmensepower,suchthatwecanonlydreamof.Ibelievethatwhoevercanpossessthoseartefactscanultimatelycontrolallofhumandestiny.”
MylaughdwindledwhenIsawhowserioushehadbecome.“It’saverygrandclaim,Reginald.”
“Indeed.Ifitwereamodestclaimthenwewouldnotbesointerested,no?TheAssassinswouldnotbeinterested.”Hiseyesgleamed.Theflamesfromthecressetsshoneanddancedinthem.I’dseenthatlookinhiseyesbefore,butonlyonrareoccasions.Notwhenhe’dbeentutoringmeinlanguages,philosophy,orevenintheclassicsortheprinciplesofcombat.NotevenwhenhetaughtmethetenetsoftheOrder.
No,onlywhenhetalkedaboutThoseWhoCameBefore.SometimesReginaldlikedtoderidewhathesawasasurfeitofpassion.He
thoughtofitasashortcoming.Whenhetalkedaboutthebeingsofthefirstcivilization,however,hetalkedlikeazealot.
ii
WearestayingthenightintheTemplarheadquartershereinPrague.AsIsitherenowinameagreroomwithgreystonewalls,IcanfeeltheweightofthousandsofyearsofTemplarhistoryuponme.
MythoughtsgotoQueenAnne’sSquare,towhichthehouseholdreturnedwhentheworkwasdone.Mr.Simpkinhadkeptusabreastofdevelopments;Reginaldhadoverseenthebuildingoperation,evenaswemovedfromcountrytocountryinsearchofDigweedandJenny.(Andyes,Reginaldwasright.FailingtofindDigweed:thatfacteatsatme;butIalmostneverthinkofJenny.)
OnedaySimpkinsentusthewordthatthehouseholdhadreturnedfromBloomsburytoQueenAnne’sSquare,thatthehouseholdwasonceagaininresidence,backwhereitbelonged.Thatdaymymindwenttothewood-panelledwallsofthehomeIgrewupin,andIfoundIcouldvividlypicturethepeoplewithinit—especiallymymother.But,ofcourse,IwaspicturingthemotherIhadknowngrowingup,whoshone,brightlikethesunandtwiceaswarm,onwhosekneeIknewperfecthappiness.MyloveforFatherwasfierce,perhapsstronger,butforMotheritwaspurer.WithFatherIhadafeelingofawe,ofadmirationsograndIsometimesfeltdwarfedbyhim,andwiththatcameanunderlyingfeelingIcanonlydescribeasanxiety,thatsomehowIhadtoliveuptohim,togrowintothehugeshadowcastbyhim.
WithMother,though,therewasnosuchinsecurity,justthealmostoverwhelmingsenseofcomfortandloveandprotection.Andshewasabeauty.IusedtoenjoyitwhenpeoplecomparedmetoFatherbecausehewassostriking,butiftheysaidIlookedlikeMotherIknewtheymeanthandsome.OfJenny,peoplewouldsay,“She’llbreakafewhearts”;“She’llhavemenfightingoverher.”Theyappliedthelanguageofstruggleandconflict.ButnotwithMother.Herbeautywasagentle,maternal,nurturingthing,tobespokenofnotwiththewarinessJenny’slooksinspired,butwithwarmthandadmiration.
Ofcourse,IhadneverknownJenny’smother,CarolineScott,butIhadformedanopinionofher:thatshewas“aJenny,”andthatmyfatherhadbeencaptivatedbyherlooksjustasJenny’ssuitorswerecaptivatedbyhers.
Mother,though,Iimaginedtobeanentirelydifferentsortofpersonaltogether.ShewasplainoldTessaStephenson-Oakleywhenshemetmyfather.That’swhatshehadalwayssaid,anyway:“plainoldTessaStephenson-Oakley,”whichdidn’tsoundatallplaintome,butnevermind.FatherhadmovedtoLondon,arrivingalonewithnohousehold,butapurselargeenoughtobuyone.WhenhehadrentedaLondonhomefromawealthylandowner,thedaughterhadofferedtohelpmyfatherfindpermanentaccommodation,aswellasemploying
thehouseholdtorunit.Thedaughter,ofcourse,was“plainoldTessaStephenson-Oakley”...
Shehadallbuthintedthatherfamilywasn’thappyabouttheliaison;indeed,weneversawhersideofthefamily.Shedevotedherenergiestousand,untilthatdreadfulnight,thepersonwhohadherundividedattention,herunendingaffection,herunconditionallove,wasme.
ButthelasttimeIhadseenhertherewasnosignofthatperson.WhenIthinkbacktoourfinalmeetingnow,whatIrememberisthesuspicioninhereyes,whichIrealizewascontempt.WhenIkilledthemanabouttokillher,Ichangedinhereyes.Iwasnolongertheboywhohadsatonherknee.
Iwasakiller.
20JUNE1747
EnroutetoLondon,Ire-readanoldjournal.Why?Someinstinct,perhaps.Somesubconsciousnagging...doubt,Isuppose.
Whateveritwas,whenIre-readtheentryof10December1735,IallofasuddenknewexactlywhatIhadtodowhenIreachedEngland.
2–3JULY1747
Todaywastheservice,andalso...well,Ishallexplain.Aftertheservice,IleftReginaldtalkingtoMr.Simpkinonthestepsofthe
chapel.Tome,Mr.SimpkinsaidthathehadsomepapersIneededtosign.InlightofMother’sdeath,thefinancesweremine.WithanobsequioussmilehesaidhehopedthatIhadconsideredhimmorethansatisfactoryinmanagingtheaffairssofar.Inodded,smiled,saidnothingcommittal,toldthemIwantedalittletimetomyself,andslippedaway,seeminglytobealonewithmythoughts.
IhopedthatthedirectionofmywanderingslookedrandomasImademywayalongthethoroughfare,stayingclearofcarriagewheelsthatsplashedthroughmudandmanureonthehighway,weavingthroughpeoplethrongingthestreets:tradesmeninbloodiedleatheraprons,whoresandwasherwomen.Butitwasn’t.Itwasn’trandomatall.
Onewomaninparticularwasupahead,likeme,makingherwaythroughthecrowds,aloneand,probably,lostinthought.Ihadseenherattheservice,ofcourse.She’dsatwiththeotherstaff—Emily,andtwoorthreeothersIdidn’trecognize—ontheothersideofthechapel,withahandkerchiefathernose.Shehadlookedupandseenme—shemusthavedone—butshemadenosign.Iwondered,didBetty,oneofmyoldnursemaids,evenrecognizeme?
AndnowIwasfollowingher,keepingadiscreetdistancebehindsoshewouldn’tseemeifshehappenedtoglancebackwards.Itwasgettingdarkbythetimeshereachedhome,ornothomebutthehouseholdforwhichshenowworked,agrandmansionthatloomedinthecharcoalsky,nottoodissimilartotheoneatQueenAnne’sSquare.Wasshestillanursemaid,Iwondered,orhadshemovedupintheworld?Didsheweartheuniformofagovernessbeneathhercoat?Thestreetwaslesscrowdedthanbefore,andIlingeredoutofsightacrossthestreet,watchingasshetookashortflightofstonestepsdowntowardsthebelow-stairsquartersandletherselfin.
WhenshewasoutofsightIcrossedthehighwayandsaunteredtowardsthehouse,awareoftheneedtolookinconspicuousincaseeyeswereseeingmefromthewindows.OnceuponatimeIwasayoungboywhohadlookedfrom
thewindowsofthehouseinQueenAnne’sSquare,watchedpassers-bycomeandgoandwonderedabouttheirbusiness.Wastherealittleboyinthishouseholdwatchingmenow,wonderingwhoisthisman?Wherehashecomefrom?Whereishegoing?
SoIwanderedalongtherailingsatthefrontofthemansionandglanceddowntoseethelitwindowsofwhatIassumedweretheservants’quarters,onlytoberewardedwiththeunmistakablesilhouetteofBettyappearingattheglassanddrawingacurtain.IhadtheinformationI’dcomefor.
Ireturnedaftermidnight,whenthedrapesatthewindowsofthemansionwereshut,thestreetwasdarkandtheonlylightswerethosefixedtotheoccasionalpassingcarriage.
OnceagainImademywaytothefrontofthehouse,andwithaquicklookleftandrightscaledtherailingsanddroppedsilentlydownintothegullyontheotherside.IscuttledalongituntilIfoundBetty’swindow,whereIstoppedandverycarefullyplacedmyeartotheglass,listeningforsomemomentsuntilIwassatisfiedthattherewasnomovementfromwithin.
Andthen,withinfinitepatience,Iappliedmyfingertipstothebottomofthesashwindowandlifted,prayingitwouldn’tsqueakand,whenmyprayerswereanswered,lettingmyselfinandclosingthewindowbehindme.
Inthebedshestirredslightly—atthebreathofairfromtheopenwindowperhaps;someunconscioussensingofmypresence?LikeastatueIstoodandwaitedforherdeepbreathingtoresume,andfelttheairaroundmesettle,myincursionabsorbedintotheroomsothatafterafewmomentsitwasasthoughIwereapartofit—asthoughIhadalwaysbeenapartofit,likeaghost.
AndthenItookoutmysword.Itwasfitting—ironic,perhaps—thatitshouldhavebeentheswordgivento
mebymyfather.Thesedays,Irarelygoanywherewithoutit.Yearsago,ReginaldaskedmewhenIexpectedittotasteblood,andithas,ofcourse,manytimes.AndifIwasrightaboutBetty,thenitwouldonceagain.
Isatonthebedandputthebladeoftheswordclosetoherthroat,thenclampedmyhandoverhermouth.
Shewoke.Immediatelyhereyeswerewidewithterror.Hermouthmovedandmypalmtickledandvibratedasshetriedtoscream.
Iheldherthrashingbodystillandsaidnothing,justallowedhereyestoadjustuntilshecouldseeme,andshemusthaverecognizedme.Howcouldshenot,whenshenursedmefortenyears,waslikeamothertome?HowcanshenothaverecognizedMasterHaytham?
Whenshehadfinishedstruggling,Iwhispered,“Hello,Betty,”withmyhandstilloverhermouth.“IhavesomethingIneedtoaskyou.Toansweryouwillneedtospeak.ForyoutospeakI’llneedtotakemyhandfromyourmouthandyoumaybetemptedtoscream,butifyouscream...”Iappliedthetipoftheswordtoherthroattomakemypoint.And,then,verygently,Iliftedmyhandfromhermouth.
Hereyeswerehard,likegranite.ForamomentIfeltmyselfretreattochildhoodandwasalmostintimidatedbythefireandfurythere,asthoughthesightofthemtriggeredamemoryofbeingscoldedthatIcouldn’thelpbutrespondto.
“Ishouldputyouovermykneeforthis,MasterHaytham,”shehissed.“Howdareyoucreepintoalady’sroomwhenshesleeps?DidIteachyounothing?DidEdithteachyounothing?Yourmother?”Hervoicewasrising.“Didyourfatherteachyounothing?”
Thatchildhoodfeelingstayedwithme,andIhadtoreachintomyselftofindresolve,fightinganurgesimplytoputawaymysword,andsay,“Sorry,NurseBetty,”promisenevertodoitagain,thatIwouldbeagoodboyfromnowon.
Thethoughtofmyfathergavemethatresolve.“It’strueyouwerelikeamothertomeonce,Betty,”Isaidtoher.“It’strue
thatwhatI’mdoingisaterrible,unforgivablethingtodo.Believeme,I’mnotherelightly.Butwhatyou’vedoneisterrible,andunforgivable,too.”
Hereyesnarrowed.“Whatdoyoumean?”WithmyotherhandIreachedinsidemyfrockcoatandretrievedafolded
pieceofpaper,whichIheldforhertoseeintheneardarkoftheroom.“YourememberLaura,thekitchenmaid?”
Cautious,shenodded.“Shesentmealetter,”Iwenton.“Aletterthattoldmeallaboutyour
relationshipwithDigweed.ForhowlongwasFather’sgentlemanyourfancyman,Betty?”
Therewasnosuchletter;thepieceofpaperIheldcontainednothingmorerevelatorythantheaddressofmylodgingsforthenight,andIwasrelyingonthelowlighttofoolher.ThetruthwasthatwhenI’dre-readmyoldjournalsI’dbeentakenbacktothatmomentmany,manyyearsagowhenIhadgonetolookforBetty.Shehadbeenhavingher“littlelie-in”thatcoldmorning,andwhenIpeeredthroughherkeyholeI’dseenapairofmen’sbootsinherroom.Ihadn’trealizedatthetimebecauseIwastooyoung.I’dseenthemwiththeeyesofanine-year-oldandthoughtnothingofthem.Notthen.Noteversince.
Notuntilreadingitafresh,when,likeajokethatsuddenlymakessense,Ihadunderstood:thebootshadbelongedtoherlover.Ofcoursetheyhad.WhatIwaslesscertainofwasthatherloverwasDigweed.Irememberthatsheusedtospeakofhimwithgreataffection,butthensodideveryone;hehadfooledusall.ButwhenIleftforEuropeinthecareofReginald,DigweedhadfoundalternativeemploymentforBetty.
Evenso,itwasaguessthattheywerelovers—aconsidered,educatedguess,butrisky,withterribleconsequences,ifIwaswrong.
“Doyourememberthedayyouhadalittlelie-in,Betty?”Iasked.“A‘littlelie-in,’doyouremember?”
Shenoddedwarily.“Icametoseewhereyouwere,”Icontinued.“Iwascold,yousee.Andin
thepassageoutsideyourroom—well,Idon’tliketoadmitit,butIkneltandIlookedthroughyourkeyhole.”
Ifeltmyselfcolourslightly,despiteeverything.She’dbeenstaringbalefullyupatme,butnowhereyeswentflintyandherlipspursedcrossly,almostasthoughthisancientintrusionwereasbadasthecurrentone.
“Ididn’tseeanything,”Iclarifiedquickly.“Notunlessyoucountyou,slumberinginbed,andalsoapairofmen’sbootsthatIrecognizedasbelongingtoDigweed.Wereyouhavinganaffairwithhim,isthatit?”
“Oh,MasterHaytham,”shewhispered,shakingherheadandwithsadeyes,“whathasbecomeofyou?WhatsortofmanhasthatBirchturnedyouinto?Thatyoushouldbeholdingaknifetothethroatofaladyofmyadvancingyearsisbadenough—oh,that’sbadenough.Butlookatyounow,you’reladlinghurtonhurt,accusingmeofhavinganaffair,wreckingamarriage.Itwasnoaffair.Mr.Digweedhadchildren,that’strue,whowerelookedafterbyhissisterinHerefordshire,buthiswifediedmanyyearsbeforeheevenjoinedthehousehold.Ourswasnotanaffairthewayyou’rethinkingwithyourdirtymind.Wewereinlove,andshameonyouthinkingotherwise.Shameonyou.”Sheshookherheadagain.
Feelingmyhandtightenonthehandleofthesword,Isqueezedmyeyesshut.“No,no,it’snotmewhoshouldbemadetofeelatfaulthere.Youcantryandcomehigh-and-mightywithmeallyoulike,butthefactisthatyouhada...relationshipofsomekind,ofwhateverkind—itdoesn’tmatterwhatkind—withDigweed,andDigweedbetrayedus.Withoutthatbetrayalmyfatherwouldbealive.Motherwouldbealive,andIwouldnotbesittingherewithaknifetoyourthroat,sodon’tblamemeforyourcurrentpredicament,Betty.Blamehim.”
Shetookadeepbreathandcomposedherself.“Hehadnochoice,”shesaidatlast,“Jackdidn’t.Oh,thatwashisname,bytheway:Jack.Didyouknowthat?”
“I’llreaditonhisgravestone,”Ihissed,“andknowingitmakesnotablindbitofdifference,becausehedidhaveachoice,Betty.Whetheritwasachoicebetweenthedevilandthedeepbluesea,Idon’tcare.Hehadachoice.”
“No—themanthreatenedJack’schildren.”“‘Man’?Whatman?”“Idon’tknow.AmanwhofirstspoketoJackintown.”“Didyoueverseehim?”“No.”“WhatdidDigweedsayabouthim?WashefromtheWestCountry?”“Jacksaidhehadtheaccentsir,yes.Why?”“WhenthemenkidnappedJenny,shewasscreamingaboutatraitor.Violet
fromnextdoorheardher,butthefollowingdayamanwithaWestCountryaccentcametospeaktoher—towarnhernottotellanyonewhatshe’dheard.”
WestCountry.Bettyhadblanched,Isaw.“What?”Isnapped.“WhathaveIsaid?”
“It’sViolet,sir,”shegasped.“NotlongafteryouleftforEurope—itcouldevenhavebeenthedayafter—shemetherendinastreetrobbery.”
“Theycamegoodontheirword,”Isaid.Ilookedather.“TellmeaboutthemangivingDigweedhisorders,”Isaid.
“Nothing.Jackneversaidanythingabouthim.Thathemeantbusiness;thatifJackdidn’tdoastheytoldhimthentheywouldfindhischildrenandkillthem.Theysaidthatifhetoldthemasterthenthey’dfindhisboys,cutthemandkillthemslowly,allofthat.Theytoldhimwhattheywereplanningtodotothehouse,butonmylife,MasterHaytham,theytoldhimthatnobodywouldbehurt;thatitwouldallhappenatthedeadofnight.”
Somethingoccurredtome.“Whydidtheyevenneedhim?”Shelookedperplexed.“Hewasn’teventhereonthenightoftheattack,”Icontinued.“Itwasn’tasif
theyrequiredhelpgettingin.TheytookJenny,killedFather.WhywasDigweedneededforthat?”
“Idon’tknow,MasterHaytham,”shesaid.“Ireallydon’t.”WhenIlookeddownather,itwaswithakindofnumbness.Before,when
I’dbeenwaitingfordarknesstofall,angerhadbeensimmering,bubblingwithinme,theideaofDigweed’streacherylightingafirebeneathmyfury,theideathat
Bettyhadcolluded,orevenknown,addingfueltoit.I’dwantedhertobeinnocent.MostofallI’dwantedherdalliancetobewith
anothermemberofthehousehold.ButifitwaswithDigweedthenIwantedhertoknownothingabouthisbetrayal.Iwantedhertobeinnocent,forifshewasguiltythenIhadtokillher,becauseifshecouldhavedonesomethingtostoptheslaughterofthatnightandfailedtoact,thenshehadtodie.Thatwas...thatwasjustice.Itwascauseandeffect.Checksandbalances.Aneyeforaneye.Andthat’swhatIbelievein.That’smyideology.Awayofnegotiatingapassagethroughlifethatmakessenseevenwhenlifeitselfsorarelydoes.Awayofimposingorderuponchaos.
ButthelastthingIwantedtodowaskillher.“Whereishenow?”Iaskedsoftly.“Idon’tknow,MasterHaytham.”Hervoicequaveredwithfear.“Thelast
timeIheardfromhimwasthemorninghedisappeared.”“Whoelseknewyouandhewerelovers?”“Nobody,”shereplied.“Wewerealwayssocareful.”“Apartfromleavinghisbootsinview.”“Theyweremovedsharpish.”Hereyeshardened.“Andmostfolkweren’tin
thehabitofpeeringthroughthekeyhole.”Therewasapause.“Whathappensnow,MasterHaytham?”shesaid,acatch
inhervoice.“Ishouldkillyou,Betty,”Isaidsimply,andlookingintohereyesIsawthe
realizationdawnonherthatIcouldifIwantedto;thatIwascapableofdoingit.Shewhimpered.Istood.“ButIwon’t.There’salreadybeentoomuchdeathasaresultofthat
night.Wewillnotmeetagain.ForyouryearsofserviceandnurtureIawardyouyourlifeandleaveyouwithyourshame.Good-bye.”
14JULY1747
i
AfterneglectingmyjournalforalmosttwoweeksIhavemuchtotellandshouldrecap,goingrightbacktothenightIvisitedBetty.
AfterleavingI’dreturnedtomylodgings,sleptforafewfitfulhours,thenrose,dressedandtookacarriagebacktoherhouse.ThereIbidthedriverwaitsomedistanceaway,closeenoughtosee,butnotcloseenoughtodrawsuspicion,andashesnoozed,gratefulfortherest,Isatandgazedoutofthewindow,andwaited.
Forwhat?Ididn’tknowforsure.YetagainIwaslisteningtomyinstinct.Andyetagainitprovedcorrect,fornotlongafterdaybreak,Bettyappeared.Idismissedthedriver,followedheronfootand,sureenough,shemadeher
waytotheGeneralPostOfficeonLombardStreet,wentin,reappearedsomeminuteslater,andthenmadeherwaybackalongthestreetuntilshewasswallowedupbythecrowds.
Iwatchedhergo,feelingnothing,nottheurgetofollowherandslitherthroatforhertreachery,noteventhevestigesoftheaffectionweoncehad.Just...nothing.
InsteadItookuppositioninadoorwayandwatchedtheworldgoby,flickingbeggarsandstreetsellersawaywithmycaneasIwaitedforperhapsanhouruntil...
Yes,therehewas—thelettercarrier,carryinghisbellandcasefullofmail.Ipushedmyselfoutofthedoorwayand,twirlingmycane,followedhim,closerandcloseruntilhemovedontoasideroadwheretherewerefewerpedestrians,andIspottedmychance...
MomentslaterIwaskneelingbyhisbleedingandunconsciousbodyinanalleyway,sortingthroughthecontentsofhislettercaseuntilIfoundit—anenvelopeaddressedto“JackDigweed.”Ireadit—itsaidthatshelovedhim,andthatIhadfoundoutabouttheirrelationship;nothinginthereIdidn’talreadyknow—butitwasn’tthecontentsoftheletterIwasinterestedinsomuchthe
destination,andthereitwasonthefrontoftheenvelope,whichwasboundfortheBlackForest,forasmalltowncalledSt.Peter,notfarfromFreiburg.
Almosttwoweeksofjourneyinglater,ReginaldandIcamewithinsightofSt.Peterinthedistance,aclusterofbuildingsnestledatthebottomofavalleyotherwiserichwithverdantfieldsandpatchesofforest.Thatwasthismorning.
ii
Wereacheditataroundnoon,dirtyandtiredfromourtravels.Trottingslowlythroughnarrow,labyrinthinestreets,Isawtheupturnedfacesoftheresidents,glimpsedeitherfrompathwaysorturningquicklyawayfromwindows,closingdoorsanddrawingcurtains.Wehaddeathonourminds,andatthetimeIthoughttheysomehowknewthis,orperhapswereeasilyspooked.WhatIdidn’tknowwasthatweweren’tthefirststrangerstorideintotownthatmorning.Thetownspeoplewerealreadyspooked.
TheletterhadbeenaddressedcareoftheSt.PeterGeneralStore.Wecametoasmallplaza,withafountainshadedbychestnuttrees,andaskedfordirectionsfromanervoustownswoman.Othersgaveusawideberthasshepointedthewaythensidledoff,staringathershoes.Momentslaterweweretetheringourhorsesoutsidethestoreandwalkingin,onlyforthesolecustomertotakealookatusanddecidetostockuponprovisionsanothertime.ReginaldandIexchangedaconfusedlook,thenIcastaneyeoverthestore.Tall,woodenshelveslinedthreesides,stockedwithjarsandpacketstiedupwithtwine,whileatthebackwasahighcounterbehindwhichstoodthestorekeeper,wearinganapron,awidemoustacheandasmilethathadfadedlikeanexhaustedcandleongettingagoodlookatus.
Tomyleftwasasetofstepsusedtoreachthehighshelves.Onthemsataboy,abouttenyearsold,thestorekeeper’sson,bythelookofhim.Healmostlosthisfootinginhishastetoscuttleoffthestepsandstandinthemiddleofthefloorwithhishandsbyhisside,awaitinghisorders.
“Goodafternoon,gentlemen,”saidtheshopkeeperinGerman.“Youlooklikeyouhavebeenridingalongtime.Youneedsomesuppliestocontinueyourjourney?”Heindicatedanurnonthecounterbeforehim.“Youneedsomerefreshmentsperhaps?Adrink?”
Nexthewaswavingahandattheboy.“Christophe,haveyouforgottenyourmanners?Takethegentlemen’scoats...”
Therewerethreestoolsinfrontofthecounterandtheshopkeeperwavedahandatthem,saying,“Please,please,takeaseat.”
IglancedagainatReginald,sawhewasabouttomoveforwardtoacceptthestorekeeper’sofferofhospitality,andstoppedhim.
“No,thankyou,”Isaidtotheshopkeeper.“MyfriendandIdon’tintendtostay.”FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawReginald’sshoulderssag,buthesaidnothing.“Allweneedfromyouisinformation,”Iadded.
Acautiouslookfellacrosstheshopkeeper’sfacelikeadarkcurtain.“Yes?”hesaidwarily.
“Weneedtofindaman.HisnameisDigweed.JackDigweed.Areyouacquaintedwithhim?”
Heshookhishead.“Youdon’tknowhimatall?”Ipressed.Againtheshakeofthehead.“Haytham...”saidReginald,asthoughhecouldreadmymindfromthe
toneofmyvoice.Iignoredhim.“Areyouquitesureaboutthat?”Iinsisted.“Yes,sir,”saidtheshopkeeper.Hismoustachequiverednervously.He
swallowed.Ifeltmyjawtighten;then,beforeanybodyhadachancetoreact,I’ddrawn
myswordandwithmyoutstretchedarmtuckedthebladebeneathChristophe’schin.Theboygasped,raisedhimselfonhistiptoes,andhiseyesdartedasthebladepressedintohisthroat.Ihadn’ttakenmyeyesofftheshopkeeper.
“Haytham...”saidReginaldagain.“Letmehandlethis,please,Reginald,”Isaid,andaddressedthestorekeeper:
“Digweed’slettersaresentcareofthisaddress,”Isaid.“Letmeaskyouagain.Whereishe?”
“Sir,”pleadedtheshopkeeper.HiseyesdartedfrommetoChristophe,whowasmakingaseriesoflownoisesasthoughhewerefindingitdifficulttoswallow.“Pleasedon’thurtmyson.”
Hispleasfellondeafears.“Whereishe?”Irepeated.“Sir,”pleadedtheowner.Hishandsimplored.“Icannotsay.”WithatinyflickofthewristIincreasedthepressureofmybladeon
Christophe’sthroatandwasrewardedwithawhimper.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawtheboyriseevenhigheronhistiptoesandfelt,butdidnotsee,Reginald’sdiscomforttotheothersideofme.Allthetime,myeyesneverleft
thoseoftheshopkeeper.“Pleasesir,pleasesir,”hesaidquickly,thoseimploringhandswavinginthe
airasthoughheweretryingtojuggleaninvisibleglass,“Ican’tsay.Iwaswarnednotto.”
“Ah-ha,”Isaid.“Who?Whowarnedyou?Wasithim?WasitDigweed?”“No,sir,”insistedtheshopkeeper.“Ihaven’tseenMasterDigweedforsome
weeks.Thiswas...someoneelse,butIcan’ttellyou—Ican’ttellyouwho.Thesemen,theywereserious.”
“ButIthinkweknowthatI,too,amserious,”Isaidwithasmile,“andthedifferencebetweenthemandmeisthatIamhereandtheyarenot.Nowtellme.Howmanymen,whoweretheyandwhatdidtheywanttoknow?”
HiseyesflickedfrommetoChristophe,whothoughbraveandstoicanddisplayingthekindoffortitudeunderduressthatI’dhopeformyownson,whimperedagainnonetheless,whichmusthavemadeupthestorekeeper’smind,becausehismoustachetrembledalittlemore,thenhespoke,quickly,thewordstumblingfromhim.
“Theywerehere,sir,”hesaid.“Justanhourorsoago.TwomenwithlongblackcoatsovertheredtunicsoftheBritishArmy,whocameintothestorejustasyoudidandaskedthewhereaboutsofMasterDigweed.WhenItoldthem,thinkinglittleofit,theybecameverygrave,sir,andtoldmethatsomemoremenmightarrivelookingforMasterDigweed,and,iftheydid,thenIwastodenyallknowledgeofhim,onpainofdeath,andnottosaythattheyhadbeenhere.”
“Whereishe?”“Acabin,fifteenmilesnorthofhereinthewoods.”NeitherReginaldnorIsaidaword.Webothknewwedidn’thaveaminute
tospare,andwithoutpausingtomakemorethreats,ortosaygood-bye,orperhapsevenapologizetoChristopheforfrighteninghimhalftodeath,webothdashedoutofthedoor,untetheredandmountedoursteedsandspurredthemonwithyells.
Werodeashardaswedaredforoverhalfanhour,untilwehadcoveredmaybeeightmilesofpasture,allofituphill,ourhorsesnowbecomingtired.Wecametoatreeline,onlytodiscoverthatitwasanarrowbandofpine,andwearrivedontheothersidetoseearibbonoftreesstretchingaroundthesummitofahilloneitherside.Meanwhile,infrontofusthegroundslopeddownintomorewoodland,thenaway,undulatinglikeahugeblanketofgreen,patchedwithforestry,grassandfields.
WepulledupandIcalledforthespyglass.OurhorsessnortedandIscanned
theareainfrontofus,swingingthespyglassfromlefttoright,crazilyatfirst,withtheemergencygettingthebetterofme,panicmakingmeindiscriminate.IntheendIhadtoforcemyselftocalmdown,takingdeepbreathsandscrewingupmyeyestightthenstartingagain,thistimemovingthespyglassslowlyandmethodicallyacrossthelandscape.InmyheadIdividedtheterritoryintoagridandmovedfromonesquaretoanother,backtobeingsystematicandefficient,backtohavinglogicincharge,notemotion.
AsilenceofgentlewindandthesongsofbirdswasbrokenbyReginald.“Wouldyouhavedoneit?”
“Donewhat,Reginald?”Hemeantkillthechild.“Killtheboy.Wouldyouhavedoneit?”“Thereislittlepointinmakingathreatifyoucan’tcarryitout.The
storekeeperwouldhaveknownifIwasshamming.Hewouldhaveseenitinmyeyes.Hewouldhaveknown.”
Reginaldshifteduneasilyinhissaddle.“So,yes,then?Yes,youwouldhavekilledhim?”
“That’sright,Reginald,Iwouldhavekilledhim.”Therewasapause.Icompletedthenextsquareofland,thenthenext.“Whenwasthekillingofinnocentseverpartofyourteaching,Haytham?”
saidReginald.Igaveasnort.“Justbecauseyoutaughtmetokill,Reginald,itdoesn’tgive
youthefinalsayonwhomIkillandtowhatend.”“Itaughtyouhonour.Itaughtyouacode.”“Irememberyou,Reginald,abouttodispenseyourownformofjustice
outsideWhite’sallthoseyearsago.Wasthathonourable?”Didhereddenslightly?Certainlyheshifteduncomfortablyonhishorse.
“Themanwasathief,”hesaid.“ThemenIseekaremurderers,Reginald.”“Evenso,”hesaid,withatouchofirritation,“perhapsyourzealisclouding
yourjudgement.”AgainIgaveacontemptuoussnort.“Thisfromyou.Isyourfascinationwith
ThoseWhoCameBeforestrictlyspeakinginlinewithTemplarpolicy?”“Ofcourse.”“Really?Areyousureyouhaven’tbeenneglectingyourotherdutiesin
favourofit?Whatletter-writing,whatjournalling,whatreadinghaveyoubeendoinglately,Reginald?”
“Plenty,”hesaidindignantly.“Thathasn’tbeenconnectedwithThoseWhoCameBefore,”Iadded.Foramomentheblustered,soundinglikeared-facedfatmangiventhe
wrongmeatatdinner.“I’mherenow,aren’tI?”“Indeed,Reginald,”Isaid,justasIsawatinyplumeofsmokecomingfrom
thewoodland.“Iseesmokeinthetrees,possiblyfromacabin.Weshouldheadforthere.”
AtthesametimetherewasamovementnotfarawayinacropoffirtreesandIsawariderheadingupthefurthesthill,awayfromus.
“Look,Reginald,there.Doyouseehim?”Iadjustedthefocus.Theriderhadhisbacktousofcourseandwasa
distanceaway,butonethingIthoughtIcouldseewashisears.Iwassurehehadpointedears.
“Iseeoneman,Haytham,butwhereistheother?”saidReginald.Alreadypullingonthereinsofmysteed,Isaid,“Stillinthecabin,Reginald.
Let’sgo.”
iii
Itwasperhapsanothertwentyminutesbeforewearrived.TwentyminutesduringwhichIpushedmysteedtoherlimit,riskingherthroughtreesandoverwind-fallenbranches,leavingReginaldbehindasIracedtowardswhereI’dseenthesmoke—tothecabinwhereIwassureI’dfindDigweed.
Alive?Dead?Ididn’tknow.Butthestorekeeperhadsaidthereweretwomenaskingforhim,andwe’donlyaccountedforoneofthem,soIwaseagertoknowabouttheotherone.Hadhegoneonahead?
Orwashestillinthecabin?Thereitwas,sittinginthemiddleofaclearing.Asquatwoodenbuilding,
onehorsetetheredoutside,withasinglewindowatthefrontandtendrilsofsmokepuffingfromthechimney.Thefrontdoorwasopen.Wideopen.AtthesametimeasIcameboltingintotheclearingIheardascreamfrominside,andIspurredmysteedtothedoor,drawingmysword.WithagreatclatterwecameontotheboardsatthefrontofthehouseandIcranedforwardinmysaddletoseethesceneinside.
Digweedwastiedtoachair,shoulderssagging,headtilted.Hisfacewasamaskofblood,butIcouldseethathislipsweremoving.Hewasalive,and
standingoverhimwasthesecondman,holdingabloodstainedknife—aknifewithacurved,serratedblade—andabouttofinishthejob.AbouttoslitDigweed’sthroat.
I’dneverusedmyswordasaspearbeforeand,takeitfromme,it’safar-from-idealuseforit,butatthatexactmomentmyprioritywaskeepingDigweedalive.Ineededtospeaktohim,and,besides,nobodywasgoingtokillDigweedbutme.SoIthrewit.ItwasallIhadtimetodo.Andthoughmythrowhadaslittlepowerasitdidaim,ithittheknifeman’sarmjustasthebladearceddown,anditwasenough—enoughtosendhimstaggeringbackwithahowlofpainatthesametimeasIthrewmyselfoffthehorse,landedontheboardsinsidethecabin,rolledforwardandsnatchedoutmyshortswordatthesametime.
AndithadbeenenoughtosaveDigweed.Ilandedrightbyhim.Bloodstainedropekepthisarmsandlegstiedtothe
chair.Hisclothesweretornandblackwithblood,hisfaceswollenandbleeding.Hislipsstillmoved.HiseyesslidlazilyovertoseemeandIwonderedwhathethoughtinthebriefmomentthathetookmein.Didherecognizeme?Didhefeelaboltofguilt,oraflashofhope?
Thenmyeyeswenttoabackwindow,onlytoseetheknifeman’slegsdisappearingthroughitashesqueezedhimselfoutandfellwithathumptothegroundoutside.Tofollowthroughthewindowmeantputtingmyselfinavulnerableposition—Ididn’tfancybeingstuckintheframewhiletheknifemanhadallthetimeintheworldtoplungehisbladeintome.SoinsteadIrantothefrontdoorandbackintotheclearingtogivechase.Reginaldwasjustarriving.He’dseentheknifeman,hadabetterviewofhimthanIdid,andwasalreadytakingaimwithhisbow.
“Don’tkillhim,”Iroared,justashefired,andhehowledindispleasureasthearrowwentwide.
“Damnyou,man,Ihadhim,”heshouted.“He’sinthetreesnow.”I’droundedthefrontofthecabinintime,feetkickingupacarpetofdead
anddrypineneedlesjustintimetoseetheknifemandisappearintothetreeline.“Ineedhimalive,Reginald,”Ishoutedbackathim.“Digweed’sinthecabin.KeephimsafeuntilIreturn.”
AndwiththatIburstintothetrees,leavesandbrancheswhippingmyfaceasIthunderedon,shortswordinhand.AheadofmeIsawadarkshapeinthefoliage,crashingthroughitwithaslittlegraceasIwas.
Orperhapslessgrace,becauseIwasgainingonhim.“Wereyouthere?”Ishoutedathim.“Wereyoutherethenighttheykilledmy
father?”“Ididn’thavethatpleasure,boy,”hecalledbackoverhisshoulder.“HowI
wishIhadbeen.Ididmybit,though.Iwasthefixer.”Ofcourse.HehadaWestCountryaccent.Now,whohadbeendescribedas
havingaWestCountryaccent?ThemanwhohadblackmailedDigweed.ThemanwhohadthreatenedVioletandshownheranevil-lookingknife.
“Standandfaceme!”Ishouted.“You’resokeenforKenwayblood,let’sseeifyoucan’tspillmine!”
Iwasnimblerthanhewas.Faster,andclosernow.I’dheardthewheezeinhisvoicewhenhespoketome,anditwasonlyamatteroftimebeforeIcaughthim.Heknewit,andratherthantirehimselffurtherhedecidedtoturnandfight,hurdlingonefinalwind-fallenbranch,whichbroughthimintoasmallclearing,spinningabout,thecurvedbladeinhishand.Thecurved,serrated,“evil-looking”blade.Hisfacewasgrizzledandterriblypockmarked,asthoughscarredfromsomechildhooddisease.Hebreathedheavilyashewipedthebackofhishandacrosshismouth.He’dlosthishatinthechase,revealingclose-cropped,greyinghair,andhiscoat—dark,justasthestorekeeperhaddescribedit—wastorn,flutteringopentorevealhisredarmytunic.
“You’reaBritishsoldier,”Isaid.“That’stheuniformIwear,”hesneered,“butmyallegianceslieelsewhere.”“Indeed,dothey?Towhomdoyouswearloyalty,then?”Iasked.“Areyou
anAssassin?”Heshookhishead.“I’mmyownman,boy.Somethingyoucanonlydream
ofbeing.”“It’salongtimesinceanybody’scalledmeboy,”Isaid.“Youthinkyou’vemadeanameforyourself,HaythamKenway.Thekiller.
TheTemplarblademan.Becauseyou’vekilledacoupleoffatmerchants?Buttomeyou’reaboy.You’reaboybecauseamanfaceshistargets,mantoman,hedoesn’tstealupbehindtheminthedeadofnight,likeasnake.”Hepaused.“LikeanAssassin.”
Hebegantoswaphisknifefromonehandtotheother.Theeffectwasalmosthypnotic—oratleastthat’swhatIlethimbelieve.
“YouthinkIcan’tfight?”Isaid.“You’reyettoproveit.”“Here’sasgoodaplaceasany.”Hespatandbeckonedmeforwardwithonehand,rollingthebladeinthe
other.“Comeon,Assassin,”hegoadedme.“Comebeawarriorforthefirst
time.Comeseewhatitfeelslike.Comeon,boy.Beaman.”Itwassupposedtoangerme,butinsteaditmademefocus.Ineededhim
alive.Ineededhimtotalk.Ileaptoverthebranchandintotheclearing,swingingalittlewildlytopush
himbackbutrecoveringmystancequickly,beforehecouldpressforwardwitharesponseofhisown.Forsomemomentswecircledoneanother,eachwaitingfortheothertolaunchhisnextattack.Ibrokethestalematebylungingforward,slashing,theninstantlyretreatingtomyguard.
ForasecondhethoughtI’dmissed.Thenhefeltthebloodbegintotrickledownhischeekandtouchedahandtohisface,hiseyeswideninginsurprise.Firstbloodtome.
“You’veunderestimatedme,”Isaid.Hissmilewasalittlemorestrainedthistime.“Therewon’tbeasecond
time.”“Therewillbe,”Ireplied,andcameforwardagain,feintingtowardstheleft
thengoingrightwhenhisbodywasalreadycommittedtothewronglineofdefence.
Agashopenedupinhisfreearm.Bloodstainedhistatteredsleeveandbegandrippingtotheforestfloor,brightredonbrownandgreenneedles.
“I’mbetterthanyouknow,”Isaid.“Allyouhavetolookforwardtoisdeath—unlessyoutalk.Unlessyoutellmeeverythingyouknow.Whoareyouworkingfor?”
Idancedforwardandslashedashisknifeflailedwildly.Hisothercheekopened.Therewerenowtwoscarletribbonsonthebrownleatherofhisface.
“Whywasmyfatherkilled?”Icameforwardagainandthistimeslicedthebackofhisknifehand.IfI’d
beenhopinghe’ddroptheknife,thenIwasdisappointed.IfI’dbeenhopingtogivehimademonstrationofmyskills,thenthat’sexactlywhatI’ddone,anditshowedonhisface.Hisnowbloodyface.Hewasn’tgrinninganymore.
Buthestillhadfightinhim,andwhenhecameforwarditwasfastandsmoothandheswappedhisknifefromonehandtotheothertotrytomisdirectme,andalmostmadecontact.Almost.Hemightevenhavedoneit—ifhehadn’talreadyshowedmethatparticulartrick;ifhehadn’tbeensloweddownbytheinjuriesI’dinflictedonhim.
Asitwas,Iduckedeasilybeneathhisbladeandstruckupwards,buryingmyowninhisflank.ImmediatelyIwascursing,though.I’dhithimtoohardandinthekidney.Hewasdead.Theinternalbleedingwouldkillhiminaroundthirty
minutes;buthecouldpassoutstraightaway.WhetherheknewithimselfornotIdon’tknow,forhewascomingatmeagain,histeethbared.Theywerecoatedwithbloodnow,Inoticed,andIswungeasilyaway,tookholdofhisarm,twistedintohisbodyandbrokeitattheelbow.
Thesoundhemadewasn’tascreamsomuchasananguishedinhalation,andasIcrunchedthebonesinhisarm,moreforeffectthanforanyusefulpurpose,hisknifedroppedtotheforestfloorwithasoftthumpandhefollowedit,sinkingtohisknees.
Iletgoofhisarm,whichdroppedlimply,abagofbrokenbonesandskin.Lookingdown,Icouldseethebloodhadalreadydrainedfromhisface,andaroundhismidriffwasaspreading,blackstain.Hiscoatpooledaroundhimontheground.Feebly,hefeltforhislooseandlimparmwithhisgoodhand,andwhenhelookedupatmetherewassomethingalmostplaintiveinhiseyes,somethingpathetic.
“Whydidyoukillhim?”Iaskedevenly.Likewaterescapingfromaleakingflaskhecrumpled,untilhewaslyingon
hisside.Allthatconcernedhimnowwasdying.“Tellme,”Ipressed,andbentclosetowherehenowlay,withpineneedles
clingingtothebloodonhisface.Hewasbreathinghislastbreathsintothemulchoftheforestfloor.
“Yourfather...”hestarted,thencoughedasmallgobbetofbloodbeforestartingagain.“YourfatherwasnotaTemplar.”
“Iknow,”Isnapped.“Washekilledforthat?”Ifeltmybrowfurrow.“WashekilledbecauseherefusedtojointheOrder?”
“Hewasan...anAssassin.”“AndtheTemplarskilledhim?Theykilledhimforthat?”“No.Hewaskilledforwhathehad.”“What?”Ileanedforward,desperatetocatchhiswords.“Whatdidhehave?”Therewasnoreply.“Who?”Isaid,almostshouting.“Whokilledhim?”Buthewasout.Mouthopen,hiseyesflutteredthenclosed,andhowever
muchIslappedhim,herefusedtoregainconsciousness.AnAssassin.FatherwasanAssassin.Irolledtheknifemanover,closedhis
staringeyesandbegantoemptyhispocketsontotheground.Outcametheusualcollectionoftins,aswellasfewtatteredbitsofpaper,oneofwhichIunfurledtofindwasasetofenlistmentpapers.Theywereforaregiment,theColdstreamGuardstobeprecise,oneandone-halfguineasforjoining,thena
shillingaday.Thepaymaster’snamewasontheenlistmentpapers.ItwasLieutenant-ColonelEdwardBraddock.
AndBraddockwaswithhisarmyintheDutchRepublic,takingarmsagainsttheFrench.Ithoughtofthepointy-earedmanI’dseenridingoutearlier.AllofasuddenIknewwherehewasheading.
iv
Iturnedandcrashedbackthroughtheforesttothecabin,makingitbackinmoments.Outsidewerethethreehorses,grazingpatientlyinbrightsunshine;inside,itwasdarkandcooler,andReginaldstoodoverDigweed,whoseheadlolledashesat,stilltiedtothechair,and,Iknew,fromthesecondIclappedeyesonhim...
“He’sdead,”Isaidsimply,andlookedatReginald.“Itriedtosavehim,Haytham,butthepoorsoulwastoofargone.”“How?”Isaidsharply.“Ofhiswounds,”snappedReginald.“Lookathim,man.”Digweed’sfacewasamaskofdryingblood.Hisclotheswerecakedwithit.
Theknifemanhadmadehimsuffer,thatmuchwascertain.“HewasalivewhenIleft.”“AndhewasalivewhenIarrived,damnit,”seethedReginald.“Atleasttellmeyougotsomethingfromhim.”Hiseyesdropped.“Hesaidhewassorrybeforehedied.”WithafrustratedswishofmyswordIslammedabeakerintothefireplace.“Thatwasall?Nothingaboutthenightoftheattack?Noreason?No
names?”“Damnyoureyes,Haytham.Damnyoureyes,doyouthinkIkilledhim?Do
youthinkIcameallthisway,neglectedmyotherduties,justtoseeDigweeddead?Iwantedtofindhimasmuchasyoudid.Iwantedhimaliveasmuchasyoudid.”
ItwasasthoughIcouldfeelmyentireskullharden.“Idoubtthatverymuch,”Ispat.
“Well,whathappenedtotheotherone?”askedReginaldback.“Hedied.”Reginaldworeanironiclook.“Oh,Isee.Andwhosefaultwasthat,
exactly?”
Iignoredhim.“Thekiller,heisknowntoBraddock.”Reginaldrearedback.“Really?”BackattheclearingI’dstuffedthepapersintomycoat,andIbroughtthem
outnowinahandful,liketheheadofacauliflower.“Here—hisenlistmentpapers.He’sintheColdstreamGuards,underBraddock’scommand.”
“Hardlythesamething,Haytham.Edwardhasaforcefifteenhundredstrong,manyofthemenlistedinthecountry.I’msureeverysinglemanhasanunsavourypastandI’msureEdwardknowsverylittleaboutit.”
“Evenso,acoincidence,don’tyouthink?ThestorekeepersaidtheybothworetheuniformoftheBritishArmy,andmyguessistheriderwesawisonhiswaytothemnow.Hehas—what?—anhour’sheadstart?I’llnotbefarbehind.Braddock’sintheDutchRepublic,ishenot?That’swherehe’llbeheading,backtohisgeneral.”
“Now,careful,Haytham,”saidReginald.Steelcreptintohiseyesandintohisvoice.“Edwardisafriendofmine.”
“Ihaveneverlikedhim,”Isaid,withatouchofchildishimpudence.“Oh,pish!”explodedReginald.“Anopinionformedbyyouasaboybecause
Edwarddidn’tshowyouthedeferenceyouwereaccustomedto—because,Imightadd,hewasdoinghisutmosttobringyourfather’skillerstojustice.Letmetellyou,Haytham,EdwardservestheOrder,isagoodandfaithfulservantandalwayshasbeen.”
Iturnedtohim,anditwasonthetipofmytonguetosay,“Butwasn’tFatheranAssassin?”whenIstoppedmyself.Some...feeling,orinstinct—difficulttosaywhatitwas—mademedecidetokeepthatinformationtomyself.
Reginaldsawmedoit—sawthewordspileupbehindmyteethandmaybeevensawthelieinmyeyes.
“Thekiller,”hepressed,“didhesayanythingelseatall?Wereyouabletodraganymoreinformationoutofhimbeforehedied?”
“OnlyasmuchasyoucouldgetfromDigweed,”Ireplied.Therewasasmallstoveatoneendofthecabinandbyitachoppingblock,whereIfoundpartofaloaf,whichIstuffedintomypocket.
“Whatareyoudoing?”saidReginald.“GettingwhatprovisionsIcanformyride,Reginald.”Therewasabowlofapples,too.I’dneedthoseformyhorse.“Astaleloaf.Someapples?Itisn’tenough,Haytham.Atleastgobacktothe
townforsupplies.”“Notime,Reginald,”Isaid.“And,anyway,thechasewillbeshort.Heonly
hasashortheadstartandhedoesn’tknowhe’sbeingpursued.WithanyluckIcancatchhimbeforeIhaveneedofsupplies.”
“Wecancollectfoodontheway.Icanhelpyou.”ButIstoppedhim.Iwasgoingalone,Isaid,andbeforehecouldargueI’d
mountedmysteedandtakenherinthedirectionI’dseenthepointy-earedmango,myhopeshighIcouldcatchhimshortly.
Theyweredashed.Irodehard,butintheendthedarkdrewin;ithadbecometoodangeroustocontinueandIriskedinjuringmyhorse.Inanycase,shewasexhausted,soreluctantlyIdecidedtostopandletherrestforafewhours.
AndasIsitherewriting,Iwonderwhy,afteralltheyearsofReginald’sbeinglikeafathertome,amentor,atutorandguide—whydidIdecidetorideoutalone?AndwhydidIkeepfromhimwhatI’ddiscoveredaboutFather?
HaveIchanged?Hashechanged?Orisitthatthebondweoncesharedhaschanged?
Thetemperaturehasdropped.Mysteed—anditseemsonlyrightthatIshouldgiveheranameandso,inhonourofthewayshe’salreadystartingtonuzzlemewheninneedofanapple,I’vecalledherScratch—liesnearby,hereyesclosed,andseemscontent,andIwriteinmyjournal.
IthinkaboutwhatReginaldandItalkedof.Iwonderifhe’srighttoquestionthemanIhavebecome.
15JULY1747
Iroseearlyinthemorning,assoonasitwaslight,rakedoverthedyingcoalsofmyfireandmountedScratch.
Thechasecontinued.AsIrodeImulledoverthepossibilities.WhyhadPointy-Earsandtheknifemangonetheirseparateways?WeretheybothintendingtojourneytotheDutchRepublicandjoinBraddock?WouldPointy-Earsbeexpectinghisconfederatetocatchhimup?
Ihadnowayofknowing.Icouldonlyhopethat,whatevertheirplans,themanaheadofmehadnoideaIwasinpursuit.
Butifhedidn’t—andhowcouldhe?—thenwhywasn’tIcatchinghim?AndIrodefastbutsteadily,awarethatcominguponhimtooquicklywould
bejustasdisastrousasnotcatchinghimatall.Afteraboutthree-quartersofanhourIcameuponaspotwherehehad
rested.IfI’dpushedScratchlonger,wouldIhavedisturbedhim,takenhimbysurprise?Iknelttofeelthedyingwarmthofhisfire.Tomyleft,Scratchnuzzledsomethingontheground,abitofdiscardedsausage,andmystomachrumbled.Reginaldhadbeenright.MypreywasmuchbetterequippedforthejourneythanIwas,withmyhalfaloafofbreadandapples.Icursedmyselffornotgoingthroughthesaddlebagsofhiscompanion.
“Comeon,Scratch,”Isaid.“Comeon,girl.”FortherestofthedayIrode,andtheonlytimeIevensloweddownwas
whenIretrievedthespyglassfrommypocketandscannedthehorizon,lookingforsignsofmyquarry.Heremainedaheadofme.Frustratinglyaheadofme.Allday.Until,aslightbegantofadeIstartedbecomingconcernedIhadlosthimaltogether.IcouldonlyhopeIwasrightabouthisdestination.
IntheendIhadnochoicebuttorestagainfortheday,makecamp,buildafire,allowScratchtorest,andpraythatIhadn’tlostthetrail.
AndasIsithereIwonder,Whyhaven’tImanagedtocatchhim?
16JULY1747
i
WhenIwokeupthismorningitwaswithaflashofinspiration.Ofcourse.Pointy-EarswasamemberofBraddock’sarmyandBraddock’sarmyhadjoinedwithforcescommandedbythePrinceofOrangeintheDutchRepublic,whichwaswherePointy-Earsshouldhavebeen.Thereasonhewashurryingwasbecause...
Becausehehadabscondedandwasrushingtogetback,presumablybeforehisabsencewasdiscovered.
WhichmeantthathispresenceintheBlackForestwasn’tofficiallysanctioned.WhichmeantthatBraddock,ashislieutenant-colonel,didn’tknowaboutit.Orprobablydidn’tknowaboutit.
Sorry,Scratch.Irodeherhardagain—itwouldbeherthirdsuccessiveday—andnoticedthetirednessinher,thefatiguethatslowedherdown.Evenso,itwasonlyaroundhalfanhourbeforewecameupontheremainsofPointy-Ears’campand,thistime,insteadofstoppingtotesttheembers,IurgedScratchonandonlyletherrestatthenexthilltop,wherewestoppedasIpulledoutthespyglassandscannedtheareaaheadofus,squarebysquare,inchbyinch—untilIsawhim.Therehewas,atinyspeckridingupthehillopposite,swallowedbyaclumpoftreesasIwatched.
Wherewerewe?Ididn’tknowwhetherornotwehadpassedovertheborderintotheDutchRepublic.Ihadn’tseenanothersoulfortwodays,hadheardnothingbutthesoundofScratchandmyownbreathing.
Thatwassoontochange.IspurredScratchandsometwentyminuteslaterwasenteringthesamebandoftreesI’dseenmyquarrydisappearinto.ThefirstthingIsawwasanabandonedcart.Nearby,withfliescrawlingoversightlesseyes,wasthebodyofahorse,thesightofwhichmadeScratchrearslightly,startled.Likeme,shehadbeenusedtothesolitude:justus,thetrees,thebirds.HeresuddenlywastheuglyreminderthatinEuropeoneisneverfarfromconflict,neverfarfromwar.
Werodeonmoreslowlynow,beingcarefulamongthetreesandwhateverotherobstacleswemightfind.Movingonwards,moreandmoreofthefoliagewasblackened,brokenortrampleddown.There’dbeensomeactionhere,thatmuchwascertain:Ibegantoseebodiesofmen,splayedlimbsandstaring,deadeyes,darkbloodandmudrenderingthecorpsesanonymousapartfromflashesofuniform:thewhiteoftheFrencharmy,theblueoftheDutch.Isawbrokenmuskets,snappedbayonetsandswords,anythingofusehavingalreadybeensalvaged.WhenIemergedfromthetreelinewewereinafield,thefieldofbattle,wheretherewereevenmorebodies.Evidentlyithadbeenonlyasmallskirmishbythestandardsofwarbut,evenso,itfeltasthoughdeathwereeverywhere.
HowlongagoithadbeenIcouldn’tsaywithcertainty:enoughtimeforscavengerstostripthefieldofbattlebutnotenoughforthebodiestoberemoved;withinthelastday,Iwouldhavethought,judgingbythestateofthecorpsesandtheblanketofsmokethatstillhungoverthepasture—ashroudofit,likemorningfogbutwiththeheavyyetsharpscentofgunpowdersmoke.
Herethemudwasthicker,churnedupbyhoovesandfeet,andasScratchbegantostruggle,Ireinedhertotheside,tryingtotakeusaroundtheperimeterofthefield.ThenjustasshestumbledinthemudandalmostpitchedmeforwardoverherneckIcaughtsightofPointy-Earsaheadofus.Hewasthelengthofthefieldaway,perhapshalfamileorso,ahazy,almostindistinctfigurealsostrugglingintheclaggyterrain.Hishorsemusthavebeenasexhaustedasmine,becausehe’ddismountedandwastryingtopullitbythereins,hiscursescarryingfaintlyacrossthefield.
Ipulledoutmyspyglasstogetabetterlookathim.ThelasttimeI’dseenhimupclosewastwelveyearsagoandhe’dbeenwearingamask,andIfoundmyselfwondering—hoping,even—thatmyfirstproperlookathimmightcontainsomekindofrevelation.WouldIrecognizehim?
No.Hewasjustaman,weatheredandgrizzled,likehispartnerhadbeen,filthyandexhaustedfromhisride.Lookingathimnowtherewasnosenseofsuddenlyknowing.Nothingfellintoplace.Hewasjustaman,aBritishsoldier,sameastheoneIhadkilledintheBlackForest.
Isawhimcranehisneckashestaredthroughthehazeatme.Fromhiscoatheproducedhisownspyglass,andforamomentthetwoofusstudiedoneanotherthroughourtelescopes,thenIwatchedasherantothemuzzleofhishorseandwithrenewedvigourbeganyankingatthereins,atthesametimethrowingglancesbackacrossthefieldatme.
Herecognizedme.Good.ScratchhadregainedherfeetandIpulledhertowherethegroundwasalittleharder.Atlastwewereabletomakesomeheadway.Infrontofme,Pointy-EarswasbecomingmoredistinctandIcouldmakeouttheeffortonhisfaceashepulledouthisownhorse,thensawtherealizationdawnonhimthathewasstuck,andIwasgainingonhimandwouldbeuponhiminamatterofafewshortmoments.
Andthenhedidtheonlythinghecoulddo.Hedroppedthereinsandstartedtorun.Atthesametimethevergearoundusgavewaysharply,andonceagainScratchwasfindingitdifficulttokeepherfeet.Withaquickandwhispered“thankyou”Ijumpedfromhertogivechaseonfoot.
Theeffortsofthelastfewdayscaughtupwithmeinarushthatthreatenedtoengulfme.Themudsuckedatmyboots,makingeverystepnotlikerunningbutwading,andthebreathwasjaggedinmylungs,asthoughIwereinhalinggrit.Everymusclescreamedinprotestandpainatme,beggingmenottogoon.Icouldonlyhopethatmyfriendaheadwashavingitjustashard,evenharderperhaps,becausetheonethingthatspurredmeon,theonethingthatkeptmylegspumpingandmychestpullingraggedbreathsfromtheairwastheknowledgethatIwasclosingthegap.
HeglancedbehindandIwascloseenoughtoseehiseyeswideninfear.Hehadnomasknow.Nothingtohidebehind.DespitethepainandexhaustionIgrinnedathim,feelingdry,parchedlipspullingbackovermyteeth.
Hepressedon,gruntingwiththeeffort.Ithadbeguntorain,adrizzlethatgavethedayanextralayerofhaze,asthoughwewerestuckinsidealandscapecolouredincharcoal.
AgainheriskedanotherlookbehindandsawthatIwasevenclosernow;thistimehestoppedanddrewhissword,helditintwohandswithhisshouldersslumped,breathingheavily.Helookedexhausted.Helookedlikeamanwho’dspentdayafterdayridinghardwithlittlesleep.Helookedlikeamanwaitingtobebeaten.
ButIwaswrong;hewasluringmeforwardand,likeafool,Ifellforit,andinthenextinstantwasstumblingforward,literallyfallingasthegroundgavewayandIwadedstraightintoavastpoolofthick,oozingmudthatstoppedmeinmytracks.
“Oh,God,”Isaid.Myfeetdisappeared,thenmyankles,andbeforeIknewitIwasinuptomy
knees,desperatelyyankingatmylegs,tryingtopullthemfree,whileatthesametimebracingmyselfwithonehandonthefirmergroundaroundme,tryingto
keepmyswordraisedwiththeother.MyeyeswenttoPointy-Ears,anditwashisturntogrinnowashecame
forwardandbroughthissworddowninachopping,two-handedblowthathadplentyofforcebutwasclumsy.WithagruntofeffortandaringofsteelImetitandparried,sendinghimbackacoupleofsteps.Then,ashewasoffbalance,Ipulledoneofmyfeetclearofthemud,andmyboot,sawmywhitestocking,filthyasitwas,brightcomparedtothedirtaroundit.
Seeinghisadvantagebeingsquandered,Pointy-Earspressedforwardagain,thistimestabbingforwardwithhissword,andIdefendedonceandthentwice.Forasecondtherewasonlythesoundofclashingsteel,ofgruntsandtherain,hardernow,slappingintothemud,mesilentlythankingGodhisreservesofcunningwereexhausted.
Orwerethey?AtlastherealizedIwouldbebeatenmoreeasilyifhemovedtotherearofme,butIsawwhatwasonhismindandlashedoutwithmysword,catchinghimatthekneejustabovehisbootandsendinghimcrashingback,howlinginagony.Withacryofpainandindignityhegottohisfeet,drivenonperhapsbyoutragethathisvictorywasn’tbeinggiventohimmoreeasily,andkickedoutwithhisgoodfoot.
IcaughtitwithmyotherhandandtwisteditashardasIcould,hardenoughtosendhimspinningandsprawlingfacedowntothemud.
Hetriedtorollaway,butwastooslow,ortoodazed,andIstabbeddownwardswithmysword,drivingitthroughthebackofhisthigh,straightintothegroundandspearinghimthere.AtthesametimeIusedthehandleasagripandwithawrenchpulledmyselffromthemud,leavingmysecondbootbehind.
Hescreamedandtwisted,butwasheldinplacebymyswordthroughhisleg.MyweightonhimasIusedtheswordasleveragetodragmyselffromtheoozemusthavebeenunbearable,andheshriekedinpainandhiseyesrolledbackintheirsockets.Evenso,heslashedwildlywithhisswordandIwasunarmedsothat,asIfloppedontohim,likeabadlylandedfish,thebladecaughtmeonthesideoftheneck,openingacutandlettingoutbloodthatfeltwarmonmyskin.
Myhandswenttohis,andsuddenlyweweregrapplingforpossessionofthesword.Gruntingandcursingwefought,whenfrombehindIheardsomething—somethingthatwassurelythesoundofapproachingfeet.Thenvoices.SomebodyspeakinginDutch.Icursed.
“No,”saidavoice,andIrealizeditwasme.Hemusthaveheardit,too.“You’retoolate,Kenway,”hesnarled.
Thetrampingofthefeetfrombehindme.Therain.Myowncriesof“No,no,no,”asavoicesaid,inEnglish,“Youthere.Stopatonce.”
AndItwistedawayfromPointy-Ears,smackingthewetmudinfrustrationasIpulledmyselfupright,ignoringthesoundofhisharshandjaggedlaughasIrosetomeetthetroopswhoappearedfromwithinthefogandrain,tryingtobringmyselftofullheightasIsaid,“MynameisHaythamKenway,andIamanassociateofLieutenant-ColonelEdwardBraddock.Idemandthismanbegivenintomycustody.”
ThenextlaughIheard,Iwasn’tsureifitcamefromPointy-Ears,whostilllaypinnedtotheground,orperhapsfromoneofthesmallbandoftroopswhohadmaterializedbeforeme,likewraithsdeliveredfromthefield.OfthecommanderIsawamoustache,adirty,wet,double-breastedjackettrimmedwithsoddenbraidthathadoncebeenthecolourgold.Isawhimraisingsomething—somethingthatseemedtoflashacrossmyeyeline—andrealizedhewasstrikingmewiththehiltoftheswordaninstantbeforehemadecontact,andIlostconsciousness.
ii
Theydon’tputunconsciousmentodeath.Thatwouldnotbenoble.NoteveninanarmycommandedbyLieutenant-ColonelEdwardBraddock.
AndsothenextthingIfeltwascoldwaterslappingintomyface—orwasitanopenpalmonmyface?Eitherway,Iwasbeingrudelyawakened,andasmysensesreturnedIspentamomentwonderingwhoIwas,whereIwas...
AndwhyIhadanoosearoundmyneck.Andwhymyarmsweretiedbehindmyback.Iwasatoneendofaplatform.Tomyleftwerefourmen,also,likeme,with
theirnecksinnooses.AsIwatched,themanonthefarleftjerkedandshook,hisfeetkickingatemptyair.
AgaspwentupinfrontofmeandIrealizedthatwehadanaudience.Wewerenolongerinthebattlefieldbutinsomesmallerpasturewheremenhadassembled.TheyworethecoloursoftheBritishArmyandthebearskinhatsoftheColdstreamGuards,andtheirfaceswereashen.Theywerehereundersufferance,itwasclear,forcedtowatchasthepoorunfortunateattheendofthelinekickedhislast,hismouthopen,andthetipofhistongue,bleedingfromhavingbeenbitten,protruding,hisjawworkingintotryandgulpair.
Hecontinuedtotwitchandkick,hisbodyshakingthescaffold,whichranthelengthoftheplatformaboveourheads.Ilookedupandsawmyownnoosetiedtoit,castmyeyesdownwardstothewoodenstoolonwhichIstood,andsawmyfeet,mystockingedfeet.
Therewasahush.Justthesoundofthehangedmandying,thecreakoftheropeandthecomplaintofthescaffold.
“That’swhathappenswhenyou’reathief,”screechedtheexecutioner,pointingathimthenstridingdowntheplatformtowardsthesecondman,callingouttothestock-stillcrowd,“Youmeetyourmakerattheendofarope,ordersofLieutenant-ColonelBraddock.”
“IknowBraddock,”Ishoutedsuddenly.“Whereishe?Bringhimhere.”“Shutyourmouth,you!”bawledtheexecutioner,hisfingerpointed,whileat
thesametimehisassistant,themanwho’dthrownwaterinmyface,camefrommyrightandslappedmeagain,onlythistimenottobringmetomysensesbuttosilenceme.
Isnarledandstruggledwiththeropetyingmyhands,butnottoovigorously,notenoughsothatIwouldoverbalanceandfallfromthestoolonwhichIwassoperilouslyperched.
“MynameisHaythamKenway,”Icalled,theropediggingintomyneck.“Isaid,‘Shutyourmouth!’”theexecutionerroaredasecondtime,andagain
hisassistantstruckme,hardenoughsothathealmosttoppledmefromthestool.ForthefirsttimeIcaughtsightofthesoldierstrunguptomyimmediateleftandrealizedwhoitwas.ItwasPointy-Ears.Hehadabandagethatwasblackwithbloodaroundhisthigh.Heregardedmewithcloudy,hoodedeyes,aslow,sloppysmileonhisface.
Bynowtheexecutionerhadreachedthesecondmanintheline.“Thismanisadeserter,”hescreeched.“Helefthiscomradestodie.Men
likeyou.Heleftyoutodie.Tellme,whatshouldhispunishmentbe?”Withoutmuchenthusiasm,themencalledback,“Hanghim.”“Ifyousayso,”smirkedtheexecutioner,andhesteppedback,plantedhis
footinthesmallofthecondemnedman’sbackandpushed,savouringtherevoltedreactionofthewatchingmen.
Ishookthepainoftheassistant’sblowfrommyheadandcontinuedtostrugglejustastheexecutionerreachedthenextman,askingthecrowdthesamequestion,receivingthesamemuted,dutifulreplythenpushingthepoorwretchtohisdeath.Theplatformquakedandshookasthethreemenjerkedontheendoftheropes.Abovemyheadthescaffoldcreakedandgroaned,andglancingupI
sawjointsbrieflypartbeforecomingbacktogether.NexttheexecutionerreachedPointy-Ears.“Thisman—thismanenjoyedasmallsojournintheBlackForestand
thoughthecouldsneakbackundetected,butheiswrong.Tellme,howshouldhebepunished?”
“Hanghim,”mumbledthecrowdunenthusiastically.“Doyouthinkheshoulddie?”criedtheexecutioner.“Yes,”repliedthecrowd.ButIsawsomeofthemsurreptitiouslyshaking
theirheadsno,andtherewereothers,drinkingfromleatherflasks,wholookedhappieraboutthewholeaffair,thewayyoumightifyouwerebeingbribedwithale.Indeed,didthataccountforPointy-Ears’apparentstupor?Hewasstillsmiling,evenwhentheexecutionermovedbehindhimandplantedhisfootinthesmallofhisback.
“It’stimetohangadeserter!”heshouted,andshovedatthesametimeasIcried,“No!”andthrashedatmybonds,desperatelytryingtobreakfree.“No,hemustbekeptalive!WhereisBraddock?WhereisLieutenant-ColonelEdwardBraddock?”
Theexecutioner’sassistantappearedbeforemyeyes,grinningthroughascratchybeard,withhardlyatoothinhismouth.“Didn’tyouheartheman?Hesaid,‘Shutyourmouth.’”Andhepulledbackhisfisttopunchme.
Hedidn’tgetthechance.Mylegsshotout,knockedthestoolawayandinthenextinstantwerelockedaroundtheassistant’sneck,crossedattheankle—andtightening.
Heyelled.Isqueezedharder.Hisyellbecameastrangulatedchokeandhisfacebegantoflushashishandswenttomycalves,tryingtoprisethemapart.Iwrenchedfromsidetoside,shakinghimlikeadogwithpreyinitsjaws,almosttakinghimoffhisfeet,strainingmythighmusclesatthesametimeasItriedtokeeptheweightoffthenooseatmyneck.Still,atmyside,Pointy-Earsthrashedontheendofhisrope.Histonguepokedfrombetweenhislipsandhismilkyeyesbulged,asifabouttoburstfromhisskull.
Theexecutionerhadmovedtotheotherendoftheplatform,wherehewaspullingonthelegsofthehangedmentomakesuretheyweredead,butthecommotionatthisendcaughthisattentionandhelookeduptoseehisassistanttrappedinthevisegripofmylegsandcamedashinguptheplatformtowardsus,cursingatthesametimeashereachedtodrawhissword.
Withashoutofeffort,Itwistedmybodyandwrenchedmylegs,pullingtheassistantwithmeandbysomemiracletimingitjustrightsothathisbody
slammedintotheexecutionerashearrived.Withashouttheexecutionertumbledmessilyfromtheplatform.Infrontofusthemenwerestanding,open-mouthedwithshock,nonemovingtogetinvolved.
Isqueezedmylegsevenmoretightlytogetherandwasrewardedwithacracking,crunchingsoundthatcamefromtheassistant’sneck.Bloodbeganpouringfromhisnose.Hisgriponmyarmsbegantoslacken.AgainItwisted.AgainIshoutedasmymusclesprotestedandIwrenchedhim,thistimetotheotherside,whereIslammedhimintothescaffold.
Theshaking,creaking,coming-apartscaffold.Itcreakedandcomplainedsomemore.Withafinaleffort—Ihadnomore
strengthleft,andifthisdidn’tworkthenherewaswhereIdied—Irammedthemanintothescaffoldagainand,thistime,atlast,itgave.Atthesametime,asIbegantofeelmyselfblackout,asthoughadarkveilwerebeingbroughtacrossmymind,Ifeltthepressureatmynecksuddenlyrelaxasthesupportcrashedtothegroundinfrontoftheplatform,thecrossbartoppled,thentheplatformitselfgavewaywiththesuddenweightofmenandwood,fallinginonitselfwithasplinteringandcrashingofdisintegratingwood.
MylastthoughtbeforeIlostconsciousnesswas,Pleaselethimbealive,andmyfirstwordsonregainingconsciousnessinsidethetentwhereInowliewere,“Ishealive?”
iii
“Iswhoalive?”askedthedoctor,whohadadistinguished-lookingmoustacheandanaccentthatsuggestedhewashigherbornthanmost.
“Thepointy-earedman,”Isaid,andtriedtoraisemyselfupright,onlytofindhishandonmychestguidingmebackdowntoalyingposition.
“I’mafraidIhaven’tthefoggiestideawhatyou’retalkingabout,”hesaid,notunkindly.“Ihearthatyouareacquaintedwiththelieutenant-colonel.Perhapshewillbeabletoexplaineverythingtoyouwhenhearrivesinthemorning.”
Thus,Inowsithere,writinguptheeventsofthedayandawaitingmyaudiencewithBraddock...
17JULY1747
Helookedlikealarger,smarterversionofhismen,withallofthebearingthathisrankimplied.Hisshiningblackbootswereuptotheknee.Heworeafrockcoatwithwhitetrimoveradark,buttoned-uptunic,awhitescarfathisneck,andonathickbrownleatherbeltathiswaisthunghissword.
Hishairwaspulledbackandtiedwithablackribbon.HetossedhishattoasmalltableatthesideofthebedwhereIlay,puthishandstohishipsandregardedmewiththatdeep,colourlessgazeIknewwell.
“Kenway,”hesaidsimply,“Reginalddidnotsendwordthatyouwereduetobejoiningmehere.”
“Itwasaspur-of-the-momentdecision,Edward,”Isaid,suddenlyfeelingyounginhispresence,intimidatedalmost.
“Isee,”hesaid.“Youthoughtyou’djustdropin,didyou?”“HowlonghaveIbeenhere?”Iasked.“Howmanydayshavepassed?”“Three,”repliedBraddock.“Dr.Tennantwasconcernedyoumightdevelopa
fever.Accordingtohim,afeeblermanmightnothavebeenabletofightitoff.You’reluckytobealive,Kenway.Noteverymangetstoescapeboththegallowsandafever.Fortunateforyou,too,thatIwasinformedaboutoneofthementobehangedcallingformepersonally;otherwise,mymenmightwellhavefinishedthejob.Youseehowwepunishwrongdoers.”
Iputmyhandtomyneck,whichwasbandagedfromthefightwithPointy-Earsandstillpainfulfromtheropeburn.“Yes,Edward,Ihavehadfirst-handexperienceofhowyoutreatyourmen.”
Hesighed,wavedawayDr.Tennant,whoretired,closingtheflapsofthetentbehindhim,thensatheavily,puttingoneboottothebedasthoughtostakehisclaimonit.“Notmymen,Kenway.Criminals.YouweredeliveredtousbytheDutchinthecompanyofadeserter,amanwhohadgoneabsentwithacompanion.Naturally,youwereassumedtobethecompanion.”
“Andwhatofhim,Edward?WhatofthemanIwaswith?”“Thisisthemanyou’vebeenaskingabout,isit?TheoneDr.Tennanttells
meyou’reespeciallyinterestedin,a—whatdidhesaynow?—‘apointy-eared
man.’”Hecouldn’tkeepthesneeroutofhisvoiceashesaidit.“Thatman,Edward—hewastherethenightoftheattackonmyhome.He’s
oneofthemenwehavebeenseekingtheselasttwelveyears.”Ilookedathimhard.“AndIfindhimenlistedinyourarmy.”
“Indeed—inmyarmy.Andwhatofit?”“Acoincidence,don’tyouthink?”Braddockalwaysworeascowl,butnowitdeepened.“Whydon’tyouforget
theinsinuations,boy,andtellmewhat’sreallyonyourmind.WhereisReginald,bytheway?”
“IlefthimintheBlackForest.Nodoubthe’shalfwayhomebynow.”“Tocontinuehisresearchintomythsandoldwives’tales?”saidBraddock
withacontemptuousflickofhiseyes.HimdoingthatmademefeelstrangelyloyaltoReginaldandhisinvestigations,despitemyownmisgivings.
“Reginaldbelievesthatifwewereabletounlockthesecretsofthestorehouse,theOrderwouldbethemostpowerfulithasbeensincetheHolyWars,perhapsever.Wewouldbepoisedtorulecompletely.”
Hegaveaslightlytired,disgustedlook.“Ifyoureallybelievethatthenyou’reasfoolishandidealisticasheis.Wedon’tneedmagicandtrickstopersuadepeopletoourcause,weneedsteel.”
“Whynotuseboth?”Ireasoned.Heleanedforward.“Becauseoneofthemisarankwasteoftime,that’s
why.”Imethisgaze.“That’sasmaybe.HoweverIdon’tthinkthebestwaytowin
men’sheartsandmindsistoexecutethem,doyou?”“Again.Scum.”“Andhashebeenputtodeath?”“Yourfriendwith—sorry,whatwasit?—‘pointyears.’”“Yourridiculemeansnothingtome,Edward.Yourridiculemeansasmuch
tomeasyourrespect,whichisnothing.YoumaythinkyoutoleratemeonlybecauseofReginald—well,Icanassureyouthefeelingisentirelymutual.Now,tellme,thepointy-earedman,ishedead?”
“Hediedonthescaffold,Kenway.Hediedthedeathhedeserved.”Iclosedmyeyesandforasecondlaythereawareofnothingbutmyown...
what?Someevil,boilingbrothofgrief,angerandfrustration;ofmistrustanddoubt.Aware,also,ofBraddock’sfootonmybedandwishingIcouldlashoutwithaswordandpurgehimfrommylifeforever.
Thatwashisway,though,wasn’tit?Itwasn’tmyway.
“Sohewastherethatnight,washe?”askedBraddock,anddidhehaveaslightlymockingtoneinhisvoice?“Hewasoneofthoseresponsibleforkillingyourfather,andallofthistimehe’sbeenamongus,andweneverknew.Abitterirony,wouldn’tyousay,Haytham?”
“Indeed.Anironyoracoincidence.”“Becareful,boy,there’snoReginaldheretotalkyououtoftroublenow,you
know.”“Whatwashisname?”“LikehundredsofmeninmyarmyhisnamewasTomSmith—TomSmithof
thecountry;muchmoreaboutthemwedon’tknow.Ontherun,probablyfromthemagistrates,orperhapshavingkilledhislandlord’ssoninaduel,ordefloweredalandowner’sdaughter,orperhapsrompedwithhiswife.Who’stosay?Wedon’taskquestions.Ifyouweretoaskdoesitsurprisemethatoneofthemenwehuntedwashereamongmyarmyallofthetime,thenmyanswerwouldbeno.”
“Didhehaveassociatesinthearmy?SomebodythatIcouldtalkto?”Slowly,Braddocktookhisfootfrommycot.“AsafellowKnightyouare
freetoenjoymyhospitalityhereandyoumayofcourseconductyourownenquiries.IhopethatinreturnIcanalsocalluponyourassistanceinourendeavours.”
“Andwhatmighttheybe?”Iasked.“TheFrenchhavelaidsiegetothefortressofBergenopZoom.Insideare
ourallies:theDutch,Austrians,HanoveriansandHessians,andofcoursetheBritish.TheFrenchhavealreadyopenedthetrenchesandarediggingasecondsetofparalleltrenches.Theywillsoonbegintheirbombardmentofthefortress.Theywillbetryingtotakeitbeforetherains.TheythinkitwillgivethemagatewaytotheNetherlands,andtheAlliesfeelthatthefortressmustbeheldatallcosts.Weneedeverymanwecanget.Youseenowwhywedonottoleratedeserters.Doyouhaveaheartforthebattle,Kenway,orareyousofocusedonrevengethatyoucannothelpusanymore?”
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“Ihaveajobforyou,”saidReginald.Inodded,expectingasmuch.IthadbeenalongtimesinceI’dlastseenhim
andI’dhadthefeelingthathisrequesttomeetwasn’tjustanexcusetocatchupontittle-tattle,evenifthevenuewasWhite’s,wherewesatsuppinganaleeach,anattentiveand—ithadn’tescapedmynotice—buxomwaitresskeentobringusmore.
Totheleftofusatableofgentlemen—theinfamous“gamestersofWhite’s”—wereplayingarowdygameofdice,butotherwisethehousewasempty.
Ihadn’tseenhimsincethatdayintheBlackForest,sixyearsago,andalothadhappenedsince.JoiningBraddockintheDutchRepublic,I’dservedwiththeColdstreamsattheSiegeofBergenopZoom,thenuntiltheTreatyofAix-la-Chapellethefollowingyear,whichmarkedtheendofthatwar.AfterthatI’dremainedwiththemonseveralpeace-keepingcampaigns,whichhadkeptmeawayfromReginald,whosecorrespondencearrivedeitherfromLondonorfromthechateauinFrance.Awarethatmyownletterscouldbereadbeforetheyweresent,I’dkeptmycorrespondencevaguewhileprivatelylookingforwardtothemomentIcouldatlastsitdownwithReginaldandtalkovermyfears.
But,returningtoLondon,andonceagaintakingupresidenceatQueenAnne’sSquare,Ifoundhewasnotavailable.ThatwaswhatIwastold:hehadbeensequesteredwithhisbooks—heandJohnHarrison,anotherKnightoftheOrder,andonewhoseeminglywasasobsessedwithtemples,ancientstorehousesandghostlybeingsfromthepastashewas.
“Doyourememberwecamehereformyeighthbirthday?”Isaid,wanting,somehow,toputoffthemomentwhenIlearnttheidentityofthepersonIwouldhavetokill.“Doyourememberwhathappenedoutside,thehot-headedsuitorpreparedtodispensesummaryjusticeonthestreet?”
Henodded.“Peoplechange,Haytham.”
“Indeed—youhave.You’vebeenmainlypreoccupiedwithyourinvestigationsintothefirstcivilization,”Isaid.
“I’msoclosenow,Haytham,”hesaid,asifthethoughtofitshruggedoffawearyshroudhe’dbeenwearing.
“WereyoueverabletodecypherVedomir’sjournal?”Hefrowned.“No,worstluck,andnotforwantoftrying,Icantellyou.Or
shouldIsay‘notyet,’becausethereisadecypherer,anItalianAssassinaffiliate—awoman,wouldyoubelieve?WehaveherattheFrenchchateau,deepwithintheforest,butshesayssheneedshersontohelpherdecypherthebook,andhersonhasbeenmissingthesepastfewyears.Personally,Idoubtwhatshesaysandthinkshecouldverywelldecypherthejournalherselfifshechose.Ithinkshe’susingustohelpreuniteherwithherson.Butshehasagreedtoworkonthejournalifwelocatehimand,finally,wehave.”
“Where?”“Whereyouwillsoonbegoingtorecoverhim:Corsica.”SoI’dbeenwrong.Notanassassination.Iwouldbemindingachild.“What?”hesaid,atthelookonmyface.“Youthinkitbelowyou?Quitethe
opposite,Haytham.ThisisthemostimportanttaskIhaveevergivenyou.”“No,Reginald”—Isighed—“it’snot;itsimplyappearsthatwayinyour
thinking.”“Oh?Whatareyousaying?”“Thatperhapsyourinterestinthishasmeantyouhaveneglectedaffairs
elsewhere.Perhapsyouhaveletcertainothermattersbecomeoutofcontrol...”Perplexed,hesaid,“What‘matters’?”“EdwardBraddock.”Helookedsurprised.“Isee.Well,istheresomethingyouwanttotellme
abouthim?Somethingyou’vebeenkeepingfromme?”Iindicatedformorealesandourwaitressbroughtthemover,setthemdown
withasmilethenwalkedawaywithherhipsswaying.“WhathasBraddocktoldyouofhismovementsinrecentyears?”Iasked
Reginald.“Ihaveheardverylittlefromhim,seenhimevenless,”hereplied.“Inthe
lastsixyearswe’vemetjustonce,asfarasIcanrecallandhiscommunicationshavebecomeincreasinglysporadic.HedisapprovesofmyinterestinThoseWhoCameBeforeand,unlikeyou,hasnotkepthisobjectionstohimself.ItappearswediffergreatlyonhowbesttospreadtheTemplarmessage.Asaresult,no,Iknowverylittleofhim;infact,ifIwantedtoknowaboutEdward,IdaresayI’d
asksomeonewhohasbeenwithhimduringhiscampaigns—”Hegaveasardoniclook.“WheremightIfindsuchaperson,doyouthink?”
“You’dbeafooltoaskme,”Ichortled.“Youknowfullwellthat,whereBraddockisconcerned,I’mnotanespeciallyimpartialobserver.Ibeganbydislikingthemanandnowlikehimevenless,butintheabsenceofanymoreobjectiveobservations,here’smine:hehasbecomeatyrant.”
“Howso?”“Cruelty,mainly.Tothemensufferingunderhim,butalsotoinnocents.I’ve
seenitwithmyowneyes,forthefirsttime,intheDutchRepublic.”“HowEdwardtreatshismenishisbusiness,”saidReginaldwithashrug.
“Menrespondtodiscipline,Haytham,youknowthat.”Ishookmyhead.“Therewasoneparticularincident,Reginald,onthelast
dayofthesiege.”Reginaldsettledbacktolisten:“Goon...”asIcontinued.“Wewereretreating.Dutchsoldierswereshakingtheirfistsatus,cursing
KingGeorgefornotsendingmoreofhismentohelprelievethefortress.WhymoremenhadnotarrivedIdon’tknow.Wouldtheyhaveevenmadeanydifference?Again,Idon’tknow.I’mnotsureanyofuswhowerestationedwithinthosepentagonalwallsknewhowtocontendwithaFrenchonslaughtthatwasascommittedasitwasbrutal,andasruthlessasitwassustained.
“Braddockhadbeenright:theFrenchhaddugtheirparalleltrenchlinesandbeguntheirbombardmentofthecity,pressingclosetothefortresswalls,andtheywereonthembySeptember,whentheydugminesbeneaththefortificationsanddestroyedthem.
“Wemadeattacksoutsidethewallstotrytobreakthesiege,alltonoavailuntil,on18September,theFrenchbrokethrough—atfourinthemorning,ifmemoryserves.TheycaughttheAlliedforcesquiteliterallynapping,andwewereoverrunbeforeweknewit.TheFrenchwereslaughteringtheentiregarrison.Weknow,ofcourse,thateventuallytheybrokefreeoftheircommandandinflictedevenworsedamageonthepoorinhabitantsofthattown,butthecarnagehadalreadybegun.Edwardhadsecuredaskiffattheport,andhadlongsincedecidedthat,wereadaytocomewhentheFrenchbrokethrough,hewoulduseittoevacuatehismen.Thatdayhadarrived.
“Abandofusmadeourwaytotheport,wherewebegantooverseetheloadingofmenandsuppliesontotheskiff.WekeptasmallforceattheportwallstokeepanymaraudingFrenchtroopsback,whileEdward,Iandothersstoodbythegang-board,overseeingtheloadingofmenandsuppliesontothe
skiff.WetooksomefourteenhundredmentothefortressatBergenopZoom,butthemonthsoffightinghaddepletednumbersbyabouthalf.Therewasroomontheskiff.Notlotsofit—itwasn’tasthoughwecouldhavetakenagreatmanypassengers;certainlynotthenumberswhoneededtoevacuatefromthefortress—buttherewasspace.”IlookedhardatReginald.“Wecouldhavetakenthem,iswhatI’msaying.”
“Couldhavetakenwhom,Haytham?”Itookalongpullonmyale.“Therewasafamilywhoapproachedusonthe
port.Includedintheirnumberwasanoldmanwhocouldbarelywalk,aswellaschildren.Fromamongthemcameayoungman,whoapproachedusandaskedmeifwehadroomontheboat.Inoddedyes—Isawnoreasonwhynot—andindicatedtoBraddock,butinsteadofwavingthemaboardasIexpected,heheldupahandandorderedthemofftheport,beckoninghismentoboardtheboatmorequickly.TheyoungmanwasassurprisedasIwas,andIopenedmymouthtoprotest,buthegottherebeforeme;hisfacedarkenedandhesaidsomethingtoBraddockthatIdidn’tcatch,butwasobviouslyaninsultofsomekind.
“Braddocktoldmelaterthattheinsultwas‘craven.’Hardlythemostinsultingaffront,certainlynotworthwhathappenednext,whichwasthatBraddockdrewhisswordandplungeditintotheyoungmanwherehestood.
“Braddockkeptasmallpartyofthemennearbyatmosttimes.Histworegularcompanionsweretheexecutioner,Slater,andhisassistant—hisnewassistant,Ishouldsay.Ikilledtheoldone.Thesemen,youmightalmosthavecalledthembodyguards.CertainlytheyweremuchclosertohimthanIwas.WhetherornottheyhadhisearIcouldn’tsay,buttheywerefiercelyloyalandprotectiveandwererushingforwardevenastheyoungman’sbodyfell.Theysetaboutthefamily,Reginald,Braddockandthesetwoofhismen,andcutthemdown,everysingleoneofthem:thetwomen,anolderwoman,ayoungerwoman,andofcoursethechildren,oneofthemaninfant,oneofthemababeinarms...”Ifeltmyjawclench.“Itwasamassacre,Reginald,theworstatrocityofwarIhaveseen—andI’mafraidI’veseenagreatmany.”
Henoddedgravely.“Isee.Naturally,thishardenedyourheartagainstEdward.”
Iscoffed.“Ofcourse—ofcourseithas.Weareallmenofwar,Reginald,butwearenotbarbarians.”
“Isee,Isee.”“Doyou?Doyouseeatlast?ThatBraddockisoutofcontrol?”“Steadyon,Haytham.‘Outofcontrol’?Theredmistdescendingisone
thing.‘Outofcontrol’isquiteanother.”“Hetreatshismenlikeslaves,Reginald.”Heshrugged.“So?They’reBritishsoldiers—theyexpecttobetreatedlike
slaves.”“Ithinkheismovingawayfromus.Thesemenhehasservinghim,they’re
notTemplars,they’refreeagents.”Reginaldnodded.“ThetwomenintheBlackForest.Werethesemenpartof
Braddock’sinnercircle?”Ilookedathim.IwatchedhimverycarefullyasIlied:“Idon’tknow.”Therewasalongpauseand,toavoidmeetinghiseye,Itookalongdrinkon
myaleandpretendedtoadmirethewaitress,pleasedtohavethesubjectchangedwhenReginaldatlastleanedforwardtogivememoredetailsofmyforthcomingjourneytoCorsica.
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ReginaldandIpartedoutsideWhite’sandwenttoourcarriages.WhenmycarriagewassomedistanceawayItappedontheceilingtostop,andmydriverclimbeddown,lookedleftandrighttocheckthatnobodywaswatching,thenopenedthedoorandjoinedmeinside.Hesatoppositemeandremovedhishat,placingitontheseatbesidehimandregardingmewithbright,curiouseyes.
“Well,MasterHaytham?”hesaid.Ilookedathim,tookadeepbreathandstaredoutofthewindow.“I’mdueto
leavebyseatonight.WewillreturntoQueenAnne’sSquare,whereIwillpack,thenstraighttothedocks,ifyouwould.”
Hedoffedanimaginarycap.“Atyourservice,Mr.Kenway,sir,I’mgettingquiteusedtothisdrivinglark.Lotsofwaitingaround,mind,coulddowithoutallthat,butotherwise,well,atleastyouain’tgotFrenchmenshootingatyou,oryourownofficersshootingatyou.Infact,I’dsaythelackofblokesshootingatyouisarealperkofthejob.”
Hecouldbequitetiresomesometimes.“Quiteso,Holden,”Isaid,withafrownthatwasintendedtoshuthimup,althoughchancewouldbeafinething.
“Well,anyway,sir,didyoulearnanything?”“I’mafraidnothingconcrete.”Ilookedoutofthewindow,wrestlingwithfeelingsofdoubt,guiltand
disloyalty,wonderingiftherewasanyoneItrulytrusted—anyonetowhomI
remainedtrulyloyalnow.Ironically,thepersonItrustedmostwasHolden.IhadmethimwhileintheDutchRepublic.Braddockhadbeenasgoodas
hiswordandallowedmetomoveamonghismen,askingthemiftheyknewanythingofthe“TomSmith”whohadmethisendonthescaffold,butIwasn’tsurprisedwhenmyinvestigationsprovedfruitless.NomanIaskedwouldevenadmittoknowingthisSmith,ifindeedSmithwashisname—until,onenight,Iheardamovementatthedoorofmytentandsatupinmycotintimetoseeafigureappear.
Hewasyoung,inhislatetwenties,withclose-cropped,gingeryhairandaneasy,impishsmile.This,itwouldturnout,wasPrivateJimHolden,aLondonman,agoodmanwhowantedtoseejusticedone.HisbrotherhadbeenoneofthosewhohadbeenhangedthesamedayIalmostmetmyownend.Hehadbeenexecutedforthecrimeofstealingstew—thatwasallhehaddone,stealabowlfulofstewbecausehewasstarving;afloggingoffence,atworst,buttheyhangedhim.Hisbiggestmistake,itseemed,hadbeentostealthestewfromoneofBraddock’sownmen,oneofhisprivatemercenaryforce.
ThiswaswhatHoldentoldme:thatthefifteen-hundred-strongforceofColdstreamGuardswasmadeupmainlyofBritishArmysoldierslikehimself,butthattherewaswithinthatasmallercadreofmenpersonallyselectedbyBraddock:mercenaries.ThesemercenariesincludedSlaterandhisassistant—and,moreworryingly,thetwomenwhohadriddentotheBlackForest.
NoneofthesemenworetheringoftheOrder.Theywerethugs,brutes.Iwonderedwhy—whyBraddockchosemenofthisstripeforhisinnercircle,andnotTemplarKnights?ThemoretimeI’dspentwithhim,themoreIthoughtIhadmyanswer:hewasmovingawayfromtheOrder.
IlookedbackatHoldennow.Ihadprotestedthatnight,buthewasamanwhohadglimpsedthecorruptionattheheartofBraddock’sorganization.Hewasamanwhowantedtoseejusticeforhisbrotherand,asaresult,noamountofmyprotestingmadetheslightestbitofdifference.HewasgoingtohelpmewhetherIlikeditornot.
Ihadagreed,butontheunderstandingthathisassistancewaskeptsecretatalltimes.Inthehopeofhoodwinkingthosewhoalwaysseemedonestepaheadofme,IneededittoappearasthoughI’ddroppedthematteroffindingmyfather’skillers—sothattheymightnolongerbeonestepaheadofme.
Thus,whenwelefttheDutchRepublicHoldentookonthetitleofmygentleman’sgentleman,mydriver,and,toallintentsandpurposes,asfarasthe
outsideworldwasconcerned,that’sexactlywhathewas.Nobodyknewthatinfacthewascarryingoutinvestigationsonmybehalf.NotevenReginaldknewthat.
PerhapsespeciallynotReginald.Holdensawtheguiltwrittenacrossmyface.“Sir,itain’tliesyou’retellingMr.Birch.Allyou’redoingiswhathe’sbeen
doing,whichiswithholdingcertainbitsofinformation,justuntilyou’vesatisfiedyourselfthathisnameisclear—andI’msureitwillbe,sir.I’msureitwillbe,himbeingyouroldestfriend,sir.”
“IwishIcouldshareyouroptimismonthematter,Holden,Ireallydo.Come,weshouldmoveon.Myerrandawaits.”
“Certainly,sir,andwhereisthaterrandtakingyou,mayIask?”“Corsica,”Isaid.“I’mgoingtoCorsica.”“Ah,inthemidstofarevolution,soIhear...”“Quiteright,Holden.Aplaceofconflictisaperfectplacetohide.”“Andwhatwillyoubedoingthere,sir?”“I’mafraidIcan’ttellyou.Sufficeittosay,ithasnothingtodowithfinding
myfather’skillersandisthereforeofonlyperipheralinteresttome.It’sajob,aduty,nothingmore.Ihopethat,whileI’maway,youwillcontinueyourowninvestigations?”
“Oh,certainlysir.”“Excellent.Andseetoitthattheyremaincovert.”“Don’tyoubeworryingaboutthat,sir.Asfarasanybodyisconcerned,
MasterKenwayhaslongsinceabandonedhisquestforjustice.Whoeveritis,sir,theirguardwilldropeventually.”
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ItwashotonCorsicaduringtheday,butatnightthetemperaturedropped.Nottoomuch—notfreezing—butenoughtomakelyingonarock-strewnhillsidewithnoblanketanuncomfortableexperience.
Coldasitwas,though,therewereevenmorepressingmatterstoattendto,suchasthesquadofGenoesesoldiersmovingupthehill,whoI’dliketohavesaidweremovingstealthily.
I’dliketohavesaidthat,butcouldn’t.Atthetopofthehill,onaplateau,wasthefarmhouse.I’dbeenkeeping
watchonitforthepasttwodays,myspyglasstrainedonthedoorsandwindowsofwhatwasalargebuildingandaseriesofsmallerbarnsandoutbuildings,takingnoteofcomingsandgoings:rebelsarrivingwithsuppliesandleavingwiththem,too;whileonthefirstdayasmallsquadofthem—Icountedeight—hadleftthecomplexonwhat,whentheyreturned,Irealizedhadbeensomekindofattack:theCorsicanrebels,strikingoutagainsttheirGenoesemasters.Therewereonlysixofthemwhentheycameback,andthosesixlookedexhaustedandbloodied,but,nevertheless,withoutwordsorgestures,woreanauraoftriumph.
Womenarrivedwithsuppliesnotlongafterwards,andtherewascelebrationfarintothenight.Thismorning,morerebelshadarrived,withmusketswrappedinblankets.Theywerewellequippedandhadsupport,itseemed;itwasnowondertheGenoesewantedtowipethisstrongholdoffthemap.
Ihadspentthetwodaysmovingaroundthehillsoastoavoidbeingseen.TheterrainwasrockyandIkeptasafedistancefromthebuildings.Onthemorningofthesecondday,however,IrealizedIhadcompany.Therewasanothermanonthehill,anotherwatcher.Unlikeme,hehadremainedinthesameposition,dugintoanoutcropofrocks,hiddenbythebrushandtheskeletaltreesthatsomehowsurvivedontheotherwiseparchedhillside.
ii
Luciowasthenameofmytarget,andtherebelswerehidinghim.Whetherthey,too,wereaffiliatesoftheAssassins,Ihadnoidea,anditdidn’tmatteranyway;hewastheoneIwasafter:atwenty-one-year-oldboywhowasthekeytosolvingapuzzlethathastormentedpoorReginaldforsixyears.Anunprepossessing-lookingboy,withshoulder-lengthhair,who,asfarasIcouldtellfromwatchingthefarmhouse,helpedoutbycarryingpailsofwater,feedingthelivestockand,yesterday,wringingtheneckofachicken.
Sohewasthere:thatmuchI’destablished.Thatwasgood.Buttherewereproblems.Firstly,hehadabodyguard.NeverfarawayfromhimwasamanwhoworethegownsandcowlofanAssassin;hisgazewouldoftensweepthehillsidewhileLuciofetchedwaterorscatteredchickenfeed.Athiswaistwasasword,andthefingersofhisrighthandwouldflex.DidhewearthefamoushiddenbladeoftheAssassins?Iwondered.Nodoubthewould.I’dhavetobewareofhim,thatmuchwasforcertain,nottomentiontherebelswhowerebasedatthefarmhouse.Thecompoundseemedtobecrawlingwiththem.
Oneotherthingtotakeintoaccount:theywereclearlyplanningtoleavesoon.Perhapsthey’dbeenusingthefarmhouseasatemporarybasefortheattack;perhapstheyknewthattheGenoesewouldsoonbeseekingrevengeandcomelookingforthem.Eitherway,theyhadbeenmovingsuppliesintothebarns,nodoubtpilingcartshighwiththem.Myguesswasthattheywouldleavethenextday.
Anight-timeincursionthen,wouldseemtobetheanswer.Andithadtobetonight.ThismorningImanagedtolocateLucio’ssleepingquarters:hesharedamedium-sizedouthousewiththeAssassinandatleastsixotherrebels.Theyhadacodephrasetheyusedwhenenteringthequarters,andIreadtheirlipsthroughmyspyglass:“Weworkinthedarktoservethelight.”
So—anoperationthatrequiredsomeforethought,but,nosoonerwasIpreparingtoretirefromthehillsideinordertoconcoctmyplans,thanIsawthesecondman.
Andmyplanschanged.Edgingclosertohim,IhadmanagedtoidentifyhimasaGenoesesoldier.IfIwasright,thatmeanthewastheforwardpartyofthemenwhowouldbeattemptingtotakethestronghold;therestwouldbealong—when?
Sooner,Ithought,ratherthanlater.Theywouldwanttoexactswiftrevengeforthepreviousday’sraid.Notonlythat,buttheywouldwanttobeseentobe
reactingquicklytotherebels.Tonight,then.SoIlefthim.Ilethimcontinuehissurveillanceand,insteadofwithdrawing,
stayedonthehillsideconcoctingadifferentplan.MynewplaninvolvedGenoesetroops.
Theobservationmanhadbeengood.He’dstayedoutofsightandthen,whendarkfell,retreatedstealthily,noiselessly,backdownthehill.Where,Iwondered,wastherestoftheforce?
Notfaraway;andanhourorsolaterIbegantonoticemovementatthebottomofthehilland,even,atonepoint,heardamuffledcurseinItalian.BythisstageIwasabouthalfwayupand,realizingthattheywouldsoonbegintoadvance,Imovedevenclosertotheplateauandthefenceofananimalenclosure.MaybefiftyyardsawayIcouldseeoneofthesentries.Lastnight,they’dhadfivealtogether,aroundtheentireperimeterofthefarmyard.Tonight,theywouldnodoubtincreasetheguard.
Itookoutmyspyglassandtraineditonthenearestguard,whostood,silhouettedbythemoonathisback,diligentlyscanningthehillsidebelowhim.Ofme,hewouldseenothing,justanotherirregularshapeinalandscapeofirregularshapes.Nowondertheyweredecidingtomovesoquicklyaftertheirambush.Itwasn’tthemostsecurehideoutI’deverseen.Infact,they’dhavebeensittingduckswereitnotforthefactthattheapproachingGenoesesoldiersweresodamnedclumsy.Theconductoftheirobservationmanflatteredtheoperationasawhole.Thesewerementowhomstealthwasclearlyaforeignandunfamiliaridea,andIwasbeginningtohearmoreandmorenoisefromthebottomofthehill.Therebelswerealmostcertaintohearthemnext.Andiftherebelsheardthem,theywouldhavemorethanenoughopportunitytomaketheirescape.Andiftherebelsmadetheirescape,theywouldtakeLuciowiththem.
SoIdecidedtolendahand.Eachguardhadresponsibilityforapie-sliceofthefarmyard.Thus,theonenearesttomewouldmoveslowlybackandforthacrossadistanceofabouttwenty-fiveyards.Hewasgood;hemadesurethatevenwhilehewasscanningonesectionofhisareatherestofitwasneverfullyoutofsight.Buthewasalsoonthemoveand,whenhewas,Ihadapreciousfewsecondsinwhichtomovecloser.
SoIdid.Bitbybit.UntilIwascloseenoughtoseetheguard:hisbushy,greybeard,hishatwiththebrimcoveringeyeslikedarkshadows,andhismusketslungoverhisshoulder.AndwhileIcouldn’tseeorhearthemaraudingGenoesesoldiersyet,Iwasawareofthem,andsoonhewouldbe,too.
Icouldonlyassumethatthesamescenewasbeingplayedoutontheother
sideofthehill,whichmeantIhadtoworkfast.Idrewmyshortswordandreadiedmyself.Ifeltsorryfortheguardandofferedupasilentapology.Hehaddonenothingtomebutbeagoodanddiligentguardandhedidnotdeservetodie.
Andthen,thereontherockyhillside,Ipaused.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,Idoubtedmyabilitytogothroughwithit.Ithoughtofthefamilyontheport,cutdownbyBraddockandhismen.Sevensenselessdeaths.AndallofasuddenIwasstruckbytheconvictionthatIwasnolongerpreparedtoaddtothedeathtoll.Icouldn’tputthisguard,whowasnoenemyofmine,tothesword.Icouldn’tdoit.
Thehesitationalmostcostmedear,becauseatthatsamemomenttheclumsinessoftheGenoesesoldiersfinallymadeitspresencefelt,andtherewerethesoundsofclatteringrockandacursefromfurtherdownthehillthatwascarriedonthenightair,firsttomyears,thentothesentry.
Hisheadjerked,andstraightawayhewasreachingforhismusket,craninghisneckashestrainedhiseyes,staringdownthehill.Hesawme.Forasecondoureyeslocked.MymomentofhesitationwasoverandIsprang,coveringthedistancebetweenusinoneleap.
Iledwithmyemptyrighthandoutstretchedinaclaw,andmyswordheldinmyleft.AsIlandedIgrabbedthebackofhisheadwithmyrighthandandplungedtheswordintohisthroat.Hehadbeenabouttoalerthiscomrades,buttheshoutdiedtoagurgleasbloodgushedovermyhandanddownhisfront.Holdinghisheadsecurewithmyrighthand,Iembracedhimthenloweredhimgentlyandnoiselesslytothedrydirtofthefarmyard.
Icrouched.Aboutsixtyyardsawaywasthesecondguard.Hewasadimfigureinthedark,butIcouldseethathewasabouttoturnand,whenhedid,hewaslikelytospotme.Iran—sofastthat,foramoment,Icouldheartherushofthenight,andcaughthimjustasheturned.Again,Itookthebackoftheman’sneckwithmyrighthandandslammedtheswordintohim.Again,themanwasdeadbeforehehitthedirt.
FromfurtherdownthehillIheardmorenoisefromtheGenoeseassaulttroop,whichwasblissfullyunawarethatIhadpreventedtheiradvancebeingheard.Sureenough,though,theircomradesontheothersidehadbeenjustasinept,andwithoutaKenwayguardianangelhadbeenheardbythesentriesontheirside.Straightawaythecrywentupand,inmoments,lightswerebeinglitinthefarmhouseandrebelswerepouringoutcarryinglittorches,pullingbootsonovertheirbritches,draggingjacketsacrosstheirbacksandpassingeachother
swordsandmuskets.AsIcrouched,watching,Isawthedoorstoabarnthrownopenandtwomenbeginpullingoutacartbyhand,alreadypiledhighwithsupplies,whileanotherhurriedacrosswithahorse.
ThetimeforstealthwasoverandtheGenoesesoldiersonallsidesknewit,abandoningtheirattemptstostormthefarmquietlyandrushingupthehilltowardsthefarmyardwithashout.
Ihadanadvantage—Iwasalreadyinthefarmyard,plusIwasnotintheuniformofaGenoesesoldier,andintheconfusionIwasabletomoveamongtherunningrebelswithoutattractingsuspicion.
ImovedtowardstheouthousewhereLuciowasquarteredandalmostranintohimashecamedartingout.Hishairwasuntiedbutotherwisehewasdressed,andhewascallingtoanotherman,exhortinghimtomakehiswaytothebarn.NotfarawaywastheAssassin,whoran,pullinghisrobesacrosshischestandpullinghisswordatthesametime.TwoGenoeseraidersappearedaroundthesideoftheouthouseandstraightawayheengagedthem,callingbackoverhisshoulder,“Lucio,runforthebarn.”
Excellent.JustwhatIwanted:theAssassin’sattentiondiverted.JustthenIsawanothertroopercomerunningontotheplateau,crouch,raise
hismusketandtakeaim.Lucio,holdingthetorch,washistarget,butthesoldierdidn’tgetachancetofirebeforeIhaddartedoverandwasuponhimbeforeheevensawme.Hegaveasingle,mutedcryasIburiedmyswordhiltdeepinthebackofhisneck.
“Lucio!”Iyelled,andatthesametimejoggedthedeadman’striggerfingersothatthemusketdischarged—butharmlessly,intotheair.Luciostopped,shieldinghiseyestolookacrosstheyard,whereImadeashowoftossingawaythelimpcorpseofthesoldier.Lucio’scompanionranon,whichwasjustwhatIwanted.Somedistanceaway,theAssassinwasstillfighting,andforasecondIadmiredhisskillsashefendedoffthetwomenatthesametime.
“Thankyou,”calledLucio.“Wait,”Iresponded.“We’vegottogetoutofherebeforethefarmyard’s
overrun.”Heshookhishead.“Ineedtomakemywaytothecart,”hecalled,“Thank
youagain,friend.”Thenheturnedanddartedoff.Damn.Icursedandtookoffinthedirectionofthebarn,runningparallelto
himbutoutofsightintheshadows.TomyrightIsawaGenoeseraiderabouttocomeoffthehillsideandintotheyard,andwascloseenoughtoseehiseyeswidenasourgazesmet.Beforehecouldreact,I’dgrabbedhisarm,spanand
thrustmyswordintohisarmpit,justabovehischestplate,andlethimfall,screaming,backwardstotherock,snatchinghistorchatthesametime.Ikeptgoing,stayingparallelwithLucio,makingsurehewasoutofdanger.Ireachedthebarnjustaheadofhim.AsIpassedby,stillintheshadows,Icouldseeinsidethestill-openfrontdoors,wheretworebelsweretetheringahorsetothecartwhiletwostoodguard,onefiringhismusketwhiletheotherreloadedthenknelttofire.Icontinuedrunningthendartedclosetothewallofthebarn,whereIfoundaGenoesesoldierabouttolethimselfinthroughasidedoor.Ithrusttheswordbladeupwardsatthebaseofhisspine.Forasecondhewrithedinagony,impaledontheblade,andIshovedhisbodythroughthedooraheadofme,tossedthelittorchintothebackofthecartandstayedbackintheshadows.
“Getthem!”Icalled,inwhatIhopedwasanapproximationofthevoiceandaccentofaGenoesesoldier.“Gettherebelscum.”
Then:“Thecart’sablaze!”Ishouted,thistimeinwhatIhopedwasanapproximationofthevoiceandaccentofaCorsicanrebel,andatthesametimeImovedforwardoutoftheshadows,claspingmyGenoesecorpse,andlethimdropasthoughhewereafreshkill.
“Thecart’sablaze!”Irepeated,andnowturnedmyattentiontoLucio,whohadjustarrivedatthebarn.“We’vegottogetoutofhere.Lucio,comewithme.”
Isawtwooftherebelsexchangeaconfusedlook,eachwonderingwhoIwasandwhatIwantedwithLucio.Therewasthereportofmusketfire,andwoodsplinteredaroundus.Oneoftherebelsfell,amusketballembeddedinhiseye,andIdivedontheotherone,pretendingtoshieldhimfromthemusketfirebutpunchingtheknifebladeintohisheartatthesametime.ItwasLucio’scompanion,Irealized,ashedied.
“He’sgone,”IsaidtoLucio,rising.“No!”heshouted,tearfulalready.Nowonderthey’dconsideredhimfitonly
forfeedinglivestock,Ithought,ifhewasgoingtodissolveintotearsthefirsttimeacomradewaskilledinaction.
Bynowthebarnwasablazearoundus.Theothertworebels,seeingthattherewasnothingtheycouldsalvage,madetheirescapeandranpell-mellacrosstheyardtowardsthehillside,meltingintothedark.Otherrebelsweremakingtheirescape,andacrosstheyardIsawthatGenoesesoldiershadputtorchestofarmbuildingsaswell.
“ImustwaitforMiko,”calledLucio.IgambledthatMikowashisAssassinbodyguard.“He’sotherwiseengaged.
Heaskedme,afellowmemberoftheBrotherhood,totakecareofyou.”“Areyousure?”“AgoodAssassinquestionseverything,”Isaid.“Mikohastaughtyouwell.
Butnowisnotthetimeforlessonsinthetenetsofourcreed.Wemustgo.”Heshookhishead.“Tellmethecodephrase,”hesaidfirmly.“‘Weworkinthedarktoservethelight.’”AndatlastIseemedtohaveestablishedenoughtrusttopersuadeLucioto
comewithme,andwebegantomakeourwaydownthehillside;me,gleeful,thankingGodthatatlastIhadhim;him,notsosure.Suddenly,hestopped.
“No,”hesaid,shakinghishead.“Ican’tdoit—Ican’tleaveMiko.”Great,Ithought.“Hesaidtogo,”Ireplied,“andtomeethimatthebottomoftheravine,
whereourhorsesaretethered.”Behindusatthefarmyard,thefiresragedonandIcouldheartheremnants
ofthebattle.TheGenoesesoldierswereclearingupthelastoftherebels.Notfarawaywasthesoundofaclatteringstone,andIsawotherfiguresinthedarkness:apairofrebelsescaping.Luciosawthem,too,andwenttocalltothem,butIclampedahandoverhismouth.
“No,Lucio,”Iwhispered.“Thesoldierswillbeafterthem.”Hiseyeswerewide.“Thesearemycomrades.Theyaremyfriends.Ineedto
bewiththem.WeneedtoensurethatMikoissafe.”Fromhighaboveusdriftedthesoundofpleadingandscreaming,and
Lucio’seyesdartedasthoughtryingtodealwiththeconflictinhishead:didhehelphisfriendsaboveorjointhoseescaping?Eitherway,Icouldseehehaddecidedthathedidn’twanttobewithme.
“Stranger...”hebegan,andIthought,“Stranger,”now,eh?“IthankyouforallthatyouhavedonetohelpmeandIhopethatwecan
meetagaininhappiercircumstances—perhapswhenIcanexpressmygratitudeevenmorethoroughly—butatthemomentI’mneededwithmypeople.”
Hestooduptogo.WithahandonhisshoulderIbroughthimdowntomylevelagain.Hepulledawaywithhisjawset.“Now,Lucio,”Isaid,“listen.I’vebeensentbyyourmothertotakeyoutoher.”
Atthisherearedback.“Ohno,”hesaid.“No,no,no.”Whichwasn’tthereactionI’dbeenexpecting.Ihadtoscrambleacrossrocktocatchhimup.Buthebegantofightmeoff.
“No,no,”hesaid.“Idon’tknowwhoyouare,justleavemealone.”“Oh,fortheloveofGod,”Isaid,andsilentlyadmitteddefeatasIgrabbed
himinasleeperhold,ignoringhisstrugglesandapplyingpressure,restrictingtheflowtohiscarotidartery;notenoughtocausehimpermanentdamagebutenoughtorenderhimunconscious.
AndasIthrewhimovermyshoulder—atinyslipofathing,hewas—andcarriedhimdownthehill,carefultoavoidthelastpocketsofrebelsfleeingtheGenoeseattack,IwonderedwhyIhadn’tsimplyknockedhimoutinthefirstplace.
iii
IstoppedattheravineedgeandloweredLuciotothefloor,thenfoundmyrope,secureditandlowereditintothedarknessbelow.NextIusedLucio’sbelttotiehishands,loopedtheotherendunderhisthighsandtieditsothathislimpbodywasslungacrossmyback.ThenIbegantheslowclimbdown.
Abouthalfwaydown,theweightbecameunbearable,butitwasaneventualityI’dpreparedfor,andImanagedtohangonuntilIreachedanopeningintheclifffacethatledintoadarkcave.IscrambledinandpulledLuciooffmyback,feelingmymusclesrelaxgratefully.
Fromaheadofme,inthecave,cameanoise.Amovementatfirst,likeashiftingsound,andthenaclick.
ThesoundanAssassin’shiddenblademakeswhenitisengaged.“Iknewyou’dcomehere,”saidavoice—avoicethatbelongedtoMiko,the
Assassin.“Iknewyou’dcomeherebecausethat’swhatIwouldhavedone.”Andthenhestruck,cameshootingforwardfromwithinthecave,usingmy
shockandsurpriseagainstme.Iwasalreadydrawingmyshortswordandhaditoutasweclashed,hisbladeslicingatmelikeaclawandmeetingmyswordwithsuchforcethatitwasknockedoutofmyhand,sentskitteringtothelipofthecave,andintotheblacknessbelow.
Mysword.Myfather’ssword.Buttherewasnotimetomournit,fortheAssassinwascomingatmea
secondtimeandhewasgood,verygood.Inaconfinedspace,withnoweapon,Ihadnochance.AllIhad,infact,was...
Luck.Andluckisallitwas,that,asIpressedmyselfagainstthecavewall,hehad
miscalculatedslightly,enoughtooverbalanceafraction.Inanyothercircumstances,againstanyotheropponent,hewouldhaverecovered
immediatelyandfinishedhiskill—butthiswasn’tanyothercircumstancesandIwasn’tanyotheropponent,andImadehimpayforhistinyerror.Ileanedintohim,grabbedhisarm,twistedandhelpedhimonhisway,sothathe,too,sailedoutintotheblackness.Butheheldon,pulledmewithhim,draggedmetotheedgeofthecavesothatIwasscreaminginpainasItriedtostopmyselfbeingdraggedoutintoopenspace.Lyingflatonmybelly,Ilookedoutandsawhim,onearmgrabbingmine,theothertryingtoreachfortherope.Icouldfeelthebraceofhishiddenblade,broughtmyotherhandforwardandbeganfumblingwiththefastenings.ToolateherealizedwhatIwasdoingandabandonedtryingtocatchholdoftherope,insteadfocusinghiseffortsontryingtostopmefromunfasteningthebrace.Forsomemomentsourhandsflappedateachotherforpossessionoftheblade,which,asIopenedthefirstcatch,suddenlyslippedfurtheruphiswristandsenthimlurchingtooneside,hispositionevenmoreprecariousthanbefore,hisotherarmpinwheeling.ItwasallIneeded,andwithafinalshoutofeffortIunclippedthelastfastening,wrenchedthebracefreeandatthesametimebitintothehandthatgrippedmywrist.Acombinationofpainandlackoftractionwasenoughtodislodgehimatlast.
Isawhimswallowedupbythedarkandprayedhewouldn’thitmyhorsewhenhelanded.Butnothingcame.Nosoundofalanding,nothing.ThenextthingIsawwastherope,tautandquivering,andIcranedmyneck,strainedmyeyestosearchthedarknessandwasrewardedbythesightofMiko,somedistancebelow,verymuchalive,andbeginningtoclimbuptowardsme.
Ipulledhisbladetomeandheldittotherope.“IfyouclimbmuchhigherthefallwillkillyouwhenIcuttherope,”Icalled.
HewasalreadycloseenoughsothatIcouldlookintohiseyeswhenhestaredupatme,andIcouldseetheindecisioninthem.“Youshouldn’tsuffersuchadeath,friend,”Iadded.“Startyourdescentandlivetofightanotherday.”
Ibegantosawslowlyattherope,andhestopped,lookeddownintothedark,wherethebottomoftheravinewasnotinsight.
“Youhavemyblade,”hesaid.“Tothevictorthespoils.”Ishrugged.“Perhapswewillmeetagain,”hesaid,“andIcanreclaimit.”“Isensethatonlyoneofuswillsurviveasecondmeeting,”Isaid.Henodded.“Perhaps,”hesaid,andsoonhadshimmieddownintothenight.ThefactthatInowhadtoclimbbackup,andhadbeenforcedtosurrender
myhorse,wasawkward.ButratherthatthanfacetheAssassinagain.Andfornowweareresting.Well,Iamresting;poorLucioremains
unconscious.Later,IwillhandhimovertoassociatesofReginald,whowilltakehiminacoveredwagon,makethepassageacrosstheMediterraneantothesouthofFranceandthentothechateau,whereLuciowillbereunitedwithhismother,thedecypherer.
ThenI’llcharterashiptoItaly,beingsuretobeseendoingit,referringtomy“youngcompanion”onceortwice.IfandwhentheAssassinscomelookingforLucio,that’swherethey’llconcentratetheirefforts.
ReginaldsaysI’mnolongerneededafterthat.IamtomeltawayinItaly,leavenotrace,notrailtofollow.
12AUGUST1753
i
IbeganthedayinFrance,havingdoubledbackfromItaly.Nosmallundertaking;it’sallverywellwritingitdown,butonedoesn’tsimply“doubleback”fromItalytoFrance.MyreasonforbeinginItalywastomisdirecttheAssassinswhentheycamelookingforLucio.So,byreturningtoFrance,totheveryplacewherewewereholdingLucioandhismother,IwasendangeringnotjustmyrecentlyaccomplishedmissionbuteverythingReginaldhadbeenworkingforthesepastyears.Itwasrisky.Itwassorisky,infact,thatifIthoughtaboutit,therisktookmybreathaway.Itmademewonder,wasIstupid?Whatkindoffoolwouldtakesucharisk?
Andtheanswerwas,afoolwithdoubtinhisheart.
ii
Onehundredyardsorsofromthegate,Icameuponalonepatrol,aguarddressedasapeasant,withamusketslungacrosshisback,wholookedsleepy,butwasalertandwatchful.Aswedrewuptohimoureyesmetforamoment.Hisflickeredbrieflyasherecognizedme,andhejerkedhisheadslightlytoletmeknowIwasfreetopass.Therewouldbeanotherpatrol,Iknew,ontheothersideofthechateau.Wecameoutoftheforestandfollowedthetallperimeterwalluntilwecametoalarge,archedwoodengateinsetwithasmallerwicketgate,whereaguardstood,amanIrecognizedfrommyyearsspentatthechateau.
“Well,well,”hesaid,“ifitisn’tMasterHaytham,allgrown-up.”HegrinnedandtookthereinsofmyhorsesasIdismounted,beforeopeningthewicketgate,whichIsteppedthrough,blinkinginthesuddensunlightafterthecomparativegloomoftheforest.
Aheadofmestretchedthechateaulawn,andwalkingacrossitIfeltastrange
crawlingsensationinmybellythatIknewtobenostalgiaforthetimeIhadspentatthischateauinmyyouth,whenReginaldhad...
...continuedmyfather’steachings?He’dsaidso.ButofcourseInowknowhe’dbeenmisleadingmeaboutthat.Inthewaysofcombatandstealth,perhaps,hehaddoneso,butReginaldhadraisedmeinthewaysoftheTemplarOrder,andtaughtmethatthewayoftheTemplarwastheonlyway;andthatthosewhobelievedinanotherwaywereatbestmisguided,atworstevil.
ButI’dsincelearntthatFatherwasoneofthosemisguided,evilpeople,andwho’stosaywhathewouldhavetaughtmeasIgrewup.Who’stosay?
Thegrasswasunkemptandovergrown,despitethepresenceoftwogardeners,bothofwhomworeshortswordsattheirwaists,handsgoingtothehiltsasImademywaytowardsthefrontdoorofthechateau.Icameclosetooneofthem,who,whenhesawwhoIwas,nodded.“Anhonourfinallytomeetyou,MasterKenway,”hesaid.“Itrustyourmissionwassuccessful?”
“Itwas,thankyou,yes,”Irepliedtotheguard—orgardener,whateverhewas.TohimIwasaKnight,oneofthemostcelebratedintheOrder.CouldIreallyhateReginaldwhenhisstewardshiphadbroughtmesuchacclaim?And,afterall,hadIeverdoubtedhisteachings?Theanswerwasno.HadIbeenforcedtofollowthem?Again,no.I’dalwayshadtheoptiontochoosemyownpathbuthadstayedwiththeOrderbecauseIbelievedinthecode.
Evenso,hehasliedtome.No,notliedtome.HowhadHoldenputit?“Withheldthetruth.”Why?And,moreimmediately,whyhadLucioreactedthatwaywhenItoldhimhe
wastoseehismother?Atthementionofmyname,thesecondgardenerlookedatmemoresharply,
thenhetoowasgenuflectingasImademywaypast,acknowledginghimwithanod,feelingtallerallofasuddenandallbutpuffingoutmychestasIapproachedthefrontdoorthatIknewsowell.IturnedbeforeIknocked,tolookbackacrossthelawn,wherethetwoguardsstoodwatchingme.Ihadtrainedonthatlawn,spentcountlesshourshoningmyswordskills.
Iknocked,andthedoorwasopenedbyyetanothersimilarlyattiredmanwhoalsoworeashortswordathiswaist.ThechateauhadneverbeenthisfullystaffedwhenIhadlivedhere,butthenagain,whenIlivedhere,weneverhadaguestasimportantasthedecypherer.
ThefirstfamiliarfaceIsawbelongedtoJohnHarrison,wholookedatmethendidadoubletake.“Haytham,”heblustered,“whatthehellareyoudoing
here?”“Hello,John,”Isaidequably,“isReginaldhere?”“Well,yes,Haytham,butReginaldissupposedtobehere.Whatareyou
doinghere?”“IcametocheckonLucio.”“Youwhat?”Harrisonwasbecomingsomewhatred-faced.“You‘cameto
checkonLucio’?”Hewashavingtroublefindinghiswordsnow.“What?Why?Whatonearthdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”
“John,”Isaidgently,“pleasecalmyourself.IwasnotfollowedfromItaly.NobodyknowsI’mhere.”
“Well,Ishouldbloodywellhopenot.”“Where’sReginald?”“Belowstairs,withtheprisoners.”“Oh?Prisoners?”“MonicaandLucio.”“Isee.Ihadnoideatheywereconsideredprisoners.”Butadoorhadopenedbeneaththestairs,andReginaldappeared.Iknewthat
door;itleddowntothecellar,which,whenIlivedthere,wasadank,low-ceilingedroom,withmouldering,mainlyemptywineracksalongonesideandadark,dampwallalongtheother.
“Hello,Haytham,”saidReginald,curtly.“Youwerenotexpected.”Notfarawaylingeredoneoftheguards,andnowhewasjoinedbyanother.I
lookedfromthembacktoReginaldandJohn,whostoodlikeapairofconcernedclergymen.Neitherwasarmed,buteveniftheyhadbeen,IthoughtIcouldprobablytakeallfour.Ifitcametoit.
“Indeed,”Isaid,“Johnwasjusttellingmehowsurprisedhewasbymyvisit.”
“Well,quite.You’vebeenveryreckless,Haytham...”“Perhaps,butIwantedtoseethatLuciowasbeinglookedafter.NowI’m
toldheisaprisonerhere,soperhapsIhavemyanswer.”Reginaldchortled.“Well,whatdidyouexpect?”“WhatIwastold.Thatthemissionwastoreunitemotherandson;thatthe
decyphererhadagreedtoworkonVedomir’sjournalifwewereabletorescuehersonfromtherebels.”
“Itoldyounolies,Haytham.Indeed,MonicahasbeenworkingondecodingthejournalsincebeingreunitedwithLucio.”
“JustnotonthebasisIimagined.”
“Thecarrotdoesn’twork,weusethestick,”saidReginald,hiseyescold.“I’msorryifyouhadformedtheimpressionthattherewasmorecarrotthanstickinvolved.”
“Let’sseeher,”Isaid,andwithashortnod,Reginaldagreed.Heturnedandledusthroughthedoor,whichopenedontoaflightofstonestepsleadingdown.Lightdancedonthewalls.
“Regardingthejournal,we’reclosenow,Haytham,”hesaid,aswedescended.“Sofar,we’vebeenabletoestablishthatthereexistsanamulet.Somehowitfitswiththestorehouse.Ifwecangetholdoftheamulet...”
Atthebottomofthesteps,ironcressetsonpoleshadbeensetouttolightthewaytoadoor,whereaguardstood.Hemovedtoonesideandopenedthedoorforustopassthrough.Inside,thecellarwasasIrememberedit,litbytheflickeringlightoftorches.Atoneendwasadesk.ItwasboltedtothefloorandLuciowasmanacledtoit,andbesidehimwashismother,whowasanincongruoussight.Shesatonachairthatlookedasthoughithadbeenbroughtintothecellarfromupstairsespeciallyforthepurpose.Shewaswearinglongskirtsandabuttoned-upovergarmentandwouldhavelookedlikeachurchgoerwereitnotfortherustingironrestraintsaroundherwristsandthearmsofthechair,andespeciallythescold’sbridlearoundherhead.
Lucioswivelledinhisseat,sawmeandhiseyesburnedwithhatred,thenheturnedbacktohiswork.
Ihadstoppedinthemiddleofthefloor,halfwaybetweenthedoorandthedecypherers.“Reginald,whatisthemeaningofthis?”Isaid,pointingatLucio’smother,whoregardedmebalefullyfromwithinthescold’sbridle.
“Thebranksistemporary,Haytham.Monicahasbeensomewhatvocalinhercondemnationofourtacticsthismorning.Hencewehavemovedthemherefortheday.”Heraisedhisvoicetoaddressthemotherandson.“I’msuretheycanreturntotheirusualresidencetomorrow,whentheyhaverecoveredtheirmanners.”
“Thisisnotright,Reginald.”“Theirusualquartersaremuchmorepleasant,Haytham,”heassuredme
testily.“Evenso,theyshouldnotbetreatedthisway.”“NeithershouldthepoorchildintheBlackForesthavebeenscaredhalfto
deathwithyourbladeathisthroat,”snappedReginald.Istarted,mymouthworkingbutlostforwords.“Thatwas...Thatwas...”“Different?Becauseitinvolvedyourquesttofindyourfather’skillers?
Haytham...”Hetookmyelbowandledmeoutofthecellarandbackoutintothecorridor,andwebegantoclimbthestepsagain.“Thisisevenmoreimportantthanthat.Youmaynotthinkso,butitis.ItinvolvestheentirefutureoftheOrder.”
Iwasn’tsureanymore.Iwasn’tsurewhatwasmoreimportantbutsaidnothing.
“Andwhathappenswhenthedecodingisover?”Iasked,aswereachedtheentrancehallonceagain.
Helookedatme.“Ohno,”Isaid,understanding.“Neitheristobeharmed.”“Haytham,Idon’tmuchcareforyourgivingmeorders...”“Thendon’tthinkofitasanorder,”Ihissed.“Thinkofitasathreat.Keep
themherewhentheirworkisoverifyoumust,butiftheyareharmedthenyouwillhavemetoanswerto.”
Helookedatmelongandhard.IrealizedthatmyheartwashammeringandhopedtoGoditwasn’tsomehowvisible.HadIevergoneagainsthimlikethis?Withsuchforce?Ididn’tthinkso.
“Verywell,”hesaid,afteramoment,“theywillnotbeharmed.”Wespentdinnerinnearsilence,andtheofferofabedforthenightwasmade
reluctantly.Ileaveinthemorning;Reginaldpromisestobeintouchwithnewsconcerningthejournal.Thewarmthbetweenus,though,isgone.Inme,heseesinsubordination;inhim,Iseelies.
18APRIL1754
i
EarlierthiseveningIfoundmyselfattheRoyalOperaHouse,takingaseatnexttoReginald,whowassettlinginforaperformanceofTheBeggar’sOperawithevidentglee.Ofcourse,thelasttimewe’dmet,I’dthreatenedhim,whichwasn’tsomethingIhadforgotten,butevidentlyhehad.Forgottenorforgiven,oneofthetwo.Eitherway,itwasasthoughtheconfrontationhadnevertakenplace,theslatewipedclean,eitherbyhisanticipationofthenight’sforthcomingentertainmentorbythefactthathebelievedtheamulettobenear.
Itwasinsidetheoperahouse,infact,aroundtheneckofanAssassinwhohadbeennamedinVedomir’sjournalthentrackeddownbyTemplaragents.
AnAssassin.Hewasmynexttarget.MyfirstjobsinceacquiringLucioinCorsica,andthefirsttofeelthebiteofmynewweapon:myhiddenblade.AsItooktheoperaglassesandlookedatthemanacrossthehall—mytarget—theironyofitsuddenlystruckme.
MytargetwasMiko.IleftReginaldinhisseatandmademywayalongthecorridorsoftheopera
house,alongthebackoftheseats,pasttheopera’spatrons,untilIfoundmyselfatthestalls.AttheboxwhereMikosatIletmyselfinsilentlythentappedhimgentlyontheshoulder.
Iwasreadyforhim,ifhetriedanything,butthoughhisbodytensedandIheardhimgiveasharpintakeofbreath,hemadenomovetodefendhimself.ItwasalmostasthoughheexpecteditwhenIreachedandtooktheamuletfromhisneck—anddidIsenseafeelingof...relief?Asthoughheweregratefultorelinquishtheresponsibility,pleasednolongertobeitscustodian?
“Youshouldhavecometome”—hesighed—“wewouldhavefoundanotherway...”
“Yes.Butthenyouwouldhaveknown,”Ireplied.TherewasaclickasIengagedtheblade,andIsawhimsmile,knowingit
wastheoneIhadtakenfromhiminCorsica.
“Forwhatit’sworth,I’msorry,”Itoldhim.“AsamI,”hesaid,andIkilledhim.
ii
Somehourslater,IattendedthemeetingatthehouseonFleetandBride,standingaroundatablewithothers,ourattentionfocusedonReginald,aswellasthebookonthetablebeforeus.Itwasopen,andIcouldseethesymboloftheAssassinsonthepage.
“Gentlemen,”saidReginald.Hiseyeswereshining,asthoughhewereclosetotears.“Iholdinmyhandakey.Andifthisbookistobebelieved,itwillopenthedoorsofastorehousebuiltbyThoseWhoCameBefore.”
Icontainedmyself.“Ah,ourdearfriendswhoruled,ruinedandthenvanishedfromtheworld,”Isaid.“Doyouknowwhatitiswe’llfindwithin?”
IfReginaldpickeduponmysarcasm,thenhemadenosign.Instead,hereachedfortheamulet,helditupandbaskedinthehushfromthoseassembledasitbegantoglowinhishand.Itwasimpressive,evenIhadtoadmit,andReginaldlookedoveratme.
“Itcouldcontainknowledge,”hereplied.“Perhapsaweapon,orsomethingasofyetunknown,unfathomableinitsconstructionandpurpose.Itcouldbeanyofthesethings.Ornoneofthem.Theyarestillanenigma,theseprecursors.ButofonethingIamcertain—whateverwaitsbehindthosedoorsshallproveagreatboontous.”
“Orourenemies,”Isaid,“shouldtheyfinditfirst.”Hesmiled.WasIbeginningtobelieve,atlast?“Theywon’t.You’veseentothat.”Mikohaddiedwantingtofindanotherway.Whathadhemeant?Anaccord
ofAssassinandTemplar?Mythoughtswenttomyfather.“Iassumeyouknowwherethisstorehouseis?”Isaid,afterapause.“Mr.Harrison?”saidReginald,andJohnsteppedforwardwithamap,
unfurlingit.“Howfareyourcalculations?”saidReginald,asJohncircledanareaofthe
mapwhich,leaningcloser,IsawcontainedNewYorkandMassachusetts.“Ibelievethesiteliessomewherewithinthisregion,”hesaid.“That’salotofgroundtocover.”Ifrowned.“Myapologies.WouldthatIcouldbemoreaccurate...”
“That’sallright,”saidReginald.“Itsufficesforastart.Andthisiswhywe’vecalledyouhere,MasterKenway.We’dlikeforyoutotraveltoAmerica,locatethestorehouse,andtakepossessionofitscontents.”
“Iamyourstocommand,”Isaid.Tomyself,IcursedhimandhisfollyandwishedIcouldbeleftalonetocontinuemyowninvestigations,thenadded,“Althoughajobofthismagnitudewillrequiremorethanjustmyself.”
“Ofcourse,”saidReginald,andhandedmeapieceofpaper.“Herearethenamesoffivemensympathetictoourcause.Eachisalsouniquelysuitedtoaidyouinyourendeavour.Withthematyourside,you’llwantfornothing.”
“Wellthen,I’dbestbeonmyway,”Isaid.“Iknewourfaithinyouwasnotmisplaced.We’vebookedyouapassageto
Boston.Yourshipleavesatdawn.Goforth,Haytham—andbringhonourtousall.”
8JULY1754
i
Bostontwinkledinthesunassquawkinggullscircledoverhead,waterslappednoisilyattheharbourwallandthegang-boardbangedlikeadrumaswedisembarkedfromtheProvidence,wearyanddisorientatedbyoveramonthatseabutweakwithhappinessatfinallyreachingland.Istoppedinmytracksassailorsfromaneighbouringfrigaterolledbarrelsacrossmypathwithasoundlikedistantthunder,andmygazewentfromtheglitteringemeraldocean,wherethemastsofRoyalNavywarships,yachtsandfrigatesrockedgentlyfromsidetoside,tothedock,thewidestonestepsthatledfromthepiersandjettiestotheharbourthrongingwithredcoats,tradersandsailors,thenuppasttheharbourtothecityofBostonitself,thechurchspiresanddistinctiveredbrickbuildingsseeminglyresistinganyattemptsatarrangement,asthoughflungbysomegodlyhandontothesideofthehill.And,everywhere,UnionFlagsthatflutteredgentlyinthebreeze,justtoremindvisitors—incasetheyhadanydoubts—thattheBritishwerehere.
ThepassagefromEnglandtoAmericahadbeeneventful,tosaytheleast.Ihadmadefriendsanddiscoveredenemies,survivinganattemptonmylife—byAssassins,nodoubt—whowantedtotakerevengeforthekillingattheoperahouseandtorecovertheamulet.
TotheotherpassengersandcrewoftheshipIwasamystery.SomethoughtIwasascholar.Itoldmynewacquaintance,JamesFairweather,thatI“solvedproblems,”andthatIwastravellingtoAmericatoseewhatlifewaslikethere;whathadbeenretainedfromtheempireandwhathadbeendiscarded;whatchangesBritishrulehadwrought.
Whichwerefibs,ofcourse.Butnotoutrightlies.ForthoughIcameonspecificTemplarbusiness,Iwascurious,too,toseethislandIhadheardsomuchabout,whichwasapparentlysovast,itspeopleinfusedwithapioneering,indomitablespirit.
Therewerethosewhosaidthatspiritmightonedaybeusedagainstus,and
thatoursubjects,iftheyharnessedthatdetermination,wouldbeaformidablefoe.AndtherewereotherswhosaidAmericawassimplytoobigtobegovernedbyus;thatitwasatinderbox,readytogooff;thatitspeoplewouldgrowtiredofthetaxesimposeduponthemsothatacountrythousandsofmilesawaycouldfightwarswithothercountriesthousandsofmilesaway;andthatwhenitdidgooffwemightnothavetheresourcestoprotectourinterests.AllofthisIhopedtobeabletojudgeformyself.
Butonlyasanadjuncttomymainmission,though,which...well,Ithinkit’sfairtosaythat,forme,themissionhaschangedenroute.I’dsteppedontheProvidenceholdingaparticularsetofbeliefsandsteppedoffhavinghadthemfirstchallenged,thenshakenand,finally,changed,andallbecauseofthebook.
ThebookthatReginaldhadgivenme:I’dspentmuchofmytimeaboardtheshipporingoverit;Imusthavereaditnofewerthantwodozentimes,andstillI’mnotsureIhavemadesenseofit.
OnethingIdoknow,though.Whereasbefore,I’dthoughtofThoseWhoCameBeforewithdoubt,aswouldasceptic,anunbeliever,andconsideredReginald’sobsessionwiththemtobeatbestanirritation,atworstapreoccupationthatthreatenedtoderailtheveryworkingsofourOrder,Inolongerdid.Ibelieved.
Thebookseemedtohavebeenwritten—orshouldIsaywritten,illustrated,decorated,scrawled—byaman,ormaybeseveralofthem:severallunaticswhohadfilledpageafterpagewithwhat,atfirst,Itooktobewildandoutlandishclaims,fitonlyforscoffingatthenignoring.
Yet,somehow,themoreIread,themoreIcametoseethetruth.Overtheyears,Reginaldhadtoldme(Iusedtosay“boredmewith”)histheoriesconcerningaraceofbeingsthatpredatedourown.He’dalwaysassertedthatwewerebornoftheirstrugglesandthusobligedtoservethem;thatourancestorshadfoughttosecuretheirownfreedominalongandbloodywar.
WhatIdiscoveredduringmypassagewasthatallofthisoriginatedfromthebook,whichasIreadit,washavingwhatIcanonlydescribeasaprofoundeffectuponme.SuddenlyIknewwhyReginaldhadbecomesoobsessedwiththisrace.I’dsneeredathim,remember?But,readingthebook,Ifeltnodesiretosneeratall,justasenseofwonderment,afeelingoflightnessinsidemethatattimesmademefeelalmostgiddywithanexcitementandasenseofwhatIcandescribeas“insignificance,”ofrealizingmyownplaceintheworld.ItwasasthoughIhadpeeredthroughakeyholeexpectingtoseeanotherroomontheothersidebutseenawholenewworldinstead.
AndwhathadbecomeofThoseWhoCameBefore?Whathadtheyleftbehind,andhowcoulditbenefitus?ThatIdidn’tknow.ItwasamysterythathadconfoundedmyOrderforcenturies,amysteryI’dbeenaskedtosolve,amysterythathadbroughtmehere,toBoston.
“MasterKenway!MasterKenway!”Iwasbeinghailedbyayounggentlemanwhoappearedfromwithinthe
throng.Goingovertohim,Isaid,carefully,“Yes?MayIhelpyou?”Heheldouthishandtobeshaken.“CharlesLee,sir.Apleasuretomakeyour
acquaintance.I’vebeenaskedtointroduceyoutothecity.Helpyousettlein.”IhadbeentoldaboutCharlesLee.HewasnotwiththeOrderbutwaskeen
tojoinusand,accordingtoReginald,wouldwanttoingratiatehimselfwithmeinthehopeofsecuringmysponsorship.Seeinghimremindedme:IwasGrandMasteroftheColonialRitenow.
Charleshadlong,darkhair,thicksideburnsandaprominent,hawk-likenoseand,eventhoughIlikedhimstraightaway,Inoticedthat,whilehesmiledwhenhespoketome,hereservedalookofdisdainforeverybodyelseontheharbour.
Heindicatedformetoleavemybags,andwebegantothreadourwaythroughthecrowdsofthelongpier,pastdazed-lookingpassengersandcrewstillgettingtheirbearingsondryland;throughstevedores,tradersandredcoats,excitedchildrenanddogsscuttlingunderfoot.
Itippedmyhattoapairofagigglingwomenthensaidtohim,“Doyoulikeithere,Charles?”
“There’sacertaincharmtoBoston,Isuppose,”hecalledbackoverhisshoulder.“Toallofthecolonies,really.Granted,theircitieshavenoneofLondon’ssophisticationorsplendour,butthepeopleareearnestandhardworking.They’veacertainpioneerspiritthatIfindcompelling.”
Ilookedaround.“It’squitesomething,really—watchingaplacethat’sfinallyfounditsfeet.”
“Feetawashinthebloodofothers,I’mafraid.”“Ah,that’sastoryoldastimeitself,andonethat’snotlikelytochange.
We’recruelanddesperatecreatures,setinourconqueringways.TheSaxonsandtheFranks.TheOttomansandSafavids.Icouldgoonforhours.Thewholeofhumanhistoryisbutaseriesofsubjugations.”
“Iprayonedayweriseaboveit,”repliedCharlesearnestly.“Whileyoupray,I’llact.We’llseewhofindssuccessfirst,hmm?”“Itwasanexpression,”hesaid,withawoundededgetohisvoice.“Aye.Andadangerousone.Wordshavepower.Wieldthemwisely.”
Welapsedintosilence.“YourcommissioniswithEdwardBraddock,isitnot?”Isaid,aswepassed
acartladenwithfruit.“Aye,butIfiguredImight...well...Ithought...”Isteppednimblytothesidetoavoidasmallgirlinpigtails.“Outwithit,”I
said.“Forgiveme,sir.Ihad...IhadhopedthatImightstudyunderyou.IfIam
toservetheOrder,Icanimaginenobettermentorthanyourself.”Ifeltasmallsurgeofsatisfaction.“Kindofyoutosay,butIthinkyou
overestimateme.”“Impossible,sir.”Notfaraway,ared-facednewsboywearingacapyelledoutnewsofthe
battleatFortNecessity:“FrenchforcesdeclarevictoryfollowingWashington’sretreat,”hebawled.“Inresponse,theDukeofNewcastlepledgesmoretroopstocountertheforeignmenace!”
Theforeignmenace,Ithought.TheFrench,inotherwords.ThisconflicttheywerecallingtheFrenchandIndianWarwassettoescalate,iftherumoursweretobebelieved.
TherewasnotanEnglishmanalivewhodidn’tdetesttheFrench,butIknewoneEnglishmaninparticularwhohatedthemwithavein-bulgingpassion,andthatwasEdwardBraddock.That’swherehewouldbe,leavingmetogoaboutmyownbusiness—orsoIhoped.
Iwavedawaythenewsboywhenhetriedtoextortsixpencefrommeforthebroadsheet.IhadnodesiretoreadaboutmoreFrenchvictories.
Meanwhile,aswereachedourhorsesandCharlestoldmethatweweretoridefortheGreenDragonTavern,Iwonderedwhattheothermenwouldbelike.
“HaveyoubeentoldwhyitisI’vecometoBoston?”Iasked.“No.MasterBirchsaidIshouldknowonlyasmuchasyousawfittoshare.
Hesentmealistofnamesandbademeensureyoucouldfindthem.”“Andhaveyouhadanyluckwiththat?”“Aye.WilliamJohnsonwaitsforusattheGreenDragon.”“Howwelldoyouknowhim?”“Notwell.ButhesawtheOrder’smarkanddidnothesitatetocome.”“Proveyourselfloyaltoourcauseandyoumayyetknowourplansaswell,”
Isaid.Hebeamed.“Ishouldlikenothingmore,sir.”
ii
TheGreenDragonwasalargebrickbuildingwithaslopingpitchroofandasignoverthefrontdoorthatboretheeponymousdragon.AccordingtoCharles,itwasthemostcelebratedcoffee-houseinthecity,whereeverybodyfrompatriotstoredcoatsandgovernorswouldmeettochat,toplot,togossipandtrade.AnythingthathappenedinBoston,thechanceswereitoriginatedhere,onUnionStreet.
NotthatUnionStreetitselfwasatallprepossessing.Littlemorethanariverofmud,itslowedourpaceasweapproachedthetavern,beingsurenottosplashanyofthegroupsofgentlemenwhostoodoutside,leaningoncanesandchatteringintently.Avoidingcartsandgivingcurtnodstosoldiersonhorseback,wereachedalow,woodenstablesbuildingwhereweleftourhorses,thenmadeourwaycarefullyacrossthestreamsofmucktothetavern.Inside,weimmediatelybecameacquaintedwiththeowners:CatherineKerr,whowas(withoutwishingtobeungentlemanly),alittleonthelargeside;andCorneliusDouglass,whosefirstwordsIhearduponenteringwere,“Kissmyarse,yawench!”
Fortunately,hewasn’ttalkingeithertomeortoCharles,buttoCatherine.Whenthetwoofthemsawus,theirdemeanoursinstantlychangedfromwarliketoservileandtheysawtoitthatmybagsweretakenuptomyroom.
Charleswasright:WilliamJohnsonwasalreadythere,andinaroomupstairswewereintroduced.Anolderman,similarlyattiredtoCharlesbutwithacertainwearinesstohim,anexperiencethatwasetchedintothelinesonhisface,hestoodfromstudyingmapstoshakemyhand.“Apleasure,”hesaid,andthen,asCharleslefttostandguard,leanedforwardandsaidtome,“Agoodlad,ifabitearnest.”
IkeptanyfeelingsIhadonCharlestomyself,indicatingwithmyeyesthatheshouldcontinue.
“I’mtoldyou’reputtingtogetheranexpedition,”hesaid.“Webelievethereisaprecursorsiteintheregion,”Isaid,choosingmy
wordscarefully,thenadding,“Irequireyourknowledgeofthelandanditspeopletofindit.”
Hepulledaface.“Sadly,achestcontainingmyresearchhasbeenstolen.Withoutit,I’mofnousetoyou.”
Iknewfromexperiencethatnothingwasevereasy.“Thenwe’llfindit.”Isighed.“Haveyouanyleads?”
“Myassociate,ThomasHickey,hasbeenmakingtherounds.He’squitegoodatlooseningtongues.”
“TellmewhereIcanfindhimandI’llseeaboutspeedingthingsalong.”“We’veheardrumoursofbanditsoperatingfromacompoundsouth-westof
here,”saidWilliam.“You’lllikelyfindhimthere.”
iii
Outsidethecity,corninafieldwavedinalightnight-timebreeze.Notfarawaywasthehighfencingofacompoundthatbelongedtothebandits,andfrominsidecamethesoundofraucousfestivities.Whynot?Ithought.Everydayyou’veavoideddeathbythehangman’snooseorontheendofaredcoat’sbayonetisacauseforcelebrationwhenyoulivedlifeasabandit.
Atthegatestherewerevariousguardsandhangers-onmillingaround,someofthemdrinking,someattemptingtostandguard,andalloftheminaconstantstateofargument.Totheleftofthecompound,thecornfieldrosetoasmallhillpeakandonitsatalookouttendingtoasmallfire.Sittingtendingafireisn’tquitethedesiredpositionforalookout,but,otherwise,hewasoneofthefewonthissideofthecompoundwhoseemedtobetakinghisjobseriously.Certainly,they’dfailedtopostanyscoutingparties.Oriftheyhad,thenthescoutingpartieswereloungingunderatreesomewhere,blinddrunk,becausetherewasnobodytoseeCharlesandmeaswecreptcloser,approachingaman,whowascrouchingbyacrumblingstonewall,keepingwatchonthecompound.
Itwashim:ThomasHickey.Around-facedman,alittleshabby,andprobablytoofondofthegroghimself,ifmyguesswascorrect.Thiswasthemanwho,accordingtoWilliam,wasgoodatlooseningtongues?Helookedlikehe’dhaveproblemslooseninghisowndrawers.
Perhaps,arrogantly,mydistasteofhimwasfedbythefactthathewasthefirstcontactI’dmetsincearrivinginBostontowhommynamemeantnothing.But,ifthatannoyedme,itwasnothingcomparedtotheeffectithadonCharles,whodrewhissword.
“Showsomerespect,boy,”hesnarled.Ilaidarestraininghandonhim.“Peace,Charles,”Isaid,thenaddressed
Thomas:“WilliamJohnsonsentusinthehopeswemight...expediteyoursearch.”
“Don’tneednoexpediting,”drawledThomas.“Don’tneednoneofyour
fancyLondon-speak,neither.I’vefoundthemendonethetheft.”Besideme,Charlesbristled.“Thenwhyareyoujustlazingaround?”“Figurin’outhowtodealwiththosevarlets,”saidThomas,indicatedthe
compoundthenturnedtouswithexpectanteyesandanimpudentgrin.Isighed.Timetogotowork.“Right,I’llkillthelookoutandtakeaposition
behindtheguards.Youtwoapproachfromthefront.WhenIopenfireonagroup,youchargein.We’llhavetheelementofsurpriseonourside.Halfwillfallbeforethey’veevenrealizedwhat’shappening.”
Itookmymusket,leftmytwocomradesandcrepttotheedgeofthecornfield,whereIcrouchedandtookaimatthelookout.Hewaswarminghishandswithhisriflebetweenhislegs,andprobablywouldn’thaveseenorheardmeifI’dapproachedridingacamel.Itfeltalmostcowardlytosqueezethetrigger,butsqueezeitIdid.
Icursedashepitchedforward,sendingupashowerofsparks.He’dstarttoburnsoon,andifnothingelsethesmellwasgoingtoalerthiscompatriots.Hurryingnow,IreturnedtoCharlesandThomas,whodrewclosertothebanditcompoundwhileItookuppositionnotfaraway,pushedmyriflebuttintomyshoulderandsquintedalongwithsightsatoneofthebandits,whostood—though“swayed”mighthavebeenmoreaccurate—justoutsidethegates.AsIwatchedhebegantomovetowardsthecornfield,perhapstorelievethesentryI’dalreadyshot,whoevennowwasroastingonhisownfire.Iwaiteduntilhewasattheedgeofthecornfield,pausingastherewasasuddenlullinthemerrimentfrominsidethecompound,andthen,asaroarwentup,squeezingthetrigger.
Hedroppedtohiskneesthenkeeledovertooneside,partofhisskullmissing,andmygazewentstraighttothecompoundentrancetoseeiftheshothadbeenheard.
No,wastheanswer.InsteadtherabbleatthegatehadturnedtheirattentiononCharlesandThomas,drawntheirswordsandpistolsandbegantoshoutatthem:“Clearoff!”
CharlesandThomasloitered,justasI’dtoldthem.Icouldseetheirhandsitchingtodrawtheirownweapons,buttheybidedtheirtime.Goodmen.Waitingformetotakethefirstshot.
Thetimewasnow.Idrewabeadononeofthemen,whomItooktobetheringleader.Ipulledthetriggerandsawbloodsprayfromthebackofhishead,andhelurchedback.
Thistimemyshotwasheard,butitdidn’tmatter,becauseatthesametime
CharlesandThomasdrewtheirbladesandstruckandtwomoreoftheguardskeeledoverwithbloodfountainingfromneckwounds.Thegatewasindisarrayandthebattlebeganinearnest.
Imanagedtopickofftwomoreofthebanditsbeforeabandoningmymusket,drawingmyswordandrunningforward,leapingintothefrayandstandingsidebysidewithCharlesandThomas.Ienjoyedfightingwithcompanionsforonce,andfelledthreeofthethugs,whodiedscreamingevenastheircompanionsmadeforthegatesandbarricadedthemselvesinside.
Innotimeatall,theonlymenleftstandingwereme,CharlesandThomas,allthreeofusbreathinghardandflickingthebloodfromoursteel.IregardedThomaswithanewrespect:he’dacquittedhimselfwell,withaspeedandskillthatbeliedhislooks.Charles,too,waslookingathim,thoughwithrathermoredistaste,asthoughThomas’sproficiencyinbattlehadannoyedhim.
Nowwehadanewproblem,though:we’dtakentheoutsideofthecompound,butthedoorhadbeenblockedbythoseretreating.ItwasThomaswhowassuggestedweshootthepowderbarrel—anothergoodideafromthemanI’dpreviouslydismissedasadrunk—soIdid,blowingaholeinthewall,throughwhichwepoured,steppingoverthetornandraggedcorpseslitteringthehallwayontheotherside.
Weranon.Thick,deepcarpetsandrugswereonthefloor,whileexquisitetapestrieshadbeenhungatthewindows.Thewholeplacewasinsemi-darkness.Therewasscreaming,maleandfemale,andrunningfeetaswemadeourwaythroughquickly,mewithaswordinonehandandapistolintheother,usingboth,slayinganymaninmyway.
Thomashadlootedacandlestick,andheusedittocaveintheheadofabandit,wipingbrainsandbloodfromhisfacejustasCharlesremindeduswhywewerethere:tofindWilliam’schest.Hedescribeditasweracedalongmoregloomycorridors,findinglessresistancenow.Eitherthebanditswerestayingclearofusorweremarshallingthemselvesintoamorecohesiveforce.Notthatitmatteredwhattheyweredoing:weneededtofindthechest.
Whichwedid,nestledatthebackofaboudoirthatstankofaleandsexandwasseeminglyfullofpeople:scantilycladwomenwhograbbedclothesandranscreaming,andseveralthievesloadingguns.Abulletsmackedintothewoodofthedoorwaybymysideandwetookcoverasanotherman,thisonenaked,raisedhispistoltofire.
Charlesreturnedfirearoundtheframeofthedoor,andthenakedmancrashedtothecarpetwithanuntidyredholeathischest,grabbingafistfulof
bedclothesashewent.Anotherbulletgougedtheframe,andweduckedback.Thomasdrewhisswordastwomorebanditscamehurtlingdownthecorridortowardsus,Charlesjoiningin.
“Laydownyourweapons,”calledoneoftheremainingbanditsfrominsidetheboudoir,“andI’llconsiderlettingyoulive.”
“Imakeyouthesameoffer,”Isaidfrombehindthedoor.“Wehavenoquarrel.Ionlywishtoreturnthischesttoitsrightfulowner.”
Therewasasneerinhisvoice.“NothingrightfulaboutMr.Johnson.”“Iwon’taskagain.”“Agreed.”Iheardamovementnearbyandflittedacrossthedoorway.Theotherman
hadbeentryingtocreepuponus,butIputabulletbetweenhiseyesandhefloppedtothefloor,hispistolskitteringawayfromhim.Theremainingbanditfiredagainandmadeadiveforhiscompanion’sgun,butI’dalreadyreloadedandanticipatedhismove,andIputashotinhisflankashestretchedforit.Likeawoundedanimalhejackknifedbacktothebed,landinginawetmessofbloodandbedclothesandstaringupatmeasIenteredcautiously,gunheldinfrontofme.
Hegavemeabalefullook.Thiscan’thavebeenhowheplannedforhisnighttoend.
“Yourkindhasnoneedforbooksandmaps,”Isaid,indicatingWilliam’schest.“Whoputyouuptothis?”
“Neverseenaperson,”hewheezed,shakinghishead.“It’salwaysdeaddropsandletters.Buttheyalwayspay,sowedothejobs.”
EverywhereIwentImetmenlikethebandit,whowoulddoanything,itseemed—anythingforabitofcoin.Itwasmenlikehimwhohadinvadedmychildhoodhomeandkilledmyfather.MenlikehimwhosetmeonthepathIwalktoday.
Theyalwayspay.Wedothejobs.Somehow,throughaveilofdisgust,Imanagedtoresisttheurgetokillhim.“Well,thosedaysaredone.TellyourmastersIsaidasmuch.”Heraisedhimselfslightly,perhapsrealizingIplannedtolethimlive.“Who
doIsayyouare?”“Youdon’t.They’llknow,”Isaid.Andlethimgo.ThomasbegangrabbingmorelootwhileCharlesandItookthechest,andwe
madeourwayoutofthecompound.Retreatingwaseasier,mostofthebanditshavingdecidedthatdiscretionwasthebetterpartofvalourandstayingoutof
ourway,andwemadeitoutsidetoourhorsesandgallopedaway.
iv
AttheGreenDragon,WilliamJohnsonwasonceagainporingoverhismaps.Straightawayhewasdiggingthroughthechestwhenwereturnedittohim,checkingthathismapsandscrollswerethere.
“Mythanks,MasterKenway,”hesaid,sittingbackathistable,satisfiedthateverythingwasinorder.“Nowtellmewhatitisyouneed.”
Aroundmyneckwastheamulet.I’dfoundmyselftakingitoffandadmiringit.Wasitmyimagination,ordiditseemtoglow?Ithadn’t—notonthenightItookitfromMikoattheoperahouse.ThefirsttimeIhadseenitglowwaswhenReginaldhelditupatFleetandBride.Now,though,itseemedtodoinmyhandwhatithaddoneinhis,asthoughitwerepowered—howridiculousitseemed—bybelief.
Ilookedathim,thenreachedmyhandstomyneck,removedtheamuletfromovermyheadandhandeditacrossthetable.Heheldmygazeashetookit,sensingitsimportance,thensquintedatit,studyingitcarefullyasIsaid,“Theimagesonthisamulet—aretheyfamiliartoyou?Perhapsoneofthetribeshasshownyousomethingsimilar?”
“ItappearsKanien’kehá:kainorigin,”saidWilliam.TheMohawk.Mypulsequickened.“Canyoutraceittoaspecificlocation?”Isaid.“Ineedtoknowwhereit
camefrom.”“Withmyresearchreturned,perhaps.LetmeseewhatIcando.”Inoddedmythanks.“First,though,I’dliketoknowalittlemoreaboutyou,
William.Tellmeaboutyourself.”“What’stotell?IwasborninIreland,toCatholicparents—which,Ilearnt
earlyinlife,severelylimitedmyopportunities.SoIconvertedtoProtestantismandjourneyedhereatthebehestofmyuncle.ButIfearmyUnclePeterwasnotthesharpestoftools.HesoughttoopentradewiththeMohawk—butchosetobuildhissettlementawayfromthetraderoutesinsteadofonthem.Itriedtoreasonwiththeman...But”—hesighed—“asIsaid,notthesharpest.SoItookwhatlittlemoneyI’dearnedandboughtmyownplotofland.Ibuiltahome,afarm,astoreandamill.Humblebeginnings—butwellsituated,whichmadeallthedifference.”
“SothisishowyoucametoknowtheMohawk?”“Indeed.Andithasprovedavaluablerelationship.”“Butyou’veheardnothingoftheprecursors’site?Nohiddentempleor
ancientconstructs?”“Yesandno.Whichistosay,theyhavetheirfairshareofsacredsitesbut
nonematchingwhatyoudescribe.Earthenmounds,forestclearings,hiddencaves...Allarenatural,though.Nostrangemetal.No...oddglows.”
“Hmmm.Itiswellhidden,”Isaid.“Eventothem,itseems.”Hesmiled.“Butcheerup,myfriend.You’llhave
yourprecursortreasure.Iswearit.”Iraisedmyglass.“Tooursuccess,then.”“Andsoon!”Ismiled.Wewerefournow.Wewereateam.
10JULY1754
i
WenowhaveourroomattheGreenDragonTavern—abase,ifyoulike—anditwasthisIentered,tofindThomas,CharlesandWilliam:Thomasdrinking,CharleslookingperturbedandWilliamstudyinghischartsandmaps.Igreetedthem,onlytoberewardedwithabelchfromThomas.
“Charming,”spatCharles.Igrinned.“Cheerup,Charles.He’llgrowonyou,”Isaid,andsatnextto
Thomas,whogavemeagratefullook.“Anynews?”Isaid.Heshookhishead.“Whispersofthings.Nothin’solidatthemoment.Iknow
you’relookin’forwordofanythingouttheordinary...Dealin’withtemplesandspiritsandancienttimesandwhatnot.But...sofar,can’tsaymyboyshaveheardmuch.”
“Notrinketsorartefactsbeingmovedthroughyour...shadowmarket?”“Nothin’new.Coupleill-gottenweapons—somejewellerylikelyliftedfrom
alivingthing.Butyousaidtolistenfortalkofglowsandhumsandlookoutforstrangesights,right?An’Iain’theardnothin’’boutthat.”
“Keepatit,”Iasked.“Oh,Iwill.Youdonemeagreatservice,mister—andIfullyintendtorepay
mydebt—thricefold,ifitpleases.”“Thankyou,Thomas.”“Placetosleepandmealtoeatisthanksenough.Don’tyouworry.I’llget
yousortedsoon.”Heraisedhistankard,onlytofinditwasempty,andIlaughed,clappedhim
onthebackandwatchedashestoodandlurchedoffinsearchofalefromelsewhere.ThenIturnedmyattentiontoWilliam,movingovertohislecternandpullingupachairtositdownbesidehim.“Howfaresyoursearch?”
Hefrownedupatme.“Mapsandmathsaren’tcuttingit.”Nothingiseversimple,Irued.
“Whatofyourlocalcontacts?”Iaskedhim,takingaseatopposite.Thomashadbustledbackin,withatankardoffoamingaleinhisfistanda
redmarkonhisfacefromwherehe’dbeenveryrecentlyslapped,justintimetohearWilliamsay,“We’llneedtoearntheirtrustbeforethey’llsharewhattheyknow.”
“Ihaveanideaonhowwemightbeeffectin’that,”slurredThomas,andweturnedtolookathimwithvaryingdegreesofinterest,CharlesinthewayheusuallyregardedThomas,withalookasthoughhe’djusttroddenindogmess,Williamwithbemusement,andmewithagenuineinterest.Thomas,drunkorsober,wasasharpercustomerthaneitherCharlesorWilliamgavehimcreditfor.Hewentonnow:“There’samanwhowastakentoenslavin’natives.Rescue’emandthey’lloweus.”
Natives,Ithought.TheMohawk.Nowtherewasanidea.“Doyouknowwherethey’rebeingheld?”
Heshookhishead.ButCharleswasleaningforward.“BenjaminChurchwill.He’safinderandafixer—he’salsoonyourlist.”
Ismiledathim.Goodwork.Ithought.“AndthereIwas,wonderingwhowemightsolicitnext.”
ii
BenjaminChurchwasadoctor,andwefoundhishouseeasilyenough.Whentherewasnoanswerathisdoor,Charleswastednotimekickingitdown,andwehurriedin,onlytofindthattheplacehadbeenransacked.Notonlyhadfurniturebeenupturnedanddocumentsspreadalloverthefloor,disruptedduringamessysearch,buttherewerealsotracesofbloodonthefloor.
Welookedatoneanother.“Itseemswe’renottheonlyoneslookingforDr.Church,”Isaid,withmysworddrawn.
“Damnit!”explodedCharles.“Hecouldbeanywhere.Whatdowedo?”Ipointedtoaportraitofthegooddoctorhangingoverthemantelpiece.It
showedamaninhisearlytwenties,whononethelesshadadistinguishedlook.“Wefindhim.Come,I’llshowyouhow.”
AndIbegantellingCharlesabouttheartofsurveillance,ofblendingintoyoursurroundings,disappearing,noticingroutinesandhabits,studyingmovementaroundandadaptingtoit,becomingatonewiththeenvironment,becomingpartofthescenery.
IrealizedhowmuchIwasenjoyingmynewroleastutor.AsaboyI’dbeentaughtbymyfather,andthenReginald,andIhadalwayslookedforwardtomysessionswiththem—alwaysrelishedthepassingonandimpartingofnewknowledge—forbiddenknowledge,thesortyoucouldn’tfindinbooks.
TeachingittoCharles,IwonderedifmyfatherandReginaldhadfeltthewayIdidnow:serene,wiseandworldly.Ishowedhimhowtoaskquestions,howtoeavesdrop,howtomovearoundthecitylikeaghost,gatheringandprocessinginformation.Andafterthatweparted,carriedoutourinvestigationsindividually,thenanhourorsolatercamebacktogether,facesgrim.
WhatwehadlearntwasthatBenjaminChurchhadbeenseeninthecompanyofothermen—threeorfourofthem—whohadbeenbearinghimawayfromhishouse.SomeofthewitnesseshadassumedBenjaminwasdrunk;othershadnoticedhowbruisedandbloodiedhehadbeen.Onemanwhowenttohisaidhadreceivedaknifeinhisgutsasthanks.Wherevertheyweregoing,itwasclearthatBenjaminwasintrouble,butwhereweretheygoing?Theanswercamefromaherald,whostoodshoutingouttheday’snews.
“Haveyouseenthisman?”Iaskedhim.“Itdifficulttosay...”Heshookhishead.“Somanypeoplepassthroughthe
square,it’shardto...”Ipressedsomecoinsintohishandandhisdemeanourchangedatonce.He
leanedforwardwithaconspiratorialair:“Hewasbeingtakentothewaterfrontwarehousesjusteastofhere.”
“Thankyoukindlyforyourhelp,”Itoldhim.“Buthurry,”hesaid.“HewaswithSilas’smen.Suchmeetingstendtoend
poorly.”Silas,Ithought,asweweavedourwaythroughthestreetsonourwaytothe
warehousedistrict.Now,whowasSilas?Thecrowdshadthinnedconsiderablybythetimewereachedourdestination,
wellawayfromthemainthoroughfare,whereafaintsmelloffishseemedtohangovertheday.Thewarehousesatinarowofsimilarbuildings,allofthemhugeandexudingasenseoferosionanddisrepair,andImighthavewalkedstraightpastifithadn’tbeenfortheguardwholoungedoutsidethemaindoors.Hesatononebarrel,hisfeetuponanother,chewing,notasalertasheshouldhavebeen,sothatitwaseasyenoughtostopCharlesandpullhimtothesideofthebuildingbeforewewerespotted.
Therewasanentranceonthewallclosesttous,andIcheckeditwasunguardedbeforetryingthedoor.Locked.Frominsideweheardthesoundsofa
strugglethenanagonizedscream.I’mnotagamblingman,butIwouldhavebetontheownerofthatagonizedscream:BenjaminChurch.CharlesandIlookedateachother.Wehadtogetinthere,andfast.Craningaroundthesideofthewarehouse,Itookanotherlookattheguard,sawthetelltaleflashofakeyringathiswaist,andknewwhatIhadtodo.
Iwaiteduntilamanpushingabarrowhadpassedthen,withafingertomylips,toldCharlestowaitandemergedfromcover,weavingalittleasIcamearoundtothefrontofthebuilding,lookingtoallintentsandpurposesasthoughI’dhadtoomuchtodrink.
Sittingonhisbarrel,thesentrylookedsidewaysatme,hislipcurled.Hebegantowithdrawhisswordfromitssheath,showingalittleofitsgleamingblade.Staggering,Istraightened,heldupahandtoacknowledgethewarningandmadeasthoughtomoveaway,beforestumblingalittleandbrushingintohim.
“Oi!”heprotested,andshovedmeaway,sohardthatIlostmyfootingandfellintothestreet.Ipickedmyselfupand,withanotherwaveofapology,wasonmyway.
Whathedidn’tknowwasthatIleftinpossessionofthekeyring,whichIhadliftedfromhiswaist.Backatthesideofthewarehousewetriedacoupleofthekeysbefore,toourgreatrelief,findingonethatopenedthedoor.Wincingateveryphantomcreakandsqueak,weeaseditopenthencreptthrough,intothedarkanddamp-smellingwarehouse.
Inside,wecrouchedbythedoor,slowlyadjustingtoournewsurroundings:avastspace,mostofitindarkness.Black,echoinghollowsseemedtostretchbackintoinfinity,theonlylightcomingfromthreebraziersthathadbeensetoutinthemiddleoftheroom.Wesaw,atlast,themanwehadbeenlookingfor,themanfromtheportrait:Dr.BenjaminChurch.Hesattiedtoachair,aguardoneithersideofhim,oneofhiseyespurpleandbruised,hisheadlollingandblooddrippingsteadilyfromagashedliptothedirtywhitescarfhewore.
Standinginfrontofhimwasasharp-dressedman—Silas,nodoubt—andacompanion,whowassharpeningaknife.Thesoftswooshingsounditmadewasalmostgentle,hypnotic,andforamomentwastheonlynoiseintheroom.
“Whymustyoualwaysmakethingssodifficult,Benjamin?”askedSilas,withanairoftheatricalsadness.HehadanEnglishaccent,Irealized,andsoundedhighborn.Hecontinued:“Merelyprovidemewithrecompenseandallshallbeforgiven.”
Benjaminregardedhimwithaninjuredbutdefiantgaze.“I’llnotpayfor
protectionIdon’tneed,”hesnappedback,undaunted.Silassmiledandairilywavedahandaroundatthedank,wetanddirty
warehouse.“Clearly,youdorequireprotection,elsewewouldn’tbehere.”Benjaminturnedhisheadandspatagobbetofblood,whichslappedtothe
stonefloor,thenturnedhiseyesbacktoSilas,whoworealookasthoughBenjaminhadpassedwindatdinner.“Howverygauche,”hesaid.“Now,whatshallwedoaboutourguest?”
Themansharpeningthekniveslookedup.Thiswashiscue.“MaybeItakehishands,”herasped.“Putanendto’issurgerin’?MaybeItake’istongue.Putanendto’iswagglin?OrmaybeItake’iscock.Putanendto’isfuckin’us.”
Atremorseemedtogothroughthemen,ofdisgust,fearandamusement.Silasreacted:“Somanyoptions,Ican’tpossiblydecide.”Helookedattheknifemanandpretendedtobelostinindecision,thenadded,“Takeallthree.”
“Nowholdonamoment,”saidBenjaminquickly.“PerhapsIwashastyinrefusingyouearlier.”
“I’msoverysorry,Benjamin,butthatdoorhasclosed,”saidSilassadly.“Bereasonable...”startedBenjamin,apleadingnoteinhisvoice.Silastiltedhisheadtooneside,andhiseyebrowsknittedtogetherinfalse
concern.“IratherthinkIwas.Butyoutookadvantageofmygenerosity.Iwon’tbemadeafoolofasecondtime.”
Thetorturermovedforward,holdingthepointoftheknifeuptohisowneyeball,bugginghiseyesandgrinningmaniacally.
“IfearIlacktheconstitutiontowitnesssuchbarbarism,”saidSilas,withtheairofaneasilyoffendedoldwoman.“Comeandfindmewhenyou’vefinished,Cutter.”
SilaswenttoleaveasBenjaminChurchscreamed,“You’llregretthis,Silas!Youhearme?I’llhaveyourhead!”
AtthedoorSilasstopped,turnedandlookedathim.“No,”hesaidwiththebeginningsofagiggle.“No,Iratherthinkyouwon’t.”
ThenBenjamin’sscreamsbeganasCutterbeganhiswork,snickeringslightlyashebegantowieldtheknifelikeanartistmakinghisfirstpainterlystrokes,asthoughattheoutsetofamuchlargerproject.PooroldDr.ChurchwasthecanvasandCutterwaspaintinghismasterpiece.
IwhisperedtoCharleswhatneededtobedone,andhemovedaway,scuttlingthroughthedarktotherearofthewarehouse,whereIsawhimputahandtohismouthtocall,“Overhere,y’bastards,”thenimmediatelymoveaway,quickandsilent.
Cutter’sheadjerkedup,andhewavedthetwoguardsover,glancingwarilyaroundthewarehouseatthesametimeashismendrewtheirswordsandmovedcarefullytowardstheback,wherethenoisehadcomefrom—evenastherewasanothercall,thistimefromadifferentpocketofblackness,analmostwhispered,“Overhere.”
Thetwoguardsswallowed,exchangedanervousglance,whileCutter’sgazeroamedtheshadowsofthebuilding,hisjawset,halfinfear,halfinfrustration.Icouldseehismindworking:wasithisownmenplayingaprank?Kidsmessingabout?
No.Itwasenemyaction.“What’sgoingon?”snarledoneoftheheavies.Bothcranedtheirnecksto
stareintothedarkspacesofthewarehouse.“Getatorch,”thefirstsnappedathiscompanion,andthesecondmandartedbackintothemiddleoftheroom,gingerlyliftedoneofthebraziers,andthenwasbentoverwiththeweightofitashetriedtomoveitover.
SuddenlytherewasayelpfromwithintheshadowsandCutterwasshouting:“What?Whatthehellisgoingon?”
Themanwiththebraziersetitdownthenpeeredintothegloom.“It’sGreg,”hecalledbackoverhisshoulder.“Heain’ttherenomore,boss.”
Cutterbridled.“Whatdoyoumean,‘heain’tthere’?Hewastherebefore.”“Greg!”calledthesecondman.“Greg?”Therewasnoreply.“I’mtellingyou,boss,heain’ttherenomore.”Andjust
atthatmoment,asthoughtoemphasizethepoint,aswordcameflyingfromthedarkrecesses,skitteredacrossthestonefloorandstoppedtorestbyCutter’sfeet.
Thebladewasstainedwithblood.“That’sGreg’ssword,”saidthefirstmannervily.“TheygotGreg.”“WhogotGreg?”snappedCutter.“Idon’tknow,buttheygothim.”“Whoeveryouare,youbettershowyourface,”shoutedCutter.Hiseyes
dartedtoBenjamin,andIcouldseehisbrainworking,theconclusionhecameto:thattheywerebeingattackedbyfriendsofthedoctor;thatitwasarescueoperation.Thefirstthugremainedwherehewasbythesafetyofthebrazier,thetipofhisswordglintinginthefirelightashetrembled.Charlesstayedintheshadows,asilentmenace.IknewitwasonlyCharles,buttoCutterandhispalhewasanavengingdemon,assilentandimplacableasdeathitself.
“Youbettergetouthere,beforeIfinishyourbuddy,”raspedCutter.HemovedclosertoBenjamin,abouttoholdthebladetohisthroat,and,hisbackto
me,Isawmychanceandcreptoutofmyhidingplace,stealthilymovingtowardshim.Atthesametime,hispalturned,sawme,yelped,“Boss,behindyou!”andCutterwheeled.
Ileaptandatthesametimeengagedthehiddenblade.Cutterpanicked,andIsawhisknifehandtauten,abouttofinishBenjamin.AtfullstretchImanagedtoknockhishandawayandsendhimflyingback,butItoowasoffbalanceandhehadthechancetodrawhisswordandmeetmeface-to-face,swordinonehand,tortureknifeintheother.
OverhisshoulderIsawthatCharleshadn’twastedhisopportunity,hadcomeflyingoutattheguard,andtherewasthechimeofsteelastheirbladesmet.InsecondsCutterandIwerefighting,too.Hisfeatureswerefixed,butitswiftlybecameclearhewasoutofhisdepth.Goodwithaknifehemayhavebeen,buthewasn’tusedtoopponentswhofoughtback;hewasatorturemasternotawarrior.Andwhilehishandsmovedquicklyandhisbladesflickedacrossmyvision,allheshowedmeweretricks,sleightofhand,movesthatmightterrifyamantiedtoachair,butnotme.WhatIsawwasasadist—afrightenedsadist.Andifthere’sonethingmoreloathsomeandpatheticthanasadist,it’safrightenedone.
Hehadnoanticipation.Nofootworkordefensiveskills.Behindhim,thefightwasover:thesecondthugdroppedtohiskneeswithagroan,andCharlesplantedafoottohischestandwithdrewhissword,lettinghimfalltothestone.
Cuttersawit,too,andIlethimwatch,stoodbackandallowedhimtoseehiscompanion,thelastofhisprotection,die.Therewasathumpingonthedoor—theguardfromoutsidehadatlastdiscoveredthetheftofhiskeysandwastryingandfailingtogetin.Cutter’seyesswivelledinthatdirection,lookingforsalvation.Findingnone.ThosefrightenedeyescamebacktomeandIgrinnedthenmovedforwardandbegansomecuttingofmyown.Itooknopleasureinit.Imerelygavehimthetreatmenthedeserved,andwhenheatlastfoldedtothefloorwithabrightredgashopeninhisthroatandbloodsheetingdownhisfront,Ifeltnothingbesidesadetachedsenseofgratification,ofjusticehavingbeenserved.Nooneelsewouldsufferbyhisblade.
I’dforgottenaboutthebangingatthedooruntilitstopped,andinthesuddensilenceIglancedatCharles,whocametothesameconclusionIdid:theguardhadgoneforhelp.BenjamingroanedandIwenttohim,slicedthroughhisbindingswithtwoslashesofmybladethencaughthimashefellforwardfromthechair.
Straightawaymyhandswereslickwithhisblood,butheseemedtobe
breathingsteadilyand,thoughhiseyesoccasionallysqueezedshutasheflinchedwithpain,theywereopen.He’dlive.Hiswoundswerepainfulbuttheyweren’tdeep.
Helookedatme.“Who...whoareyou?”hemanaged.Itippedmyhat.“HaythamKenwayatyourservice.”Therewerethebeginningsofasmileonhisfaceashesaid,“Thankyou.
Thankyou.But...Idon’tunderstand...whyareyouhere?”“YouareaTemplarKnight,areyounot?”Isaidtohim.Henodded.“AsamI,andwedon’tmakeahabitofleavingfellowKnightsatthemercy
ofknife-wieldingmadmen.That,andthefactIneedyourhelp.”“Youhaveit,”hesaid.“Justtellmewhatyouneed...”IhelpedhimtohisfeetandwavedCharlesover.Togetherwehelpedhimto
thesidedoorofthewarehouseandletourselvesout,savouringthecool,freshairafterthedanksmellofbloodanddeathinside.
AndaswebegantomakeourwaybacktoUnionStreetandthesanctuaryoftheGreenDragon,ItoldDr.BenjaminChurchaboutthelist.
13JULY1754
i
WeweregatheredintheGreenDragon,beneaththelow,darkbeamsofthebackroomthatwenowcalledourown,andwhichwewererapidlyexpandingtofill,stuffingourselvesintothedustyeaves:Thomas,wholikedtoloungeinahorizontalpositionwheneverhewasn’thoistingtankardsofaleorbotheringourhostsformore;William,whosefrownlinesdeepenedashelabouredoverchartsandmapsspreadoutoveratable,movingfromthattohislecternandoccasionallylettingoutafrustratedgasp,wavingThomasandhisale-sloppingtankardawaywheneverhelurchedtooclose;Charles,myright-handman,whotookaseatbesidemewheneverIwasintheroom,andwhosedevotionIfeltsometimesasaburden,atothertimesasagreatsourceofstrength;andnow,ofcourse,Dr.Church,whohadspentthelastcoupleofdaysrecuperatingfromhisinjuriesinabedthathadbeenbegrudginglyprovidedforhimbyCornelius.WehadleftBenjamintoit;hehaddressedhisownwounds,andwhenheatlastrose,heassuredusthatnoneoftheinjuriestohisfacewerelikelytobepermanent.
Ihadspokentohimtwodaysbefore,whenIinterruptedhimintheprocessofdressingtheworstofhiswounds,certainlythemostpainful-looking:aflapofskinthatCutterhadremoved.
“So,aquestionforyou,”Isaid,stillfeelingIhadn’tquitegotthemeasureoftheman:“Whymedicine?”
Hesmiledgrimly.“I’msupposedtotellyouIcareformyfellowman,right?ThatIchosethispathbecauseitallowsmetoaccomplishagreatergood?”
“Arethesethingsnottrue?”“Perhaps.Butthat’snotwhatguidedme.No...formeitwasalessabstract
thing:Ilikemoney.”“Thereareotherpathstofortune,”Isaid.“Aye.Butwhatbetterwaretopeddlethanlife?Nothingelseisasprecious—
norsodesperatelycraved.Andnopriceistoogreatforthemanorwomanwhofearsanabruptandpermanentend.”
Iwinced.“Yourwordsarecruel,Benjamin.”“Buttrueaswell.”Confused,Iasked,“Youtookanoathtohelppeople,didyounot?”“Iabidetheoath,whichmakesnomentionofprice.Imerelyrequire
compensation—faircompensation—formyservices.”“Andiftheylacktherequiredfunds?”“Thenthereareotherswhowillservethem.Doesabakergrantfreebreadto
abeggar?Doesthetailorofferadresstothewomanwhocannotaffordtopay?No.WhyshouldI?”
“Yousaidityourself,”Isaid.“Nothingismorepreciousthanlife.”“Indeed.Allthemorereasononeshouldensureonehasthemeansto
preserveit.”Ilookedathimaskance.Hewasayoungman—youngerthanI.Iwondered,
hadIbeenlikehimonce?
ii
Later,mythoughtsreturnedtomattersmostpressing.Silaswouldwantrevengeforwhathadhappenedatthewarehouse,weallknewthat;anditwasjustamatteroftimebeforehestruckatus.WewereintheGreenDragon,perhapsthemostvisiblespotinthecity,soheknewwherewewerewhenhewantedtolaunchhisstrike.Inthemeantime,IhadenoughexperiencedswordsmentogivehimpauseforthoughtandIwasn’tmindedtorunorgointohiding.
WilliamhadtoldBenjaminwhatwewereplanning—tocurryfavourwiththeMohawkbygoingupagainsttheslaver—andBenjaminleanedforwardnow.“Johnsonhastoldmewhatyouintend,”hesaid.“Asithappens,themanwhoheldmeisthesameoneyouseek.HisnameisSilasThatcher.”
Inwardly,Icursedmyselffornothavingmadetheconnection.Ofcourse.Besideme,thepennyhaddroppedwithCharles,too.
“Thatfancyladisaslaver?”hesaiddisbelievingly.“Don’tlethisvelvettonguedeceiveyou,”saidBenjamin,nodding.“A
cruellerandmoreviciouscreatureI’veneverknown.”“Whatcanyoutellmeofhisoperation?”Iasked.“Hehostsatleastahundredmen,morethanhalfofwhomareredcoats.”“Allofthisforsomeslaves?”AtthisBenjaminlaughed.“Hardly.ThemanisacommanderintheKing’s
Troop,inchargeoftheSouthgateFort.”Perplexed,Isaid,“ButifBritainstandsanychanceofpushingbackthe
French,shemustallywiththenatives—notenslavethem.”“Silasisloyalonlytohispurse,”saidWilliamfromhislecternperch.“That
hisactionsharmtheCrownisirrelevant.Solongastherearebuyersforhisproduct,he’llcontinuetoprocureit.”
“Allthemorereasontostophim,then,”Isaidgrimly.“Mydaysarespentincongresswiththelocals—attemptingtoconvince
themthatwe’retheonestheyshouldtrust,”addedWilliam,“thattheFrencharemerelyusingthemastools,tobeabandonedoncethey’vewon.”
“YourwordsmustlosetheirstrengthwhenheldagainsttherealityofSilas’sactions.”Isighed.
“I’vetriedtoexplainthathedoesnotrepresentus,”hesaidwitharuefullook.“Buthewearstheredcoat.Hecommandsafort.Imustappeartothemeitheraliarorafool...likelyboth.”
“Takeheart,brother,”Iassuredhim.“Whenwedeliverthemhishead,theywillknowyourwordsweretrue.Firstly,weneedtofindawayinsidethefort.Letmethinkonit.Inthemeantime,I’llattendtoourfinalrecruit.”
Atthis,Charlesperkedup.“JohnPitcairn’sourman.I’lltakeyoutohim.”
iii
Wefoundourselvesatamilitaryencampmentoutsidethecity,whereredcoatsdiligentlycheckedthoseenteringandleaving.ThesewereBraddock’smen,andIwonderedifI’drecognizeanyfrommycampaignsallthoseyearsago.
Idoubtedit;hisregimewastoobrutal,hismenmercenaries,ex-convicts,menontherunwhoneverstayedinoneplaceforlong.Onesteppedforwardnow,lookingunshavenandshabbydespitehisredcoatuniform.
“Stateyourbusiness,”hesaid,ashiseyesrangedoverus,notmuchlikingwhathesaw.
IwasabouttoanswerwhenCharlessteppedforward,indicatedme,andsaidtotheguard,“Newrecruit.”
Thesentrystoodtooneside.“Morekindlingforthepyre,eh?”hesmirked.“Goonthen.”
Wemovedthroughthegatesintothecamp.“Howdidyoumanagethat?”IsaidtoCharles.
“Didyouforget,sir?MycommissioniswithGeneralBraddock—whenI’mnotattendingtoyou,ofcourse.”
Acartonitswayoutofthecamptrundledpast,ledbyamaninawide-brimmedhat,andwesteppedasideforagroupofwasherwomenwhocrossedourpath.Tentsweredottedaroundthesite,overwhichhungalowblanketofsmokefromfiresaroundthecampsite,tendedtobymenandchildren,campfollowerswhosejobitwastobrewcoffeeandmakefoodfortheirimperialmasters.Washinghungonlinesstretchedfromcanopiesatthefrontofthetents;civiliansloadedcratesofsuppliesontowoodencarts,watchedoverbyofficersonhorseback.Wesawaknotoftroopsstrugglingwithacannonstuckinthemudandmoremenstackingcrates,whileinthemainsquarewasatroopoftwentyorthirtyredcoatsbeingputthroughitspacesbyanofficerscreamingbarelyintelligiblewords.
Lookingaround,itstruckmethatthecampwasunmistakablytheworkoftheBraddockIknew:busyandordered,ahiveofindustry,acrucibleofdiscipline.AnyvisitorwouldhavethoughtitacredittotheBritishArmyandtoitscommander,butifyoulookedharder,orifyouknewBraddockofold,asIdid,youcouldsensetheresentmentthatpervadedtheplace:themengaveoffabegrudgingairabouttheiractivities.Theyworkednotoutofasenseofprideintheiruniformbutundertheyokeofbrutality.
Talkingofwhich...Wewereapproachingatentand,aswegrewclosertoit,Iheard,withacrawlinganddeeplyunpleasantsensationinthepitofmystomach,thatthevoiceIcouldhearshoutingbelongedtoBraddock.
WhenwasthelasttimeI’dseenhim?Severalyearsago,whenI’dlefttheColdstreams,andneverhadIbeensopleasedtoturnmybackonamanasIhadbeenwithBraddockthatday.I’ddepartedthecompanyswearingIwoulddomyutmosttoseetoitthatheansweredforthecrimesI’dwitnessedduringmytimewithhim—crimesofcrueltyandbrutality.ButI’dreckonedwithoutthetiesthatbindtheOrder;I’dreckonedwithoutReginald’sunswervingloyaltytohim;and,intheend,I’dhadtoacceptthatBraddockwasgoingtocontinueashealwayshad.Ididn’tlikeit.ButIhadtoacceptit.Theanswerwassimplytosteerclearofhim.
Rightnow,though,Icouldn’tavoidhim.Hewasinsidehistentasweentered,inthemiddleoflecturingamanwho
wasaboutmyage,dressedincivilianclothesbutobviouslyamilitaryman.ThiswasJohnPitcairn.Hewasstandingthere,takingthefullblastofBraddock’srage—arageIknewsowell—asthegeneralscreamed:“...wereyouplanning
toannounceyourself?Ordidyouhopemymenwouldn’tnoticeyourarrival?”Ilikedhimimmediately.Ilikedtheunblinkingwayheresponded,hisScots
accentmeasuredandcalm,unintimidatedbyBraddockashereplied,“Sir,ifyou’dallowmetoexplain...”
TimehadnotbeenkindtoBraddock,though.Hisfacewasruddierthanever,hishairreceding.Hebecameevenmorered-facednow,ashereplied,“Oh,byallmeans.Ishouldlikeverymuchtohearthis.”
“Ihavenotdeserted,sir,”protestedPitcairn,“IamhereunderCommanderAmherst’sorders.”
ButBraddockwasinnomoodtobeimpressedbythenameofCommanderJeffreyAmherst;and,ifanything,hismooddarkened.
“Showmealetterbearinghissealandyoumightbesparedthegallows,”hesnarled.
“Ihavenosuchthing,”repliedPitcairn,swallowing—theonlysignofnerveshe’dshown;perhapsthinkingofthenoosetighteningaroundhisneck—“thenatureofmywork,sir...it’s...”
Braddockrearedbackasthoughboredofthewholefacade—andmightwellhavebeenabouttoorderPitcairn’ssummaryexecution—whenItooktheopportunitytostepforward.
“It’snotthesortofthingbestputtopaper,”Isaid.Braddockturnedtolookatmewithajerkymovement,seeingforthefirst
timethatCharlesandIwerethereandtakingusinwithvaryingdegreesofirritation.Charles,hedidn’tmindsomuch.Me?Putitthisway:theantipathywasmutual.
“Haytham,”hesaidsimply,mynamelikeaswearwordonhislips.“GeneralBraddock,”Ireturned,withoutbotheringtohidemydistasteforhis
newrank.HelookedfrommetoPitcairnand,perhaps,atlast,madetheconnection.“I
supposeIshouldn’tbesurprised.Wolvesoftentravelinpacks.”“MasterPitcairnwon’tbehereforafewweeks,”Itoldhim,“andIshall
returnhimtohisproperpostonceourworkisfinished.”Braddockshookhishead.Ididmybesttohidemysmileandsucceeded,
mainly,inkeepingmygleeinternal.Hewasfurious,notonlythathisauthorityhadbeenunderminedbut,worse,thatithadbeenunderminedbyme.
“Thedevil’swork,nodoubt,”hesaid.“It’sbadenoughmysuperiorshaveinsistedIgrantyouuseofCharles.Buttheysaidnothingaboutthistraitor.Youwillnothavehim.”
Isighed.“Edward...”Ibegan.ButBraddockwassignallingtohismen.“Wearedonehere.Seethese
gentlemenout,”hesaid.
iv
“Well,thatdidn’tgoasIexpected.”Charlessighed.Wewereonceagainoutsidethewalls,withthecampbehindusandBoston
aheadofus,stretchingawaytoglitteringseaonthehorizon,themastsandsailsofboatsintheharbour.Atapumpintheshadeofacherrytree,westoppedandleanedonthewall,fromwherewecouldwatchthecomingsandgoingsatthecampwithoutattractingattention.
“And,tothink,IusedtocallEdwardabrother...”Isaidruefully.Ithadbeenalongtimeagonow,anddifficulttorecall,butitwastrue.There
wasatimewhenI’dlookeduptoBraddock,thoughtofhimandReginaldasmyfriendsandconfederates.Now,IactivelydespisedBraddock.AndReginald?
Istillwasn’tsureabouthim.“Whatnow?”askedCharles.“They’llchaseusoffifwetrytoreturn.”Gazingintothecamp,IcouldseeBraddockstridingoutofhistent,shouting
asusual,gesticulatingatanofficer—oneofhishand-pickedmercenaries,nodoubt—whocamescuttlingover.InhiswakecameJohn.Hewasstillalive,atleast;Braddock’stemperhadbeeneitherabatedordirectedsomewhereelse.Towardsme,probably.
Aswewatched,theofficergatheredthetroopswe’dseendrillingonthebarrackssquareandorganizedthemintoapatrol,then,withBraddockattheirhead,beganleadingthemoutofthecamp.Othertroopsandfollowersscurriedoutoftheirway,andthegate,whichhadpreviouslybeenthrongedwithpeople,promptlyclearedtoallowthemarchersthrough.Theypassedusby,ahundredyardsorsoaway,andwewatchedthembetweenthelow-hangingbranchesofthecherrytree,astheymadetheirwaydownthehillandtowardstheoutskirtsofthecity,proudlybearingtheUnionFlag.
Astrangekindofpeacedescendedintheirwake,andIpushedmyselfoffthewallandsaidtoCharles,“Comealong.”
Westayedmorethantwohundredyardsbehind,andeventhenwecouldhearthesoundofBraddock’svoice,which,ifanything,begantoincreaseinvolumeaswemadeourwayintothecity.Evenonthemovehehadtheairofsomeone
whowasholdingcourt,butwhatquicklybecameclearwasthatthiswasarecruitmentmission.Braddockbeganbyapproachingablacksmith,orderingthesquadtowatchandlearn.Allsignsofhisformerfuryweregoneandheworeawarmsmiletoaddresstheman,moreinthemannerofaconcernedunclethanoftheheartlesstyranthereallywas.
“Youseeminalowspirits,myfriend,”hesaid,heartily.“What’swrong?”CharlesandIstayedsomedistanceaway.Charlesinparticularkepthishead
lowandremainedoutofsight,fromfearofbeingrecognized.Istrainedmyearstoheartheblacksmith’sreply.
“Businesshasbeenpoorasoflate,”hesaid.“Ihavelostmystallandwaresboth.”
Braddockthrewuphishandsasthoughthiswereaneasilysolvedproblem,because...
“WhatifItoldyouIcouldwipeyourtroublesaway?”hesaid.“I’dbewary,forone—”“Fairenough!Buthearmeout.TheFrenchandtheirsavagecompanionslay
wastetothecountryside.Thekinghascommissionedmensuchasmetoraiseanarmythatwemightforcethemback.Joinmyexpedition,andyouwillberichlycompensated.Justafewweeksofyourtime,andyou’llreturnloadedwithcoinandabletoopenanewstore—biggerandbetter!”
Astheyweretalking,Inoticedofficersorderingmembersofthepatroltoapproachothercitizensandstartthesamepatter.Meanwhile,theblacksmithwassaying,“Truly?”
Braddockwasalreadyhandinghimcommissionpapers,whichhe’dfishedfromhisjacket.
“Seeforyourself,”hesaidproudly,asthoughhewerehandingthemangold,ratherthanpaperstoenlistinthemostbrutalanddehumanizingarmyIhadeverknown.
“I’lldoit,”saidthepoor,gullibleblacksmith.“Onlytellmewheretosign!”Braddockwalkedon,leadingustoapublicsquare,wherehestoodtodeliver
ashortspeech,andmoreofhismenbeganwanderingoff.“Hearmeout,goodpeopleofBoston,”heannounced,inthetoneofan
avunculargentabouttoimpartgreatnews.“Theking’sarmyhasneedofstrongandloyalmen.Darkforcesgathertothenorth,desirousofourlandanditsgreatbounty.Icomebeforeyoutodaywitharequest:ifyouvalueyourpossessions,yourfamilies,yourverylives—thenjoinus.TakeuparmsinservicetoGodandcountryboth,thatwemightdefendallwehavecreatedhere.”
Someofthetownspeopleshruggedtheirshouldersandmovedon;othersconferredwiththeirfriends.Stillothersapproachedtheredcoats,presumablykeentolendtheirservices—andearnsomemoney.Icouldn’thelpbutnoticeadefinitecorrelationbetweenhowpoortheylookedandhowlikelytheyweretobemovedbyBraddock’sspeech.
Sureenough,Ioverheardhimtalkingtohisofficer.“Whereshallweheadnext?”
“PerhapsdowntoMarlborough?”repliedthetrustylieutenant,who,thoughhewastoofarawayformetoseeproperly,hadafamiliar-soundingvoice.
“No,”repliedBraddock,“itsresidentsaretoocontent.Theirhomesarenice;theirdaysuntroubled.”
“WhatofLynorShipStreet?”“Yes.Thosefresharrivedareoftensoonindirestraits.They’remorelikely
toseizeuponanopportunitytofattentheirpursesandfeedtheiryoung.”NotfarawaystoodJohnPitcairn.Iwantedtogetclosertohim.Lookingat
thesurroundingredcoats,IrealizedthatwhatIneededwasauniform.Pitythepoorsoulwhopeeledofffromthegrouptorelievehimself.Itwas
Braddock’slieutenant.Hesaunteredawayfromthegroup,shoulderedhiswaypasttwowell-dressedwomeninbonnetsandsnarledwhentheytuttedhisway—doingagreatjobofwinninglocalheartsandmindsinthenameofHisMajesty.
Atadistance,Ifollowed,untilhecametotheendofthestreet,wheretherewasasquatwoodenbuilding,astorehouseofsomekind,and,withaglancetomakesurehewasn’tbeingwatched,heleanedhismusketagainstthetimberthenundidthebuttonsofhisbritchestohaveapiss.
Ofcourse,hewasbeingwatched.Byme.Checkingtoseetherewerenootherredcoatsnearby,Idrewclose,wrinklingmynoseattheacridstench;manyaredcoathadrelievedhimselfinthisparticularspot,itseemed.ThenIengagedmybladewithasoftchk,whichheheard,tensingslightlyashepissed,butnotturning.
“Whoeverthatis,hebetterhaveagoodreasonforstandingbehindmewhenI’mhavingapiss,”hesaid,shakingthenputtinghiscockbackinhisbritches.AndIrecognizedhisvoice.Itwastheexecutioner.Itwas...
“Slater,”Isaid.“That’smyname.Andwhomightyoube?”Hewaspretendingtohavetroublewithhisbuttons,butIcouldseehisright
handstrayingtowardsthehiltofhissword.“Youmightrememberme.MynameisHaythamKenway.”
Againhetensed,andhisheadstraightened.“HaythamKenway,”herasped.“Indeed—nowthere’sanametoconjurewith,soitis.IhadhopedI’dseenthelastofyou.”
“Andmeofyou.Turnaround,please.”Ahorseandcartpassedinthemudas,slowly,Slaterturnedtofaceme,his
eyesgoingtothebladeatmywrist.“YouanAssassinnow,areya?”hesneered.“ATemplar,Slater,likeyourboss.”Hesneered.“YourlothavenoattractionforGeneralBraddockanymore.”JustasI’dsuspected.Thatwaswhyhe’dbeentryingtosabotagemyefforts
torecruitateamforReginald’smission.Braddockhadturnedagainstus.“Goforyoursword,”ItoldSlater.Hiseyesflickered.“You’llrunmethroughifIdo.”Inodded.“Ican’tkillyouincoldblood.I’mnotyourgeneral.”“No,”hesaid,“you’reafractionofthemanheis.”Andhewentforhissword...Asecondlaterthemanwhohadoncetriedtohangme,whomIhadwatched
helpslaughterawholefamilyattheSiegeofBergenopZoom,laydeadatmyfeet,andIlookeddownathisstill-twitchingcorpse,thinkingonlythatIneededtotakehisuniformbeforehebledalloverit.
ItookitandrejoinedCharles,wholookedatmewithraisedeyebrows.“Well,youcertainlylookthepart,”hesaid.
Igavehimanironicsmile.“NowtomakePitcairnawareofourplans.WhenIgiveyouthesignal,you’retocauseafracas.We’llusethedistractiontoslipaway.”
Meanwhile,Braddockwasissuingorders.“Allrightmen,wemove,”hesaid,andIusedtheopportunitytoslipintotheranksofthepatrol,keepingmyheaddown.Braddock,Iknew,wouldbeconcentratingontherecruitmentandnotonhismen;equally,Itrustedthatthemenofthepatrolwouldbesoterrifiedofincurringhiswraththattheywouldalsobetooconcernedwithenlistingnewmentonoticeanewfaceintheirranks.IfellinbesidePitcairnand,myvoicelow,said,“Helloagain,Jonathan.”
Bymyside,hestartedslightly,lookedatmeandexclaimed,“MasterKenway?”
Ishushedhimwithahandandglanceduptoensurewehadn’tattractedanyunwantedattentionbeforecontinuing:“Itwasn’teasyslippingin...buthereIam,cometorescueyou.”
Thistimehekepthisvoicedown.“Youdon’thonestlythinkwecanget
awaywiththis?”Ismiled.“Haveyounofaithinme?”“Ihardlyknowyou—”“Youknowenough.”“Look,”hewhispered,“I’dverymuchliketohelp.ButyouheardBraddock.
Ifhecatcheswindofthis,youandIarebothfinished.”“I’lltakecareofBraddock,”Ireassuredhim.Helookedatme.“How?”heasked.IgavehimalooktosayIknewexactlywhatIwasdoing,putmyfingersin
mymouthandwhistledloudly.ItwasthesignalCharleshadbeenwaitingfor,andhecamerushingfrom
betweentwobuildingsintothestreet.He’dtakenhisshirtoffandwasusingittoobscurehisface;therestofhisclotheswereindisarray,too:he’dusedmudonhimselfsothathelookednothinglikethearmyofficerhetrulywas.Helooked,infact,likeamadman,andpromptlybehavedlikeone,standinginfrontofthepatrol,whichcametoadisorganizedhalt,toosurprisedorbemusedeventoraiseweapons,asCharlesbegantoshout,“Oi!You’rethievesandscoundrelsoneandall!Yousweartheempirewill...willrewardandhonourus!Butintheendyoudeliveronlydeath!Andforwhat?Rocksandice,treesandstreams?AfewdeadFrenchmen?Well,wedon’twantit!Don’tneedit!Sotakeyourfalsepromises,yourdangledpurses,youruniformsandguns—takeallthosethingsthatyouholdsodear,andshovethemupyourarse!”
Theredcoatslookedatoneanother,open-mouthedwithdisbelief,sotakenabackthat,foramoment,Iworriedtheyweren’tgoingtoreactatall.EvenBraddock,whowassomedistanceaway,simplystood,hisjawhangingopen,notsurewhethertobeangryoramusedbythisunexpectedoutburstofpurelunacy.
Weretheysimplygoingtoturnaroundandcarryon?PerhapsCharleshadthesameworry,becauseallofasuddenheadded,“Fieonyouandyourfalsewar,”thenaddedhiscrowningtouch.Hereached,scoopedupapieceofhorseshitandflungitinthegeneraldirectionofthegroup,mostofwhomturnedsmartlyaway.Theluckyones,thatwas—GeneralEdwardBraddocknotincluded.
Hestood,withhorseshitonhisuniform,nolongerundecidedaboutwhethertobeamusedorangry.Nowhewasjustangry,andhisroarseemedtoshaketheleavesinthetrees:“Afterhim!”
SomeofthemenpeeledawayfromthegroupandwenttograbCharles,who
hadalreadyturnedandwasnowrunning,pastageneralstore,thenleftfromthestreetbetweenthestoreandatavern.
Thiswasourchance.Butinsteadofseizingit,Johnmerelysaid,“Damnit.”“What’swrong?”Isaid.“Now’sourchancetoescape.”“I’mafraidnot.Yourmanjustledthemintoadeadend.Weneedtorescue
him.”Inwardly,Igroaned.Soitwasarescuemission—justnotofthemanIhad
intendedtorescue.AndI,too,wentrunningtowardsthepassageway:onlyIhadnointentionofsatisfyingournoblegeneral’shonour;IsimplyhadtokeepCharlesfromharm.
Iwastoolate.BythetimeIgottherehewasalreadyunderarrest,andIstoodback,cursingsilentlyashewasdraggedbackintothemainthoroughfareandbroughttostandbeforeaseethingGeneralBraddock,whowasalreadyreachingforhisswordwhenIdecidedthingshadgonetoofar.
“Unhandhim,Edward.”Heturnedtome.Ifitwaspossibleforhisfacetodarkenmorethanitalready
had,thenitdid.Aroundus,breathlessredcoatsgaveeachotherconfusedlooks,whileCharles,heldbyaredcoatoneithersideandstillshirtless,shotmeagratefullook.
“Youagain!”spatBraddock,furious.“DidyouthinkIwouldn’treturn?”Irepliedequably.“I’mmoresurprisedabouthoweasilyyouwereunmasked,”hegloated.
“Goingsoft,itseems.”Ihadnowishtotradeinsultswithhim.“Letusgo—andJohnPitcairnwith
us,”Isaid.“Iwillnothavemyauthoritychallenged,”saidBraddock“NorI.”Hiseyesblazed.Hadwereallylosthim?ForamomentIpicturedmyself
sittingdownwithhim,showinghimthebookandwatchingthetransformationcomeoverhim,justasithadwithme.CouldhefeelthatsamesenseofsuddenlyknowingthatIhad?Couldhereturntous?
“Putthemallinchains,”hesnapped.No,Idecidedhecouldn’t.And,again,IwishedforReginald’spresence,becausehewouldhavenipped
thisargumentinthebud:hewouldhavepreventedwhathappenednext.WhichisthatIdecidedIcouldtakethem;andImademymove.Inatrice
mybladewasoutandthenearestredcoatdiedwithalookofsurpriseonhisface
asIranhimthrough.OutofthecornerofmyeyeIsawBraddockdarttotheside,drawhisownswordandyellatanotherman,whoreachedforhispistol,alreadyprimed.JohnreachedhimbeforeIdid,hisswordflashingdownandchoppingattheman’swrist,notquiteseveringthehandbutslicingthroughthebone,sothatforamomenthishandflappedattheendofhisarmandthepistolfellharmlesslytotheground.
Anothertroopercameatmefrommyleftandweexchangedblows—one,two,three.Ipushedforwarduntilhisbackwasagainstthewall,andmyfinalthrustwasbetweenthestrapsacrosshistunic,intohisheart.Iwheeledandmetathirdman,deflectedhisblowandsweptmybladeacrosshismidriff,sendinghimtothedirt.WiththebackofmyhandIwipedbloodfrommyfaceintimetoseeJohnrunanothermanthroughandCharles,whohadsnatchedaswordfromoneofhiscaptors,finishtheotherwithafewconfidentstrokes.
ThenthefightwasoverandIfacedthelastmanstanding—andthelastmanstandingwasGeneralEdwardBraddock.
Itwouldhavebeenbesoeasy.Soeasytohaveendedthishere.Hiseyestoldmethatheknew—heknewthatIhaditinmyhearttokillhim.Perhaps,forthefirsttime,herealizedthatanytiesthathadonceboundus,thoseoftheTemplar,ormutualrespectforReginald,nolongerexisted.
Iletthemomenthangthendroppedmysword.“Istaymyhandtodaybecauseyouwereoncemybrother,”Itoldhim,“andabettermanthanthis.Butshouldwecrosspathsagain,alldebtswillbeforgotten.”
IturnedtoJohn.“You’refreenow,John.”Thethreeofus—me,JohnandCharles—begantowalkaway.“Traitor!”calledBraddock.“Goonthen.Jointhemontheirfool’serrand.
Andwhenyoufindyourselflyingbrokenanddyingatthebottomofsomedarkpit,Ipraymywordstodayarethelastthatyouremember.”
And,withthat,hestrodeoff,steppingoverthecorpsesofhismenandshoulderinghiswaypastbystanders.YouwerenevertoofarfromaredcoatpatrolonBoston’sstreetsand,withBraddockabletocallonreinforcements,wedecidedtomakeourselvesscarce.Asheleft,Icastmyeyeoverthebodiesofthefelledredcoatslyinginthemudandreflectedthat,asrecruitmentdrivesgo,ithadnotbeenthemostsuccessfulafternoon.
NowondertownsfolkgaveusawideberthaswehurriedbackalongthestreetstowardstheGreenDragon.Weweremud-splatteredandbloodstained,andCharleswasstrugglingbackintohisclothes.John,meanwhile,wascurioustoknowaboutmyanimositytowardsBraddock,andItoldhimaboutthe
slaughterattheskiff,finishingbysaying,“Thingswereneverthesameafterthat.Wecampaignedtogetherafewmoretimes,buteachoutingwasmoredisturbingthanthelast.Hekilledandkilled:enemyorally,civilianorsoldier,guiltyorinnocent—itmatterednot.Ifheperceivedpeopletobeanobstacle,theydied.Hemaintainedthatviolencewasamoreefficientsolution.Itbecamehismantra.Anditbrokemyheart.”
“Weshouldstophim,”saidJohn,glancingbehind,asthoughwemighttryatonce.
“Isupposeyou’reright...ButImaintainafoolishhopethathemightyetbesavedandbroughtbackroundtoreason.Iknow,Iknow...it’sasillything,tobelievethatonesodrenchedindeathmightsuddenlychange.”
Orwasitsosilly?Iwondered,aswewalked.Afterall,hadn’tIchanged?
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BystayingattheGreenDragon,wewereintherightplacetohearofanyrumblingsagainstus,andmymanThomaskepthiseartotheground.Notthatitwasmuchofachoreforhim,ofcourse:listeningoutforanysignsofaplotagainstusmeantsuppingalewhileheeavesdroppedonconversationsandpressedothersforgossip.Hewasverygoodatthat.Heneededtobe.Wehadmadeenemies:Silas,ofcourse;but,mostworryingly,GeneralEdwardBraddock.
Lastnight,Ihadsatatthedeskinmyroomtowritemyjournal.Myhiddenbladewasonthetablebesideme,myswordwithineasyreachincaseBraddocklaunchedhisinevitableretributivestrikestraightaway,andIknewthatthatthiswashowitwouldbefromnowon:sleepingwithoneeyeopen,weaponsneverfarfromhand,alwayslookingoverourshoulders,everystrangefacebelongingtoapotentialenemy.Justthethoughtofitwasexhausting,butwhatotherchoicewasthere?AccordingtoSlater,BraddockhadrenouncedtheTemplarOrder.Hewasaloosecannonnow,andtheonethingworsethanaloosecannonisaloosecannonwithanarmyathisdisposal.
IcouldatleastconsolemyselfwithknowingthatInowhadahand-pickedteamand,onceagain,wewereassembledinthebackroom,boostedbytheadditionofJohnPitcairn,amoreformidablepropositionforeitherofourtwoopponents.
AsIenteredtheroom,theyrosetogreetme—evenThomas,whoseemedmoresoberthanusualasIcastmyeyesoverthem.Benjamin’swoundshadhealednicely.JohnseemedtohavecastofftheshacklesofhiscommissionwithBraddock,hispreoccupiedairreplacedbyanewlightnessofspirit.CharleswasstillaBritishArmyofficerandwasworriedthatBraddockmightrecallhimand,consequently,whennotlookingdownhisnoseatThomasworeaconcernedlook.Williamstoodathislecternholdingaquillinhishand,stillhardatworkcomparingthemarkingsontheamuletwiththebookandhisownmapsand
graphs,stillperplexed,thetellingdetailsstilleludinghim.Ihadanideaaboutthat.
Igesturedatthemtotaketheirseats,andsatamongthem.“Gentlemen,IbelieveI’vefoundthesolutiontoourproblem.Or,rather,
Odysseushas.”ThementionoftheGreekhero’snamehadasomewhatvariedeffectonmy
companionsand,asWilliam,CharlesandBenjaminallnoddedsagely,JohnandThomaslookedsomewhatconfused,Thomasbeingtheleastself-conscious.
“Odysseus?Isheanewguy?”Hebelched.“TheGreekhero,youlobcock,”saidCharles,disgusted.“Allowmetoexplain,”Isaid.“We’llenterSilas’sfortunderthepretenceof
kinship.Onceinside,wespringourtrap.Freethecaptivesandkilltheslaver.”Iwatchedastheyabsorbedmyplan.Thomaswasthefirsttospeak.“Dodgy,
dodgy.”Hegrinned.“Ilikeit.”“Thenletusbegin,”Icontinued.“First,weneedtofindourselvesa
convoy...”
ii
CharlesandIwereonarooftopoverlookingoneofBoston’spublicsquares,bothdressedasredcoats.
Ilookeddownatmyownuniform.TherewasstillalittleofSlater’sbloodonmybrownleatherbeltandastainonthewhitestockings,butotherwiseIlookedthepart;Charles,too,eventhoughhepickedathisuniform.
“I’dforgottenhowuncomfortabletheseuniformsare.”“Necessary,I’mafraid,”Isaid,“inordertoproperlyeffectourdeception.”Ilookedathim.Hewouldn’thavetosufferforlongatleast.“Theconvoy
shouldbeheresoon,”Itoldhim.“We’llattackonmysignal.”“Understood,sir,”repliedCharles.Inthesquarebelowusanupturnedcartblockedthefarexit,andtwomen
werehuffingandpuffingastheytriedtoturnittherightwayupagain.Orpretendingtohuffandpuffandturnthecarttherightwayup,Ishould
say,becausethetwomenwereThomasandBenjaminandthecarthadbeendeliberatelytippedoverbyallfourofusafewmomentsbefore,strategicallyplacedtoblocktheexit.NotfarawayfromitwereJohnandWilliam,whowaitedintheshadowsofanearbyblacksmith’shut,sittingonupturnedbuckets
withtheirhatspulleddownlowovertheireyes,acoupleofsmithystakingabreak,lazingthedayaway,watchingtheworldgoby.
Thetrapwasset.Iputmyspyglasstomyeyeandlookedoverthelandscapebeyondthesquare,andthistimeIsawthem—theconvoy,asquadofnineredcoatsmakingitswaytowardsus.Oneofthemwasdrivingahaycartand,besidehimontheboard,was...
Iadjustedthefocus.ItwasaMohawkwoman—abeautifulMohawkwoman,who,despitethefactthatshewaschainedinplaceworeaproud,defiantexpressionandsatstraight,inmarkedcontrasttotheredcoatwhosatbesideherdriving,whoseshoulderswerehunchedandwhohadalong-stemmedpipeinhismouth.Shehadabruiseonherface,Irealized,andwassurprisedtofeelasurgeofangeratthesightofit.Iwonderedhowlongagothey’dcaughtherandhow,indeed,they’dmanagedit.Evidently,she’dputupafight.
“Sir,”saidCharlesfrombymyside,promptingme,“hadn’tyoubettergivethesignal?”
Iclearedmythroat.“Ofcourse,Charles,”Isaid,andputmyfingersinmymouthandgavealowwhistle,watchingasmycomradesbelowexchanged“ready”signals,andThomasandBenjaminkeptupthepretenceoftryingtoupturnthecart.
Wewaited—wewaiteduntiltheredcoatsmarchedintothesquareandfoundthecartblockingtheirway.
“Whatthehellisthis?”saidoneofthefrontguards.“Athousandpardons,sirs—seemswe’vehadourselvesanunhappylittle
accident,”saidThomas,withopenhandsandaningratiatingsmile.TheleadredcoattooknoteofThomas’saccentandatonceassumeda
contemptuouslook.Hewentashadeofpurple,notquiteangryenoughtomatchthecolourofhistunic,butdeepenough.
“Getitsorted—andquickly,”hesnapped,andThomastouchedaservilehandtohisforelockbeforeturningbacktohelpBenjaminwiththecart.
“’Course,milord,atonce,”hesaid.CharlesandI,nowonourbellies,watched.JohnandWilliamsatwiththeir
faceshiddenbutthey,too,watchedthesceneastheredcoats,ratherthansimplymarchingaroundthecartoreven—Godforbid—helpingThomasandBenjamintoputthecartstraight,stoodandlookedonastheleadguardbecamemoreandmorefurious,untilhistemperfinallysnapped.
“Look—eithergetyourcartright,orwe’reridingthroughit.”“Pleasedon’t.”IsawThomas’seyesdartuptotherooftopwherewelay,
thenacrosstowhereWilliamandJohnsatready,theirhandsnowonthehiltsoftheirswords,andhespoketheactionphrase,whichwas“We’renearlyfinished.”
InonemovementBenjaminhaddrawnhisswordandrunthroughthenearestman,while,beforetheleadguardhadachancetoreact,Thomashaddonethesame,adaggerappearingfromwithinhissleeve,whichwasjustasquicklyembeddedintotheleadguard’seye.
Atthesametime,WilliamandJohnburstfromcover,andthreemenfellbeneaththeirblades,whileCharlesandIjumpedfromabove,catchingthosenearestbysurprise:fourmendied.Wedidn’tevengivethemthesolaceofbreathingtheirlastbreathwithdignity.Worriedaboutgettingtheirclothesstainedwithblood,wewerealreadystrippingthedyingmenoftheiruniforms.Inmomentswehadpulledthebodiesintosomestables,shutandboltedthedoor,andwethenstoodinthesquare,sixredcoatswhohadtakentheplaceofnine.Anewconvoy.
Ilookedaround.Thesquarehadnotbeenbusybefore,butnowitwasdeserted.Wehadnoideawhomighthavebeenawitnesstotheambush—colonialswhohatedtheBritishandweregladtoseethemfall?BritishArmysympathizerswhoevennowwereontheirwaytoSouthgateForttowarnSilasaboutwhathadhappened?Wehadnotimetolose.
Ijumpedintothedriver’sseat,andtheMohawkwomanpulledawayslightly—asfarashermanacleswouldallow,anyway—andgavemeawarybutmutinouslook.
“We’reheretohelpyou,”Itriedtoreassureher.“AlongwiththoseheldwithinSouthgateFort.”
“Freemethen,”shesaid.Regretfully,Itoldher,“Notuntilwe’reinside.Ican’tchanceaninspectionat
thegategoingwrong,”andwasrewardedwithadisgustedlook,asthoughtosayitwasjustasshe’dexpected.
“I’llseeyousafe,”Iinsisted,“youhavemyword.”Ishookthereinsandthehorsesbegantomove,mymenwalkingeithersideofme.
“DoyouknowanythingofSilas’soperation?”IaskedtheMohawkwoman.“Howmanymenwemightexpect?Thenatureoftheirdefences?”
Butshesaidnothing.“Youmustbeprettyimportanttohimifyouweregivenyourownescort,”Ipressed,andstillsheignoredme.“Iwishyou’dtrustus...thoughIsupposeit’sonlynaturalforyoutobewary.Sobeit.”Whenshestilldidn’tanswer,Irealizedmywordswerewasted,anddecidedtoshutup.
Whenatlastwereachedthegates,aguardsteppedforward.“Hold,”hesaid.
Itightenedthereinsandwedrewtoastop,meandmyredcoats.Lookingpasttheprisoner,Itippedmyhattotheguards:“Evening,gentlemen.”
Thesentrywasinnomoodforpleasantries,Icouldtell.“Stateyourbusiness,”hesaidflatly,staringattheMohawkwomanwithinterested,lustfuleyes.Shereturnedhisstarewithavenomouslookofherown.
ForamomentImusedthatwhenI’dfirstarrivedinBostonI’dwantedtoseewhatchangesBritishrulehadwroughtonthiscountry,whateffectourgovernancehadhadonitspeople.ForthenativeMohawk,itwascleartoseethatanyeffecthadnotbeenforthegood.Wetalkedpiouslyofsavingthisland;instead,wewerecorruptingit.
Iindicatedthewomannow.“DeliveryforSilas,”Isaid,andtheguardnodded,lickedhislipsthenrappedonthedoorforittoopen,forustotrundleslowlyforward.Inside,thefortwasquiet.Wefoundourselvesneartothebattlements,lowdark-stonewallswherecannonswererangedtolookoutoverBoston,towardsthesea,andredcoatswithmusketsslungovertheirshoulderspatrolledbackandforth.Thefocusoftheirattentionwasoutsidethewalls;theyfearedanattackfromtheFrenchand,lookingdownfromtheirbattlements,hardlygaveusasecondglanceaswetrundledinonourcartand,tryingtolookascasualaspossible,madeourwaytoasecludedsection,wherethefirstthingIdidwastocutthewomanfree.
“See?I’mfreeingyou,justasIsaidIwould.Now,ifyou’llallowmetoexplain...”
Butheranswerwasno.Withafinalglareatmeshehadleaptfromthecartanddisappearedintothedarkness,leavingmetostareafterherwiththedistinctfeelingofunfinishedbusiness;wantingtoexplainmyselftoher;wantingtospendmoretimewithher.
Thomaswenttogoafterher,butIstoppedhim.“Lethergo,”Isaid.“Butshe’llgiveusaway,”heprotested.Ilookedatwhereshehadbeen—alreadyshewasamemory,aghost.“No,
shewon’t,”Isaid,andgotdown,castingalookaroundtomakesurewewerealoneinthequadranglethengatheringtheotherstogivethemtheirorders:freethecaptivesandavoiddetection.Theynoddedgrimly,eachofthemcommittedtothetask.
“WhatofSilas?”askedBenjamin.IthoughtofthesnickeringmanIhadseenatthewarehouse,whohadleft
BenjamintothemercyofCutter.IrememberedBenjamin’spledgetohavehishead,andlookedatmyfriendnow.“Hedies,”Isaid.
Iwatchedasthemenmeltedawayintothenight,anddecidedtokeepaclosewatchonCharles,mypupil.Andsawasheapproachedagroupofredcoatsandintroducedhimself.IglancedacrossthequadrangletoseethatThomashadinveigledhimselfwithanotherofthepatrols.WilliamandJohn,meanwhile,werewalkingcasuallyinthedirectionofabuildingIthoughtwasprobablythestockade,wheretheprisonerswerekept,whereaguardwasevennowshiftingandmovingtoblocktheirway.IlookedtocheckthattheotherguardswerebeingkeptoccupiedbyCharlesandThomasand,whenIwassatisfied,gaveJohnasurreptitioussignal,thensawhimexchangeaquickwordwithWilliamastheycametotheguard.
“CanIhelpyou?”Iheardtheguardsay,hisvoicedriftingoverthequadjustasJohnkneedhiminthebollocks.Withalowgroanlikeananimalinatrap,hedroppedhispikestaffandfelltohisknees.StraightawayJohnwasfeelingathiswaistandretrievingakeyringthen,withhisbacktothequad,heopenedthedoor,grabbedatorchfromabracketoutsideanddisappearedinside.
Iglancedaround.Noneoftheguardshadseenwhatwasgoingonatthestockade.Thoseonthebattlementswerediligentlystaringouttosea;thoseinsidehadtheirattentiondivertedbyCharlesandThomas.
Lookingbackatthedoorofthestockade,IsawJohnreappearthenusheroutthefirstoftheprisoners.
Andsuddenlyoneofthetroopsonthebattlementssawwhatwashappening.“Oi,youthere,what’syourgame?”heshouted,alreadylevellinghismusket,andthecrywentup.ImmediatelyIdashedovertothebattlements,wherethefirstredcoatwasabouttopullthetrigger,boundedupthestonestepsandwasuponhim,thrustingmybladeunderhisjawinonecleanmove.Idroppedintoacrouchandlethisbodyfalloverme,springingfrombeneathittospearthenextguardinhisheart.Athirdmanhadhisbacktome,drawingabeadonWilliam,butIwhippedmybladeacrossthebacksofhislegsthendeliveredthecoupdegrâcetothebackofhisneckwhenhefell.Notfaraway,Williamthankedmewitharaisedhandthenturnedtomeetanotherguard.Hisswordswungasaredcoatfellbeneaththeblade,andwhenheturnedtomeetasecondmanhisfacewasstainedwithblood.
Inmoments,alloftheguardsweredead,butthedoortooneoftheoutbuildingshadopenedandSilashadappeared,alreadyangry.“AnhourofquietwasallIasked,”heroared.“InsteadI’mawakenednottenminuteslaterbythiscacophonousmadness.Iexpectanexplanation—andithadbestbegood.”
Hewasstoppedinhistracks,hisoutburstdyingonhislipsasthecolour
drainedfromhisface.Allaroundthequadwerethebodiesofhismen,andhisheadjerkedashelookedacrosstothestockade,wherethedoorhungopen,nativespouringoutandJohnurgingthemtomovemorequickly.
Silasdrewhisswordasmoremenappearedfrombehindhim.“How?”heshrieked.“Howdidthishappen?Mypreciousmerchandisesetfree.It’sunacceptable.Restassured,I’llhavetheheadsofthoseresponsible.Butfirst...firstwecleanupthismess.”
Hisguardswerepullingontunics,strappingswordstotheirwaists,primingmuskets.Thequadrangle,emptybutforcorpsesamomentago,wassuddenlyfilledwithmoretroops,eagerforretribution.Silaswasbesidehimself,screamingatthem,franticallywavingatthetroopstotakeuptheirarms,calminghimselfashecontinued:“Sealthefort.Killanywhotrytoescape.Idon’tcareiftheybeoneofusoroneof...them.Toapproachthegateistobemadeacorpse!AmIunderstood?”
Thefightingcontinued.Charles,Thomas,William,JohnandBenjaminmovedamongthemenandmadethemostoftheirdisguises.Thementheyattackedwerereducedtofightingamongthemselves,notsurewhichmaninanarmyuniformwasfriendandwhichanenemy.Thenatives,unarmed,shelteredtowaitthefightingout,evenasagroupofSilas’sredcoatsformedalineattheentrancetothefort.Isawmychance—Silashadpositionedhimselftoonesideofhistroopsandwasexhortingthemtoberuthless.Silas,itwasclear,didnotcarewhodiedaslongashisprecious“merchandise”wasnotallowedtoescape,aslongashispridewasnotdamagedintheprocess.
ImotionedtoBenjamin,andwemovedupclosetoSilas,sawthathehadspottedusoutofthecornerofhiseye.ForamomentIcouldseetheconfusionplayacrosshisfeatures,untilherealizedthat,firstly,weweretwooftheinterlopersand,secondly,hehadnomeansofescape,aswestoodblockinghimfromreachingtherestofhismen.Toallintentsandpurposeswelookedlikeapairofloyalbodyguardskeepinghimfromharm.
“Youdon’tknowme,”Itoldhim,“butIbelievethetwoofyouarewellacquainted...”Isaid,andBenjaminChurchsteppedforward.
“Imadeapromisetoyou,Silas,”saidBenjamin,“oneIintendtokeep...”Itwasoverinseconds.BenjaminwasfarmoremercifulwithSilasthan
Cutterhadbeenwithhim.Withtheirleaderdead,thefort’sdefencebrokeup,thegatesopenedandweallowedtherestoftheredcoatstopourout.BehindthemcametheMohawkprisoners,andIsawthewomanfromearlier.Ratherthanescaping,she’dstayedtohelpherpeople:shewascourageousaswellas
beautifulandspirited.Asshehelpedmembersofhertribeawayfromtheaccursedfort,oureyesmet,andIfoundmyselfentrancedbyher.Andthenshewasgone.
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i
Itwasfreezing,andsnowcoveredthegroundallaroundusaswesetoffearlythismorningandrodetowardsLexingtoninpursuitof...
Perhaps“obsession”istoostrongaword.“Preoccupation,”then:my“preoccupation”withtheMohawkwoman,fromthecart.Specifically,withfindingher.
Why?IfCharleshadaskedme,I’dhavetoldhimthatIwantedtofindherbecauseI
knewherEnglishwasgoodandIthoughtshewouldbeausefulcontactwithintheMohawktohelplocatetheprecursorsite.
That’swhatIwouldhavesaidifCharleshadaskedmewhyIwantedtofindher,anditwouldhavebeenpartlythetruth.Partly.
Anyway,CharlesandItookoneofmyexpeditions,thisoneouttoLexington,whenhesaid,“I’mafraidIhavesomebadnews,sir.”
“Whatisit,Charles?”“Braddock’sinsistingIreturntoserviceunderhim.I’vetriedtobegoff,to
noavail,”hesaidsadly.“Nodoubthe’sstillangryaboutlosingJohn—tosaynothingoftheshaming
wegavehim,”Irespondedthoughtfully,wonderingifIcouldhavefinisheditthen,whenIhadthechance.“Doasheasks.Inthemeantime,I’llworkonhavingyoureleased.”
How?Iwasn’tsure.Afterall,therewasatimewhenIcouldhavereliedonastiffletterfromReginaldtochangeBraddock’smind,butithadbecomeclearthatBraddocknolongerhadanyaffinitywithourways.
“I’msorrytotroubleyou,”saidCharles.“Notyourfault,”Ireplied.Iwasgoingtomisshim.Afterall,hehadalreadydonealottolocatemy
mysterywoman,who,accordingtohim,wastobefoundoutsideBostoninLexington,whereshewasapparentlystirringuptroubleagainsttheBritish,who
wereledbyBraddock.Whocouldblameher,afterseeingherpeopleimprisonedbySilas?SoLexingtonwaswherewewere—atarecentlyvacatedhuntingcamp.
“She’snottoofaraway,”Charlestoldme.AnddidIimagineit,ordidIfeelmypulsequickenalittle?Ithadbeenalongtimesinceanywomanhadmademefeelthisway.Mylifehadbeenspenteitherinstudyingormovingaroundand,asforwomeninmybed,therehadbeennobodyserious:theoccasionalwasherwomanduringmyservicewiththeColdstreams,waitresses,landlords’daughters—womenwhohadprovidedsolaceandcomfort,physicalandotherwise,butnobodyI’dhavedescribedasatallspecial.
Thiswoman,though:Ihadseensomethinginhereyes,asifsheweresomethingofakindredspirit—anotherloner,anotherwarrior,anotherbruisedsoulwholookedattheworldwithwearyeyes.
Istudiedthecamp.“Thefire’sonlyjustbeensnuffed,thesnowrecentlydisturbed.”Ilookedup.“She’sclose.”
Idismountedbut,whenIsawCharleswasabouttodothesame,Istoppedhim.
“BestyoureturntoBraddock,Charles,beforehegrowssuspicious.Icanhandlethingsfromhere.”
Henodded,reinedhishorseround,andIwatchedastheyleftthenturnedmyattentiontothesnow-coveredgroundaroundme,wonderingaboutmyrealreasonforsendinghimoff.Andknowingexactlywhatitwas.
ii
Icreptthoughthetrees.Ithadbeguntosnowagain,andtheforestwasstrangelysilent,butforthesoundofmyownbreathing,whichbillowedinvapoursinfrontofme.Imovedfastbutstealthily,anditwasn’tlongbeforeIsawher,oratleastthebackofher.Shewaskneelinginthesnow,amusketleaningagainstatree,assheexaminedasnare.Icamecloser,asquietlyasIcould,onlytoseehertense.
She’dheardme.Godshewasgood.Andinthenextinstantshehadrolledtoherside,snatchedupthemusket,
thrownalookbehindherthentakenoffintothewoods.Iranafterher.“Pleasestoprunning,”Icalledasweflewthroughthesnow-
blanketedwoodland.“Ionlywishtotalk.Iamnotyourenemy.”Butshekeptongoing.Idashednimblythroughthesnow,movingfastand
easilynegotiatingtheterrain,butshewasfasterandnextshetooktothetrees,raisingherselfoffthehard-to-negotiatesnowandswingingfrombranchtobranchwherevershewasable.
Intheend,shetookmefurtherandfurtherintotheforestandwouldhaveescapedwereitnotforapieceofbadfortune.Shetrippedonatreeroot,stumbled,fell,andIwasuponheratonce,butnottoattack,tocometoheraid,andIheldupahand,breathinghardasImanagedtosay,“Me.Haytham.I.Come.In.Peace.”
Shelookedatmeasthoughshehadn’tunderstoodawordI’dsaid.Ifeltthebeginningsofapanic.MaybeI’dbeenwrongaboutherinthecart.Maybeshecouldn’tspeakEnglishatall.
Until,suddenly,sherepliedwith,“Areyoutouchedinthehead?”PerfectEnglish.“Oh...sorry...”Shegaveadisgustedshakeofherhead.“Whatdoyouwant?”“Well,yourname,forone.”MyshouldersheavedasIgraduallycaughtmy
breath,whichwassteaminginthefreezingcold.Andthen,afteraperiodofindecision—Icouldseeitplayingacrossherface
—shesaid,“IamKaniehtí:io.“JustcallmeZiio,”shesaid,whenItriedandfailedtorepeathernameback
toher.“Nowtellmewhyitisyou’rehere.”Ireachedaroundmyneckandtookofftheamulet,toshowher.“Doyou
knowwhatthisis?”Withoutwarning,shegrabbedmyarm.“Youhaveone?”sheasked.Fora
secondIwasconfused,untilIrealizedshewaslookingnotattheamulet,butatmyhiddenblade.Iwatchedherforamoment,feelingwhatIcanonlydescribeasastrangemixtureofemotions:pride,admiration,thentrepidationas,accidentally,sheejectedtheblade.Tohercredit,though,shedidn’tflinch,justlookedupatmewithwidebrowneyes,andIfeltmyselffallalittledeeperasshesaid,“I’veseenyourlittlesecret.”
Ismiledback,tryingtolookmoreconfidentthanIfelt,andraisedtheamulet,startingagain.
“This.”Idangledit.“Doyouknowwhatitis?”Takingitinherhand,shegazedatit.“Wheredidyougetit?”“Fromanoldfriend,”Isaid,thinkingofMikoandofferingasilentprayerfor
him.Iwondered,shouldithavebeenhimhereinsteadofme,anAssassin
insteadofaTemplar?“I’veonlyseensuchmarkingsinoneotherplace,”shesaid,andIfeltan
instantthrill.“Where?”“It...itisforbiddenformetospeakofit.”Ileanedtowardsher.Ilookedintohereyes,hopingtoconvincewiththe
strengthofmyconviction.“Isavedyourpeople.Doesthismeannothingtoyou?”
Shesaidnothing.“Look,”Ipressed,“Iamnottheenemy.”Andperhapsshethoughtoftheriskswehadtakenatthefort,howwehad
freedsomanyofherpeoplefromSilas.Andmaybe—maybe—shesawsomethinginmesheliked.
Eitherway,shenoddedthenreplied,“Nearhere,thereisahill.Ontopofitgrowsamightytree.Come,we’llseeifyouspeakthetruth.”
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Sheledmethere,andindicatedbelowus,wheretherewasatownshetoldmewascalledConcord.
“Thetownhostssoldierswhoseektodrivemypeoplefromtheselands.TheyareledbyamanknownastheBulldog,”shesaid.
Therealizationdawned.“EdwardBraddock...”Sheroundedonme.“Youknowhim?”“Heisnofriendofmine,”Iassuredher,andneverhadIbeenmoresincere.“Everyday,moreofmypeoplearelosttomenlikehim,”shesaidfiercely.“AndIsuggestweputastoptoit.Together.”Shelookedhardatme.Therewasdoubtinhereyes,butIcouldseehopeas
well.“Whatdoyoupropose?”SuddenlyIknew.Iknewexactlywhathadtobedone.“WehavetokillEdwardBraddock.”Ilettheinformationsinkin.Thenadded,“Butfirstwehavetofindhim.”WebegantoheaddownthehilltowardsConcord.“Idon’ttrustyou,”shesaidflatly.“Iknow.”“Yetyouremain.”
“ThatImightproveyouwrong.”“Itwillnothappen.”Herjawwasset.Shebelievedit.Ihadalongwaytogo
withthismysterious,captivatingwoman.Intown,weapproachedthetavern,whereIstoppedher.“Waithere,”Isaid.
“AMohawkwomanislikelytoraisesuspicions—ifnotmuskets.”Sheshookherhead,insteadpullingupherhood.“Thisishardlythefirst
timeI’vebeenamongyourpeople,”shesaid.“Icanhandlemyself.”Ihopedso.WeenteredtofindgroupsofBraddock’smendrinkingwithaferocitythat
wouldhaveimpressedThomasHickey,andwemovedamongthem,eavesdroppingontheirconversations.WhatwediscoveredwasthatBraddockwasonthemove.TheBritishplannedtoenlisttheMohawktomarchfurthernorthandgoagainsttheFrench.EventhemenseemedfrightenedofBraddock,Irealized.Alltalkwasofhowmercilesshecouldbe,andhowevenhisofficerswerescaredofhim.OnenameIoverheardwasGeorgeWashington.Hewastheonlyonebraveenoughtoquestionthegeneral,accordingtoapairofgossipingredcoatsIeavesdroppedupon.WhenImovedthroughtothebackofthetavern,IfoundtheselfsameGeorgeWashingtonsittingwithanotherofficeratasecludedtable,andloiteredclosebyinordertolisteninontheirconversation.
“Tellmeyou’vegoodnews?”saidone.“GeneralBraddockrefusedtheoffer.Therewillbenotruce,”saidtheother.“Damnit.“Why,George?Whatreasondidhegive?”ThemanhecalledGeorge—whomItooktobeGeorgeWashington—
replied,“Hesaidadiplomaticsolutionwasnosolutionatall.ThatallowingtheFrenchtoretreatwouldonlydelayaninevitableconflict—oneinwhichtheynowhavetheupperhand.”
“There’smeritinthosewords,muchasIhatetoadmitit.Still...can’tyouseethisisunwise?”
“Itdoesn’tsitwellwithmeeither.We’refarfromhome,withforcesdivided.Worse,IfearprivatebloodlustmakesBraddockcareless.Itputsthemenatrisk.I’drathernotbedeliveringgrimnewstomothersandwidowsbecausetheBulldogwantedtoproveapoint.”
“Whereisthegeneralnow?”“Rallyingthetroops.”“Andthenit’sontoFortDuquesne,Iassume?”“Eventually.Themarchnorthwillsurelytaketime.”
“Atleastthiswillbeendedsoon...”“Itried,John.”“Iknow,myfriend.Iknow...”“Braddockhaslefttorallyhistroops,”ItoldZiiooutsidethetavern.“And
they’remarchingonFortDuquesne.It’llbeawhileyetuntilthey’reready,whichgivesustimetoformaplan.”
“Noneed,”shesaid.“We’llambushhimneartheriver.Goandgatheryourallies.Iwilldothesame.I’llsendwordwhenit’stimetostrike.”
8JULY1755
IthasbeennearlyeightmonthssinceZiiotoldmetowaitforherword,butatlastitcame,andwetravelledtotheOhioCountry,wheretheBritishwereabouttobeginamajorcampaignagainsttheFrenchforts.Braddock’sexpeditionwasaimedatoverthrowingFortDuquesne.
Wehadallbeenbusyinthattime,andnonemorethanZiio,Idiscovered,whenwedideventuallymeetandIsawthatshehadbroughtwithhermanytroops,manyofthemnatives.
“Allthesemenarefrommanydifferenttribes—unitedintheirdesiretoseeBraddocksentaway,”shesaid.“TheAbenaki,theLenape,theShawnee.”
“Andyou?”Isaidtoher,whentheintroductionshadbeenmade.“Whodoyoustandfor?”
Athinsmile:“Myself.”“Whatwouldyouhavemedo?”Isaidatlast.“Youwillhelptheotherstoprepare...”Shewasn’tjoking.Iputmymentoworkandjoinedthembuilding
blockades,fillingacartwithgunpowderinordertoprepareatrap,untileverythingwasinplaceandIfoundmyselfgrinning,sayingtoZiio,“Ican’twaittoseethelookonBraddock’sfacewhenthetrapisfinallysprung.”
Shegavemeadistrustinglook.“Youtakepleasureinthis?”“You’retheonewhoaskedmetohelpyoukillaman.”“Itdoesnotpleasemetodoso.Heissacrificedsothatthelandandthe
peoplewholiveonitmightbesaved.Whatmotivatesyou?Somepastwrongs?Abetrayal?Orisitsimplythethrillofthehunt?”
Mollified,Isaid,“Youmisreadme.”Sheindicatedthroughthetrees,towardstheMonongahelaRiver.“Braddock’smenwillbeheresoon,”shesaid.“Weshouldpreparefortheir
arrival.”
9JULY1755
i
AMohawkscoutonhorsebackquicklyspokesomewordsIdidn’tunderstandbut,ashegesturedbackdownthevalleytowardstheMonongahela,Icouldguesswhathewassaying:thatBraddock’smenhadcrossedtheriverandwouldsoonbeuponus.Helefttoinformtherestoftheambush,andZiio,lyingbymyside,confirmedwhatIalreadyknew.
“Theycome,”shesaidsimply.I’dbeenenjoyinglyingnexttoherinourhidingplace,theproximityofher.
SoitwaswithameasureofregretthatIlookedoutfrombeneathafringeofundergrowthtoseetheregimentemergefromthetreelineatthebottomofthehill.Ihearditatthesametime:adistantrumblegrowinglouderwhichheraldedthearrivalofnotapatrol,notascoutingparty,butanentireregimentofBraddock’smen.Firstcametheofficersonhorseback,thenthedrummersandbandsmen,thenthetroopsmarching,thenportersandcampfollowersguardingthebaggagetrain.Theentirecolumnstretchedbackalmostasfarastheeyecouldsee.
And,attheheadoftheregiment,thegeneralhimself,whosat,gentlyrockingwiththerhythmofhishorse,hisfreezingbreathcloudingtheairaheadofhim,andGeorgeWashingtonbyhisside.
Behindtheofficersthedrummerskeptupasteadybeat,forwhichwewereeternallygrateful,becauseinthetreeswereFrenchandIndiansnipers.Onthehighgroundwerescoresofmenwholayontheirbellies,theundergrowthpulledoverthem,waitingforthesigntoattack:ahundredormoremenwaitingtospringtheambush;ahundredmenwhoheldtheirbreathas,suddenly,GeneralBraddockhelduphishand,anofficeronhisothersidebarkedanorder,thedrumsstoppedandtheregimentcametoahalt,horseswhinnyingandsneezing,pawingatthesnowy,frozenground,thecolumngraduallydescendingintosilence.
Aneeriecalmsettledaroundthemeninthecolumn.Intheambush,weheld
ourbreath,andI’msureeverymanandwoman,likeme,wonderedifwe’dbeendiscovered.
GeorgeWashingtonlookedatBraddockthenbehind,wheretherestofthecolumn,officers’soldiersandfollowersstoodwaitingexpectantly,thenbackatBraddock.
Heclearedhisthroat.“Everythingallright,sir?”heasked.Braddocktookadeepbreath.“Justsavouringthemoment,”hereplied,then
tookanotherdeepbreath,andadded:“Nodoubtmanywonderwhyitiswe’vepushedsofarwest.Thesearewildlands,asyetuntamedandunsettled.Butitshallnotalwaysbeso.Intime,ourholdingswillnolongersuffice,andthatdayiscloserthanyouthink.Wemustensurethatourpeoplehaveampleroomtogrowandfurtherprosper.Whichmeansweneedmoreland.TheFrenchunderstandthis—andendeavourtopreventsuchgrowth.Theyskirtaroundourterritory—erectingfortsandforgingalliances—awaitingthedaytheymightstrangleuswiththenoosethey’vebuilt.Thismustnotcometopass.Wemustseverthecordandsendthemback.Thisiswhyweride.Toofferthemonelastchance:theFrenchwillleaveortheywilldie.”
Bymyside,Ziiogavemealook,andIcouldseethattherewasnothingshewouldlikebetterthantopricktheman’spompositystraightaway.
Sureenough.“Nowisthetimetostrike,”shehissed.“Wait,”Isaid.WhenIturnedmyheadIfoundshewaslookingatme,and
ourfaceswerejustaninchorsoapart.“Toscattertheexpeditionisnotenough.WemustensureBraddockfails.Elseheissuretotryagain.”
Killhim,Imeant,andtherewouldneverbeabettertimetostrike.Ithoughtquicklythen,pointingatasmallscoutingconvoythathadpeeledawayfromthemainregiment,said,“I’lldisguisemyselfasoneofhisownandmakemywaytohisside.Yourambushwillprovidetheperfectcoverformetodeliverthekillingblow.”
Imademywaydowntowardsthegroundandstoletowardsthescouts.Silently,Iengagedmyblade,sliditintotheneckofthenearestsoldierandwasunbuttoninghisjacketbeforehe’devenhitthefloor.
Theregiment,somethreehundredyardsawaynow,begantomovewitharumblelikeapproachingthunder,thedrumsbeganagainandtheIndiansusedthesuddennoiseascovertobeginmovinginthetrees,adjustingtheirpositions,readyingtheambush.
Imountedthescout’shorseandspentamomentorsocalmingtheanimal,
lettinghergetusedtome,beforetakingherdownasmallinclinetowardsthecolumn.Anofficer,alsoonhorseback,spottedme,andorderedmebackintoposition,soIwavedanapologythenbegantotrottowardstheheadofthecolumn,pastthebaggagetrainandcampfollowers,pastthemarchingsoldiers,whothrewmeresentfullooksandtalkedaboutmebehindmyback,andpasttheband,untilIcamealmostlevelwiththefrontofthecolumn.Closenow,butalsomorevulnerable.CloseenoughtohearBraddocktalkingtooneofhismen—oneofhisinnercircle,hismercenaries.
“TheFrenchrecognizetheyareweakinallthings,”hewassaying,“andsotheyhavealliedthemselveswiththesavagesthatinhabitthesewoods.Littlemorethananimals,theysleepintrees,collectscalpsandeveneattheirowndead.Mercyistookindforthem.Sparenoone.”
Ididn’tknowwhethertochuckleornot.“Eattheirowndead.”Nobodystillbelievedthat,surely?
Theofficerseemedtobethinkingthesamething.“Butsir,”heprotested,“thosearejuststories.ThenativesIhaveknowndonothingofthesort.”
Inthesaddle,Braddockroundedonhim.“Areyoucallingmealiar?”heroared.
“Imisspoke,sir,”saidthemercenary,trembling.“I’msorry.Truly,Iamgratefultoserve.”
“Haveserved,youmean,”snarledBraddock.“Sir?”saidtheman,frightened.“Youaregratefulto‘haveserved,’”Braddockrepeated,drewhispistoland
shottheman.Theofficerfellbackfromhishorse,aredholewherehisfacehadbeen,hisbodythumpingtothetinder-dryforestfloor.Meanwhile,thereportofthegunhadscaredthebirdsfromthetreesandthecolumnsuddenlydrewtoahalt,themenpullingmusketsfromshoulders,drawingweapons,believingtheywereunderattack.
Forafewmomentstheyremainedatfullalert,untiltheordercametostanddown,andthewordfilteredbacktothem,amessagedeliveredinhushedtones:thegeneralhadjustshotanofficer.
IwasnearenoughtothefrontofthecolumntoseeGeorgeWashington’sshockedreaction,andhealonehadthecouragetostanduptoBraddock.
“General!”Braddockroundedonhim,andperhapstherewasamomentinwhich
Washingtonwonderedifhewastoreceivethesametreatment.UntilBraddockthundered,“IwillnottoleratedoubtamongthoseIcommand.Norsympathyfor
theenemy.I’venotimeforinsubordination.”BravelyGeorgeWashingtoncountered,“Nonedeniedheerred,sir,only...”“Hepaidforhistreacheryasalltraitorsmust.Ifwearetowinthiswar
againsttheFrench...Nay,whenwewinthiswar...itwillbebecausemenlikeyouobeyedmenlikeme—anddidsowithouthesitation.Wemusthaveorderinourranks,andaclearchainofcommand.Leadersandfollowers.Withoutsuchstructure,therecanbenovictory.AmIunderstood?”
Washingtonnoddedbutquicklylookedaway,keepinghistruefeelingstohimself,andthen,asthecolumnmovedoffoncemore,movedawayfromthefrontonthepretextofattendingtobusinesselsewhere.IsawmychanceandmanoeuvredmywaytobehindBraddock,fallingintopositionbyhisside,justslightlybehindsothathewouldn’tseeme.Notyet.
Iwaited,bidingmytime,untilsuddenlytherewasacommotionfrombehindus,andtheofficerontheothersideofBraddockpeeledawaytoinvestigate,leavingjustthetwoofusupfront.MeandGeneralBraddock.
Idrewmypistol.“Edward,”Isaid,andenjoyedthemomentasheswivelledinhissaddleand
hiseyeswentfromme,tothebarrelofmypistolandthentomeagain.Hismouthopened,abouttodowhat,Iwasn’tsure—callforhelpprobably—butIwasn’tgoingtogivehimthechance.Therewasnoescapeforhimnow.
“Notsofunontheotherendofthebarrel,isit?”Isaid,andsqueezedthetrigger...
Atexactlythesametimeastheregimentcameunderattack—damn,thetraphadbeensprungtoosoon—myhorsegaveastartandtheshotwentwide.Braddock’seyesflashedwithhopeandtriumphas,suddenly,therewereFrenchmenallaroundusandarrowsbeganrainingdownfromthetreesaboveus.Braddockpulledonthereinsofhishorsewithayellandinthenextmomentwasmountingthevergetowardsthetrees,whileIsat,mypistolinmyhand,stunnedbytheabruptturnofevents.
Thehesitationalmostcostmemylife.IfoundmyselfinthepathofaFrenchman—bluejacket,redbreeches—hisswordswingingandheadingstraightforme.Itwastoolatetoengagemyblade.Toolatetodrawmysword.
Andthen,justasrapidly,theFrenchmanwasflyingfromhissaddle,asthoughjerkedonapieceofrope,thesideofhisheadexplodingintoaredspray.InthesamemomentIheardthegunshotandsaw,onahorsebehindhim,myfriendCharlesLee.
Inoddedmythanks,butwouldhavetogivehimmoreeffusivegratitude
later,asIsawBraddockdisappearingintothetrees,hisfeetkickingattheflankofhissteedandcastingaquicklookbehindhim,seeingmeabouttogivechase.
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Yellingencouragementatmyhorse,IfollowedBraddockintotheforest,passingIndiansandFrenchmenwhowererushingdownthehilltowardsthecolumn.Aheadofme,arrowsraineddownonBraddock,butnonefounditstarget.Now,too,thetrapswehadlaidwerebeingsprung.Isawthecart,primedwithgunpowder,cometrundlingoutofthetreesandscatteragroupofriflemenbeforeexplodingandsendingriderlesshorsesscatteringawayfromthecolumn,while,fromaboveme,nativesniperspickedofffrightenedanddisorientatedsoldiers.
Braddockstayedfrustratinglyaheadofme,untilatlasttheterrainwastoomuchforhishorse,whichrearedupandsenthimfallingtotheground.
Howlinginpain,Braddockrolledinthedirtandbrieflyfumbledforhispistolbeforedecidingagainstit,pulledhimselftohisfeetandbegantorun.Forme,itwasasimplemattertocatchhimup,andIspurredmyhorseon.
“Inevertookyouforacoward,Edward,”IsaidasIreachedhim,andlevelledmypistol.
Hestoppedinhistracks,spanaroundandmetmygaze.There—therewasthearrogance.ThescornIknewsowell.
“Comeonthen,”hesneered.Itrottedcloser,mygunheld,when,suddenly,therewasthesoundofa
gunshot,mysteedfelldeadbeneathmeandIcrashedtotheforestfloor.“Sucharrogance,”IheardBraddockcall.“Ialwaysknewitwouldbetheend
ofyou.”NowathissidewasGeorgeWashington,whoraisedhismuskettoaimat
me.InstantlyIhadafierce,bittersweetsenseofconsolationthatatleastitshouldbeWashington,whoclearlyhadaconscienceandwasnothinglikethegeneral,whowastoendmylife,andIclosedmyeyes,readytoacceptdeath.IregrettedthatIhadneverseenmyfather’skillersbroughttojustice,andthatIhadcometantalizinglyclosetodiscoveringthesecretsofThoseWhoCameBeforebutneverenteredthestorehouse;andIwishedthatI’dbeenabletoseetheidealsofmyOrderspreadthroughouttheworld.Intheend,Ihadnotbeenabletochangetheworld,butIhadatleastchangedmyself.Ihadnotalwaysbeenagoodman,
butIhadtriedtobeabetterone.Buttheshotnevercame.AndwhenIopenedmyeyesitwastosee
WashingtonknockedoffhishorseandBraddockswingingroundtoseehisofficeronthedeck,tusslingwithafigurethatIrecognizedimmediatelyasZiio,whohadnotonlytakenWashingtonbysurprisebuthaddisarmedhimandhadherknifetohisthroat.Braddockusedtheopportunitytoflee,andIscrambledtomyfeet,racingacrosstheclearingtowhereZiioheldWashingtonfirm.
“Hurry,”shesnappedatme.“Beforehegetsaway.”Ihesitated,notwantingtoleaveheralonewithWashington,andmoretroops
onthewaynodoubt,butshestruckhimwiththehiltofherknife,sendinghiseyesrolling,dazed,andIknewshecouldtakecareofherself.SoItookoffafterBraddockonceagain,thistimebothofusonfoot.Hestillhadhispistol,anddartedbehindahugetreetrunk,spinningandraisinghisgunarm.Istoppedandrolledintocoveratthesametimeashefired,heardtheshotthumpharmlesslyintoatreetomyleftandwithoutpausingleaptoutofmycovertocontinuethechase.Hehadalreadytakentohisfeet,hopingtooutrunme,butIwasthirtyyearsyoungerthanhe;Ihadn’tspentthelasttwodecadesgettingfatinchargeofanarmy,andIhardlybrokeasweatashebegantoslow.Heglancedbehindandhishattumbledoffashemis-steppedandalmostfellovertheraisedrootsofatree.
Islowed,lethimregainhisbalanceandcontinuerunning,thenchasedafterhim,barelyjoggingnow.Behindus,thesoundsofgunshots,ofscreams,ofmenandanimalsinpain,becamefainter.Theforestseemedtodrownoutthenoiseofbattle,leavingjustthesoundofBraddock’sraggedbreathingandhisfootfallsonthesoftforestfloor.Again,heglancedbehindandsawme—sawthatIwasbarelyevenrunningnow,and,finally,hedropped,exhausted,tohisknees.
Iflickedmyfinger,engagedthebladeandcameclosetohim.Shouldersheavingashefoughtforbreath,hesaid,“Why,Haytham?”
“Yourdeathopensadoor;it’snothingpersonal,”Isaid.Iplungedthebladeintohimandwatchedasbloodbubbleduparoundthe
steelandhisbodytautenedandjerkedwiththeagonyofimpalement.“Well,maybeit’salittlebitpersonal,”Isaid,asIloweredhisdyingbodytotheground.“You’vebeenapaininmyass,afterall.”
“Butwearebrothersinarms,”hesaid.Hiseyelidsflutteredasdeathbeckonedtohim.
“Once,perhaps.Nolonger.DoyouthinkI’veforgottenwhatyoudid?Allthoseinnocentsslaughteredwithoutasecondthought.Andforwhat?Itdoesnot
engenderpeacetocutyourwaytoresolution.”Hiseyesfocused,andhelookedatme.“Wrong,”hesaid,withasurprising
andsuddeninnerstrength.“Werewetoapplytheswordmoreliberallyandmoreoften,theworldwouldbepossessedoffarfewertroublesthanitistoday.”
Ithought.“Inthisinstance,Iconcur,”Isaid.ItookhishandandpulledofftheringheworethatboretheTemplarcrest.“Farewell,Edward,”Isaid,andstoodwaitingforhimtodie.Atthatmoment,however,Iheardthesoundofagroupofsoldiers
approachingandsawIhadnotimetomakemyescape.Instead,Idroppedtomybellyandwormedmywaybeneathafallentreetrunk,whereIwassuddenlyateyelevelwithBraddock.Hisheadturnedtome,hiseyesgleamed,andIknewhe’dgivemeawayifhecould.Slowly,hishandstretchedout,hiscrookedfingertryingtopointinmydirectionasthemenarrived.
Damn.Ishouldhavedeliveredthekillingblow.Isawthebootsofthemenwhocameintotheclearing,wonderedhowthe
battlehadgone,andsawGeorgeWashingtonshoulderhiswaythroughasmallknotoftroopstorushforwardandkneelbythesideofhisdyinggeneral.
Braddock’seyesflutteredstill.Hismouthworkedashetriedtoformwords—thewordstogivemeaway.Isteeledmyself,countingthefeet:sixorsevenmenatleast.CouldItakethem?
But,Irealized,Braddock’sattemptstoalerthismentomypresencewerebeingignored.Instead,GeorgeWashingtonhadputhisheadtohischest,listenedthenexclaimed,“Helives.”
BeneaththetreetrunkIclosedmyeyesandcursedasthemenpickedBraddockupandtookhimaway.
Later,IrejoinedZiio.“It’sdone,”Itoldher.Shenodded.“NowI’veupheldmypartofthebargain,Iexpectthatyouwillhonour
yours?”Iadded.Shenoddedagainandbademefollowher,andwebegantoride.
10JULY1755
Werodeovernight,andatlastshestoppedandindicatedadirtmoundaheadofus.Itwasalmostasifithadappearedfromtheforest.IwonderedifIwouldevenhaveseenithadIbeenherebymyself.Myheartquickened,andIswallowed.DidIimagineit,orwasitasthoughtheamuletsuddenlywokeuparoundmyneck,becameheavier,warmer?
Ilookedatherbeforewalkingtotheopeningthenslidinside,whereIfoundmyselfinasmallroomthathadbeenlinedwithsimpleceramic.Therewasaringofpictographsaroundtheroom,leadingtoadepressiononthewall.Anamulet-sizeddepression.
Iwenttoitandtooktheamuletfromaroundmyneck,pleasedtoseeitglowslightlyinmypalm.LookingatZiio,whoreturnedmygaze,herowneyeswidewithtrepidation,Iapproachedtheindentationand,asmyeyesadjustedtothedark,sawthattwofigurespaintedonthewallkneltbeforeit,offeringtheirhandstoitasthoughtomakeanoffering.
Theamuletseemedtoglowevenmorebrightlynow,asthoughtheartefactitselfwereanticipatingbeingreunitedwiththefabricofthechamber.Howoldwasit?Iwondered.Howmanymillionsofyearsbeforehadtheamuletbeenhewnfromthisveryrock?
Ihadbeenholdingmybreath,Irealized,andletitoutinawhooshnow,asIreachedupandpressedtheamuletintothehollow.
Nothinghappened.IlookedatZiio.Thenfromhertotheamulet,whereitsformerglowwas
beginningtofade,almostasthoughmirroringmyowndeflatingexpectations.Mylipsmoved,tryingtofindwords.“No...”
Iremovedtheamuletthentrieditagain,butstillnothing.“Youseemdisappointed,”shesaidatmyside.“IthoughtIheldthekey,”Isaid,andwasdismayedtohearthetoneinmy
ownvoice,thedefeatanddisappointment.“Thatitwouldopensomethinghere...”
Sheshrugged.“Thisroomisallthereis.”
“Iexpected...”WhathadIexpected?“...more.“Theseimages,whatdotheymean?”Iasked,recoveringmyself.Ziiowenttothewalltogazeatthem.Oneinparticularseemedtocatchher
eye.Itwasagodoragoddesswearinganancient,intricateheaddress.“IttellsthestoryofIottsitíson,”shesaidintently,“whocameintoourworld
andshapedit,thatlifemightcome.Herswasahardjourney,fraughtwithlossandgreatperil.Butshebelievedinthepotentialofherchildrenandwhattheymightachieve.Thoughsheislonggonefromthephysicalworld,hereyesstillwatchoverus.Herearsstillhearourwords.Herhandsstillguideus.Herlovestillgivesusstrength.”
“You’veshowedmeagreatkindness,Ziio.Thankyou.”Whenshelookedbackatme,herfacewassoft.“Iamsorryyoudidnotfindwhatyouseek.”Itookherhand.“Ishouldgo,”Isaid,notwantingtogoatall,andintheend
shestoppedme:sheleanedforwardandkissedme.
13JULY1755
“MasterKenway,didyoufindit,then?”TheywerethefirstwordsCharlesLeesaidtomewhenIenteredourroomat
theGreenDragonTavern.Mymenwereallassembled,andtheylookedatmewithexpectanteyes,thenfacesthatdroppedwhenIshookmyheadno.
“Itwasnottherightplace,”Iconfirmed.“Ifearthetemplewasnothingmorethanapaintedcave.Still,itcontainedprecursorimagesandscript,whichmeansweareclose.Wemustredoubleourefforts,expandourOrderandestablishapermanentbasehere,”Icontinued.“Thoughthesiteeludesus,Iamconfidentwewillfindit.”
“Truth!”saidJohnPitcairn.“Hear,hear!”chimedBenjaminChurch.“Furthermore,IbelieveitistimewewelcomedCharlesintothefold.Hehas
provenhimselfaloyaldisciple—andservedunerringlysincethedayhecametous.Youshouldbeabletoshareinourknowledgeandreapallthebenefitssuchagiftimplies,Charles.Areanyopposed?”
Themenstayedsilent,castingapprovinglooksatCharles.“Verywell.”Iwenton:“Charles,come,stand.”AsheapproachedmeIsaid,
“DoyousweartoupholdtheprinciplesofourOrderandallofthatforwhichwestand?”
“Ido.”“Nevertosharesecretsnordivulgethetruenatureofourwork?”“Ido.”“Andtodosofromnowuntildeath—whateverthecost?”“Ido.”Themenstood.“Thenwewelcomeyouintoourfold,brother.Togetherwe
willusherinthedawnofanewworld,onedefinedbypurposeandorder.Givemeyourhand.”
ItooktheringI’dremovedfromBraddock’sfingerandpusheditontoCharles’s.
Ilookedathim.“YouareaTemplarnow.”
1AUGUST1755
DoIloveher?ThatquestionIfinddifficulttoanswer.AllIknewwasthatIenjoyedbeing
withherandcametotreasurethetimewespenttogether.Shewas...different.TherewassomethingaboutherIhadnever
experiencedinanotherwoman.That“spirit”Ispokeofbefore,itseemedtocomethroughinhereverywordandgesture.I’dfindmyselflookingather,fascinatedbythelightthatseemedpermanentlytoburninhereyesandwondering,alwayswondering,whatwasgoingoninside?Whatwasshethinking?
Ithoughtshelovedme.Ishouldsay,Ithinkshelovesme,butshe’slikeme.There’ssomuchofherselfshekeepshidden.And,likeme,Ithinksheknowsthatlovecannotprogress,thatwecannotliveoutourlivestogether,eitherinthisforestorinEngland,thattherearetoomanybarriersbetweenusandourlivestogether:hertribe,forastart.Shehasnodesiretoleaveherlifebehind.Sheseesherplaceaswithherpeople,protectingherland—landtheyfeelisunderthreatfrompeoplelikeme.
AndI,too,havearesponsibilitytomypeople.ThetenetsofmyOrder,aretheyinlinewiththeidealsofhertribe?I’mnotsurethattheyare.AskedtochoosebetweenZiioandtheidealsIhavebeenbroughtuptobelieve,whichwouldIchoose?
Thesearethethoughtsthathaveplaguedmeoverthelastfewweeks,evenasIhaveluxuriatedinwiththesesweet,stolenhourswithZiio.Ihavewonderedwhattodo.
4AUGUST1755
Mydecisionhasbeenmadeformebecause,thismorning,wehadavisitor.Wewereatcamp,aboutfivemilesfromLexington,wherewehadn’tseen
anyone—notanotherhumanbeing—forseveralweeks.Iheardhim,ofcourse,beforeIsawhim.Or,rather,IshouldsaythatIheardthedisturbancehecaused:aflutteringinthedistanceasthebirdsleftthetrees.NoMohawkwouldhavecausedthemtobehaveinsuchaway,Iknew,whichmeantitwasanother:acolonial,apatriot,aBritishsoldier;perhapsevenaFrenchscout,alongwayoutofhisway.
Ziiohadleftthecampalmostanhouragotohunt.Still,Iknewherwellenoughtoknowthatshewouldhaveseenthedisturbedbirds;she,too,wouldbereachingforhermusket.
Ishimmiedquicklyupthelookouttreeandscannedtheareaaroundus.There,inthedistance—therehewas,aloneridertrottingslowlythroughtheforest.Hismusketwasslungacrosshisshoulder.Heworeacockedhatandadarkbuttoned-upcoat;nomilitaryuniform.Reininghishorse,hestoppedandIsawhimreachintoaknapsack,retrieveaspyglassandputittohiseye.Iwatchedasheangledthespyglassupwards,abovethecanopyoftrees.
Whyupwards?Cleverboy.Hewaslookingforthetell-talewispsofsmoke,greyagainstthebright,blue,early-morningsky.Iglanceddownatourcampfire,sawthesmokethatcurleditswayuptotheheavensthenlookedbackattherider,watchingashemovedhisspyglassaroundtheskyline,almostasif...
Yes.Almostasifhehaddividedthesearchareaintoagridandwasmovingmethodicallyacrossitsquarebysquare,exactlythesamewaythat...
Idid.Oroneofmypupilsdid.Iallowedmyselftorelaxslightly.Itwasoneofmymen—probablyCharles,
judgingbyhisbuildandclothes.Iwatchedashesawthewispsofsmokefromthefire,replacedhisspyglassinhisknapsackandbegantrottingtowardsthecamp.Nowhewasnear,IsawthatitwasCharles,andIletmyselfdownthetreeandintocamp,wonderingaboutZiio.
BackatgroundlevelIlookedaround,andsawthecampthroughCharles’s
eyes:thecampfire,thetwotinplates,acanvasstrungbetweentrees,underwhichweretheskinsthatZiioandIcoveredourselveswithforwarmthatnight.Iflippedthecanvasdownsothattheskinswereobscuredthenkneltbythefireandcollectedthetinplates.Afewmomentslater,hishorsecameintotheclearing.
“Hello,Charles,”Isaid,withoutlookingathim.“Youknewitwasme?”“Isawyouareusingyourtraining:Iwasveryimpressed.”“Iwastrainedbythebest,”hesaid.AndIheardthesmileinhisvoice,
lookedupatlasttoseehimgazingdownatme.“We’vemissedyou,MasterKenway,”hesaid.Inodded.“AndIyou.”Hiseyebrowslifted.“Really?Youknowwhereweare.”Ipushedastickintothefireandwatchedthetipofitglow.“Iwantedto
knowthatyouareabletooperateinmyabsence.”Hepursedhislipsandnodded.“Ithinkyouknowwecan.What’sthereal
reasonforyourabsence,Haytham?”Ilookedupsharplyfromthefire.“Whatmightitbe,Charles?”“PerhapsyouareenjoyinglifeherewithyourIndianwoman,suspended
betweentwoworlds,responsibletoneither.Itmustbenicetotakesuchaholiday...”
“Careful,Charles,”Iwarned.Suddenlyawarethathelookeddownonme,Istoodtomeethiseye,tobeonmoreequalterms.“Perhapsinsteadofconcerningyourselfwithmyactivities,youshouldconcentrateonyourown.Tellme,howaremattersinBoston?”
“Wehavebeentakingcareofthosemattersyouwouldhaveusattendto.Concerningtheland.”
Inodded,thinkingofZiio,wonderingiftherewasanotherway.“Anythingelse?”Iasked.“Wecontinuetolookforsignsoftheprecursorsite...”hesaid,andraised
hischin.“Isee...”“Williamplanstoleadanexpeditiontothechamber.”Istarted.“Nobodyhasaskedmeaboutthis.”“Youhaven’tbeentheretoask,”saidCharles.“Williamthought...Well,if
wewanttofindthesite,thenthat’sthebestplacetostart.”“Wewillenragethenativesifwebeginsettingupcampintheirlands.”
CharlesgavemealookasthoughIhadtakenleaveofmysenses.Ofcourse.Whatdidwe,theTemplars,careaboutupsettingafewnatives?
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthesite,”Isaidquickly.“Somehowitseemslessimportantnow...”Ilookedoffintothedistance.
“Somethingelseyouplantoneglect?”heaskedimpertinently.“I’mwarningyou...”Isaid,andflexedmyfingers.Hecastalookaroundthecamp.“Whereissheanyway?YourIndian...
lover?”“Nowhereyouneedconcernyourselfwith,Charles,andIwouldthankyou
toremovethattonefromyourvoicewhenyouspeakofherinthefuture,elseImightfindmyselfcompelledtoremoveitforcibly.”
Hiseyeswerecoldwhenhelookedatme.“Aletterhasarrived,”hesaid,reachingintohisknapsackanddroppingitsothatitlandedatmyfeet.Iglanceddowntoseemynameonthefrontoftheenvelope,andrecognizedthehandwritingimmediately.ThelettercamefromHolden,andmyheartquickenedjusttoseeit:alinkwithmyoldlife,myotherlifeinEnglandandmypreoccupationsthere:findingmyfather’skillers.
Ididorsaidnothingtobetraymyemotionsonseeingtheletter,adding,“Istheremore?”
“Yes,”saidCharles,“somegoodnews.GeneralBraddockhassuccumbedtohisinjuries.Heisdeadatlast.”
“Whenwasthis?”“Hediedsoonafterhewasinjuredbutthenewshasonlyjustreachedus.”Inodded.“Thenthatbitofbusinessisatanend,”Isaid.“Excellent,”saidCharles.“ThenIshallreturn,shallI?Tellthementhatyou
areenjoyinglifehereinthewilds?Wecanonlyhopethatyougraceuswithyourpresencesometimeinthefuture.”
IthoughtoftheletterfromHolden.“Perhapssoonerthanyouthink,Charles.IhaveafeelingImaysoonbecalledawayonabusiness.Youhaveprovenyourselfmorethancapableofdealingwithmatters.”Igavehimathin,mirthlesssmile.“Perhapsyouwillcontinuetodoso.”
Charlespulledonthereinsofhishorse.“Asyouwish,MasterKenway.Iwilltellthementoexpectyou.Inthemeantime,pleasegiveyourwomanourregards.”
And,withthat,hewasgone.Icrouchedalittlelongerbythefire,theforestsilentaroundmethensaid,“Youcancomeoutnow,Ziio,he’sgone,”andshedroppeddownfromatree,camestridingintotheclearing,herfacelikethunder.
Istoodtomeether.Thenecklaceshealwaysworeglintedinthemorningsunandhereyesflashedangrily.
“Hewasalive,”shesaid.“Youliedtome.”Iswallowed.“But,Ziio,I...”“Youtoldmehewasdead,”shesaid,hervoicerising.“Youtoldmehewas
deadsothatIwouldshowyouthetemple.”“Yes,”Iadmitted.“Ididdothat,andforthatI’msorry.”“Andwhat’sthisaboutland?”sheinterrupted.“Whatwasthatmansaying
aboutthisland?Areyoutryingtotakeit,isthatit?”“No,”Isaid.“Liar!”shecried.“Wait.Icanexplain...”Butshehadalreadydrawnhersword.“Ishouldkillyouforwhatyou’ve
done.”“You’veeveryrighttoyouranger,tocursemynameandwishmegone.But
thetruthisnotwhatyoubelieveittobe,”Istarted.“Leave!”shesaid.“Leavethisplaceandneverreturn.For,ifyoudo,Iwill
tearoutyourheartwithmyowntwohandsandfeedittothewolves.”“Onlylistentome,I—”“Swearit,”sheshouted.Ihungmyhead.“Asyouwish.”“Thenwearefinished,”shesaid,thenturnedandleftmetopackmythings
andreturntoBoston.
17SEPTEMBER1757(TWOYEARSLATER)
i
Asthesunset,paintingDamascusagoldenbrowncolour,IwalkedwithmyfriendandcompanionJimHoldenintheshadowofthewallsofQasral-Azm.
AndIthoughtaboutthefourwordsthathadbroughtmehere.“Ihavefoundher.”Theyweretheonlywordsontheletter,buttheytoldmeeverythingIneeded
toknowandwereenoughtotransportmefromAmericatoEngland,where,beforeanythingelsecouldhappen,I’dmetwithReginaldatWhite’stofillhiminoneventsinBoston.Heknewmuchofwhathadhappened,ofcourse,fromletters,but,evensoI’dexpectedhimtoshowaninterestintheworkoftheOrder,particularlywhereitconcernedhisoldfriendEdwardBraddock.
Iwaswrong.Allhecaredaboutwastheprecursorsite,andwhenItoldhimIhadnewdetailsregardingthelocationofthetempleandthattheyweretobefoundwithintheOttomanEmpire,hesighedandgaveabeatificsmile,likealaudanumaddictsavouringhissyrup.
Momentslater,hewasasking,“Whereisthebook?”withafidgetysoundinhisvoice.
“WilliamJohnsonhasmadeacopy,”Isaid,andreachedtomybaginordertoreturntheoriginal,whichIslidacrossthetabletowardshim.Itwaswrappedincloth,tiedwithtwine,andhelookedatmegratefullybeforereachingtountiethebowandflipopenthecoveringtogazeuponhisbelovedtome:theagedbrownleathercover,thestampoftheAssassinonitsfront.
“Aretheyconductingathoroughsearchofthechamber?”heaskedashewrappedupthebook,retiedthebowthenslippeditawaycovetously.“Ishouldverymuchliketoseethischamberformyself.”
“Indeed,”Ilied.“Themenaretoestablishacamptherebutfacedailyattacksfromthenatives.Itwouldbeveryhazardousforyou,Reginald.YouareGrandMasteroftheBritishRite.Yourtimeisbestspenthere.”
“Isee,”henodded.“Isee.”
Iwatchedhimcarefully.ForhimtohaveinsistedonvisitingthechamberwouldhavebeenanadmissionofneglectofhisGrandMasterduties,and,obsessedashewas,Reginaldwasn’treadytodothatyet.
“Andtheamulet?”hesaid.“Ihaveit,”Ireplied.Wetalkedsomemore,buttherewaslittlewarmthand,whenweparted,Ileft
wonderingwhatlayinhisheartandwhatlayinmine.IhadbeguntothinkofmyselfnotsomuchasaTemplarbutamanwithAssassinrootsandTemplarbeliefs,whosehearthadbrieflybeenlosttoaMohawkwoman.Amanwithauniqueperspective,inotherwords.
Accordingly,IhadbeenlesspreoccupiedwithfindingthetempleandusingitscontentstoestablishTemplarsupremacy,andmorewithbringingtogetherthetwodisciplines,AssassinandTemplar.I’dreflectedonhowmyfather’steachingshadoftendovetailedwiththoseofReginald,andI’dbegunseeingthesimilaritiesbetweenthetwofactionsratherthanthedifferences.
Butfirst—firsttherewastheunfinishedbusinessthathadoccupiedmymindforsomanyyears.Wasitfindingmyfather’skillersorfindingJennythatwasmoreimportantnow?Eitherway,Iwantedfreedomfromthislong,darkshadowthathadloomedovermeforsolong.
ii
Andsoitwasthatwiththosewords—“Ihavefoundher”—Holdenbegananotherodyssey,onethattookusintotheheartoftheOttomanEmpire,where,foryears,heandIhadtrackedJenny.
Shewasalive—thatwashisdiscovery.Aliveandinthehandsofslavers.AstheworldfoughttheSevenYearsWar,wecameclosetodiscoveringherexactlocation,buttheslavershadmovedonbeforewewereabletostartoutafterthem.Afterthat,wespentseveralmonthstryingtofindherthendiscoveredshe’dbeenpassedtotheOttomancourtasaconcubineatTopkapıPalaceandmadeourwaythere.Againweweretoolate;she’dbeenmovedtoDamascus,andtothegreatpalacebuiltbytheOttomangovernorincharge,As’adPashaal-Azm.
AndsowecametoDamascus,whereIworetheoutfitofawealthytradesman,akaftanandaturban,aswellasvoluminoussalwartrousers,feelingnotalittleself-conscious,truthbetold,whilebesidemeHoldenworesimple
robes.Aswemadeourwaythroughthegatesofthecityandintoitsnarrow,windingstreetstowardsthepalace,wenoticedmoreguardsthanusual,andHolden,havingdonehishomework,filledmeinasweambledslowlyinthedustandheat.
“Thegovernor’snervous,sir,”heexplained.“ReckonstheGrandVizierRaghibPashainIstanbulhasitinforhim.”
“Isee.Andisheright?Doesthegrandvizierhaveitinforhim?”“Thegrandviziercalledhimthe‘peasantsonofapeasant.’”“Soundslikehehasgotitinforhimthen.”Holdenchuckled.“That’sright.Sothegovernorfearsbeingdeposedand,as
aresult,he’sincreasedsecurityalloverthecity,andespeciallyatthepalace.Youseeallthesepeople?”Heindicatedaclamourofcitizensnotfaraway,hurryingacrossourpath.
“Yes.”“Offtoanexecution.Apalacespy,apparently.As’adPashaal-Azmisseeing
themeverywhere.”Inasmallsquarethrongedwithpeoplewewatchedamanbeheaded.Hedied
withdignity,andthecrowdroareditsapprovalashisseveredheadrolledtotheblood-blackenedboardsofthescaffold.Abovethesquarethegovernor’splatformwasempty.Hewasstayingatthepalace,accordingtogossip,anddidn’tdareshowhisface.
Whenitwasover,HoldenandIturnedandstrolledaway,headingtowardsthepalace,wherewepacedthewalls,notingthefoursentriesatthemaingateandtheotherspositionedbyarchedsidegates.
“What’sitlikeinside?”Iasked.“Twomainwings:theharamlikandthesalamlik.Inthesalamlikiswhere
yougotyourhalls,receptionareasandentertainmentcourtyards,buttheharamlik,that’swherewe’llfindMissJenny.”
“Ifshe’sinthere.”“Oh,she’sinthere,sir.”“You’resure?”“AsGodismywitness.”“WhywasshemovedfromTopkapıPalace?Doyouknow?”Helookedatmeandpulledanawkwardface.“Well,herage,sir.Shewould
havebeenhighlyprizedatfirst,ofcourse,whenshewasyounger;it’sagainstIslamiclawtoimprisonotherMuslims,see,sothemajorityoftheconcubinesareChristians—caughtintheBalkans,mostofthem—andifMissJennywasas
comelyasyousay,well,thenI’msureshe’dhavebeenquiteacatch.Troubleis,it’snotlikethere’sashortageofthem,andMissKenway—well,she’sinhermid-forties,sir.Beenalongtimesinceshehadconcubineduties;she’slittlemorethanaservant.Isupposeyoumightsaythatshe’sbeendemoted,sir.”
Ithoughtaboutthat,findingitdifficulttobelievethattheJennyI’donceknown—beautiful,imperiousJenny—hadsuchlowlystanding.SomehowI’dimaginedherperfectlypreservedandcuttingacommandingfigureattheOttomancourt,perhapshavingalreadyrisentothepositionofQueenMother.Instead,hereshewasinDamascus,atthehomeofanunpopulargovernorwhowashimselfabouttobedeposed.Whatdidtheydototheservantsandconcubinesofadeposedgovernor?Iwondered.Possibly,theymetthesamefateasthepoorsoulwe’dseenbeheadedearlier.
“Whatabouttheguardsinside?”Iasked.“Ididn’tthinktheyallowedmenintheharem.”
Heshookhishead.“Alltheguardsintheharemareeunuchs.Theoperationtomakethemeunuchs—bloodyhell,sir,youdon’twanttoknowaboutit.”
“Butyou’regoingtotellmeanyway?”“Well,yeah,don’tseewhyIshouldhavetocarrythatburdenallbymyself.
Theyhackthepoorbleeder’sgenitalsoffthenburytheblokeinsanduptohisneckfortendays.Onlytenpercentofthepoorbuggersevensurvivetheprocess,andthoseguysarethetoughestofthetough.”
“Right,”Isaid.“Oneotherthing:theharamlik,wheretheconcubineslive,thebathsarein
there.”“Thebathsareinthere?”“Yes.”“Andwhyareyoutellingmethat?”Hestopped.Helookedfromlefttoright,squintinginthesun.Satisfiedthe
coastwasclear,hestooped,graspedanironringIhadn’tevenseen,sowellwasitcoveredbythesandbelowourfeet,andyankeditupwards,openingatrapdoorandrevealingstonestepsdescendingintothedark.
“Quick,sir”—hegrinned—“beforeasentrycomesround.”
iii
Onceatthebottomofthesteps,wetookstockofoursurroundings.Itwasdark,
almosttoodarktosee,butfromtheleftofuscamethetrickleofastream,whileaheadstretchedwhatlookedlikeawalkwayusedeitherfordeliveriesormaintenanceoftherunning-waterchannels;probablyamixtureofboth.
Wesaidnothing.Holdendelvedintoaleatherknapsacktoextractataperandatinderbox.Helitthetaperthenplaceditintohismouthandpulledashorttorchfromtheknapsack,whichhelitandheldabovehishead,castingasoftorangeglowallaroundus.Sureenough,toourleftwasanaqueduct,whiletheunevenpathdissolvedintoblackness.
“It’lltakeusrightunderthepalace,andunderneaththebaths,”saidHoldeninawhisper.“IfI’mright,we’llcomeupintoaroomwithafreshwaterpool,rightbeneaththemainbaths.”
Impressed,Isaid,“Youkeptthisquiet.”“Iliketohavetheoddtrickupmysleeve,sir.”Hebeamed.“I’llleadthe
way,shallI?”Andwiththathemovedoff,lapsingintosilenceaswemadeourwayalong
thepathway.Whenthetorcheshadburnedout,wedroppedthemandlittwonewonesfromthetaperinHolden’smouththenwalkedsomemore.Atlasttheareaaheadofuswidenedoutintoashimmeringchamber,wherethefirstthingwesawwasapool,itswallslinedwithmarbletiles,thewatersoclearthatitseemedtoglowinthemeagrelightofferedbyanopentrapdooratthetopofsomenearbysteps.
Thesecondthingwesawwasaeunuch,whokneltwithhisbacktous,fillinganearthenwarejugfromthepool.Heworeatallwhitekalpakonhishead,andflowingrobes.Holdenlookedatmewithhisfingertohislipsthenbegantocreepforward,adaggeralreadyinhisfist,butIstoppedhimwithahandonhisshoulder.Wewantedtheeunuch’sclothes,andthatmeantavoidingbloodstains.ThiswasamanwhoservedtheconcubinesatanOttomanpalace,notacommonredcoatinBoston,andIhadthefeelingthatbloodonhisclothingwouldn’tbesoeasilyexplainedaway.SoIinchedpastHoldenonthewalkway,unconsciouslyflexingmyfingersandinmymindlocatingthecarotidarteryontheeunuch,comingcloserashefinishedfillingthejugandstraightenedtoleave.
Butthenmysandalscuffedthepathway.Thenoisewastinybutneverthelesssoundedlikeavolcanoeruptingintheenclosedspace,andtheeunuchflinched.
Ifrozeandinwardlycursedmysandalsashisheadtiltedtolookuptothetrapdoor,tryingtolocatethesourceofthenoise.Whenhesawnothing,heseemedtogoverystill,asthoughhe’drealizedthat,ifthesoundhadn’tcomefromabove,thenitmusthavecomefrom...
Hespanround.There’dbeensomethingabouthisclothes,hisbearing,thewayhekneltto
fillhisjug:noneofithadpreparedmeforthespeedofhisreaction.Northeskill.Forasheswivelledhecrouched,andfromthecornerofmyeyeIsawthejuginhisfistwhipuptowardsme,sofastitwouldhaveknockedmedownifIhadn’tshownaturnofequalspeedandducked.
Ihadevadedhim,butonlyjust.AsIscuttledbacktoavoidanotherblowfromthejug,hiseyesflittedovermyshoulderandsawHolden.Next,heturnedtocastaquicklookatthestonesteps,hisonlyexit.Hewasassessinghisoptions:runorstandandfight.Andhesettledonstandandfight.
Whichmadehim,justasHoldenhadsaid,one—very—tougheunuch.Hetookafewstepsback,reachedbeneathhisrobesandproducedasword,
simultaneouslypunchingtheearthenwarejugagainstthewalltogivehimselfasecondweapon.Then,swordinonehand,jaggedjuginanother,headvanced.
Thewalkwaywastoonarrow.Onlyoneofuscouldfacehimatanyonetime,andIwasthenearer.Thetimetoworryaboutbloodonrobeswasover,andIreleasedmyblade,steppingbackalittlemyselfandtakingastancereadytomeethim.Implacably,headvanced,allthetimeholdingmygaze.Therewassomethingfearsomeabouthim,somethingIcouldn’tputmyfingeronatfirst,butthenIrealizedwhatitwas:hedidsomethingnoopponenthadeverdone:asmyoldnursemaidEdithwouldhavesaid,hegavemethecreeps.Itwasknowingwhathe’dbeenthrough,theproceduretomakehimaeunuch.Livingthroughthat,nothingheldanyfearforhim,leastofallme,aclumsyoafwhocouldn’tevensneakuponhimsuccessfully.
Heknewit,too.Heknewhegavemethecreepsandheusedit.Itwasallthereinhiseyes,whichdidn’tregisteranemotionastheswordinhisrighthandslashedtowardsme.Iwasforcedtoblockwiththebladeandonlyjusttwistedtoavoidthefollowingmove,whichcamefromhisleftashetriedandalmostsucceededinshovingthebrokenjugintomyface.
Hegavemenotimetorest,perhapsrealizingthattheonlywaytobeatbothmeandHoldenwastokeepdrivingusbackalongthenarrowwalkway.Againtheswordflashed,thistimeunderarm,andagainIdefendedwiththeblade,grimacingwithpainasIusedmyforearmtostopasecondarystrikefromthejugthenreplyingwithanoffensivemoveofmyown,joggingslightlytomyrightanddrivingmybladetowardshissternum.Heusedthejugasashield,andmybladesmashedintoit,sprinklingearthenwaretothestonebeneathus,splish-splashingintothepool.Mybladewasgoingtoneedsharpeningafterthis.
IfIgotoutofthis.Anddamntheman.Hewasthefirsteunuchwe’dmetandalreadywewere
struggling.ImotionedHoldentostandbackandkeepfromundermyfeetasIretreated,tryingtogivemyselfsomespaceandreorganizemyselfinternallyatthesametime.
Theeunuchwasbeatingme—notjustwithskill,butbecauseIfearedhim.Andfeariswhatawarriorfearsmost.
Icrouchedlow,broughtthebladestobearandmethiseye.Foramomentwestoodmotionless,engagedinasilentbutferociousbattleofwill.AbattleIwon.Somehowhisholdovermebroke,andallittookwasaflickerofhiseyestotellmethatheknewit,too,thatthepsychologicalvictorywasnolongerhis.
Isteppedforward,bladeflashing,andnowitwashisturntoedgeback,defendingwellandsteadilybutnolongerwiththeupperhand.Atonepoint,heevengrunted,hislipspulledbackfromhisteeth,andIsawthebeginningsofasweatglowdullyonhisforehead.Myblademovedquickly.AndnowthatIhadhimretreating,Ibegantothinkafreshaboutkeepinghisrobesfreeofblood.Thebattlehadturned;itwasminenow,andhewasswingingwildlywithhissword,hisattacksbecomingmoredisorganizeduntilIsawmychance,droppedalmosttomykneesandthrustupwardswiththeblade,punchingupintohisjaw.
Hisbodyspasmedandhisarmsstretchedoutasthoughcrucified.Hissworddropped,andwhenhislipsstretchedwideinasilentscreamIsawthesilverofmyimpalingbladeinsidehismouth.Thenhisbodydropped.
I’ddrivenhimallthewaybacktothefootofthestepsandthehatchwasopen.Anymomentnow,anothereunuchwouldbealongtowonderwherethejugofwaterhadgotto.Sureenough,Iheardfootstepsfromaboveusandashadowpassedacrossthehatch.Iduckedback,grabbedattheanklesofthedeadmananddraggedhimwithme,snatchingoffhishatandjammingitonmyownhead.
ThenextthingIsawwasthebarefeetofaeunuchashedescendedthestepsandangledhisheadtopeerdownintothepoolchamber.Thesightofmeinthewhitehatwasenoughtodisorientatehimforoneprecioussecond,andIlunged,grabbedhisrobesinmyfistsandyankedhimdownthestepstowardsme,slammingmyforeheadintothebridgeofhisnosebeforehecouldscream.Thebonescrunchedandbroke,andIheldhisheaduptostopbloodleakingtohisrobesashiseyesrolledupandheslouched,dazed,againstthewall.Inmomentshe’drecoverhissensesandshoutforhelp,andIcouldn’tallowthat.SoIrammedtheflatofmyhandhardintohismashednose,drivingsplintersof
brokenboneintohisbrainandkillinghiminstantly.SecondslaterI’dscamperedupthestepsand,verycarefully,verygently,
closedthehatch,givingusatleastafewmomentsofconcealmentbeforereinforcementsarrived.Somewhere,presumably,aconcubinewasexpectingajugofwatertobedelivered.
Wesaidnothing,justslippedintotheeunuchs’robesandpulledonourkalpaks.HowgladIwastogetridofthoseblastedsandals.Andthenwelookedatoneanother.Holdenhadspotsofbloodonthefrontofhisgown,fromwhereIhadsmashedthenoseoftherobe’spreviouswearer.Iscratchedatitwithanailbut,insteadofitflakingoffasI’dhoped,itwasstillwetandsmearedalittle.Intheend,usingacomplicatedseriesofpainedfacialexpressionsandfuriousnods,wedecidedbymutualconsenttoleavethebloodstainandriskit.Next,Icarefullyopenedthehatchandletmyselfoutintotheroomabove,whichwasempty.Itwasadark,coolroom,tiledinmarblethatseemedluminescent,thankstoapoolthatcoveredmostofthefloorspace,itssurfacesmooth,silentyetsomehowalive.
WiththecoastclearIturnedandmotionedtoHolden,whofollowedmethroughthehatchintotheroom.Westoodthereforamomentorsotakinginoursurroundings,givingeachothercautiouslytriumphantlooksbeforemovingtothedoor,openingitandlettingourselvesoutintothecourtyardbeyond.
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Notknowingwhatlayontheotherside,I’dbeenflexingmyfingers,readytoreleasemybladeatamoment’snotice,whileHoldenhadnodoubtbeensettoreachforhissword,bothofuspoisedtofightshouldwebegreetedbyasquadofsnarlingeunuchs,ahuddleofhowlingconcubines.
Insteadwhatwesawwasascenestraightoutofheaven,anafterlifefilledwithpeaceandserenityandbeautifulwomen.Itwasalargecourtyardpavedinblack-and-whitestone,withatricklingfountainatitscentreandasurroundofornatecolumnedporticosshadedbyoverhangingvinesandtrees.Arestfulplace,devotedtobeauty,serenity,tranquillityandthought.Thetrickleandburbleofthefountainwastheonlysound,despiteallthepeoplethere.Concubinesinflowingwhitesilkeithersatonstonebenches,meditativeordoingneedlework,orcrossedthecourtyard,barefeetpaddingsilentlyonthestone,impossiblyproudanderect,noddingcourteouslytooneanotherastheypassed;whileamongthem
movedservantgirls,dressedsimilarlybuteasytospotbecausetheywereyoungerorolder,ornotasbeautifulasthewomentheyserved.
Therewasanequalnumberofmen,mostofwhomstoodaroundtheedgesofthecourtyard,watchfulandwaitingtobecalledforwardtoserve:theeunuchs.Nonelookedourway,Iwasrelievedtosee;therulesaroundeyecontactwereaselaborateasthemosaics.Andastwounfamiliar-lookingeunuchstryingtonegotiateourwayaroundastrangeplace,thatsuitedusdowntotheground.
Westayedbythedoorofthebaths,whichwaspartlyobscuredbythecolumnsandvinesoftheportico,andIunconsciouslyadoptedthesameposeastheotherguards—backstraight,myhandsheldtogetherinfrontofme—asmygazesweptthecourtyardinsearchofJenny.
Andthereshewas.Ididn’trecognizeheratfirst;myeyesalmostwentpasther.ButwhenIlookedagain,towhereaconcubinesatrelaxingwithherbacktothefountain,havingherfeetmassagedbyherserving-woman,Irealizedthattheserving-womanwasmysister.
Timehadtakenitstollonthoselooks,andthoughtherewasstillaglimmerofthebeautyshe’doncebeen,herdarkhairwasfleckedwithgrey,herfacewasdrawnandlinedandherskinhadsaggedalittle,revealingdarkhollowsbeneathhereyes:tiredeyes.WhatanironyitwasthatIshouldrecognizethelookonthefaceofthegirlshetendedto:thevainanddisdainfulwayshegazeddownhernose.I’dgrownupseeingitonmysister’sface.NotthatItookanypleasureintheirony,butIcouldn’tignoreit.
AsIstared,Jennylookedacrossthecourtyardatme.Forasecondhereyebrowsfurrowedinconfusion,andIwonderedif,afteralltheseyears,she’drecognizeme.Butno.Iwastoofaraway.Iwasdisguisedasaeunuch.Thejug—ithadbeenmeantforher.Andmaybeshewaswonderingwhytwoeunuchshadwalkedintothebathsandtwodifferentoneshadwalkedout.
Stillwearingaconfusedexpression,shestood,genuflectedtotheconcubinesheservedthenbegantomoveover,weavingthroughsilken-clothedconcubinesasshecrossedthecourtyardtowardsus.IslippedbehindHoldenjustassheduckedherheadtoavoidthevinesdanglingfromtheporticoandwasstandingafootorsoawayfromus.
Shesaidnothing,ofcourse—talkingwasforbidden—butthenagainshedidn’tneedto.LurkingbehindHolden’srightshoulder,Iriskedalookatherfaceandwatchedashereyesslidfromhimtothebath-chamberdoor,hermeaningcleartosee:whereismywater?Onherface,assheexertedwhatlittleauthorityshehad,IcouldseeareminderofthegirlJennyhadbeen,aghostof
thehaughtinessthathadoncebeensofamiliartome.Meanwhile,Holden,reactingtothefuriousgazehereceivedfromJenny,
bowedhisheadandwasabouttoturntowardsthebathchamber.Iprayedhe’dhadthesameflashofinspirationasI,andthathehadrealized,ifhecouldsomehowlureJennyinside,thenwecouldmakeourescapewithhardlyarufflecaused.Sureenough,hewasspreadinghishandstoindicatethere’dbeenaproblem,thengesturingatthedoortothebathchamber,asthoughtosayheneededassistance.ButJenny,farfrombeingpreparedtoofferit,hadinsteadnoticedsomethingaboutHolden’sattireand,ratherthanaccompanyinghimintothebathhouse,stoppedhimwithanupraisedfinger,whichshefirstcrookedathimandthenturnedtoindicatesomethingonhischest.Abloodstain.
HereyeswidenedandagainIlooked,thistimetoseehereyesmovefromthebloodstainonHolden’srobestohisface,andwhatshesawtherewasthefaceofanimposter.
Hermouthdroppedopen.Shetookastepbackthenanotheruntilshebumpedintooneofthecolumnsandtheimpactjoggedheroutofhersudden,shockeddazeand,assheopenedhermouth,abouttobreakthesacredruleandcallforhelp,IslippedfrombehindHolden’sshoulder,hissing,“Jenny,it’sme.It’sHaytham.”
AsIsaiditIglancednervouslyoutintothecourtyard,whereeveryonecontinuedasbefore,oblivioustowhatwashappeningbeneaththeportico,andthenIlookedbacktoseeJennystaringatme,hereyesgrowingwider,alreadymistingupwithtearsastheyearsfellawayandsherecognizedme.
“Haytham,”shewhispered,“you’vecomeforme.”“Yes,Jenny,yes,”Irepliedinahush,feelingastrangemixofemotions,at
leastoneofwhichwasguilt.“Iknewyou’dcome,”shesaid.“Iknewyou’dcome.”Hervoicewasrising,andIbegantoworry,castinganotherpanickylookout
intothecourtyard.ThenshereachedforwardandgraspedmytwohandsinbothofhersandbrushedpastHoldentolookimploringlyintomyeyes.“Tellmehe’sdead.Tellmeyoukilledhim.”
Tornbetweenwantinghertokeepquietandwantingtoknowwhatshemeant,Ihissed,“Who?Tellyouwho’sdead?”
“Birch,”shespat,andthistimehervoicewastooloud.PasthershoulderIsawaconcubine.Glidingtowardsusbeneaththeportico,perhapsonherwaytothebathchamber,she’dseemedlostinthought,butatthesoundofavoiceshelookedup,andherexpressionofcalmserenitywasreplacedbyoneofpanic—
andsheleanedoutintothecourtyardandcalledtheonewordwehadallbeenfearing.
“Guards!”
v
Thefirstguardtocomerushingoverdidn’trealizeIwasarmed,andI’dengagedthebladeandplungeditintohisabdomenbeforeheevenknewwhatwashappening.Hiseyeswentwideandhegruntedflecksofbloodintomyface.Withayellofeffort,Iwrenchedmyarmroundandpulledhimwithme,ramminghisstill-writhingcorpseintoasecondmanwhocamerushingtowardsus,andsentthembothtumblingbacktotheblack-and-whitetilesofthecourtyard.Morearrived,andthefightwason.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawtheflashofabladeandturnedjustintimetoavoiditsbeingembeddedintomyneck.Twisting,Igrabbedtheassailant’sswordarm,brokeitandslidmybladeupintohisskull.Iwentintoacrouch,pivotedandkickedtotakeawaythelegsofafourthmanthenscrambledtomyfeet,stampedonhisfaceandheardhisskullcrunch.
Notfaraway,Holdenhadfelledthreeoftheeunuchs,butbynowtheguardshadthemeasureofusandwereapproachingwithmorecaution,assemblingforcombatevenaswetookcoverbehindthecolumnsandthrewworriedglancesateachother,eachwonderingifwecouldmakeitbacktothetrapdoorbeforewewereoverrun.
Cleverboys.Twoofthemmovedforwardtogether.IstoodsidebysidewithHoldenandwefoughtback,evenasanotherpairofguardsmovedinfromourright.Foramomentitwastouchandgo,aswestoodback-to-backandbattledtheguardsoutoftheporticountiltheywithdrew,readytolaunchtheirnextattack,inchingcloserallthetime,crowdingin.
Behindus,Jennystoodbythedoortothebathchamber.“Haytham!”shecalled,anoteofpanicinhervoice.“We’vegottogo.”
Whatwouldtheydotoherifshewerecapturednow?Iwondered.Whatwouldherpunishmentbe?Idreadedtothink.
“Youtwogo,sir,”urgedHoldenoverhisshoulder.“Noway,”Icalledback.Againcameanattackandagainwefought.Aeunuchfelldyingwithagroan.
Evenindeath,evenwithswordsteelintheirgut,thesemendidn’tscream.Over
theshouldersoftheonesinfrontofusIsawmoreofthempouringintothecourtyard.Theywerelikecockroaches.Foreveryonewekilledthereweretwototakehisplace.
“Go,sir!”insistedHolden.“I’llkeepthembackthenfollowyou.”“Don’tbeafool,Holden,”Ibarked,unabletokeepthescoffingsoundoutof
myvoice.“There’snoholdingthemback.They’llcutyoudown.”“I’vebeenintighterspotsthanthisone,sir,”gruntedHolden,hisswordarm
workingasheexchangedblows.ButIcouldhearthefalsebravadoinhisvoice.“Thenyouwon’tmindifIstay,”Isaid,atthesametimefendingoffoneof
theeunuch’sswordstrikesandparrying,notwithmybladebutwithapunchtothefacethatsenthimpinwheelingback.
“Go!”heshrieked.“Wedie.Webothdie,”Ireplied.ButHoldenhaddecidedthatthetimeforcourtesywasover.“Listen,mate,
eitheryoutwomakeitoutofhereornoneofusdo.What’sitgoingtobe?”Atthesametime,Jennywaspullingonmyhand,thedoortothebath
chamberopen,andmoremenarrivingfromourleft.ButstillIhesitated.Until,atlast,withashakeofhishead,Holdenwhippedround,yelled,“You’llhavetoexcusemesir,”andbeforeIcouldreacthadshovedmebackwardsthroughthedoorandslammeditshut.
TherewasamomentofshockedsilenceinthebathchamberasIsprawledonthefloorandtriedtoabsorbwhathadhappened.FromtheothersideofthedoorIheardthesoundsofbattle—astrange,quiet,mutedbattleitwas,too—andathuddingatthedoor.Nexttherewasashout—ashoutthatbelongedtoHolden,andIpulledmyselftomyfeet,abouttohaulthedooropenandrushbackout,whenJennygraspedholdofmyarm.
“Youcan’thelphimnow,Haytham,”shesaidsoftly,justastherecameanotheryellfromthecourtyard,Holdenshouting,“Youbastards,youbloodypricklessbastards.”
IcastonelastlookbackatthedoorthenpulledthebaracrosstolockitasJennydraggedmeovertothehatchinthefloor.
“Isthatthebestyoucando,youbastards?”Iheardfromaboveusaswetookthesteps,Holden’svoicegrowingfainternow.“Comeon,youdicklesswonders,let’sseehowyoufareagainstoneofHisMajesty’smen...”
Thelastthingweheardasweranbackalongthewalkwaywasthesoundofascream.
21SEPTEMBER1757
i
Ihadhopednevertotakepleasureinkilling,but,fortheCopticpriestwhostoodguardclosetotheAbouGerbemonasteryonMountGhebelEter,Imadeanexception.IhavetoadmitIenjoyedkillinghim.
Hecrumpledtothedirtatthebaseofafencethatsurroundedasmallenclosure,hischestheavingandhislastbreathscominginjaggedburstsashedied.Overhead,abuzzardcawed,andIglancedtowherethearchesandspiresofthesandstonemonasteryloomedonthehorizon.Sawthewarmglowoflifeatthewindow.
Thedyingguardgurgledatmyfeet,andforaseconditoccurredtometofinishhimquickly—butthenagain,whyshowhimmercy?Howeverslowlyhediedandhowevermuchpainhefeltwhileithappened,itwasnothing—nothing—comparedtotheagonyinflictedonthosepoorsoulswhohadsufferedwithintheenclosure.
Andoneinparticular,whowassufferingintherenow.IhadlearntinthemarketinDamascusthatHoldenhadnotbeenkilled,asI
hadthought,butcapturedandtransportedtoEgyptandtotheCopticmonasteryatAbouGerbe,wheretheyturnedmenintoeunuchs.SothatiswhereIcame,prayingIwouldnotbetoolatebut,inmyheartofhearts,knowingIwouldbe.AndIwas.
Lookingatthefence,Icouldtellitwouldbesunkdeepintothegroundtopreventpredatorynight-timeanimalsdiggingbeneathit.Withintheenclosurewastheplacewheretheyburiedtheeunuchsuptotheirnecksinsandandkeptthemtherefortendays.Theydidn’twanthyenasgnawingawayatthefacesoftheburiedmenduringthattime.Absolutelynot.No,ifthosemendied,theyweretodieofslowexposuretothesunorofthewoundsinflicteduponthemduringthecastrationprocedure.
Withtheguarddeadbehindme,Icreptintotheenclosure.Itwasdark,justthelightofthemoontoguideme,butIcouldseethatthesandaroundwas
bloodstained.Howmanymen,Iwondered,hadsufferedhere,mutilatedthenburieduptotheirnecks?Fromnotfarawaycamealowgroan,andIsquinted,seeinganirregularshapeonthegroundatthecentreoftheenclosure,andIknewstraightawaythatitbelongedtoPrivateJamesHolden.
“Holden,”Iwhispered,andasecondlaterwascrouchingtowherehisheadprotrudedfromthesand,gaspingatwhatIsaw.Thenightwascool,butthedayswerehot,tortuouslyso,andthesunhadburnedhimsobadlyitwasasthoughtheveryfleshhadbeensearedawayfromhisface.Hislipsandeyelidswerecrustedandbleeding,hisskinredandpeeling.Ihadaleatherflaskofwaterattheready,uncorkeditandheldittohislips.
“Holden?”Irepeated.Hestirred.Hiseyesflickeredopenandfocusedonme,milkyandfullofpain
butwithrecognition,andveryslowlytheghostofasmileappearedonhiscrackedandpetrifiedlips.
Then,justasquickly,itwasgoneandhewasconvulsing.WhetherhewastryingtowrenchhimselfoutofthesandorstruckbyafitIwasn’tsure,buthisheadthrashedfromsidetoside,hismouthyawnedopen,andIleanedforward,takinghisfaceinbothofmyhandstostophimhurtinghimself.
“Holden,”Isaid,keepingmyvoicedown.“Holden,stop.Please...”“Getmeoutofhere,sir,”herasped,andhiseyesgleamedwetinthe
moonlight.“Getmeout.”“Holden...”“Getmeoutofhere,”hepleaded.“Getmeoutofhere,sir,please,sir,now,
sir...”Againhisheadbeganjerkingpainfullylefttoright.AgainIreachedoutto
steadyhim,needingtostophimbeforehebecamehysterical.HowlongdidIhavebeforetheypostedanewguard?IofferedtheflasktohislipsandlethimsipmorewaterthenpulledashovelIhadbroughtfrommybackandbeganscoopingblood-soakedsandfromaroundhishead,talkingtohimatthesametimeasIexposedhisbareshouldersandchest.
“I’msosorry,Holden,I’msosorry.Ishouldneverhaveleftyou.”“Itoldyouto,sir,”hemanaged.“Igaveyouapush,remember...”AsIdugdown,thesandwasevenmoreblackwithblood.“OhGod,what
havetheydonetoyou?”ButIalreadyknewand,anyway,Ihadmyproofmomentslater,whenI
reachedhiswaisttofinditswathedinbandages—alsothickandblackandcrustedwithblood.
“Becarefuldownthere,sir,please,”hesaid,very,veryquietly,andIcouldseethathewaswincing,bitingbackthepain.Whichintheendwastoomuchforhim,andhelostconsciousness,ablessingthatallowedmetouncoverhimandtakehimfromthataccursedplaceandtoourtwohorses,whichweretetheredtotreesatthebottomofthehill.
ii
ImadeHoldencomfortablethenstoodandlookedupthehilltowardsthemonastery.Icheckedthemechanismofmyblade,strappedaswordtomywaist,primedtwopistolsandpushedthemintomybelt,thenprimedtwomuskets.NextIlitataperandtorchand,takingthemuskets,mademywaybackupthehill,whereIlitasecondandthirdtorch.Ichasedthehorsesoutthentossedthefirsttorchintothestables,thehaygoingupwithasatisfyingwhoomph;thesecondtorchIthrewintothevestibuleofthechapel,andwhenboththatandthestableswerenicelyablazeIjoggedacrosstothedormitory,lightingtwomoretorchesontheway,smashingrearwindowsandtossingthetorchesinside.AndthenIreturnedtothefrontdoor,whereI’dleanedthemusketsagainstatree.AndIwaited.
Notforlong.Inmoments,thefirstpriestappeared.Ishothimdown,tossedthefirstmusketaside,pickedupthesecondanduseditonthesecondpriest.Morebegantopourout,andIemptiedthepistolsthendasheduptothedoorwayandbeganattackingwithmybladeandsword.Bodiesfellaroundme—ten,elevenormore—asthebuildingburned,untilIwasslickwithpriestblood,myhandscoveredinit,trailsofitrunningfrommyface.Iletthewoundedscreaminagonyastheremainingpriestsinsidecowered—notwantingtoburn,tooterrifiedtorunoutandfacedeath.Somechancedit,ofcourse,andcamechargingoutwieldingswords,onlytobecutdown.OthersIheardburning.Maybesomeescaped,butIwasn’tinthemoodtobethorough.Imadesurethatmostofthemdied;Iheardthescreamsandsmelledtheburningfleshofthosewhohidinside,andthenIsteppedoverthebodiesofthedeadanddyingandleft,asthemonasteryburnedbehindme.
25SEPTEMBER1757
Wewereinacottage,atatable,withtheremainsofamealandsinglecandlebetweenus.Notfaraway,Holdenslept,feverish,andeverynowandthenI’dgetuptochangetheragonhisforeheadforacoolerone.We’dneedtoletthefeverrunitscourseandonlythen,whenhewasbetter,continueourjourney.
“FatherwasanAssassin,”JennysaidasIsatdown.Itwasthefirsttimewe’dspokenaboutsuchmatterssincetherescue.We’dbeentoopreoccupiedwithlookingafterHolden,escapingEgyptandfindingsheltereachnight.
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Youknow?”“Yes.Ifoundout.I’verealizedthat’swhatyoumeantallthoseyearsago.Do
youremember?Youusedtocallme‘Squirt’...”Shepursedherlipsandshifteduncomfortably.“...andwhatyousaidaboutmebeingthemaleheir.HowI’dfindout
soonerorlaterwhatlayinstoreforme?”“Iremember...”“Well,itturnedouttobelaterratherthansoonerthatIdiscoveredwhatlay
instoreforme.”“Butifyouknew,thenwhydoesBirchlive?”“Whywouldhebedead?”“He’saTemplar.”“AsamI.”Sherearedback,furycloudingherface.“You—you’reaTemplar!Butthat
goesagainsteverythingFatherever...”“Yes,”Isaidequably.“Yes,IamaTemplar,andno,itdoesn’tgoagainst
everythingourfatherbelieved.SincelearningofhisaffiliationsI’vecometoseemanysimilaritiesbetweenthetwofactions.I’vebeguntowonderif,givenmyrootsandmycurrentpositionwithintheOrder,I’mnotperfectlyplacedtosomehowuniteAssassinandTemplar...”
Istopped.Shewasslightlydrunk,Irealized;therewassomethingsloppyaboutherfeaturesallofasudden,andshemadeadisgustednoise.“Andwhat
abouthim?Myformerfiancé,ownerofmyheart,thedashingandcharmingReginaldBirch?Whatofhim,praytell?”
“Reginaldismymentor,myGrandMaster.Itwashewholookedaftermeintheyearsaftertheattack.”
Herfacetwistedintothenastiest,mostbittersneerIhadeverseen.“Well,weren’tyoutheluckyone?Whileyouwerebeingmentored,Iwasbeinglookedafter,too—byTurkishslavers.”
Ifeltasifshecouldseerightthroughme,asthoughshecouldseeexactlywhatmyprioritieshadbeenalltheseyears,andIdroppedmyeyesthenlookedacrossthecottagetowhereHoldenlay.Aroomfullofmyfailings.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.Asiftothemboth.“I’mtrulysorry.”“Don’tbe.Iwasoneoftheluckyones.Theykeptmepureforsellingtothe
Ottomancourt,andafterthatIwaslookedafteratTopkapıPalace.”Shelookedaway.“Itcouldhavebeenworse.Iwasusedtoit,afterall.”
“What?”“IexpectyouidolizedFather,didyou,Haytham?Probablystilldo.Yoursun
andmoon?‘Myfathermyking’?Notme:Ihatedhim.Allhistalkoffreedom—spiritualandintellectualfreedom—didn’textendtome,hisowndaughter.Therewasnoweaponstrainingforme,remember?No‘Thinkdifferently’forJenny.Therewasjust‘BeagoodgirlandgetmarriedtoReginaldBirch.’Whatagreatmatchthatwouldbe.IdaresayIwastreatedbetterbythesultanthanIwouldhavebeenbyhim.Ioncetoldyouthatourlivesweremappedoutforus,remember?Well,inonesenseIwaswrong,ofcourse,becauseIdon’tthinkeitherofuscouldhavepredictedhowitwouldallturnout,butinanothersense?Inanothersense,Icouldn’thavebeenmoreright,Haytham,becauseyouwereborntokill,andkilliswhatyouhavedone,andIwasborntoservemen,andservemeniswhatIhavedone.Mydaysofservingmenareover,though.Whataboutyou?”
Finished,shehoistedthebeakerofwinetoherlipsandglugged.Iwonderedwhatawfulmemoriesthedrinkhelpedsuppress.
“ItwasyourfriendstheTemplarswhoattackedourhome,”shesaidwhenherbeakerwasdry.“I’msureofit.”
“Yousawnorings,though.”“No,butsowhat?Whatdoesthatmean?Theytookthemoff,ofcourse.”“No.Theyweren’tTemplars,Jenny.I’verunintothemsince.Theyweremen
forhire.Mercenaries.”Yes,mercenaries,Ithought.MercenarieswhoworkedforEdwardBraddock,
whowasclosetoReginald...Ileanedforward.“IwastoldthatFatherhadsomething—somethingthat
theywanted.Doyouknowwhatitwas?”“Ohyes.Theyhaditinthecarriagethatnight.”“Well?”“Itwasabook.”AgainIfeltafrozen,numbfeeling.“Whatsortofbook?”“Brown,leather-bound,bearingthesealoftheAssassins.”Inodded.“Doyouthinkyou’drecognizeitifyouweretoseeitagain?”Sheshrugged.“Probably,”shesaid.IlookedacrosstowhereHoldenlay,sweatglisteningonhistorso,“When
thefeverhasbroken,we’llleave.”“Togowhere?”“ToFrance.”
8OCTOBER1757
i
Thoughitwascold,thesunwasshiningthismorning,adaybestdescribedas“sun-dappled,”withbrightlightpouringthroughthecanopyoftreestopainttheforestfloorapatchworkofgold.
Werodeinacolumnofthree,meinthelead.BehindmewasJenny,whohadlongsincediscardedherservant-girlclothesandworearobethathungdowntheflankofhersteed.Alarge,darkhoodwaspulledupoverherhead,andherfaceseemedtoloomfromwithinitasthoughshewerestaringfromtheinsideofacave:serious,intenseandframedbygrey-fleckedhairthatfellacrosshershoulders.
BehindJennycameHolden,who,likeme,woreabuttoned-upfrockcoat,scarfandcockedhat,onlyhesaggedforwardalittleinhissaddle,hiscomplexionpale,sallowand...haunted.
Hehadsaidlittlesincerecoveringfromhisfever.Therehadbeenmoments—tinyglimpsesoftheoldHolden:afleetingsmile,aflashofhisLondonwisdom—buttheywerefleeting,andhewouldsoonreturntobeingclosedoff.DuringourpassageacrosstheMediterraneanhehadkepthimselftohimself,sittingalone,brooding.InFrancewehaddonneddisguises,boughthorsesandbegunthetrektothechateau,andhehadriddeninsilence.Helookedpaleand,havingseenhimwalk,Ithoughthewasstillinpain.EveninthesaddleI’doccasionallyseehimwincing,especiallyoverunevenground.Icouldhardlybeartothinkofthehurthewasenduring—physicalandmental.
Anhourawayfromthechateau,westoppedandIstrappedmyswordtomywaist,primedapistolandputitintomybelt.Holdendidthesame,andIaskedhim,“Areyousureyou’reallrighttofight,Holden?”
Heshotmeareproachfullook,andInoticedthebagsanddarkringsbeneathhiseyes.“Beggingyourpardon,sir,butit’smycockandballstheytookoffme,notmygumption.”
“I’msorry,Holden,Ididn’tmeantosuggestanything.I’vehadmyanswer
andthat’sgoodenoughforme.”“Doyouthinktherewillbefighting,sir?”hesaid,andagainIsawhim
winceashereachedtobringhisswordcloseathand.“Idon’tknow,Holden,Ireallydon’t.”AswecameclosetothechateauIsawthefirstofthepatrols.Theguard
stoodinfrontofmyhorseandregardedmefrombeneaththewidebrimofhishat:thesameman,Irealized,whohadbeenherethelasttimeIvisitednearlyfouryearsago.
“Thatyou,MasterKenway?”hesaid.“Indeeditis,andIhavetwocompanions,”Ireplied.IwatchedhimverycarefullyashisstarewentfrommetoJennythento
Holdenand,thoughhetriedtohideit,hiseyestoldmeallIneededtoknow.Hewenttoputhisfingerstohismouth,butIhadleaptfrommyhorse,
grabbedhisheadandejectedmybladethroughhiseyeandintohisbrainandslicedopenhisthroatbeforehecouldmakeanothersound.
ii
Ikneltwithonehandonthesentry’schestasthebloodoozedfastandthicklyfromthewide-opengashathisthroat,likeasecond,grinningmouth,andlookedbackovermyshouldertowhereJennyregardedmewithafrownandHoldensatuprightinhissaddle,hissworddrawn.
“Doyoumindtellinguswhatthatwasallabout?”askedJenny.“Hewasabouttowhistle,”Ireplied,scanningtheforestaroundus.“He
didn’twhistlelasttime.”“So?Perhapstheychangedtheentryprocedure.”Ishookmyhead.“No.Theyknowwe’recoming.They’reexpectingus.The
whistlewouldhavewarnedtheothers.Wewouldn’thavemadeitacrossthelawnbeforetheycutusdown.”
“Howdoyouknow?”shesaid.“Idon’tknow,”Isnapped.Beneathmyhandtheguard’schestroseandfell
onelasttime.Ilookeddowntoseehiseyesswivelandhisbodygiveonelastspasmbeforehedied.“Isuspect,”Icontinued,wipingmybloodyhandsonthegroundandstandingup.“I’vespentyearssuspecting,ignoringtheobvious.Thebookyousawinthecarriagethatnight—Reginaldhasitwithhim.He’llhaveitinthathouseifI’mnotverymuchmistaken.Itwashewhoorganizedtheraidon
ourhouse.HewhoisresponsibleforFather’sdeath.”“Oh,youknowthatnow,doyou?”shesneered.“I’drefusedtobelieveitbefore.Butnow,yes,Iknow.Thingshavebegunto
makesensetome.Like,oneafternoon,whenIwasachild,ImetReginaldbytheplateroom.I’dwagerhewaslookingforthebookthen.Thereasonhewasclosetothefamily,Jenny—thereasonheaskedforyourhandinmarriage—wasbecausehewantedthebook.”
“Youdon’thavetotellme,”shesaid.“Itriedwarningyouonthenightthathewasthetraitor.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,thenthoughtforamoment.“DidFatherknowhewasaTemplar?”
“Notatfirst,butIfoundout,andItoldFather.”“That’swhentheyargued,”Isaid,understandingnow.“Didtheyargue?”“Iheardthemoneday.And,afterwards,Fatheremployedtheguards—
Assassins,nodoubt.ReginaldtoldmehewaswarningFather...”“Morelies,Haytham...”Ilookedupather,tremblingslightly.Yes.Morelies.EverythingIknew—
myentirechildhood,allofitbuiltonafoundationofthem.“HewasusingDigweed,”Isaid.“ItwasDigweedwhotoldhimwherethe
bookwasstored...”Iwincedatasuddenmemory.“Whatisit?”shesaid.“Thedayattheplateroom,Reginaldwasaskingmewheremyswordwas
kept.Itoldhimasecrethidingplace.”“Wasitinthebilliardsroom?”Inodded.“Theywentstraightthere,didn’tthey?”shesaid.Inodded.“Theyknewitwasn’tintheplateroom,becauseDigweedtold
themithadbeenmoved,whichiswhytheywentstraighttothegamesroom.”“Buttheyweren’tTemplars?”shesaid.“Ibegyourpardon.”“InSyria,youtoldmethemenwhoattackedusweren’tTemplars,”shesaid
withamockingtone.“Theycouldn’tbeyourbelovedTemplars.”Ishookmyhead.“No,theyweren’t.Itoldyou,I’veencounteredthemsince,
andtheywereBraddock’smen.ReginaldmusthaveplannedtoschoolmeintheOrder...”Ithoughtagain,andsomethingoccurredtome:“...becauseofthe
familyinheritance,probably.UsingTemplarmenwouldhavebeentoomuchofarisk.Imighthavefoundout.Imighthavearrivedheresooner.IalmostgottoDigweed.IalmosthadthemintheBlackForestbutthen...”IrememberedbacktothecabinintheBlackForest.“ReginaldkilledDigweed.That’swhytheywereonestepaheadofus—andtheystillare.”Ipointedinthedirectionofthechateau.
“Sowhatdowedo,sir?”askedHolden.“WedowhattheydidthenighttheyattackedusatQueenAnne’sSquare.We
waituntilnightfall.Andthenwegointhere,andwekillpeople.”
9OCTOBER1757
i
Thatdateabovesays9October,whichIscribbledthere,ratheroptimistically,attheendofthepreviousentry,intendingthatthisshouldbeacontemporaneousaccountofourattempttobreachthechateau.Infact,I’mwritingthisseveralmonthslaterand,todetailwhathappenedthatnight,Ihavetocastmymindback...
ii
Howmanywouldtherebe?Six,onthelastoccasionIcame.WouldReginaldhavestrengthenedtheforceinthemeantime,knowingImightcome?Ithoughtso.Doubledit.
Makeittwelve,then,plusJohnHarrison,ifhewasstillinresidence.And,ofcourse,Reginald.Hewasfifty-two,andhisskillswouldhavefadedbut,evenso:Iknewnevertounderestimatehim.
Sowewaited,andhopedthey’ddowhattheyeventuallydid,whichwastosendoutasearchpartyforthemissingpatrol,threeofthem,whocamebearingtorchesanddrawnswords,marchingacrossthedarklawnwithtorchlightdancingongrimfaces.
Wewatchedastheymaterializedfromthegloomandmeltedawayintothetrees.Atthegatestheybegancallingtheguard’snamethenhurriedalongtheoutsideofthelowperimetertowardswherethepatrolwassupposedtobe.
HisbodywaswhereI’dleftit,andinthetreesnearbyHolden,JennyandItookupposition.Jennystayedback,armedwithaknifebutoutoftheaction;HoldenandIwerefurtherforward,wherewebothclimbedtrees—Holdenwithsomedifficulty—towatchandwait,steelingourselvesasthesearchpartycameacrossthebody.
“He’sdead,sir.”
Thepartyleadercranedoverthebody.“Somehoursago.”Igaveabirdcall,asignaltoJenny,whodidwhatwe’dagreed.Herscream
forhelpwaslaunchedfromdeepwithintheforestandpiercedthenight.Withanervousnod,thepartyleaderledhismenintothetrees,andthey
thunderedtowardsus,towhereweperched,waitingforthem.IlookedthroughthetreestoseetheshapeofHoldenafewyardsawayandwonderedifhewaswellenough,andIhopedtodearGodhewas,becauseinthenextmomentthepatrolwasrunningintothetreesbelowusandIlaunchedmyselffromthebranch.
Itookouttheleaderfirst,ejectingmybladesoitwentthroughhiseyeandintohisbrain,killinghiminstantly.FrommycrouchingpositionIslicedupandbackandopenedthestomachofthesecondman,whodroppedtohiskneeswithhisinsidesglisteningthroughagapingholeinhistunicthenfellfacedowntothesoftforestfloor.Lookingover,IsawthethirdmandropoffthepointofHolden’ssword,andHoldenlookover,eveninthedarkthetriumphwrittenalloverhisface.
“Goodscreaming,”IsaidtoJenny,momentslater.“Pleasedtobeofassistance.”Shefrowned.“Butlisten,Haytham,I’mnot
stayingintheshadowswhenwegetthere.”Sheraisedtheknife.“IwanttodealwithBirchmyself.Hetookmylifeawayfromme.AnymercyheshowedbynothavingmekilledIshallrepaybyleavinghimhiscockand...”
ShestoppedandlookedoveratHolden,whokneltnearbyandlookedaway.“I’m...”shebegan.“That’sallright,Miss,”saidHolden.Heraisedhisheadand,withalookI’d
neverseenonhisfacebefore,said,“Butyoumakesureyoudotakehiscockandballsbeforeyoufinishhim.Youmakethatbastardsuffer.”
iii
Wemadeourwayaroundtheperimeterbacktothegate,wherealonesentrylookedagitated,perhapswonderingwherethesearchpartyhadgotto;perhapssensingsomethingwaswrong,hissoldier’sinstinctatwork.
Butwhateverinstincthehadwasn’tenoughtokeephimalive,andmomentslaterwewereduckingthroughthewicketgateandkeepinglowtomakeourwayacrossthelawn.Westoppedandkneltbyafountain,holdingourbreathsatthesoundoffourmoremenwhocamefromthefrontdoorofthechateau,boots
drummingonthepaving,callingnames.Asearchpartysenttofindthefirstsearchparty.Thechateauwasonfullalertnow.Somuchforaquietentry.Atleastwe’dreducedtheirnumbersby...
Eight.Onmysignal,HoldenandIburstfrombehindthecoverofthefountainbaseandwereuponthem,cuttingallthreedownbeforetheyevenhadachancetodrawtheirswords.We’dbeenseen.Fromthechateautherecameashout,andinthenextinstanttherewasthesharpreportofmusketfireandballssmackedintothefountainbehindus.Weranforit.Towardsthefrontdoor,whereanotherguardsawuscomingand,asIthundereduptheshortstepstowardshim,triedtoescapethroughit.
Hewastooslow.Irammedmybladethroughtheclosingdoorandintothesideofhisface,usingmyforwardmomentumtoshoveopenthedoorandburstthrough,rollingintotheentrancehallashefellawaywithbloodsluicingfromhisshatteredjaw.Fromthelandingabovecamethecrackofmusketfire,butthegunmanhadaimedtoohighandtheballsmackedharmlesslyintowood.InaninstantIwasonmyfeetandchargingtowardsthestairway,boundinguptowardsthelanding,wherethesniperabandonedhismusketwithayelloffrustration,pulledhisswordfromitssheathandcametomeetme.
Therewasterrorinhiseyes;mybloodwasup.Ifeltmoreanimalthanman,workingonpureinstinct,asthoughIhadlevitatedfrommyownbodyandwaswatchingmyselffight.InmomentsIhadopenedthegunmanandtoppledhimoverthebanistertotheentrancehallbelow,whereanotherguardhadarrived,justintimetomeetHoldenasheburstthroughthefrontdoorwithJennybehindhim.Ileaptfromthelandingwithashout,landingsoftlyonthebodyofthemanI’djustthrownoverandforcingthenewarrivaltoswingaboutandprotecthisrear.ItwasalltheopportunityHoldenneededtorunhimthrough.
WithanodIturnedandranbackupthestairs,intimeseeafigureappearonthelanding,andIduckedatthecrackofgunfireasaballslappedintothestonewallbehindme.ItwasJohnHarrisonandIwasuponhimbeforehehadachancetodrawhisdagger,snatchingafistfulofhisnightclothesandforcinghimtohisknees,drawingbackmybladearmtostrike.
“Didyouknow?”Isnarled.“Didyouhelptakemyfatherandcorruptmylife?”
HedroppedhisheadinassentandIplungedthebladeintothebackofhisneck,severingthevertebrae,killinghiminstantly.
Idrewmysword.AtReginald’sdoor,Ihalted,throwingalookupanddownthelanding,thenleanedbackandwasabouttokickitopenwhenIrealizedit
wasalreadyajar.Crouching,Ipushedit,anditswunginwardswithacreakingsound.
Reginaldstood,dressed,atthecentreofhischamber.Justlikehim,alwayssuchasticklerforetiquette—hehaddressedtomeethiskillers.Suddenlytherewasashadowonthewall,castbyafigurehiddenbehindthedoorand,ratherthanwaitforthetraptobesprung,Irammedtheswordthroughthewood,heardascreamofpainfromtheothersidethensteppedthroughandletthedoorswingclosedwiththebodyofthefinalguardpinnedtoit,staringattheswordthroughhischestwithwide,disbelievingeyesashisfeetscrabbledonthewoodenfloor.
“Haytham,”saidReginaldcoolly.
iv
“Washethelastoftheguards?”Iasked,shouldersheavingasIcaughtmybreath.Behindme,thefeetofthedyingmanstillscuffedthewood,andIcouldhearJennyandHoldenontheothersideofthedoor,strugglingtoopenitwithhiswrithingbodyintheway.Atlast,withafinalcough,hedied,hisbodydroppedfromtheblade,andHoldenandJennyburstin.
“Yes.”Reginaldnodded.“Justmenow.”“MonicaandLucio—aretheysafe?”“Intheirquarters,yes,alongthehall.”“Holden,wouldyoudomeafavour?”Iaskedovermyshoulder.“Wouldyou
goandseethatMonicaandLucioareunharmed?TheirconditionmaywellhelpdeterminehowmuchpainweputMr.Birchthrough.”
Holdenpulledthebodyoftheguardawayfromthedoor,said,“Yes,sir,”andleft,shuttingthedoorbehindhim,withacertainfinalityaboutthewayhediditthatwasn’tlostonReginald.
Reginaldsmiled.Along,slow,sadsmile.“IdidwhatIdidforthegoodoftheOrder,Haytham.Forthegoodofallhumanity.”
“Attheexpenseofmyfather’slife.Youdestroyedourfamily.DidyouthinkI’dneverfindout?”
Heshookhisheadsadly.“Mydearboy,asGrandMaster,youhavetomakedifficultdecisions.DidInotteachyouthat?IpromotedyoutoGrandMasteroftheColonialRite,knowingthatyou,too,wouldhavetomakesimilardecisionsandhavingfaithinyourabilitytomakethem,Haytham.Decisionsmadeinthepursuitofagreatergood.Inpursuitofidealsyoushare,remember?Youask,did
Ithinkyou’deverfindout?Andofcoursetheanswerisyes.Youareresourcefulandtenacious.Itrainedyoutobethatway.Ihadtoconsiderthepossibilitythat,oneday,you’dlearnthetruth,butIhopedthatwhenthatdayarrivedyou’dtakeamorephilosophicalview.”Hissmilewasstrained.“Giventhebodycount,I’mtoassumedisappointmentinthatregard,amI?”
Igaveadrylaugh.“Indeed,Reginald.Indeedyouare.WhatyoudidisacorruptionofeverythingIbelieve,anddoyouknowwhy?Youdiditnotwiththeapplicationofouridealsbutwithdeceit.Howcanweinspirebeliefwhenwhatwehaveinourheartislies?”
Heshookhisheaddisgustedly.“Oh,comeon,that’snaïverubbish.I’dhaveexpecteditofyouasayoungadept,butnow?Duringawar,youdowhatyoucantosecurevictory.It’swhatyoudowiththatvictorythatcounts.”
“No.Wemustpractisewhatwepreach.Otherwise,ourwordsarehollow.”“TherespeakstheAssassininyou,”hesaid,hiseyebrowsarched.Ishrugged.“I’mnotashamedofmyroots.I’vehadyearstoreconcilemy
AssassinbloodwithmyTemplarbeliefs,andIhavedoneso.”IcouldhearJennybreathingbymyside,wet,raggedbreathsthatevennow
werequickening.“Ah,sothisisit,”scoffedReginald,“Youconsideryourselfamediator,do
you?”Isaidnothing.“Andyouthinkyoucanchangethings?”heaskedwithacurledlip.ButthenextpersontospeakwasJenny.“No,Reginald,”shesaid.“Killing
youistotakerevengeforwhatyouhavedonetous.”Heturnedhisattentiontoher,acknowledgingherpresenceforthefirsttime.
“Andhowareyou,Jenny?”heaskedher,raisinghischinslightlythenadding,disingenuously,“Timehasnotwitheredyou,Isee.”
Shewasmakingalow,growlingsoundnow.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawthehandholdingtheknifecomeforwardthreateningly.Sodidhe.
“Andyourlifeasaconcubine,”hewenton,“wasitarewardingtimeforyou?Ishouldimagineyougottoseesomuchoftheworld,somanydifferentpeopleandvariedcultures...”
Hewastryingtogoadher,anditworked.Withahowlofragebornofyearsofsubjugationshelungedathimasthoughtoslashhimwiththeknife.
“No,Jenny...!”Ishouted,buttoolate,becauseofcoursehewasreadyforher.Shewasdoingexactlywhathe’dhopedshe’ddoand,asshecamewithinstrikingdistance,hesnatchedouthisowndagger—itmusthavebeentuckedinto
thebackofhisbelt—andavoidedherknifeswipewithease.Thenshewashowlinginpainandindignationashesnatchedandtwistedherwrist,herknifedroppedtothewoodandhisarmlockedaroundherneckwithhisbladeheldtoherthroat.
Overhershoulder,helookedatme,andhiseyestwinkled.Iwasontheballsofmyfeet,readytospringforward,buthepushedthebladetoherthroatandshewhimpered,bothofherarmsathisforearmtryingtodislodgehisgrip.
“Uh-uh,”hewarned,andalreadyhewasedgingaround,keepingtheknifetoherthroat,pullingherbacktowardsthedoor,theexpressiononhisfacechanging,though,fromtriumphtoirritation,asshebegantostruggle.
“Keepstill,”hetoldherthroughgrittedteeth.“Doashesays,Jenny,”Iurged,butshewasthrashinginhisgrip,
perspiration-soakedhairplasteredtoherface,asthoughsheweresorevoltedbybeingheldbyhimthatshewouldratherbecutthanspendanothersecondinsuchcloseproximity.Andcutshewas,bloodflowingdownherneck.
“Willyouholdstill,woman!”hesnapped,beginningtolosehiscomposure.“FortheloveofGod,doyouwanttodiehere?”
“Betterthatandmybrotherputyoutodeaththanallowyoutoescape,”shehissed,andcontinuedtostrainagainsthim.Isawhereyesflicktothefloor.Notfarawayfromwheretheystruggledwasthebodyoftheguard,andIrealizedwhatshewasdoingasecondbeforeithappened:Reginaldstumbledagainstanoutstretchedlegofthecorpseandlosthisfooting.Justalittle.Butenough.EnoughsothatwhenJenny,withayellofeffort,thrustbackwards,hetrippedoverthecorpseandlosthisbalance,thumpingheavilyagainstthedoor—wheremyswordwasstillstuckfastthroughthewood.
Hismouthopenedinasilentshoutofshockandpain.HestillheldJenny,buthisgriprelaxedandshedroppedforward,leavingReginaldpinnedtothedoorandlookingfrommetohischestwherethepointoftheswordprotrudedfromit.Whenhepulledapainedfacetherewasbloodonhisteeth.Andthen,slowly,heslidfromtheswordandjoinedthefirstguardonthefloor,hishandsattheholeinhischest,bloodsoakinghisclothesandalreadybeginningtopoolonthefloor.
Turninghisheadslightly,hewasabletolookupatme.“Itriedtodowhatwasright,Haytham,”hesaid.Hiseyebrowsknittedtogether.“Surelyyoucanunderstandthat?”
IlookeddownuponhimandIgrieved,butnotforhim—forthechildhoodhe’dtakenfromme.
“No,”Itoldhim,and,asthelightfadedinhiseyes,Ihopedhewouldtake
mydispassionwithhimtotheotherside.“Bastard!”screamedJennyfrombehindme.Shehadpulledherselftoher
handsandknees,whereshesnarledlikeananimal,“CountyourselfluckyIdidn’ttakeyourballs,”butIdon’tthinkReginaldheardher.Thosewordswouldhavetoremaininthecorporealworld.Hewasdead.
v
Fromoutsidetherewasanoise,andIsteppedoverthebodyandpulledthedooropen,readytomeetmoreguardsifneedbe.InsteadIwasgreetedbythesightofMonicaandLuciopassingbyonthelanding,bothclutchingbundlesandbeingusheredtowardsthestairsbyHolden.Theyhadthepale,gauntfacesofthelong-incarcerated,andwhentheylookedovertherailtotheentrancehallbeneath,thesightofthebodiesmadeMonicagaspandclutchherhandtohermouthinshock.
“I’msorry,”Isaid,notquitesurewhatIwasapologizingfor.Forsurprisingthem?Forthebodies?Forthefactthattheyhadbeenheldhostageforfouryears?
Lucioshotmealookofpurehatredthenlookedaway.“Wedon’twantyourapologies,thankyou,sir,”repliedMonicainbroken
English.“Wethankyouforsettingusfreeatlast.”“Ifyouwaitforus,we’llbeleavinginthemorning,”Isaid.“Ifthat’sall
rightwithyou,Holden?”“Yes,sir.”“Ithinkwewouldrathersetoffassoonaswehavegatheredtogetherwhat
suppliesweneedtoreturnhome,”repliedMonica.“Pleasewait,”Isaid,andcouldhearthefatigueinmyvoice.“Monica.
Lucio.Pleasewait,andweshallalltraveltogetherinthemorning,toensureyouhavesafepassage.”
“No,thankyou,sir.”Theyhadreachedthebottomofthestairs,andMonicaturnedherfacetolookupatme.“Ithinkyouhavedonequiteenough.Weknowwherethestablesare.Ifwecouldhelpourselvestosuppliesfromthekitchenandthenhorses...”
“Ofcourse.Ofcourse.Doyouhave...doyouhaveanythingtodefendyourselveswith,shouldyourunintobandits?”Iboundedquicklydownthestairsandreachedtotakeaswordfromoneofthedeadguards.IhandedittoLucio,offeringhimthehandle.
“Lucio,takethis,”Isaid.“You’llneedittoprotectyourmotherasyoumakeyourwayhome.”
Hegraspedthesword,lookedupatme,andIthoughtIsawasofteninginhiseyes.
Thenheplungeditintome.
27JANUARY1758
Death.Therehadbeensomuchofit,andwouldbemoretocome.Yearsago,whenIhadkilledthefixerintheBlackForest,itwasmymistake
tostabhiminthekidneyandquickenhisdemise.WhenLuciothrusthisswordintomeintheentrancehallofthechateau,hehadquitebychancemissedanyofmyvitalorgans.Hisblowwasstruckwithferocity.AswithJenny,hiswasanactionbornofyearsofpent-upangerandvengefuldreams.And,asImyselfwasamanwhohadspentmyentirelifeseekingrevenge,Icouldhardlyblamehimforit.Buthedidn’tkillme,obviously,forI’mwritingthis.
Itwasenoughtocausemeseriousinjury,though,andfortherestoftheyearIhadlaininbedatthechateau.Ihadstoodonaprecipiceoverdeath’sgreatinfinity,driftinginandoutofconsciousness,wounded,infectedandfeverishbutwearilyfightingon,someweakandflickeringflameofspiritwithinmerefusingtobedoused.
Theroleswerereversed,andthistimeitwasHolden’sturntotendtome.WheneverIrecoveredconsciousnessandawokefromthrashinginsweat-soakedsheets,hewouldbethere,smoothingoutthelinen,applyingfreshcoldflannelstomyburningbrow,soothingme.
“It’sallright,sir,it’sallright.Justyourelax.You’reovertheworstnow.”WasI?WasIovertheworst?Oneday—howlongintomyfeverI’venoidea—Iwokeupand,gripping
Holden’supperarm,pulledmyselfintoasittingposition,staringintenselyintohiseyestoask,“Lucio.Monica.Wherearethey?”
I’dhadthisimage—animageofafurious,vengefulHoldencuttingthembothdown.
“Lastthingyousaidbeforeyoublackedoutwastosparethem,sir,”hesaid,withalookthatsuggestedhewasn’thappyaboutit,“sosparethem’swhatIdid.Wesentthemontheirwaywithhorsesandsupplies.”
“Good,good...”Iwheezed,andfeltthedarkrisingtoclaimmeagain.“Youcan’tblame...”
“Cowardlyiswhatitwas,”hewassayingruefullyasIlostconsciousness
again.“Nootherwordforit,sir.Cowardly.Nowjustyoucloseyoureyes,getyourrest...”
IsawJenny,too,andeveninmyfeverish,injuredstatecouldn’thelpbutnoticethechangeinher.Itwasasthoughshehadachievedaninnerpeace.OnceortwiceIwasawareofhersittingbythesideofmybed,andheardhertalkingaboutlifeatQueenAnne’sSquare,howsheplannedtoreturnand,assheputit,“takecareofbusiness.”
Idreadedtothink.Evenhalf-consciousIfounditinmyhearttopitythepoorsoulsinchargeoftheKenways’affairswhenmysisterJennyreturnedtothefold.
OnatablebythesideofmybedlayReginald’sTemplarring,butIdidn’tputiton,pickitup,eventouchit.Fornow,atleast,IfeltneitherTemplarnorAssassin,andwantednothingtodowitheitherOrder.
Andthen,somethreemonthsafterLuciohadstabbedme,Iclimbedoutofbed.
Takingadeepbreath,withHoldengrippingmyleftforearminbothofhishands,Isweptmyfeetoutfromunderneaththesheets,putthemtothecoldwoodenfloorandfeltmynightclothesslidedowntomykneesasIstooduprightforthefirsttimeinwhatfeltlikealifetime.Straightaway,Ifeltatwingeofpainfromthewoundatmysideandputmyhandthere.
“Itwasbadlyinfected,sir,”explainedHolden.“Wehadtocutawaysomeoftherottedskin.”
Igrimaced.“Wheredoyouwanttogo,sir?”askedHolden,afterwe’dwalkedslowly
fromthebedtothedoorway.Itmademefeellikeaninvalid,butIwashappyforthemomenttobetreatedlikeone.Mystrengthwouldsoonreturn.AndthenIwouldbe...
Backtomyoldself?Iwondered...“IthinkIwanttolookoutofthewindow,Holden,please,”Isaid,andhe
agreed,leadingmeovertoitsothatIcouldgazeoutoverthegroundswhereI’dspentsomuchofmychildhood.AsIstoodthere,Irealizedthat,formostofmyadultlife,whenI’dthoughtof“home,”I’dpicturedmyselfstaringoutofawindow,eitheroverthegardensofQueenAnne’sSquareorthegroundsofthechateau.I’dcalledbothofthemhomeandstilldid,andnow—nowthatIknewthefulltruthaboutFatherandReginald—they’dcometoacquireanevengreatersignificance,adualityalmost:twohalvesofmyboyhood,twopartsofthemanIbecame.
“That’senough,thankyou,Holden,”Isaid,andlethimleadmebacktothebed.Iclimbedin,suddenlyfeeling...Ihatetoadmitit,but“frail,”aftermylongjourneyallthewaytothewindowandbackagain.
Evenso,myrecoverywasalmostcompleteandthethoughtwasenoughtobringasmiletomyfaceasHoldenbusiedhimselfcollectingabeakerofwaterandausedflannel,onhisfaceastrange,grim,unreadableexpression.
“It’sgoodtoseeyoubackonyourfeet,sir,”hesaid,whenherealizedIwaslookingathim.
“I’vegotyoutothank,Holden,”Isaid.“AndMissJenny,sir,”heremindedme.“Indeed.”“Wewerebothworriedaboutyouforawhile,sir.Itwastouchandgo.”“Quitesomethingitwouldhavebeen,tohavelivedthroughwars,Assassins
andmurderouseunuchs,onlytodieatthehandsofaslipofaboy.”Ichuckled.Henoddedandlaugheddrily.“Quiteso,sir,”heagreed.“Abitterirony
indeed.”“Well,Ilivetofightanotherday,”Isaid,“andsoon,maybeinaweekorso,
weshalltakeourleave,travelbacktotheAmericasandtherecontinuemywork.”
Helookedatme,nodded.“Asyouwish,sir,”hesaid.“Willthatbeallforthetimebeing,sir?”
“Yes—yes,ofcourse.Sorry,Holden,tobesuchabotherthesepastfewmonths.”
“Myonlywishhasbeentoseeyourecover,sir,”hesaid,andleft.
28JANUARY1758
ThefirstthingIheardthismorningwasascream.Jenny’sscream.ShehadwalkedintothekitchenandfoundHoldenhangingfromaclothesdryer.
Iknewevenbeforesherushedintomyroom—Iknewwhathadhappened.He’dleftanotebuthehadn’tneededto.HehadkilledhimselfbecauseofwhattheCopticpriestshaddonetohim.Itwasassimpleasthat,andnosurprise,notreally.
Iknewfromthedeathofmyfatherthatastateofstupefactionisagoodindexofthegrievingtocome.Themoreparalyzed,dazedandnumbonefeels,thelongerandmoreintensetheperiodofmourning.
12JANUARY1774
i
Writingthisattheendofaneventfulevening,thereisbutonequestiononmymind.Isitpossiblethat...
ThatIhaveason?TheanswerisIdon’tknowforsure,buttherearecluesandperhapsmost
persistently,afeeling—afeelingthatconstantlynagsatme,tuggingonthehemofmycoatlikeaninsistentbeggar.
It’snottheonlyweightIcarry,ofcourse.TherearedaysIfeelbentdoublewithmemory,withdoubt,regretandgrief.Dayswhenitfeelsasiftheghostswon’tleavemealone.
AfterweburiedHoldenIdepartedfortheAmericas,andJennyreturnedtoliveinEngland,backatQueenAnne’sSquare,whereshehasstayedingloriousspinsterhoodeversince.Nodoubtshe’sbeenthesubjectofendlessgossipandspeculationabouttheyearsshespentaway,andnodoubtthatsuitsherdowntotheground.Wecorrespond,butthoughI’dliketosayoursharedexperienceshadbroughtustogether,thebaldfactofthematteristheyhadn’t.WecorrespondedbecausewesharedtheKenwaynameandfeltweshouldstayintouch.Jennynolongerinsultedme,sointhatsenseIsupposeourrelationshiphadimproved,butourletterswerewearyandperfunctory.Weweretwopeoplewhohadexperiencedenoughsufferingandlosstolastadozenlifetimes.Whatcouldwepossiblydiscussinaletter?Nothing.Sonothingwaswhatwediscussed.
Inthemeantime—Ihadbeenright—IhadmournedforHolden.Ineverknewagreatermanthanhim,andIneverwill.Forhim,though,thestrengthandcharacterhehadinabundancejustwasn’tenough.Hismanhoodhadbeentakenfromhim.Hecouldn’tlivewiththat,wasn’tpreparedto,andsohehadwaiteduntilIwasrecoveredthentakenhisownlife.
Igrievedforhimandprobablyalwayswill,andIgrievedforReginald’sbetrayal,too—fortherelationshipweoncehadandfortheliesandtreacheryonwhichmylifewasbased.AndIgrievedforthemanIhadbeen.Thepaininmy
sidehadneverquitegoneaway—everynowandthenitwouldspasm—anddespitethefactthatIhadn’tgivenmybodypermissiontogrowolder,itwasdeterminedtodosoanyway.Small,wiryhairshadsproutedfrommyearsandnose.AllofasuddenIwasn’taslitheasIoncewas.ThoughmystandingwithintheOrderwasgranderthanever,physicallyIwasnotthemanIoncewas.OnmyreturntotheAmericasI’dfoundahomesteadinVirginiaonwhichtogrowtobaccoandwheat,andI’dridearoundtheestate,awareofmypowersslowlywaningastheyearspassed.Climbingonandoffmyhorsewasharderthanithadbeenbefore.AndIdon’tmeanhard,justharder,becauseIwasstillstrongerandfasterandmoreagilethanamanhalfmyageandtherewasn’taworkeronmyestatewhocouldbestmephysically.Butevenso...Iwasn’tasfast,asstrong,orasnimbleasIhadbeenonce.Agehadnotforgottentoclaimme.
In’73,CharlesreturnedtotheAmericas,too,andbecameaneighbour,afellowVirginianestateowner,amerehalf-day’srideaway,andwehadcorresponded,agreeingthatweneededtomeettotalkTemplarbusinessandplantofurthertheinterestsoftheColonialRite.Mainlywediscussedthedevelopingmoodofrebellion,theseedsofrevolutionfloatingonthebreezeandhowbesttocapitalizeonthemood,becauseourcolonialsweregrowingmoreandmoretiredofnewrulesbeingenforcedbytheBritishparliament:theStampAct;theRevenueAct;theIndemnityAct;theCommissionersofCustomsAct.Theywerebeingsqueezedfortaxesandresentedthefactthattherewasnobodytorepresenttheirviews,toregistertheirdiscontent.
AcertainGeorgeWashingtonwasamongthediscontents.ThatyoungofficerwhooncerodewithBraddockhadresignedhiscommissionandacceptedlandbountyforhelpingtheBritishduringtheFrenchandIndianWar.Buthissympathieshadshiftedintheinterveningyears.Thebright-eyedofficerwhomIhadadmiredforhavingacompassionateoutlook—morethanhiscommanderatleast—wasnowoneoftheloudestvoicesintheanti-Britishmovement.NodoubtthiswasbecausetheinterestsofHisMajesty’sgovernmentconflictedwithhisownbusinessambitions;he’dmaderepresentationsattheVirginiaAssemblytotrytointroducelegislationbanningtheimportofgoodsfromGreatBritain.Thefactthatitwasadoomedlegislationonlyaddedtothegrowingsenseofnationaldiscontent.
TheTeaParty,whenithappenedinDecember’73—justlastmonth,infact—wastheculminationofyears—no,decades—ofdissatisfaction.Byturningtheharbourintotheworld’sbiggestcupoftea,thecolonistsweretellingGreatBritainandtheworldthattheywerenolongerpreparedtoliveunderanunjust
system.Afull-scaleuprisingwassurelyjustamatterofmonthsaway.So,withthesameamountofenthusiasmasItendedmycrops,orwrotetoJenny,orclimbedoutofbedeachmorning—inotherwords,verylittle—IdecideditwastimefortheOrdertomakepreparationsforthecomingrevolution,andIcalledameeting.
ii
Weassembled,allofustogetherforthefirsttimeinoverfifteenyears,themenoftheColonialRitewithwhomIhadsharedsomanyadventurestwentyyearsago.
WeweregatheredbeneaththelowbeamsofadesertedtaverncalledtheRestlessGhostontheoutskirtsofBoston.Ithadn’tbeendesertedwhenwe’darrived,butThomashadseentoitthatwesoonhadtheplacetoourselves,literallychasingoutthefewdrinkerswhowerehuddledoverthewoodentables.Thoseofuswhousuallyworeauniformwerewearingcivilianclothes,withbuttoned-upcoatsandhatspulleddownoveroureyes,andwesataroundatablewithtankardscloseathand:me,CharlesLee,BenjaminChurch,ThomasHickey,WilliamJohnsonandJohnPitcairn.
AnditwasherethatIfirstlearntabouttheboy.Benjaminaddressedthesubjectfirst.HewasourmaninsideBoston’sSons
ofLiberty,agroupofpatriots,anti-BritishcolonistswhohadhelpedorganizetheBostonTeaParty,andtwoyearsago,inMartha’sVineyard,he’dhadanencounter.
“Anativeboy,”hesaid.“NotsomeoneI’deverseenbefore...”“Notsomeoneyourememberseeingbefore,Benjamin,”Icorrected.Hepulledaface.“NotsomeoneIrememberseeingbefore,then,”he
amended.“Aboywhostrodeuptomeand,boldasbrass,demandedtoknowwhereCharleswas.”
IturnedtoCharles.“He’saskingforyou,then.Doyouknowwhoitis?”“No.”Buttherewassomethingshiftyaboutthewayhesaidit.“I’lltryagain,Charles.Doyouhaveasuspicionwhothisboymightbe?”Heleanedbackinhisseatandlookedaway,acrossthetavern.“Idon’tthink
so,”hesaid.“Butyou’renotsure?”“Therewasaboyat...”
Anuncomfortablesilenceseemedtodescendonthetable.Themeneitherreachedfortheirtankardsorhunchedtheirshouldersorfoundsomethingtostudyinthefirenearby.Nonewouldmeetmyeye.
“Howaboutsomebodytellsmewhat’sgoingon?”Iasked.Thesemen—notoneofthemwasatenthofthemanHoldenhadbeen.Iwas
sickofthem,Irealized,heartilysickofthem.Andmyfeelingswereabouttointensify.
ItwasCharles—Charleswhowasthefirsttolookacrossthetable,holdmygazeandtellme,“YourMohawkwoman.”
“Whatabouther?”“I’msorry,Haytham,”hesaid.“ReallyIam.”“She’sdead?”“Yes.”Ofcourse,Ithought.Somuchdeath.“When?How?”“Itwasduringthewar.In’60.Fourteenyearsagonow.Hervillagewas
attackedandburned.”Ifeltmymouthtighten.“ItwasWashington,”hesaidquickly,glancingatme.“GeorgeWashington
andhismen.Theyburnedthevillageandyour...shediedwithit.”“Youwerethere?”Hecoloured.“Yes,we’dhopedtospeaktothevillageeldersaboutthe
precursorsite.TherewasnothingIcoulddo,though,Haytham,Icanassureyou.Washingtonandhismenwereallovertheplace.Theyhadalustforbloodonthemthatday.”
“Andtherewasaboy?”Iaskedhim.Hiseyesflickedaway.“Yes,therewasaboy—young,aboutfive.”Aboutfive,Ithought.IhadavisionofZiio,ofthefaceI’donceloved,when
Iwascapableofdoingsuchathing,andfeltadullbackwashofgriefforherandloathingforWashington,whohadobviouslylearntathingortwofromservingwithGeneralBraddock—lessonsinbrutalityandruthlessness.IthoughtofthelasttimesheandIhadbeentogether,andIpicturedherinoursmallencampment,gazingoutintothetreeswithafarawaylookinhereyesand,almostunconsciously,herhandsgoingtoherbelly.
Butno.Icasttheideaaside.Toofanciful.Toofar-fetched.“Hethreatenedme,thisboy,”Charleswassaying.Indifferentcircumstances,ImighthavesmiledattheimageofCharles,all
sixfootofhim,beingthreatenedbyafive-year-oldnativeboy—ifIhadn’tbeen
tryingtoabsorbthedeathofZiio,thatwas—andItookadeepbutalmostimperceptiblebreath,feelingtheairinmychest,anddismissedtheimageofher.
“Iwasn’ttheonlyoneofusthere,”saidCharlesdefensively,andIlookedaroundthetableenquiringly.
“Goon,then.Whoelse?”William,Thomas,andBenjaminallnodded,theireyesfixedonthedark,
knottedwoodofthetabletop.“Itcan’thavebeenhim,”saidWilliamcrossly.“Can’thavebeenthesame
kid,surely.”“Comeon,’Aytham,whatarethechances?”chimedThomasHickey.“Andyoudidn’trecognizehimatMartha’sVineyard?”IaskedBenjamin
now.Heshookhishead,shrugged.“Itwasjustakid,anIndiankid.Theyalllook
thesame,don’tthey?”“Andwhatwereyoudoingthere,inMartha’sVineyard?”Hisvoicewastesty.“Havingabreak.”Ormakingplanstolineyourpockets,Ithought,andsaid,“Really?”Hepursedhislips.“Ifthingsgoaswethink,andtherebelsorganize
themselvesintoanarmy,thenI’minlinetobemadechiefphysician,MasterKenway,”hesaid,“oneofthemostseniorpositionsinthearmy.Ithinkthat,ratherthanquestioningwhyIwasinMartha’sVineyardthatday,youmighthavesomewordsofcongratulationforme.”
HecastaroundthetableforsupportandwasgreetedwithhesitantnodsfromThomasandWilliam,bothofthemgivingmeasidewayslookatthesametime.
Iconceded.“AndIhavecompletelyforgottenmymanners,Benjamin.IndeeditwillbeagreatboostfortheOrderthedayyouachievethatrank.”
Charlesclearedhisthroatloudly.“Whilewealsohopethatifsuchanarmyisformed,ourveryownCharleswillbeappointeditscommanderinchief.”
Ididn’tseeexactly,asthelightinthetavernwassolow,butIcouldsenseCharlesredden.“Wedomorethanmerelyhope,”heprotested.“Iamtheobviouscandidate.MymilitaryexperiencefaroutstripsthatofGeorgeWashington.”
“Yes,butyouareEnglish,Charles.”Isighed.“BorninEngland,”hespluttered,“butacolonialinmyheart.”“What’sinyourheartmaynotbeenough,”Isaid.“Weshallsee,”hereturnedindignantly.Wewould,indeed,Ithoughtwearily,thenturnedmyattentiontoWilliam,
whohadbeenreservedsofar,although,astheonewhowouldhavebeenmost
affectedbytheeventsoftheTeaParty,itwasobviouswhy.“Andwhatofyourassignment,William?Howgotheplanstopurchasethe
nativeland?”Weallknew,ofcourse,butithadtobesaid,andithadtobesaidbyWilliam,
whetherhelikeditornot.“TheConfederacyhasgiventhedealitsblessing...”hestarted.
“But...?”Hetookadeepbreath.“Youknow,ofcourse,MasterKenway,ofourplans
toraisefunds...”“Tealeaves?”“Andyouknow,ofcourse,allabouttheBostonTeaParty?”Iheldupmyhands.“Therepercussionshavebeenfeltworldwide.Firstthe
StampAct,nowthis.Ourcolonistsarerevolting,aretheynot?”Williamshotmeareproachfullook.“I’mgladit’sasituationthatamuses
you,MasterKenway.”Ishrugged.“Thebeautyofourapproachisthatwehavealltheangles
covered.Herearoundthetablewehaverepresentativesofthecolonials”—IpointedatBenjamin—“oftheBritishArmy”—IindicatedJohn—“andofcourseourveryownmanforhire,ThomasHickey.Ontheoutside,youraffiliationscouldnotbemoredifferent.WhatyouhaveinyourheartaretheidealsoftheOrder.So,you’llhavetoexcuseme,William,ifIremainingoodhumourdespiteyoursetback.It’sonlybecauseIbelievethatitisjustasetback,aminoroneatthat.”
“Well,Ihopeyou’reright,MasterKenway,becausethefactofthematteristhatthatavenueofraisingfundsisnowclosedtous.”
“Becauseoftherebels’actions...”“Exactly.Andthere’sanotherthing...”“What?”Iasked,sensingalleyesonme.“Theboywasthere.Hewasoneoftheringleaders.Hethrewcratesoftea
intotheharbour.Weallsawhim.Me,John,Charles...”“Thesameboy?”“Almostcertainly,”saidWilliam,“hisnecklacewasexactlyasBenjamin
describedit.”“Necklace?”Isaid.“Whatsortofnecklace?”AndIkeptmyfaceimpassive,
triednottoswalloweven,asBenjaminwentontodescribeZiio’snecklace.Itdidn’tmeananything,Itoldmyself,whenthey’dfinished.Ziiowasdead,
soofcoursethenecklacewouldhavebeenpassedon—ifitwaseventhesame
one.“There’ssomethingelse,isn’tthere?”Isighed,lookingattheirfaces.Asone,theynodded,butitwasCharleswhospoke.“WhenBenjamin
encounteredhimatMartha’sVineyard,hewasanormal-lookingkid.DuringtheTeaParty,hewasn’tanormal-lookingkidanymore.Heworetherobes,Haytham,”saidCharles.
“Therobes?”“OfanAssassin.”
27JUNE1776(TWOYEARSLATER)
i
ItwasthistimelastyearthatIwasprovedrightandCharleswrong,whenGeorgeWashingtonwasindeedappointedthecommanderinchiefofthenewlyformedContinentalArmyandCharlesmademajor-general.
AndwhileIwasfarfrompleasedtohearthenews,Charleswasincandescent,andhadn’tstoppedfumingsince.HewasfondofsayingthatGeorgeWashingtonwasn’tfittocommandasergeant’sguard.Which,ofcourse,asisoftenthecase,wasneithertruenoranoutrightfalsehood.WhileontheonehandWashingtondisplayedelementsofnaïvetéinhisleadership,ontheotherhehadsecuredsomenotablevictories,mostimportantlytheliberationofBostoninMarch.Healsohadtheconfidenceandtrustofhispeople.Therewasnodoubtaboutit,hehadsomegoodqualities.
Buthewasn’taTemplar,andwewantedtherevolutionledbyoneofourown.Notonlydidweplantobeincontrolofthewinningside,butwethoughtwehadmorechanceofwinningwithCharlesincharge.Andso,wehatchedaplottokillWashington.Assimpleasthat.Aplotthatwouldbeproceedingnicelybutforonething:thisyoungAssassin.ThisAssassin—whomayormaynotbemyson—whocontinuedtobeathorninourside.
ii
FirstwasWilliam.Dead.Killedlastyear,shortlybeforetheRevolutionaryWarbegan.AftertheTeaParty,WilliambegantobrokeradealtobuyIndianland.Therewasmuchresistance,however,notleastamongtheIroquoisConfederation,whometwithWilliamathishomeestate.Thenegotiationshadbegunwell,byallaccounts,but,asisthewayofthings,somethingwassaidandthingstookaturnfortheworse.
“Brothers,please,”Williamhadpleaded,“Iamconfidentwewillfinda
solution.”ButtheIroquoiswerenotlistening.Thelandwastheirs,theyargued.They
closedtheirearstothelogicofferedbyWilliam,whichwasthat,ifthelandpassedintoTemplarhands,thenwecouldkeepitfromtheclutchesofwhicheverforceemergedvictoriousfromtheforthcomingconflict.
Dissentbubbledthroughthemembersofthenativeconfederation.Doubtlurkedamongthem.SomearguedthattheycouldnevercontendwiththemightoftheBritishorcolonialarmiesthemselves;othersfeltthatenteringintoadealwithWilliamofferednobettersolution.TheyhadforgottenhowtheTemplarsfreedtheirpeoplefromSilas’sslaverytwodecadesbefore;insteadtheyrememberedtheexpeditionsWilliamhadorganizedintotheforesttotrytolocatetheprecursorsite;theexcavationsatthechamberwehadfound.Thoseoutrageswerefreshintheirminds,impossibletooverlook.
“Peace,peace,”arguedWilliam.“HaveInotalwaysbeenanadvocate?HaveInotalwayssoughttoprotectyoufromharm?”
“Ifyouwishtoprotectus,thengiveusarms.Musketsandhorsesthatwemightdefendourselves,”arguedaConfederationmemberinresponse.
“Warisnottheanswer,”pressedWilliam.“Werememberyoumovedtheborders.Eventodayyourmendiguptheland
—showingnoregardforthosewholiveuponit.Yourwordsarehoneyed,butfalse.Wearenotheretonegotiate.Nortosell.Weareheretotellyouandyourstoleavetheselands.”
Regrettably,Williamresortedtoforcetomakehispoint,andanativewasshot,withthethreatofmoredeathstocomeunlesstheConfederationsignedthecontract.
Themensaidno,totheircredit;theyrefusedtobebowedbyWilliam’sshowofforce.Whatabittervindicationitmusthavebeenastheirmenbegantofallwithmusketballsintheirskulls.
Andthentheboyappeared.IhadWilliam’smandescribehimtomeindetail,andwhathesaidmatchedexactlywhatBenjaminhadsaidabouttheencounterinMartha’sVineyard,andwhatCharles,WilliamandJohnhadseenatBostonHarbour.Heworethesamenecklace,thesameAssassin’srobes.Itwasthesameboy.
“Thisboy,whatdidhesaytoWilliam?”Iaskedthesoldierwhostoodbeforeme.
“HesaidheplannedtoensureanendtoMasterJohnson’sschemes,stophimclaimingtheselandsfortheTemplars.”
“DidWilliamrespond?”“Indeedhedid,sir,hetoldhiskillerthattheTemplarshadtriedtoclaimthe
landinordertoprotecttheIndians.HetoldtheboythatneitherKingGeorgenorthecolonistscaredenoughtoprotecttheinterestsoftheIroquois.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Notanespeciallyconvincingargument,giventhathewasintheprocessofslaughteringthenativeswhentheboystruck.”
Thesoldierbowedhishead.“Possiblynot,sir.”
iii
IfIwasalittletoophilosophicalwhenitcametoWilliam’sdeath,well,therewereextenuatingfactors.William,thoughdiligentinhisworkanddedicated,wasneverthemostgood-humouredofpeopleand,bymeetingasituationthatcalledfordiplomacywithforce,he’dmadeapig’searofthenegotiations.Thoughitpainsmetosayit,he’dbeenthearchitectofhisowndownfall,andI’mafraidI’veneverbeenonefortoleratingincompetence:notasayoungman,whenIsupposeitwassomethingI’dinheritedfromReginald;andnow,havingpassedmyfiftiethbirthday,evenlessso.Williamhadbeenabloodyfoolandpaidforitwithhislife.Equally,theprojecttosecurethenativeland,whileimportanttous,wasnolongerourmainpriority;ithadn’tbeensincetheoutbreakofwar.Ourmaintasknowwastoassumecontrolofthearmyand,fairmeanshavingfailed,wewereresortingtofoul—byassassinatingWashington.
However,thatplanwasdealtablowwhentheAssassinnexttargetedJohn,ourBritisharmyofficer,strikingathimbecauseofJohn’sworkweedingouttherebels.Again,thoughitwasirritatingtolosesuchavaluableman,itmightnothaveaffectedourplansbutforthefactthatinJohn’spocketwasaletter—unfortunately,onethatdetailedplanstokillWashington,namingourveryThomasHickeyasthemanelectedtodothedeed.Inshortorder,theyouthfulAssassinwasmakinghastetoNewYork,withThomasnextonhislist.
Thomaswascounterfeitingmoneythere,helpingtoraisefundsaswellaspreparingfortheassassinationofWashington.CharleswasalreadytherewiththeContinentalArmy,soIslippedintothecitymyselfandtooklodgings.AndnosoonerhadIarrivedthanIwasgiventhenews:theboyhadreachedThomas,onlyforthepairofthemtobearrestedandbothofthemtossedinBridewellPrison.
“Therecanbenofurthermistakes,Thomas,amIunderstood?”Itoldhim
whenIvisitedhim,shiveringinthecoldandrevoltedbythesmell,clamourandnoiseofthejail,when,suddenly,inthecellnextdoor,Isawhim:theAssassin.
Andknew.Hehadhismother’seyes,thesameproudsetofhischin,buthismouthandnosewereKenway.Hewastheimageofher,andofme.Withoutadoubt,hewasmyson.
iv
“It’shim,”saidCharles,aswelefttheprisontogether.Igaveastart,buthedidn’tnotice:NewYorkwasfreezing,ourbreathhunginclouds,andhewasfartoopreoccupiedwithkeepingwarm.
“It’swho?”“Theboy.”Iknewexactlywhathemeantofcourse.“Whatthehellareyoutalkingabout,Charles?”Isaidcrossly,andblewinto
myhands.“DoyouremembermetellingyouaboutaboyIencounteredbackin’60,
whenWashington’smenattackedtheIndianvillage?”“Yes,Iremember.AndthisisourAssassin,isit?ThesameoneasatBoston
Harbour?ThesameonewhokilledWilliamandJohn?That’stheboywho’sintherenow?”
“Itwouldseemso,Haytham,yes.”Iroundedonhim.“Doyouseewhatthismeans,Charles?WehavecreatedthatAssassin.In
himburnsahatredofallTemplars.Hesawyouthedayhisvillageburned,yes?”“Yes—yes,I’vealreadytoldyou...”“Iexpecthesawyourring,too.Iexpectheworetheimprintofyourringon
hisownskinforsomeweeksafteryourencounter.AmIright,Charles?”“Yourconcernforthechildistouching,Haytham.Youalwayswereagreat
supporterofthenatives...”Thewordsfrozeonhislipsbecause,inthenextinstant,I’dbunchedsomeof
hiscapeinmyfistandthrusthimagainstthestonewalloftheprison.Itoweredoverhim,andmyeyesburnedintohis.
“MyconcernisfortheOrder,”Isaid.“MyonlyconcernisfortheOrder.And,correctmeifI’mwrong,Charles,buttheOrderdoesnotpreachthesenselessslaughterofnatives,theburningoftheirvillages.That,Iseemto
recall,wasnoticeablyabsentfrommyteachings.Doyouknowwhy?Becauseit’sthekindofbehaviourthatcreates—howwouldyoudescribeit?—‘illwill’amongthosewemighthopetowinovertoourwayofthinking.Itsendsneutralsscuttlingtothesideofourenemies.Justasithashere.Menaredeadandourplansunderthreatbecauseofyourbehavioursixteenyearsago.”
“Notmybehaviour—Washingtonis—”Ilethimgo,tookastepbackandclaspedmyhandsbehindme.“Washington
willpayforwhathehasdone.Wewillseetothat.Heisbrutal,thatisclear,andnotfittolead.”
“Iagree,Haytham,andI’vealreadytakenasteptoensurethattherearenomoreinterruptions,tokilltwobirdswithonestone,asitwere.”
Ilookedsharplyathim.“Goon.”“ThenativeboyistobehangedforplottingtokillGeorgeWashingtonand
forthemurderoftheprisonwarden.Washingtonwillbethere,ofcourse—Iplantomakesureofit—andwecanusetheopportunitytokillhim.Thomas,ofcourse,ismorethanhappytotakeonthetask.Itonlyfallstoyou,asGrandMasteroftheColonialRite,togivethemissionyourblessing.”
“It’sshortnotice,”Isaid,andcouldhearthedoubtinmyownvoice.Butwhy?WhydidIevencareanymorewholivedordied?
Charlesspreadhishands.“Itisshortnotice,butsometimesthebestplansare.”
“Indeed,”Iagreed.“Indeed.”“Well?”Ithought.Withoneword,Iwouldratifytheexecutionofmyownchild.
Whatmannerofmonstercoulddosuchathing?“Doit,”Isaid.“Verywell,”hereplied,withasudden,chest-puffedsatisfaction.“Thenwe
won’twasteasinglemomentmore.WeshallputthewordoutacrossNewYorktonightthattomorrowatraitortotherevolutionmeetshisend.”
v
Itistoolateformetofeelpaternalnow.Whateverinsidemethatmightoncehavebeencapableofnurturingmychildhadlongsincebeencorruptedorburnedaway.Yearsofbetrayalandslaughterhaveseentothat.
28JUNE1776
i
ThismorningIwokeupinmylodgingswithastart,sittinguprightinbedandlookingaroundtheunfamiliarroom.Outsidethewindow,thestreetsofNewYorkwerestirring.DidIimagineit,orwasthereachargeintheair,anexcitededgetothechatterthatrosetomywindow?And,iftherewas,didithaveanythingtodowiththefactthattodaytherewasanexecutionintown?Todaytheywouldhang...
Connor,that’shisname.That’sthenameZiiogavehim.Iwonderedhowdifferentthingsmighthavebeen,hadwebroughthimintothisworldtogether.
WouldConnorstillbehisname?WouldhestillhavechosenthepathoftheAssassin?Andiftheanswertothatquestionwas,No,hewouldn’thavechosenthepath
ofanAssassinbecausehisfatherwasaTemplar,thenwhatdidthatmakemebutanabomination,anaccident,amongrel?Amanwithdividedloyalties.
Butamanwhohaddecidedhecouldnotallowhissontodie.Nottoday.Idressed,notinmynormalclothesbutinadarkrobewithahoodthatI
pulledupovermyhead,thenhurriedforthestables,foundmyhorseandurgedheronwardstotheexecutionsquare,overmuddystreetspackedhard,startledcityfolkscuttlingoutofmywayandshakingtheirfistsatmeorstaringwide-eyedfrombeneaththebrimsoftheirhats.Ithunderedon,towardswherethecrowdsbecamethickerasonlookerscongregatedforthehangingtocome.
And,asIrode,IwonderedwhatIwasdoingandrealizedIdidn’tknow.AllIknewwashowIfelt,whichwasasthoughIhadbeenasleepbutsuddenlywasawake.
ii
There,onaplatform,thegallowsawaiteditsnextvictim,whileadecent-sized
crowdwasanticipatingtheday’sentertainment.Aroundthesidesofthesquarewerehorsesandcarts,ontowhichfamiliesclamberedforabetterview:craven-lookingmen,shortwomenwithpinched,worriedfaces,andgrubbychildren.Sight-seerssatinthesquarewhileothersmilledaround:womeningroupswhostoodandgossiped,menswiggingaleorwinefromleatherflasks.Allofthemheretoseemysonexecuted.
Atoneside,acartflankedbysoldiersarrivedandIcaughtaglimpseofConnorinside,beforeoutjumpedagrinningThomasHickey,whothenyankedhimfromthecart,too,tauntinghimatthesametime,“Didn’tthinkI’dmissyourfarewellparty,didyou?IhearWashingtonhimselfwillbeinattendance.Hopenothingbadhappenstohim...”
Connor,withhishandsboundinfrontofhim,shotalookofhatredatThomasand,onceagain,Imarvelledathowmuchofhismotherwastobefoundinthosefeatures.But,alongwithdefiance,andbravery,todaytherewasalso...fear.
“Yousaidthere’dbeatrial,”hesnapped,asThomasmanhandledhim.“Traitorsdon’tgettrials,I’mafraid.LeeandHaythamsortedthatout.It’s
straighttothegallowsforyou.”Iwentcold.ConnorwasabouttogotohisdeaththinkingIhadsignedhis
deathwarrant.“Iwillnotdietoday,”saidConnor,proud.“Thesamecannotbesaidfor
you.”Buthewassayingitoverhisshoulderastheguardswhohadhelpedescortthecartintothesquareusedpikestaffstojabhimtowardsthegallows.Thenoiseswelledasthepartingcrowdreachedtotrytograbhim,punchhim,knockhimtotheground.Isawamanwithhateinhiseyesabouttothrowapunchandwascloseenoughtosnatchthepunchasitwasthrown,twisttheman’sarmpainfullyuphisback,thenthrowhimtotheground.Withblazingeyeshelookedupatme,butthesightofmeglaringathimfromwithinmyhoodstoppedhim,andhepickedhimselfupandinthenextmomentwassweptawaybytheseething,unrulycrowd.
Meanwhile,Connorhadbeenshovedfurtheralongthegauntletofvengefulabuse,andIwastoofarawaytostopanothermanwhosuddenlylungedforwardandgrabbedhim—butnearenoughtoseetheman’sfacebeneathhishood;nearenoughtoreadhislips.
“Youarenotalone.Onlygiveacrywhenyouneedit...”ItwasAchilles,aknownAssassin.Hewashere—heretosaveConnor,whowasreplying,“Forgetaboutme—
youneedtostopHickey.He’s—”Butthenhewasdraggedaway,andIfinishedthesentenceinmyhead:...
planningtokillGeorgeWashington.Talkofthedevil.Thecommanderinchiefhadarrivedwithasmallguard.As
Connorwaspulledontotheplatformandanexecutionerfastenedanoosearoundhisneck,thecrowd’sattentionwenttotheoppositeendofthesquare,whereWashingtonwasbeingledtoaraisedplatformattheback,which,evennow,wasbeingfranticallyclearedofcrowdsbytheguards.Charles,asmajor-general,waswithhim,too,anditgavemeanopportunitytocomparethetwo:Charles,agooddealtallerthanWashington,thoughwithacertainaloofnesscomparedtoWashington’seasycharm.Lookingatthemtogether,IsawatoncewhytheContinentalCongresshadchosenWashingtonoverhim.CharleslookedsoBritish.
ThenCharleshadleftWashingtonandwithacoupleofguardsmadehiswayacrossthesquare,swattingthecrowdoutofhiswayashecame,andthenwasascendingthestepstothegallows,whereheaddressedthecrowd,whichpushedforward.Ifoundmyselfpressedbetweenbodies,smellingaleandsweat,usingmyelbowstotrytofindspacewithintheherd.
“Brothers,sisters,fellowpatriots,”beganCharles,andanimpatienthushdescendedoverthecrowd.“Severaldaysagowelearntofaschemesovile,sodastardlythatevenrepeatingitnowdisturbsmybeing.Themanbeforeyouplottedtomurderourmuchbelovedgeneral.”
Thecrowdgasped.“Indeed,”roaredCharles,warmingtohistheme.“Whatdarknessormadness
movedhim,nonecansay.Andhehimselfoffersnodefence.Showsnoremorse.Andthoughwehavebeggedandpleadedforhimtosharewhatheknows,hemaintainsadeadlysilence.”
Atthis,theexecutionersteppedforwardandthrustaHessiansackoverConnor’shead.
“Ifthemanwillnotexplainhimself—ifhewillnotconfessandatone—whatotheroptionistherebutthis?Hesoughttosendusintothearmsoftheenemy.Thuswearecompelledbyjusticetosendhimfromthisworld.MayGodhavemercyonhissoul.”
Andnowhewasfinished,andIlookedaround,tryingtospotmoreofAchilles’smen.Ifitwasarescuemission,thennowwasthetime,surely?Butwherewerethey?Whatthehellweretheyplanning?
Abowman.Theyhadtobeusingabowman.Itwasn’tideal:anarrow
wouldn’tsevertheropecompletely,thebesttherescuerscouldhopeforwasthatitwouldpartthefibreenoughforConnor’sweighttosnapit.Butitwasthemostaccurate.Itcouldbedeployedfrom...
Faraway.Iswungabouttocheckthebuildingsbehindme.Sureenough,atthespotIwouldhavechosenwasabowman,standingatatallcasementwindow.AsIwatched,hedrewbackthebowstringandsquintedalongthelineofthearrow.Then,justasthetrapdoorsnappedopenandConnor’sbodydropped,hefired.
Thearrowstreakedaboveus,thoughIwastheonlyoneawareofit,andIwhippedmygazeovertotheplatformintimetoseeitslicetheropeandweakenit—ofcourse—butnotenoughtocutit.
Iriskedbeingseenanddiscovered,butIdidwhatIdidanyway,onimpulse,oninstinct.Isnatchedmydaggerfromwithinmyrobes,andIthrewit,watchedasitsailedthroughtheairandthankedGodasitslicedintotheropeandfinishedthejob.
AsConnor’swrithingand—thankGod—stillverymuchalivebodydroppedthroughthetrapdoor,agaspwentuparoundme.ForamomentIfoundmyselfwithaboutanarm’swidthofspaceallaroundasthecrowdrecoiledfrommeinshock.AtthesametimeIcaughtsightofAchillesduckingdownintothegallowspitwhereConnor’sbodyhadfallen.ThenIwasfightingtoescapeastheshockedlullwasreplacedbyavengefulroar,kicksandpuncheswereaimedmywayandguardsbeganshoulderingtheirwaythroughthethrongtowardsme.Iengagedthebladeandcutoneortwoofthesight-seers—enoughtodrawbloodandgiveotherattackerspauseforthought.Moretimidnow,theyatlastmadespacearoundme.Idashedoutofthesquareandbacktomyhorse,thecatcallsoftheangrycrowdringinginmyears.
iii
“HegottoThomasbeforehecouldreachWashington,”saidCharlesdespondentlylater,aswesatintheshadowsoftheRestlessGhostTaverntotalkabouttheeventsoftheday.Hewasagitatedandconstantlylookingoverhisshoulder.HelookedlikeIfelt,andIalmostenviedhimthefreedomtoexpresshisfeelings.Me,Ihadtokeepmyturmoilhidden.Andwhatturmoilitwas:I’dsavedthelifeofmysonbuteffectivelysabotagedtheworkofmyownOrder—anoperationthatImyselfhaddecreed.Iwasatraitor.Ihadbetrayedmypeople.
“Whathappened?”Iasked.ConnorhadreachedThomasandbeforehekilledhimwasdemanding
answers.WhyhadWilliamtriedtobuyhispeople’sland?WhywerewetryingtomurderWashington?
Inodded.Tookasipofmyale.“WhatwasThomas’sreply?”“HesaidthatthatwhatConnorsoughthe’dneverfind.”Charleslookedatme,hiseyeswideandweary.“Whatnow,Haytham?Whatnow?”
7JANUARY1778(TWOYEARSLATER)
i
CharleshadbegunbyresentingWashington,andthefactthatourassassinationattempthadfailedonlyincreasedhisanger.HetookitasapersonalaffrontthatWashingtonhadsurvived—howdarehe?—soneverquiteforgavehimforit.Shortlyafterwards,NewYorkhadfallentotheBritish,andWashington,whowasalmostcaptured,washeldtoblame,notleastbyCharles,whowassingularlyunimpressedbyWashington’ssubsequentforayacrosstheDelawareRiver,despitethefactthathisvictoryattheBattleofTrentonhadrenewedconfidenceintherevolution.ForCharles,itwasmoregristtothemillthatWashingtonwentontolosetheBattleofBrandywineandthusPhiladelphia.Washington’sattackontheBritishatGermantownhadbeenacatastrophe.AndnowtherewasValleyForge.
AfterwinningtheBattleofWhiteMarsh,Washingtonhadtakenhistroopstowhathehopedwasasaferlocationforthenewyear.ValleyForge,inPennsylvania,wasthehighgroundhechose:twelvethousandContinentals,sobadlyequippedandfatiguedthattheshoelessmenleftatrailofbloodyfootprintswhentheymarchedtomakecampandprepareforthecomingwinter.
Theywereashambles.Foodandclothingwasinwoefullyshortsupply,whilehorsesstarvedtodeathordiedontheirfeet.Typhoid,jaundice,dysenteryandpneumoniaranuncheckedthroughoutthecampandkilledthousands.Moraleanddisciplineweresolowastobevirtuallynon-existent.
Still,though,despitethelossofNewYorkandPhiladelphiaandthelong,slow,freezingdeathofhisarmyatValleyForge,Washingtonhadhisguardianangel:Connor.AndConnor,withthecertaintyofyouth,believedinWashington.Nowordsofminecouldpossiblypersuadehimotherwise,thatmuchwasforcertain;nothingIcouldhavesaidwouldconvincehimthatWashingtonwasinfactresponsibleforthedeathofhismother.Inhismind,itwasTemplarswhowereresponsible—andwhocanblamehimforcomingtothatconclusion?Afterall,hesawCharlestherethatday.AndnotjustCharles,butWilliam,Thomas
andBenjamin.Ah,Benjamin.Myotherproblem.Hehadthesepastyearsbeensomethingof
adisgracetotheOrder,toputitmildly.AfterattemptingtosellinformationtotheBritish,hehadbeenhauledbeforeacourtofinquiryin’75,headedbywhoelsebutGeorgeWashington.BynowBenjaminwas,justashe’dpredictedallthoseyearsago,thechiefphysiciananddirectorgeneralofthemedicalserviceoftheContinentalArmy.Hewasconvictedof“communicatingwiththeenemy”andimprisoned,and,toallintentsandpurposes,hehadremainedsountilearlierthisyear,whenhehadbeenreleased—andpromptlygonemissing.
WhetherhehadrecantedtheidealsoftheOrder,justasBraddockhaddoneallthoseyearsago,Ididn’tknow.WhatIdidknowwasthathewaslikelytobetheonebehindthetheftofsuppliesboundforValleyForge,whichofcoursewasmakingmattersworseforthepoorsoulscampedthere;thathehadforsakenthegoalsoftheOrderinfavourofpersonalgain;andthatheneededtobestopped—ataskI’dtakenuponmyself,startinginthevicinityofValleyForgeandridingthroughthefreezing,snow-coveredPhiladelphiawildsuntilIcametothechurchwhereBenjaminhadmadecamp.
ii
AchurchtofindaChurch.Butabandoned.NotjustbyitserstwhilecongregationbutbyBenjamin’smen.Daysago,they’dbeenhere,butnow—nothing.Nosupplies,nomen,justtheremainsoffires,alreadycold,andirregularpatchesofmudandsnowlessgroundwheretentshadbeenpitched.Itetheredmyhorseatthebackofthechurchthensteppedinside,whereitwasjustasbone-freezing,numbingcoldasitwasoutside.Alongtheaisleweretheremainsofmorefiresandbythedoorwasapileofwood,which,oncloserinspection,Irealizedwaschurchpewsthathadbeenchoppedup.Reverenceisthefirstvictimofthecold.Theremainingpewswereintworowseithersideofthechurch,facinganimposingbutlong-disusedpulpit,anddustfloatedanddancedinbroadshaftsoflightprojectedthroughgrimywindowshighupinimposingstonewalls.Scatteredaroundaroughstonefloorwerevariousupturnedcratesandtheremainsofpackaging,andforafewmomentsIpacedaround,occasionallystoopingtooverturnacrateinthehopethatImightfindsomeclueastowhereBenjaminhadgotto.
Then,anoise—footstepsfromthedoor—andIfrozebeforedartingbehind
thepulpitjustasthehugeoakdoorscreakedslowlyandominouslyopen,andafigureentered:afigurewhocouldhavebeentracingmyexactsteps,forthewayheseemedtopacearoundthechurchfloorjustasIhaddone,upturningandinvestigatingcratesandevencursingunderhisbreath,justasIhad.
ItwasConnor.Ipeeredfromtheshadowsbehindthepulpit.HeworehisAssassin’srobes
andanintenselook,andIwatchedhimforamoment.ItwasasthoughIwerewatchingmyself—ayoungerversionofmyself,asanAssassin,thepathIshouldhavetaken,thepathIwasbeinggroomedtotake,andwouldhavedone,haditnotbeenforthetreacheryofReginaldBirch.Watchinghim—Connor—Ifeltafiercemixtureofemotions;amongthemregret,bitterness,evenenvy.
Imovedcloser.Let’sseehowgoodanAssassinhereallyis.Or,toputitanotherway,let’sseeifIstillhadit.
iii
Idid.“Father,”hesaid,whenIhadhimdownandthebladetohisthroat.“Connor,”Isaidsardonically.“Anylastwords?”“Wait.”“Apoorchoice.”Hestruggled,andhiseyesblazed.“CometocheckuponChurch,haveyou?
Makesurehe’sstolenenoughforyourBritishbrothers?”“BenjaminChurchisnobrotherofmine.”Itutted.“Nomorethanthe
redcoatsortheiridiotking.Iexpectednaïveté.Butthis...TheTemplarsdonotfightfortheCrown.Weseekthesameasyou,boy.Freedom.Justice.Independence.”
“But...”“Butwhat?”Iasked.“Johnson.Pitcairn.Hickey.Theytriedtostealland.Tosacktowns.To
murderGeorgeWashington.”Isighed.“Johnsonsoughttoownthelandthatwemightkeepitsafe.Pitcairn
aimedtoencouragediplomacy—whichyoucockedupthoroughlyenoughtostartagoddamnedwar.AndHickey?GeorgeWashingtonisawretchedleader.He’slostnearlyeverybattleinwhichhe’stakenpart.Theman’swrackedbyuncertaintyandinsecurity.TakeonelookatValleyForgeandyouknowmy
wordsaretrue.We’dallbebetteroffwithouthim.”WhatIwassayinghadaneffectonhim,Icouldtell.“Look—muchasI’d
lovetosparwithyou,BenjaminChurch’smouthisasbigashisego.Youclearlywantthesupplieshe’sstolen;Iwanthimpunished.Ourinterestsarealigned.”
“Whatdoyoupropose?”hesaidwarily.WhatdidIpropose?Ithought.Isawhiseyesgototheamuletatmythroat
andmineinturnwenttothenecklacehewore.Nodoubthismothertoldhimabouttheamulet;nodoubthewouldwanttotakeitfromme.Ontheotherhand,theemblemsweworearoundourneckswerebothremindersofher.
“Atruce,”Isaid.“Perhaps—perhapssometimetogetherwilldousgood.Youaremyson,afterall,andmightstillbesavedfromyourignorance.”
Therewasapause.“OrIcankillyounow,ifyou’dprefer?”Ilaughed.“DoyouknowwhereChurchhasgone?”heasked.“Afraidnot.I’dhopedtoambushhimwhenheoroneofhismenreturned
here.ButitseemsIwastoolate.They’vecomeandclearedtheplaceout.”“Imaybeabletotrackhim,”hesaid,withanoddlyproudnoteinhisvoice.Istoodbackandwatchedashegavemeanostentatiousdemonstrationof
Achilles’straining,pointingtomarksonthechurchfloorwherethecrateshadbeendragged.
“Thecargowasheavy,”hesaid.“Itwasprobablyloadedontoawagonfortransport...Therewererationsinsidethecrates—medicalsuppliesandclothingaswell.”
Outsidethechurch,Connorgesturedtosomechurned-upsnow.“Therewasawagonhere...slowlyweigheddownastheyloadeditwiththesupplies.Snow’sobscuredthetracks,butenoughremainsthatwecanstillfollow.Comeon...”
Icollectedmyhorse,joinedhimandtogetherwerodeout,ConnorindicatingthelineofthetracksasItriedtokeepmyadmirationfromshowing.NotforthefirsttimeIfoundmyselfstruckbythesimilaritiesinourknowledge,andnotedhimdoingjustasIwouldhavedoneinthesamesituation.Somefifteenmilesoutofthecamphetwistedinthesaddleandshotmeatriumphantlook,atthesametimeasheindicatedthetrailupahead.Therewasabroken-downcart,itsdrivertryingtorepairthewheelandmutteringasweapproached:“Justmyluck...GoingtofreezetodeathifIdon’tgetthisfixed...”
Surprised,helookedupatourarrival,andhiseyeswidenedinfear.Notfarawaywashismusket,buttoofartoreach.Instantly,Iknew—justasConnorhaughtilydemanded,“AreyouBenjaminChurch’sman?”—thathewasgoingto
makearunforit,and,sureenough,hedid.Wild-eyed,hescrambledtohisfeetandtookoffintothetrees,wadingintothesnowwithapronounced,trudgingrun,asungainlyasawoundedelephant.
“Wellplayed,”Ismiled,andConnorflashedmeanangrylookthenleaptfromhissaddleanddivedintothetreelinetochasethecartdriver.Ilethimgothensighedandclimbeddownfrommyhorse,checkedmybladeandlistenedtothecommotionfromtheforestasConnorcaughttheman;thenIstrodeintotheforesttojointhem.
“Itwasnotwisetorun,”Connorwassaying.He’dpinnedthedriveragainstatree.
“W–whatdoyouwant?”thewretchmanaged.“WhereisBenjaminChurch?”“Idon’tknow.Wewasridingforacampjustnorthofhere.It’swherewe
normallyunloadthecargo.Maybeyou’llfindhimth–”Hiseyesdartedtome,asiflookingforsupport,soIdrewmypistol,andshot
him.“Enoughofthat,”Isaid.“Bestbeonourwaythen.”“Youdidnothavetokillhim,”saidConnor,wipingtheman’sbloodfromhis
face.“Weknowwherethecampis,”Itoldhim.“He’dservedhispurpose.”Aswereturnedtoourhorses,IwonderedhowIappearedtohim.WhatwasI
tryingtoteachhim?DidIwanthimasbrittleandwornasIwas?WasItryingtoshowhimwherethepathled?
Lostinthought,werodetowardsthesiteofthecamp,andassoonaswesawthetell-talewaftingsmokeabovethetipsofthetrees,wedismounted,tetheredourhorsesandcontinuedonfoot,passingstealthilyandsilentlythroughthetrees.Westayedinthetrees,crawlingonourbelliesandusingmyspyglasstosquintthroughtrunksandbarebranchesatdistantmen,whomadetheirwayaroundthecampandclusteredaroundfirestryingtokeepwarm.Connorleft,tomakehiswayintothecamp,whileImademyselfcomfortable,outofsight.
OratleastIthoughtso—IthoughtIwasoutofsight—untilIfeltthetickleofamusketatmyneckandthewords“Well,well,well,whathavewehere?”
Cursing,Iwasdraggedtomyfeet.Therewerethreeofthem,alllookingpleasedwiththemselvestohavecaughtme—aswelltheyshould,becauseIwasn’teasilysneakedupon.Tenyearsago,Iwouldhaveheardthemandcreptnoiselesslyaway.Tenyearsbeforethat,Iwouldhaveheardthemcoming,hiddenthentakenthemallout.
Twoheldmusketsonmewhileoneofthemcameforward,lickinghislipsnervously.Makinganoiseasifimpressed,heunfastenedmyhiddenbladethentookmysword,daggerandpistol.AndonlywhenIwasunarmeddidhedarerelax,grinningtorevealatinyskylineofblackenedandrottingteeth.Ididhaveonehiddenweapon,ofcourse:Connor.Butwherethehellhadhegotto?
RottingTeethsteppedforward.ThankGodhewassobadathidinghisintentionsthatIwasabletotwistawayfromthekneehedroveintomygroin,justenoughtoavoidserioushurtbutmakehimthinkotherwise,andIyelpedinpretendpainanddroppedtothefrozenground,whereIstayedforthetimebeing,lookingmoredazedthanIfeltandplayingfortime.
“MustbeaYankspy,”saidoneoftheothermen.Heleanedonhismuskettobendandlookatme.
“No.He’ssomethingelse,”saidthefirstone,andhe,too,benttome,asIpulledmyselftomyhandsandknees.“Somethingspecial.Isn’tthatright...Haytham?Churchtoldmeallaboutyou,”saidtheforeman.
“Thenyoushouldknowbetterthanthis,”Isaid.“Youain’treallyinanypositiontobemakin’threats,”snarledRottingTeeth.“Notyet,”Isaid,calmly.“Really?”saidRottingTeeth.“How’boutweproveotherwise?Youeverhad
amusketbuttinyourteeth?“No,butitlookslikeyoucantellmehowitfeels.”“Youwhat?Youtryin’tobefunny?”Myeyestravelledup—uptothebranchesofatreebehindthem,whereIsaw
Connorcrouched,hishiddenbladeextendedandafingertohislips.Hewouldbeanexpertinthetrees,ofcourse,taughtnodoubtbyhismother.She’dtutoredmeinthefinerpointsofclimbing,too.Nobodycouldmovethroughthetreeslikeher.
IlookedupatRottingTeeth,knowinghehadmereseconds’lifetolive.Ittookthestingoutofhisbootasitconnectedwithmyjaw,andIwasliftedandsentflyingbackwards,landinginaheapinasmallthicket.
Perhapsnowwouldbeagoodtime,Connor,Ithought.ThrougheyesightglazedwithpainIwasrewardedbyseeingConnordropfromhisperch,hisbladehandshootforwardthenitsblood-fleckedsilversteelappearfromwithinthemouthofthefirstlucklessguard.TheothertwoweredeadbythetimeIpulledmyselftomyfeet.
“NewYork,”saidConnor.“Whataboutit?”
26JANUARY1778
i
NewYorkhadchangedsinceIlastvisited,tosaytheleast:ithadburned.ThegreatfireofSeptember’76hadstartedintheFightingCocksTavern,destroyedoverfivehundredhomesandleftaroundaquarterofthecityburnt-outanduninhabitable.TheBritishhadputthecityundermartiallawasaresult.People’shomeshadbeenseizedandgiventoBritishArmyofficers;thechurcheshadbeenconvertedintoprisons,barracksorinfirmaries;anditwasasthoughtheveryspiritofthecityhadsomehowbeendimmed.NowitwastheUnionFlagthathunglimplyfromflagpolesatthesummitoforangebrickbuildings,andwhere,before,thecityhadanenergyandbustleaboutit—lifebeneathitscanopiesandporticosandbehinditswindows—nowthosesamecanopiesweredirtyandtattered,thewindowsblackenedwithsoot.Lifewenton,butthetownsfolkbarelyraisedtheireyesfromthestreet.Now,theirshouldersweredrooping,theirmovementsdispirited.
Insuchaclimate,findingBenjamin’swhereaboutshadnotbeendifficult.Hewasinanabandonedbreweryonthewaterfront,itturnedout.
“Weshouldbedonewiththisbysunrise,”Iratherrashlypredicted.“Good,”repliedConnor.“Iwouldliketohavethosesuppliesreturnedas
soonaspossible.”“Ofcourse.Iwouldn’twanttokeepyoufromyourlostcause.Comeonthen,
followme.”Totheroofswewentand,momentslater,wewerelookingoutovertheNew
Yorkskyline,momentarilyawedbythesightofit,inallitswar-torn,tatteredglory.
“Tellmesomething,”Connorsaidaftersomemoments.“Youcouldhavekilledmewhenwefirstmet—whatstayedyourhand?”
Icouldhaveletyoudieatthegallows,Ithought.IcouldhavehadThomaskillyouinBridewellPrison.Whatstayedmyhandonthosetwooccasionsalso?Whatwastheanswer?WasIgettingold?Sentimental?PerhapsIwasnostalgic
foralifeIneverreallyhad.NoneofthisIespeciallycaredtosharewithConnor,however,and,
eventually,afterapause,Idismissedhisquestionwith:“Curiosity.Anyotherquestions?”
“WhatisittheTemplarsseek?”“Order,”Isaid.“Purpose.Direction.Nomorethanthat.It’syourlotthat
meanstoconfounduswithallthatnonsensetalkoffreedom.Onceuponatime,theAssassinsprofessedamoresensiblegoal—thatofpeace.”
“Freedomispeace,”heinsisted.“No.Itisaninvitationtochaos.Onlylookatthislittlerevolutionyour
friendshavestarted.IhavestoodbeforetheContinentalCongress.Listenedtothemstampandshout.Allinthenameofliberty.Butit’sjustanoise.”
“AndthisiswhyyoufavourCharlesLee?”“Heunderstandstheneedsofthiswould-benationfarbetterthanthe
jobbernowlswhoprofesstorepresentit.”“Itseemstomeyourtonguehastastedsourgrapes,”hesaid.“Thepeople
madetheirchoice—anditwasWashington.”Thereitwasagain.Ialmostenviedhim,howhelookedattheworldinsuch
anunequivocalway.Hiswasaworldfreeofdoubt,itseemed.WhenheeventuallylearntthetruthaboutWashington,which,ifmyplansucceeded,wouldbesoon,hisworld—andnotjusthisworldbuthisentireviewofit—wouldbeshattered.IfIenviedhimhiscertaintynow,Ididn’tenvyhimthat.
“Thepeoplechosenothing.”Isighed.“Itwasdonebyagroupofprivilegedcowardsseekingonlytoenrichthemselves.Theyconvenedinprivateandmadeadecisionthatwouldbenefitthem.Theymayhavedresseditupwithprettywords,butthatdoesn’tmakeittrue.Theonlydifference,Connor—theonlydifferencebetweenmeandthoseyouaid—isthatIdonotfeignaffection.”
Helookedatme.Notlongago,Ihadsaidtomyselfthatmywordswouldneverhaveanyeffectonhim,yethereIwastryinganyway.AndmaybeIwaswrong—maybewhatIsaidwasgettingthrough.
ii
Atthebrewery,itbecameapparentthatweneededadisguiseforConnor,hisAssassin’srobesbeingalittleontheconspicuousside.Procuringonegavehimachancetoshowoffagain,andoncemoreIwasstingywithmypraise.Whenwe
werebothsuitablyattiredwemadeourwaytowardsthecompound,theredbrickwallstoweringaboveus,thedarkwindowsstaringimplacablyuponus.ThroughthegatesIcouldseethebarrelsandcartsofthebrewerybusiness,aswellasmenwalkingtoandfro.BenjaminhadreplacedmostoftheTemplarmenwithmercenariesofhisown;itwashistoryrepeatingitself,Ithought,mymindgoingbacktoEdwardBraddock.IonlyhopedBenjaminwouldn’tbeastoughtokillasBraddock.Somehow,Idoubtedit.Ihadlittlefaithinthecalibreofmyenemythesedays.
Ihadlittlefaithinanythingthesedays.“Hold,strangers!”Aguardsteppedoutoftheshadows,disturbingthefog
thatswirledaroundourankles.“Youtreadonprivateproperty.Whatbusinesshaveyouhere?”
Itippedthebrimofmyhattoshowhimmyface.“TheFatherofUnderstandingguidesus,”Isaid,andthemanseemedtorelax,thoughhelookedwarilyatConnor.“You,Irecognize,”hesaid,“butnotthesavage.”
“He’smyson,”Isaid,anditwas...odd,hearingthesentimentuponmyownlips.
Theguard,meanwhile,wasstudyingConnorcarefullythen,withasidewaysglance,saidtome,“Tastedoftheforest’sfruits,didyou?”
Ilethimlive.Fornow.Justsmiledinstead.“Offyougo,then,”hesaid,andwestrodethroughthearchedgateandinto
themaincompoundoftheSmith&CompanyBrewery.Therewequicklyduckedintoacoveredsection,withaseriesofdoorsleadingintowarehousesandofficespace.StraightawayIsettopickingthelockofthefirstdoorwecametoasConnorkeptwatch,talkingatthesametime.
“Itmustbestrangetoyou,discoveringmyexistenceasyouhave,”hesaid.“I’mactuallycurioustoknowwhatyourmothersaidaboutme,”Ireplied,
workingthepick-lock.“Ioftenwonderedwhatlifemighthavebeenlike,hadsheandIstayedtogether.”Actingonaninstinct,Iaskedhim,“Howisshe,bytheway?”
“Dead,”hesaid.“Shewasmurdered.”ByWashington,Ithought,butsaidnothing,except,“I’msorrytohearthat.”“Really?Itwasdonebyyourmen.”BynowI’dopenedthedoorbutinsteadofgoingthroughIcloseditand
turnedtofaceConnor.“What?”“Iwasjustachildwhentheycamelookingfortheelders.Iknewtheywere
dangerouseventhen,soIstayedsilent.CharlesLeebeatmeunconsciousforit.”
SoIhadbeenright.CharleshadindeedleftthephysicalaswellasthemetaphoricalimprintofhisTemplarringonConnor.
Itwasnothardtoletthehorrorshowonmyface,althoughIpretendedtobeshockedashecontinued,“WhenIwoke,Ifoundmyvillageinflames.Yourmenweregonebythen,aswellasanyhopeformymother’ssurvival.”
Now—nowwasanopportunitytotrytoconvincehimofthetruth.“Impossible,”Isaid.“Igavenosuchorder.Spokeoftheopposite,infact—I
toldthemtogiveupthesearchfortheprecursorsite.Weweretofocusonmorepracticalpursuits...”
Connorlookeddubiousbutshrugged.“Itdoesn’tmatter.It’slongdonenow.”Oh,butitdid,itdidmatter.“Butyou’vegrownupallyourlifebelievingme—yourownfather—
responsibleforthisatrocity.Ihadnohandinit.”“Maybeyouspeaktrue.Maybenot.HowamIevertoknow?”
iii
Silently,weletourselvesintothewarehouse,wherestackedbarrelsseemedtocrowdoutanylightandnotfarawaystoodafigurewithhisbacktous,theonlysoundthesoftscratchinghemadeashewroteinaledgerheheld.Irecognizedhimatonce,ofcourse,anddrewalongbreathbeforecallingouttohim.
“BenjaminChurch,”Iannounced,“youstandaccusedofbetrayingtheTemplarOrderandabandoningourprinciplesinpursuitofpersonalgain.Inconsiderationofyourcrimes,Iherebysentenceyoutodeath.”
Benjaminturned.Onlyitwasn’tBenjamin.Itwasadecoy—whosuddenlycried,“Now,now!”atwhichtheroomwasfullofmenwhorushedfromhidingplaces,holdingpistolsandswordsonus.
“You’retoolate,”crowedthedecoy.“Churchandthecargoarelonggone.AndI’mafraidyouwon’tbeinanyconditiontofollow.”
Westood,themenassembledbeforeus,andthankedGodforAchillesandhistraining,becausewewereboththinkingthesamethings.Wewerethinking:whenfacingsuperiorstrength,wrestfromthemtheelementofsurprise.Wewerethinking:turndefenceintoattack.
Sothat’swhatwedid.Weattacked.Withaquickglanceatoneanotherweeachreleasedourblades,eachsprungforward,eachembeddedthemintothenearestguard,whosescreamsechoedaroundthebrickwallsofthewarehouse.I
kickedoutandsentoneoftheirgunmenskiddingbackandsmashinghisheadagainstacrate,thenwasuponhim,mykneesonhischest,drivingthebladethroughhisfaceandintohisbrain.
ItwistedintimetoseeConnorwhirl,keepinglowandslicinghisbladehandaroundatthesametime,openingthestomachsoftwolucklessguards,whobothdropped,clutchingattheirgapingstomachs,bothdeadmenwhodidn’tknowityet.Amusketwentoff,andIheardtheairsing,knowingtheballhadjustmissedmebutmakingthesniperpayforitwithhislife.Twomencametowardsme,swingingwildly,andasItookthembothdownIthankedourluckystarsthatBenjaminhadusedmercenariesratherthanTemplarmen,whowouldn’thavebeensoswiftlyovercome.
Asitwas,thefightwasshortandbrutal,untiljustthedecoywasleftandConnorwasloomingoverhimashetrembledlikeafrightenedchildonthebrickworkfloornowslickwithblood.
IfinishedadyingmanthenstrodeovertohearConnordemand,“Where’sChurch?”
“I’lltellyou,”wailedthedecoy,“anythingyouwant.Onlypromisethatyou’llletmelive.”
Connorlookedatmeand,whetherornotweagreed,hehelpedhimtohisfeet.Withanervousglancefromonetotheotherofus,thedecoycontinued,“HeleftyesterdayforMartinique.TookpassageonatradingsloopcalledtheWelcome.Loadedhalfitsholdwiththesupplieshestolefromthepatriots.That’sallIknow.Iswear.”
Standingbehindhim,Ithrustmybladeintohisspinalcordandhestaredinblankamazementatthebloodstainedtipasitprotrudedfromhischest.
“Youpromised...”hesaid.“Andhekepthisword,”Isaidcoldly,andlookedatConnor,almostdaring
himtocontradictme.“Let’sgo,”Iadded,justasatrioofriflemenrushedontothebalconyaboveuswithaclatterofbootsonwood,tuckedtheirriflemusketbuttsintotheirshouldersandopenedfire.Butnotatus,atbarrelsnearby,which,toolate,Irealizedwerefullofgunpowder.
IjusthadtimetoheaveConnorbehindsomebeerkegsasthefirstofthebarrelswentup,followedbytheonesaroundit,eachexplodingwithadeafeningthunderclapthatseemedtobendtheairandstoptime—ablastsofiercethat,whenIopenedmyeyesandtookmyhandsawayfrommyears,IfoundIwasalmostsurprisedthewarehousewasstillstandingaroundus.Everymanintheplacehadeitherhurledhimselftothegroundorbeenthrowntherebytheforce
oftheexplosion.Buttheguardswerepickingthemselvesup,reachingfortheirmusketsand,stilldeafened,shoutingateachotherastheysquintedthroughthedustforus.Flameswerelickingupthebarrels;cratescatchingfire.Notfaraway,aguardcamerunningontothewarehousefloor,hisclothesandhairablaze,screamedashisfacemeltedthensanktohiskneesanddiedfacedowntothestone.Thegreedyfirefoundsomenearbycratestuffing,whichwentupinaninstant.Allaroundus,aninferno.
Musketballsbeganzippingaroundus.Wefelledtwoswordsmenonourwaytothestepsleadinguptothegantrythenhackedourwaythroughasquadoffourriflemen.Thefirewasrisingquickly—eventheguardswerebeginningtoescapenow—sowerantothenextlevel,climbingupandup,untilatlastwe’dreachedtheatticofthebrewerywarehouse.
Ourassailantswerebehindus,butnottheflames.Lookingoutofawindow,wecouldseewaterbelowus,andIcastaroundforanexit.Connorgrabbedmeandswungmetowardsthewindow,smashingthetwoofusthroughtheglasssothatwedroppedtothewaterbeforeI’devenhadachancetoprotest.
7MARCH1778
i
TherewasnowayIwasgoingtoletBenjamingetaway.NothavinghadtoputupwithlifeontheAquilaforalmostamonth,trappedwithConnor’sfriendandship’scaptainRobertFaulkner,amongothers,chasingBenjamin’sschooner,whichhadstayedjustoutofourreach,dodgingcannonattacks,catchingtantalizingglimpsesofhimonthedeckofhisship,histauntingface...NowaywasIgoingtolethimgetaway.EspeciallyaswecamesocloseinwatersclosetotheGulfofMexico,theAquilaatlastracingupalongsidehisschooner.
WhichwaswhyIsnatchedtheship’swheelfromConnor,wrenchedithardstarboardandwithalurchsenttheshipspeedingtowardstheschooner.Nobodyhadexpectedthattohappen.Notthecrewofhisship.NotthemenontheAquila,notConnororRobert—onlyme;andI’mnotsureIknewuntilIdidit,whenanycrewmemberwhowasn’thangingontosomethingwasthrownviolentlytothesideandtheprowoftheAquilacrunchedintotheschooner’sportsideatanangle,breachingandsplinteringthehull.Perhapsitwasrashofme.PerhapsIwouldoweConnor—andcertainlyFaulkner—anapologyforthedamagedonetotheirship.
ButIcouldn’tlethimgetaway.
ii
Foramomenttherewasastunnedsilence,justthesoundofshipdebrisslappingagainsttheoceanaround,andthegroanandcreekofbattered,distressedtimber.Thesailsflutteredinagentlebreezeaboveus,butneithershipmoved,asthoughbothwereimmobilizedbytheshockoftheimpact.
Andthen,justassuddenly,acrywentupasthecrewfrombothshipsrecoveredtheirsenses.IwasaheadofConnorandhadalreadydashedtotheprowoftheAquila,swingingtothedeckofBenjamin’sschooner,whereIhitthe
woodwithextendedbladeandkilledthefirstcrewmemberwhoraisedaweapontowardsme,stabbinghimandswinginghiswrithingbodyoverboard.
Spottingthehatch,Irantoit,hauledoutasailortryingtoescapeandpunchedthebladeintohischestbeforetakingthesteps.WithafinallookatthedevastationI’dcaused,asthetwohugeshipslockedtogetherandbeganslowlytoturnintheocean,Islammedthehatchclosedbehindme.
Fromabovecamethethunderoffeetondeck,themutedscreamsandgunblastsofbattleandthethudofbodieshittingthewood.Belowthedeck,therewasastrange,damp,almosteeriesilence.But,fromfurtheralong,Irealized,camethesloshanddripthattoldmetheschoonerwastakingonwater.Igrabbedawoodenstrutasitsuddenlylistedand,somewhere,thedripofwaterbecameaconstantflow.Howlongwoulditremainafloat?Iwondered.
Meantime,IsawwhatConnorwouldsoondiscover:thatthesupplieswe’dspentsolonginpursuitofwerenon-existent—oronthisshipanyway.
JustasIwasabsorbingthis,IheardanoiseandtwistedtoseeBenjaminChurchholdingapistolonmetwo-handed,squintingalongitssights.
“Hello,Haytham,”hesnarled,andpulledthetrigger.Hewasgood.Iknewthat.Itwaswhyhepulledthetriggerrightaway,toput
medownwhilehestillhadtheelementofsurprise;andwhyhedidn’taimdirectlyformebutataspotslightlytomyright,becauseI’maright-sidedfighterandwouldnaturallydivetomystrongestside.
ButofcourseIknewthatbecauseI’dtrainedhim.AndhisshotsmackedharmlesslyintothehullwhenIdived,nottotherightbuttotheleft,rolledthencametomyfeet,pouncedandwasuponhimbeforehecoulddrawhissword.WithafistfulofhisshirtinmyhandIsnatchedhispistolandtosseditaway.
“Wehadadream,Benjamin,”Isnarledintohisface,“adreamyousoughttodestroy.Andforthat,myfallenfriend,youwillbemadetopay.”
Ikneedhiminthegroin.Whenhedoubledover,gaspingwithpain,Idrovemyfistintohisabdomenthenfolloweditupwithapunchtothejawthatwashardenoughtosendtwobloodiedteethskitteringalongthefloor.
Ilethimdrop,andhefelltowherethewoodwasalreadywet,hisfacesplashingintoawashofincomingseawater.Againtheshiplurchedbut,forthemoment,Ididn’tcare.WhenBenjamintriedtogettohishandsandkneesIlashedoutwithmyboot,kickingwhateverbreathhehadleftoutofhim.NextIgrabbedalengthofropeandhauledhimtohisfeet,shovedhimagainstabarrelthenwounditaroundhim,securinghimfast.Hisheaddroppedforward,trailsofblood,spitandsnotspoolingslowlytothewoodbelow.Istoodback,tookhold
ofhishairthenlookedintohiseyes,droveafistintohisfaceandheardthecrunchofhisbreakingnosethenstoodback,shakingthebloodfrommyknuckles.
“Enough!”criedConnorfrombehindme,andIturnedtoseehimstaringatme,andthenatBenjamin,withadisgustedlookonhisface.
“Wecamehereforareason...”hesaid.Ishookmyhead.“Differentreasons,itseems.”ButConnorpushedpastmeandwadedthroughwater,nowankledeep,to
Benjamin,whoregardedhimwithdefianceinhisbruisedandbloodshoteyes.“Wherearethesuppliesyoustole?”Connordemanded.Benjaminspat.“Gotohell.”Andthen,incredibly,begantosing:“Rule
Britannia.”Isteppedforward.“Shutyourmouth,Church.”Notthatitstoppedhim.Hecontinuedsinging.“Connor,”Isaid,“getwhatyouneedfromhimandlet’sbedonewiththis.”AndatlastConnorsteppedforward,hisbladeengaged,andhelditto
Benjamin’sthroat.“Iaskagain,”saidConnor.“Whereisyourcargo?”Benjaminlookedathimandblinked.ForamomentIthoughthisnextmove
wouldbetoinsultorspitatConnor,butinsteadhebegantospeak.“Ontheislandyonder,waitingtobetransported.Butyou’venorighttoit.Itisn’tyours.”
“No,notmine,”saidConnor.“Thosesuppliesaremeantformenandwomenwhobelieveinsomethingbiggerthanthemselves,whofightanddiethatonedaytheymaylivefreefromtyrannysuchasyours.”
Benjaminsmiledsadly.“ArethesethesamemenandwomenwhofightwithmusketsforgedfromBritishsteel?WhobindtheirwoundswithbandagessownbyBritishhands?Howconvenientforthemthatwedothework.Theyreaptherewards.”
“Youspinastorytoexcuseyourcrimes.Asthoughyou’retheinnocentoneandtheythethieves,”arguedConnor.
“It’sallamatterofperspective.Thereisnosinglepaththroughlifethatisrightandfairanddoesnoharm.DoyoutrulythinktheCrownhasnocause?Norighttofeelbetrayed?Youshouldknowbetterthanthis,dedicatedasyouaretofightingTemplars—whothemselvesseetheirworkasjust.Thinkonthatthenexttimeyouinsistthatyourworkalonebefitsthegreatergood.Yourenemywouldbegtodiffer—andwouldnotbewithoutcause.”
“Yourwordsmayhavebeensincere,”whisperedConnor,“butitdoesnot
makethemtrue.”Andhefinishedhim.“Youdidwell,”IsaidasBenjamin’schindroppedtohischestandhisblood
splashedtothewaterthatcontinuedtorise.“Hispassingisaboonforusboth.Comeon.Isupposeyou’llwantmyhelpretrievingeverythingfromtheisland...”
16JUNE1778
i
IthadbeenmonthssinceI’dlastseenhim,yetIcannotdenyIthoughtofhimoften.WhenIdid,Ithought,Whathopeisthereforus?Me,aTemplar—aTemplarforgedinthecrucibleoftreachery,butaTemplarnevertheless—andhimanAssassin,createdbythebutcheryoftheTemplars.
Onceuponatime,manyyearsago,I’ddreamedofonedayunitingAssassinandTemplar,butIwasayoungerandmoreidealisticmanthen.Theworldhadyettoshowmeitstrueface.Anditstruefacewasunforgiving,cruelandpitiless,barbaricandbrutal.Therewasnoplaceinitfordreams.
Andyet,hecametomeagain,andthoughhesaidnothing—notsofaranyway—IwonderediftheidealismI’doncehadlurkedbehindthoseeyes,anditwasthatwhichbroughthimoncemoretomydoorinNewYork,seekinganswersperhaps,orwantinganendtosomedoubtthatnaggedathim.
PerhapsIwaswrong.Perhapstherewasanuncertaintythatresidedwithinthatyoungsoulafterall.
NewYorkwasstillinthegripoftheredcoats,squadsofthemoutonthestreets.Itwasyearslater,andstillnobodyhadbeenheldresponsibleforthefirethathadplungedthecityintoagrimy,soot-staineddepression.Partsofitwerestilluninhabitable.Martiallawcontinued,theredcoats’rulewasharshandthepeoplemoreresentfulthanever.AsanoutsiderIstudiedthetwogroupsofpeople,thedowntroddencityfolkgivinghatefullookstothebrutal,unrulysoldiers.Iwatchedthemwithajaundicedeye.And,dutifully,Icontinued.Iworkedtotrytohelpwinthiswar,endtheoccupation,findpeace.
Iwasgrillingoneofmyinformants,awretchnamedTwitch—becauseofsomethinghedidwithhisnose—whenIsawConnoroutofthecornerofmyeye.IheldupahandtostophimwhileIcontinuedlisteningtoTwitch,andwonderedwhathewanted.Whatbusinessdidhehavewiththemanhebelievedhadgiventheordertokillhismother?
“Weneedtoknowwhattheloyalistsareplanningifwearetoputanendto
this,”Isaidtomyman.Connorloitered,overhearing—notthatitmattered.“I’vetried,”respondedTwitch,ashisnostrilsflaredandhiseyesdartedto
Connor,“butthesoldiersthemselvesaretoldnothingnow:onlytoawaitordersfromabove.”
“Thenkeepdigging.Comeandfindmewhenyouhavesomethingworthsharing.”
Twitchnodded,slunkoff,andItookadeepbreathtofaceConnor.Foramomentorsoweregardedoneanother,andIlookedhimupanddown,hisAssassin’srobessomehowatoddswiththeyoungIndianboybeneath,hislongdarkhair,thosepiercingeyes—Ziio’seyes.Whatlaybehindthem?Iwondered.
Aboveus,aflockofbirdsmadeitselfcomfortableontheledgeofabuilding,cawingloudly.Nearby,apatrolofredcoatsloungedbyacarttoadmirepassinglaundrywomen,makinglewdsuggestionsandrespondingtoanydisapprovinglooksandtutswiththreateninggestures.
“We’resoclosetovictory,”ItoldConnor,takinghisarmandleadinghimfurtherdownthestreet,awayfromtheredcoats.“Justafewmorewell-placedattacksandwecanendthecivilwarandberidoftheCrown.”
Analmostsmileattheedgesofhismouthbetrayedacertainsatisfaction.“Whatdidyouintend?”
“Nothingatthemoment—sincewe’recompletelyinthedark.”“IthoughtTemplarshadeyesandearseverywhere,”hesaid,withjustahint
ofdryhumour.Justlikehismother.“Wedid.Untilyoustartedcuttingthemoff.”Hesmiled.“Yourcontactsaiditwasordersfromabove.Ittellsusexactly
whatweneedtodo:trackdownotherloyalistcommanders.”“ThesoldiersanswertotheJaegers,”Isaid.“TheJaegerstothe
commanders,whichmeans...weworkourwayupthechain.”Ilookedup.Notfaraway,theredcoatswerestillbeinglewd,lettingdown
theiruniform,theflagandKingGeorge.TheJaegerswerethelinkbetweenthearmycommandandthetroopsonthegroundandweresupposedtokeeptheredcoatsincheck,stopthemfromaggravatinganalreadyhostilepopulace,buttheyrarelyshowedtheirfaces,onlyiftherewasrealtroubleonthestreets.Likeifsomeone,say,killedaredcoat.Ortwo.
FrommyrobesIdrewmypistolandpointeditacrossthestreet.IsawConnor’smouthdropopenoutofthecornerofmyeyeasItookaimattheunrulygroupofredcoatsnearthecart,pickedonewho,evennow,wasmakinganobscenesuggestiontoawoman,whowalkedpastwithswishingskirtsand
herheadbowed,blushingbeneathherbonnet.Andpulledthetrigger.Thereportofmyguncrackedopenthedayandtheredcoatstaggeredback,a
penny-sizedholebetweenhiseyes,alreadybeginningtoleakdarkredbloodashismusketdroppedandhefellheavilybackintoacartandlaystill.
Foramomenttheotherredcoatsweretooshockedtodoanything,theirheadsswingingthiswayandthatastheytriedtolocatethesourceofthegunshotwhilepullingtheirriflesfromtheirshoulders.
Ibegantomakemywayacrossthestreet.“Whatareyoudoing?”calledConnorafterme.“Killenough,andtheJaegerswillappear,”Itoldhim.“They’llleadusright
backtothoseincharge”—andasoneoftheredcoatsturnedtomeandwenttojabwithhisbayonet,Isweptthebladeacrosshisfront,slicingthroughhiswhitecrisscrossedbelts,histunicandhisstomach.Ilaidintothenextonestraightaway,whileanother,whotriedtoretreatandfindspacetoraisehisweaponandfire,backedstraightintoConnorandinthenextinstantwasslidingoffhisblade.
Thebattlewasover,andthestreet,busybefore,wassuddenlyempty.AtthesametimeIheardbells,andwinked.“TheJaegersareout,justasIsaidthey’dbe.”
Itwasamatteroftrappingone,ataskIwashappytoleavetoConnor,andhedidn’tletmedown.Inlessthananhourwehadaletter,andasgroupsofJaegersandredcoatsranshoutingupanddownthestreets,angrilysearchingforthetwoAssassins—“Assassins,Itellyou.TheyusedthebladeoftheHashashin”—whohadsomercilesslycutdownoneoftheirpatrols,wetooktotheroofs,wherewesatandreadit.
“Theletter’sencrypted,”saidConnor.“Nottoworry,”Isaid.“Iknowthecypher.Afterall,it’saTemplar
invention.”Ireaditthenexplained.“TheBritishcommandisindisarray.TheHowe
brothershaveresignedandCornwallisandClintonhaveleftthecity.TheleadershipthatremainshascalledameetingattheruinsofTrinityChurch.It’sthereweshouldgo.”
ii
TheTrinityChurchwasattheintersectionofWallStreetandBroadway.Or,Ishouldsay,whatwasleftoftheTrinityChurchwasattheintersectionofWall
StreetandBroadway.IthadbeenbadlyburnedinthegreatfireofSeptember’76,sobadlyburned,infact,thattheBritishhadn’tbotheredtotrytoconvertittouseasbarracks,ortoimprisonpatriots.Insteadthey’dconstructedafenceanduseditforoccasionssuchasthis—themeetingofcommandersthatConnorandIfullyintendedtojoinasuninvitedguests.
WallStreetandBroadwaywerebothdark.Thelamplightersdidn’tcomeherebecausetherewerenolampstolight,noneinworkingorderanyway.Likeeverythingelsewithinaboutamile’sradiusofthechurch,theywereblackenedandsoot-covered,theirwindowssmashed.Andwhatwouldtheyilluminateanyway?Thegreyed-out,brokenwindowsofthesurroundingbuildings?Emptystone-and-woodencarcassesfitonlyforhabitationbystraydogsandvermin.
AboveitalltoweredthespireofTrinity,anditwasthereweheaded,scalingoneoftheremainingwallsofthechurchinordertotakeupposition.AsweclimbedIrealizedthatwhatthebuildingremindedmeofwasanenlargedversionofmyhomeatQueenAnne’sSquare,howithadlookedafterthefire.Andaswecrouchedintheshadowyalcovesawaitingthearrivaloftheredcoats,IrecalledthedayI’dgonebacktothehousewithReginaldandhowithadlooked.Likethechurch,itsroofhadbeentakenbyfire.Likethechurch,itwasashell,ashadowofitsformerself.Aboveus,thestarstwinkledinthesky,andIstaredatthemforamomentthroughtheopenroof,untilanelbowinmysiderousedmefrommyreverieandConnorwasindicatingdowntowhereofficersandredcoatsweremakingtheirwayalongthedesertedrubbleofWallStreettowardsthechurch.Astheyapproached,twomenaheadofthesquadwerepullingacartandhanginglanternsintheblackandbrittlebranchesofthetrees,lightingtheway.Theyreachedthechurchandwecastoureyesdownwardsastheyhungmorelanternsbelow.Theymovedquicklyamongthetruncatedcolumnsofthechurch,whereweeds,mossandgrasshadbeguntogrow,natureclaimingtheruinsforherself,andplacedlanternsonthefontandlectern,thenstoodtoonesideasthedelegatesstrodein:threecommandersandasquadofsoldiers.
Nextwewerebothstrainingtoheartheconversationandhavingnoluck.InsteadIcountedtheguards,twelveofthem,butIdidn’tthinkittoomany.
“They’retalkingincircles,”IhissedtoConnor.“We’lllearnnothing,watchingasweare.”
“Whatdoyoupropose?”hereplied.“Thatwegetdownthereanddemandanswers?”
Ilookedathim.Grinned.“Well,yes,”Isaid.
AndinthenextinstantIwasclimbingdownuntilIwascloseenough,andjumpeddown,surprisingtwooftheguardsattherear,whodied,theirmouthsmakinganOshape.
“Ambush!”wentthecryasIpiledintotwomoreoftheredcoats.FromaboveIheardConnorcurseasheleaptfromhisperchtojoinme.
Iwasright.Thereweren’ttoomany.Theredcoats,asever,weretooreliantonmusketsandbayonets.Effectiveonthebattlefield,perhaps,butuselessatclose-quarterscombat,whichwaswhereConnorandIexcelled.Wewerefightingwelltogetherbynow,almostapartnership.Beforelong,themoss-coveredfigurinesoftheburnt-outchurchsparkledwithfreshredcoatblood,thetwelveguardsweredeadandjustthethreeterrifiedcommandersremained,cowering,lipsmovinginprayerastheypreparedtodie.
Ihadsomethingelseinmind—atriptoFortGeorge,tobeprecise.
iii
InsouthernmostManhattanwasFortGeorge.Over150yearsold,fromtheseaitpresentedavastskylineofspires,watchtowersandlongbarracksbuildingsthatseemedtorunacrosstheentirelengthofthepromontory,whileinsidethetoweringbattlementswereexpansesofdrillsquaresurroundingthetalldormitoriesandadministrativebuildings,allofitheavilydefendedandfortified.AperfectplacefortheTemplarstomaketheirbase.Aperfectplaceforustotakethethreeloyalistcommanders.
“WhataretheBritishplanning?”Iaskedthefirstone,afterlashinghimtoachairinaninterrogationroomdeepinthebowelsoftheNorthEndbuilding,wherethesmellofdampwasall-pervasiveandwhere,ifyoulistenedcarefully,youcouldjusthearthescratchingandgnawingoftherats.
“WhyshouldItellyou?”hesneered.“BecauseI’llkillyouifyoudon’t.”Hisarmswerebound,butheindicatedtheinterrogationroomwithhischin.
“You’llkillmeifIdo.”Ismiled.“ManyyearsagoImetamannamedCutter,anexpertintorture
andtheadministrationofpain,whowasabletokeephisvictimsalivefordaysonend,butinconsiderablepain,withonly...”Iflickedthemechanismofthebladeanditappeared,glintingcruellyintheflickeringtorchlight.
Helookedatit.“YoupromisemeaquickdeathifItellyou.”
“Youhavemyword.”Sohedid,andIkeptmyword.WhenitwasoverIstrodeoutintothe
passagewayoutside,whereIignoredConnor’sinquisitivelookandcollectedthesecondprisoner.BackinthecellItiedhimtothechairandwatchedashiseyeswenttothebodyofthefirstman.
“YourfriendrefusedtotellmewhatIwantedtoknow,”Iexplained,“whichiswhyIslithisthroat.AreyoupreparedtotellmewhatIwanttoknow?”
Wide-eyed,hegulped,“Look,whateveritis,Ican’ttellyou—Idon’tevenknow.Maybethecommander...”
“Oh,you’renotthemanincharge?”Isaidbreezily,andflickedmyblade.“Waitaminute...”heblurted,asImovedinbackofhim.“Thereisone
thingIknow...”Istopped.“Goon...”Hetoldmeand,whenitwasover,Ithankedhimanddrewthebladeacross
histhroat.Ashedied,IrealizedthatwhatIfeltwasnottherighteousfireofonewhoperformsrepellentactsinthenameofagreatergoodbutasenseofjadedinevitability.Manyyearsago,myfatherhadtaughtmeaboutmercy,aboutclemency.NowIslaughteredprisonerslikelivestock.ThiswashowcorruptIhadbecome.
“What’sgoingoninthere?”askedConnorsuspiciously,whenIreturnedtothepassagewaywhereheguardedthefinalprisoner.
“Thisoneisthecommander.Bringhimin.”Momentslater,thedoortotheinterrogationroomthumpedshutbehindus,
andforamomenttheonlysoundintheroomwasthatofdrippingblood.Seeingthebodiesdiscardedinacornerofthecell,thecommanderstruggled,but,withahandtohisshoulder,Ishovedhimtothechair,nowslickwithblood,lashedhimtoit,thenstoodbeforehimandflickedmyfingertoengagemyhiddenblade.Itmadeasoftsnickingsoundinthecell.
Theofficer’seyeswenttoitandthentome.Hewastryingtoputonabraveface,buttherewasnodisguisingthetrembleofhislowerlip.
“WhataretheBritishplanning?”Iaskedhim.Connor’seyeswereonme.Theprisoner’seyeswereonme.Whenhestayed
silentIraisedthebladeslightlysothatitreflectedtheflickeringtorchlight.Again,hiseyeswerefixedonit,andthen,hebroke...
“To—tomarchfromPhiladelphia.Thatcityisfinished.NewYorkisthekey.They’lldoubleournumbers—pushbacktherebels.”
“Whendotheybegin?”Iasked.
“Twodaysfromnow.”“Junetheeighteenth,”saidConnorfrombesideme.“Ineedtowarn
Washington.”“See?”Itoldthecommander.“Thatwasn’tverydifficultnow,wasit?”“Itoldyoueverything.Nowletmego,”heimplored,butIwasagaininno
moodforclemency.Istoodbehindhimand,asConnorwatched,openedhisthroat.Attheboy’shorrifiedlook,Isaid,“Andtheothertwosaidthesame.Itmustbetrue.”
WhenConnorlookedatme,itwaswithdisgust.“Youkilledhim...killedallofthem.Why?”
“Theywouldhavewarnedtheloyalists,”Iansweredsimply.“Youcouldhaveheldthemuntilthefightwasdone.”“NotfarawayfromhereisWallaboutBay,”Isaid,“wheretheprisonship
HMSJerseyismoored,arottingshiponwhichpatriotprisonersofwararedyingbythethousands,buriedinshallowgravesontheshoresorsimplytossedoverboard.ThatwashowtheBritishtreattheirprisoners,Connor.”
Heacknowledgedthepointbutcountered,“Whichiswhywemustbefreeoftheirtyranny.”
“Ah,tyranny.Don’tforgetthatyourleaderGeorgeWashingtoncouldsavethesemenontheprisonships,ifhewassominded.ButhedoesnotwanttoexchangecapturedBritishsoldiersforcapturedAmericanones,andsotheAmericanprisonersofwararesentencedtorotontheprisonshipsofWallaboutBay.That’syourheroGeorgeWashingtonatwork.Howeverthisrevolutionends,Connor,youcanguaranteethatit’sthemenwithrichesandlandwhowillbenefit.Theslaves,thepoor,theenlistedmen—theywillstillbelefttorot.”
“Georgeisdifferent,”hesaid,butyes,nowtherewasanoteofdoubtinhisvoice.
“Youwillseehistruefacesoon,Connor.Itwillrevealitself,andwhenitdoesyoucanmakeyourdecision.Youcanjudgehim.”
17JUNE1778
i
ThoughI’dheardsomuchaboutit,Ihadn’tseenValleyForgewithmyowneyes,andthere,thismorning,waswhereIfoundmyself.
Thingshadclearlyimproved,thatmuchwascertain.Thesnowhadgone;thesunwasout.Aswewalked,IsawasquadbeingputthroughitspacesbyamanwithaPrussianaccent,who,ifIwasn’tverymuchmistaken,wasthefamousBaronFriedrichvonSteuben,Washington’schiefofstaff,whohadplayedhispartinwhippinghisarmyintoshape.Andindeedhehad.Wherebeforethemenhadbeenlackinginmoraleanddiscipline,sufferingfromdiseaseandmalnutrition,nowthecampwasfullofhealthy,well-fedtroopswhomarchedwithalivelyclatterofweaponsandflasks,ahurryandpurposetotheirstep.Weavingamongthemwerecampfollowerswhocarriedbasketsofsuppliesandlaundry,orsteamingpotsandkettlesforthefires.Eventhedogsthatchasedandplayedatthemarginsofthecampseemedtodosowitharenewedenergyandvigour.Here,Irealized,waswhereindependencecouldbeborn:withspirit,co-operation,andfortitude.
Nevertheless,asConnorandIstrodethroughthecamp,whatstruckmewasthatitwaslargelyduetotheeffortsofAssassinsandTemplarsthatthecamphadimprovedinspirit.Wehadsecuredthesuppliesandpreventedmoretheft,andIwastoldthatConnorhadhadahandinsecuringthesafetyofvonSteuben.WhathadtheirgloriousleaderWashingtondone,exceptforleadingthemintothatmessinthefirstplace?
Still,though,theybelievedinhim.Allthemorereasonhismendacityshouldbeexposed.Allthemorereason
Connorshouldseehistrueface.“WeshouldbesharingwhatweknowwithLee,notWashington...”Isaid
irritablyaswewalked.“YouseemtothinkIfavourhim,”repliedConnor.Hisguardwasdownand
hisblackhairshoneinthesun.Here,awayfromthecity,itwasasifhisnative
sidehadbloomed.“Butmyenemyisanotion,notanation.Itiswrongtocompelobedience—whethertotheBritishCrownortheTemplarcross.AndIhopeintimethattheloyalistswillseethistoo,fortheyarealsovictims.”
Ishookmyhead.“Youopposetyranny.Injustice.Butthesearesymptoms,son.Theirtruecauseishumanweakness.WhydoyouthinkIkeeptryingtoshowyoutheerrorofyourways?”
“Youhavesaidmuch,yes.Butyouhaveshownmenothing.”No,Ithought,becauseyoudon’tlistentothetruthwhenitcomesfrommy
mouth,doyou?Youneedtohearitfromtheverymanyouidolize.YouneedtohearitfromWashington.
ii
Inatimbercabinwefoundtheleader,whohadbeenattendingtocorrespondence,and,passingthroughtheguardattheentrance,weclosedthedoorontheclamourofthecamp,banishingthedrillsergeant’sorders,theconstantclankingofimplementsfromthekitchen,thetrundleofcarts.
Heglancedup,smilingandnoddingatConnor,feelingsoutterlysafeinhispresencehewashappyfortheguardstoremainoutside,andgivingmethebenefitofacooler,appraisingstarebeforeholdingupahandtoreturntohispaperwork.Hedippedhisquillinhisinkpotand,aswestoodandpatientlyawaitedouraudience,signedsomethingwithaflourish.Hereturnedthequilltothepot,blottedthedocument,thenstoodandcameoutfrombehindthedesktogreetus,Connormorewarmlythanme.
“Whatbringsyouhere?”hesaid,andasthetwofriendsembracedIfoundmyselfclosetoWashington’sdesk.Keepingmyeyesonthetwo,Iedgedbackalittleandcastmyeyestothetopofthedesk,lookingforsomething,anything,Icoulduseasevidenceinmytestimonyagainsthim.
“TheBritishhaverecalledtheirmeninPhiladelphia,”Connorwassaying.“TheymarchforNewYork.”
Washingtonnoddedgravely.ThoughtheBritishhadcontrolofNewYork,therebelsstillcontrolledsectionsofthecity.NewYorkremainedpivotaltothewar,andiftheBritishcouldwrestcontrolofitonceandforall,theywouldgainasignificantadvantage.
“Verywell,”saidWashington,whoseownforayacrosstheDelawaretoretakelandinNewJerseyhadalreadybeenoneofthemajorturningpointsof
thewar,“I’llmoveforcestoMonmouth.Ifwecanroutthem,we’llhavefinallyturnedthetide.”Astheywerespeaking,IwastryingtoreadthedocumentWashingtonhadjustsigned.Ireachedtoadjustitslightlywithmyfingertips,sothatIcouldseeitclearly.Andthen,withasilent,triumphantcheer,Ipickeditupandhelditforthembothtosee.
“Andwhat’sthis?”Interrupted,WashingtonswungaroundandsawwhatIhadinmyhand.
“Privatecorrespondence,”hebristled,andmovedtosnatchitbackbeforeIpulleditawayandsteppedoutfrombehindthedesk.
“I’msureitis.Wouldyouliketoknowwhatitsays,Connor?”Confusionandtornloyaltiescloudedhisfeatures.Hismouthworked,but
saidnothingandhiseyesdartedfrommetoWashingtonasIcontinued:“Itseemsyourdearfriendherehasjustorderedanattackonyourvillage.Although‘attack’mightbeputtingitmildly.Tellhim,Commander.”
Indignant,Washingtonresponded,“We’vebeenreceivingreportsofAlliednativesworkingwiththeBritish.I’veaskedmymentoputastoptoit.”
“Byburningtheirvillagesandsaltingtheland.Bycallingfortheirextermination,accordingtothisorder.”
NowIhadmychancetotellConnorthetruth.“Andthisisnotthefirsttimeeither.”IlookedatWashington.“Notforthefirsttimeeither.Tellhimwhatyoudidfourteenyearsago.”
Foramomenttherewasnothingbutatensesilenceinthecabin.Fromoutside,thecling-clangofthekitchens,thegentlerattleofcartspassinginandoutofthecamp,thestentorianbarkofthedrillsergeant,therhythmiccrunchofmarchingboots.While,inside,Washington’scheeksreddenedashelookedatConnorandperhapsmadesomeconnectionsinhishead,andrealizedexactlywhatitwasthathehaddoneallofthoseyearsago.Hismouthopenedandclosedasthoughhewerefindingitdifficulttoaccessthewords.
“Thatwasanothertime,”heblusteredatlast.CharlesalwayslikedtorefertoWashingtonasanindecisive,stutteringfooland,here,forthefirsttime,Iknewexactlywhathemeant.“TheSevenYearsWar,”saidWashington,asthoughthatfactaloneshouldexplaineverything.
IglancedatConnor,whohadfrozen,lookingforalltheworldasthoughheweremerelydistracted,thinkingaboutsomethingelseratherthanpayingattentiontowhatwasgoingonintheroom,thenreachedforhim.“Andsonowyousee,myson—whatbecomesofthis‘greatman’underduress.Hemakesexcuses.Hedisplacesblame.Hedoesagreatmanythings,infact—excepttake
responsibility.”ThebloodhaddrainedfromWashington’sface.Hiseyesdropped,andhe
staredatthefloor,hisguiltclearforalltosee.IlookedappealinglyatConnor,whobegantobreatheheavilythenexploded
inanger,“Enough!Whodidwhatandwhymustwait.Mypeoplemustcomefirst.”
Ireachedforhim.“No!”Herecoiled.“YouandIarefinished.”“Son...”Istarted.Butheroundedonme.“Doyouthinkmesosoftthatcallingmesonmight
changemymind?Howlongdidyousitonthisinformation?OramItobelieveyouonlydiscovereditnow?Mymother’sbloodmaystainanother’shands,butCharlesLeeisnolessamonster,andallhedoes,hedoesbyyourcommand.”HeturnedtoWashington,whorearedback—afraid,allofasudden,ofConnor’srage.
“Awarningtoyouboth,”snarledConnor.“Choosetocomeaftermeoropposeme,andIwillkillyou.”
Andhewasgone.
16SEPTEMBER1781(THREEYEARSLATER)
i
AttheBattleofMonmouthin’78,Charles,despitehavingbeenorderedbyWashingtontoattacktheretreatingBritish,pulledback.
Whathadbeeninhismindtodothat,Icouldn’tsay.Perhapshewasoutnumbered,whichwasthereasonhegave,orperhapshehopedthat,byretreating,itwouldreflectbadlyonWashingtonandCongress,andhewouldatlastberelievedofhiscommand.Foronereasonoranother,notleastofwhichwasthefactthatitdidn’treallymatteranymore,Ineveraskedhim.
WhatIdoknowisthatWashingtonhadorderedhimtoattack;instead,hehaddonetheoppositeandthesituationrapidlybecamearout.I’mtoldthatConnorhadahandintheensuingbattle,helpedtherebelsavoiddefeat,whileCharles,retreating,hadrunstraightintoWashington,wordshadbeenexchanged,andCharlesinparticularhadusedsomeratherchoicelanguage.
Icouldwellimagine.IthoughtoftheyoungmanI’dfirstencounteredallthoseyearsagoinBostonHarbour,howhe’dgazedupatmewithsuchawe,yetlookeddownoneverybodyelsewithdisdain.EversincehehadbeenpassedoverforcommanderinchiefoftheContinentalArmy,hisresentmenttowardsWashingtonhad,likeanopenwound,festered,growingworse,nothealing.NotonlyhadhetalkedillofWashingtononanyavailableoccasion,denigratingeveryaspectbothofhispersonalityandleadership,buthehadembarkedonaletter-writingcampaign,attemptingtowinCongressmembersaroundtohisside.True,hisfervourwasinspiredpartlybyhisloyaltytotheOrder,butitwasalsofuelledbyhispersonalangerathavingbeenoverlooked.CharlesmightwellhaveresignedhiscommissionwiththeBritishArmyandtoallintentsandpurposesbecomeanAmericancitizen,buttherewasaveryBritishsenseofelitismtohimandhefeltkeenlythatthecommander-in-chiefpositionwasrightfullyhis.Icouldn’tblamehimforbringinghispersonalfeelingsintoit.WhoamongthoseKnightswhohadfirstassembledattheGreenDragonTavernwasinnocentofit?CertainlynotI.I’dhatedWashingtonforwhathe’ddoneat
Ziio’svillage,buthisleadershipoftherevolution,thoughsometimesruthlesslyclear-eyed,hadnotbeentarredbybrutality,sofarasIknew.Hehadchalkeduphisfairshareofsuccess,andnowthatweweresurelyintheclosingstagesofthewar,howcouldhepossiblybethoughtofasanythingbutamilitaryhero?
ThelasttimeI’dseenConnorwasthreeyearsago,whenheleftWashingtonandmealonetogether.Alone.Completelyalone.Andthougholderandslowerandinnear-constantpainfromthewoundatmyside,I’dhadtheopportunityfinallytoexactrevengeforwhathe’ddonetoZiio,to“relievehimofcommand”forgood,butI’dsparedhimbecauseIwasalreadybeginningtowonderthenifIwaswrongabouthim.PerhapsitistimetoadmitthatIwas.It’sahumanfailingtoseethechangesinyourselfwhileassumingeverybodyelseremainsthesame.PerhapsIhadbeenguiltyofthatwithWashington.Perhapshehadchanged.Iwonder,wasConnorrightabouthim?
Charles,meanwhile,wasarrestedforinsubordinationfollowingtheincidentduringwhichhesworeatWashington,thenbroughtbeforeacourt-martialandfinallyrelievedofduty,andhesoughtrefugeatFortGeorge,wherehehasremainedeversince.
ii
“Theboyisonhiswayhere,”saidCharles.IsatatmydeskinmyroomintheWestTowerofFortGeorge,infrontofthe
windowoverlookingtheocean.ThroughmyspyglassI’dseenshipsonthehorizon.Weretheyontheirwayhere?WasConnorinoneofthem?Associatesofhis?
Turninginmyseat,IwavedCharlestositdown.Heseemedswampedbyhisclothes;hisfacewasgauntanddrawnandhisgreyinghairhungoverhisface.Hewasfretful,andifConnorwascomingthen,inallhonesty,hehadeveryrighttobe.
“He’smyson,Charles,”Isaid.Henoddedandlookedawaywithpursedlips.“Ihadwondered,”hesaid.
“Thereisafamilyresemblance.HismotheristheMohawkwomanyouabscondedwith,isshe?”
“Oh,abscondedwithher,didI?”Heshrugged.“Don’ttalktomeaboutneglectingtheOrder,Charles.You’vedoneyourfair
share.”Therewasalongsilenceand,whenhelookedbackatme,hiseyeshad
sparkedtolife.“YouonceaccusedmeofcreatingtheAssassin,”hesaidsourly.“Doesitnotstrikeyouasironic—no,hypocritical—giventhatheisyouroffspring?”
“Perhaps,”Isaid.“I’mreallynotsureanymore.”Hegaveadrylaugh.“Youstoppedcaringyearsago,Haytham.Ican’t
rememberthelasttimeIsawanythingbutweaknessinyoureyes.”“Notweakness,Charles.Doubt.”“Doubt,then,”hespat.“DoubthardlybefitsaTemplarGrandMaster,don’t
youthink?”“Perhaps,”Iagreed.“OrperhapsI’velearntthatonlyfoolsandchildrenlack
it.”Iturnedtolookoutthewindow.Before,theshipshadbeenpinprickstothe
nakedeye,butnowtheywerecloser.“Balderdash,”saidCharles.“Assassintalk.Beliefisalackofdoubt.Thatis
allweaskofourleadersatleast:belief.”“Irememberatimeyouneededmysponsorshiptojoinus;now,youwould
havemyposition.WouldyouhavemadeagoodGrandMaster,doyouthink?”“Wereyou?”Therewasalongpause.“Thathurt,Charles.”Hestood.“I’mleaving.IhavenodesiretobeherewhentheAssassin—your
son—launcheshisattack.”Helookedatme.“Andyoushouldaccompanyme.Atleastwe’llhaveaheadstartonhim.”
Ishookmyhead.“Ithinknot,Charles.IthinkIshallstayandmakemyfinalstand.Perhapsyou’reright—perhapsIhavenotbeenthemosteffectiveGrandMaster.Perhapsnowisthetimetoputthatright.”
“Youintendtofacehim?Tofighthim?”Inodded.“What?Youthinkyoucantalkhimround?Bringhimtoourside?”“No,”Isaidsadly.“IfearthereisnoturningConnor.Evenknowingthetruth
aboutWashingtonhasfailedtoalterhissupport.You’dlikeConnor,Charles,hehas‘belief.’”
“Sowhat,then?”“Iwon’tallowhimtokillyou,Charles,”Isaid,andreachedtomyneckto
removetheamulet.“Takethis,please.Idon’twanthimhavingit,shouldhebeatmeinbattle.WeworkedhardtotakeitfromtheAssassins;I’venodesireto
returnit.”Buthesnatchedhishandaway.“Iwon’ttakeit.”“Youneedtokeepitsafe.”“You’requitecapableofdoingthatyourself.”“I’malmostanoldman,Charles.Let’serronthesideofcaution,shallwe?”Ipressedtheamuletintohishands.“I’mdetailingsomeguardstoprotectyou,”hesaid.“Asyouwish.”Iglancedatthewindowagain.“Youmightwanttohurry,
though.Ihaveafeelingthetimeofreckoningisnear.”Henoddedandwenttothedoor,whereheturned.“Youhavebeenagood
GrandMaster,Haytham,”hesaid,“andI’msorryifyoueverthoughtIfeltotherwise.”
Ismiled.“AndI’msorryforgivingyoucauseto.”Heopenedhismouthtospeak,thoughtbetterofit,thenturnedandleft.
iii
Itstruckme,whenthebombardmentbeganandIbegantoprayCharleshadmadehisescape,thatthismightbemyfinaljournalentry;thesewords,mylast.IhopethatConnor,myownson,willreadthisjournal,andperhaps,whenheknowsalittleaboutmyownjourneythroughlife,understandme,maybeevenforgiveme.Myownpathwaspavedwithlies,mymistrustforgedfromtreachery.Butmyownfatherneverliedtomeand,withthisjournal,Ipreservethatcustom.
Ipresentthetruth,Connor,thatyoumaydowithitasyouwill.
16SEPTEMBER1781
i
“Father!”Icalled.Thebombardmentwasdeafening,butIhadfoughtmywaythroughittotheWestTowerwherehisquartersweretobefound,andthereinthepassagewayleadingtotheGrandMaster’schambers,Ifoundhim.
“Connor,”hereplied.Hiseyeswereflinty,unreadable.Heheldouthisarmandengagedhishiddenblade.Ididthesame.Fromoutsidecamethethunderandcrashofcannonfire,therendingofstoneandthescreamsofdyingmen.Slowly,wewalkedtowardsoneanother.
Withonehandbehindhisback,hepresentedhisblade.Ididthesame.“Onthenextcannonblast,”hesaid.Whenitcame,itseemedtoshakethewalls,butneitherofuscared.The
battlehadbegunandthesoundofourchimingsteelwaspiercinginthepassageway,ourgruntsofeffortclearandpresent.Everythingelse—thedestructionofthefortaroundus—wasbackgroundnoise.
“Comenow,”hetauntedme,“youcannothopetomatchme,Connor.Forallyourskill,youarestillbutaboy—withsomuchyettolearn.”
Heshowedmenoquarter.Nomercy.Whateverwasinhisheartandinhishead,hisbladeflashedwithitsusualprecisionandferocity.Ifhewasnowawarriorinhisautumnyears,besetbyfailingpowers,thenIwouldhavehatedtohavefacedhimwhenhewasinhisprime.Ifatestiswhathewantedtogiveme,thenthatiswhatIreceived.
“GivemeLee,”Idemanded.ButLeewaslonggone.TherewasjustFathernow,andhestruck,asfastasa
cobra,hisbladecomingwithinahair’sbreadthofopeningmycheek.Turndefenceintoattack,Ithought,andrepliedwithasimilarturnofspeed,spinningaroundandcatchinghisforearm,piercingitwithmybladeanddestroyingthefasteningofhis.
WitharoarofpainheleaptbackandIcouldseetheworrycloudhiseyes,butIlethimrecover,andwatchedashetoreastripfromhisrobewithwhichto
bandagethewound.“Butwehaveanopportunityhere,”Iurgedhim.“Togetherwecanbreakthe
cycle,andendthisancientwar.Iknowit.”Isawsomethinginhiseyes.Wasitsomesparkofalong-abandoneddesire,
someunfulfilleddreamremembered?“Iknowit,”Irepeated.Withthebloodiedbandagebetweenhisteeth,heshookhishead.Washe
reallythatdisillusioned?Hadhishearthardenedthatmuch?Hefinishedtyingthedressing.“No.Youwanttoknowit.Youwantittobe
true.”Hiswordsweretingedwithsadness.“Partofmeoncedidaswell.Butitisanimpossibledream.”
“Weareinblood,youandI,”Iurgedhim.“Please...”ForamomentIthoughtImighthavegotthroughtohim.“No,son.Weareenemies.Andoneofusmustdie.”Fromoutsidethere
cameanothervolleyofcannonfire.Thetorchesquiveredintheirbrackets,thelightdancedonthestoneanddustparticlesrainedfromthewalls.
Sobeit.Wefought.Along,hardbattle.Notonethatwasalwaysespeciallyskilful.
Hecameatme,withswordblade,fistandevenattimeshishead.Hisfightingstylewasdifferentfrommine,somethingmorerough-formedaboutit.Itlackedthefinesseofmyown,yetwasjustaseffectiveand,Isoonlearnt,justaspainful.
Webrokeapart,bothbreathinghard.Hewipedthebackofhishandacrosshismouththencrouched,flexingthefingersofhisinjuredforearm.“Youactasthoughyouhavesomerighttojudge,”hesaid,“Todeclaremeandminewrongfortheworld.AndyeteverythingI’veshownyou—allI’vesaidanddone—shouldclearlydemonstrateotherwise.Butwedidn’tharmyourpeople.Wedidn’tsupporttheCrown.Weworkedtoseethislandunitedandatpeace.Underourruleallwouldbeequal.Dothepatriotspromisethesame?”
“Theyofferfreedom,”Isaid,watchinghimcarefully,rememberingsomethingAchillesoncetaughtme:thateveryword,everygesture,iscombat.
“Freedom?”hescoffed.“I’vetoldyou—timeandtimeagain—it’sdangerous.Therewillneverbeaconsensus,son,amongthoseyouhavehelpedtoascend.Theywilldifferintheirviewsofwhatitmeanstobefree.Thepeaceyousodesperatelyseekdoesnotexist.”
Ishookmyhead.“No.Togethertheywillforgesomethingnew—betterthanwhatcamebefore.”
“Thesemenareunitednowbyacommoncause,”hecontinued,sweepinghis
badarmaroundtoindicate...us,Isuppose.Therevolution.“Butwhenthisbattleisfinishedtheywillfalltofightingamongthemselvesabouthowbesttoensurecontrol.Intime,itwillleadtowar.You’llsee.”
Andthenheleaptforward,strikingdownwiththesword,aimingnotformybodybutmybladearm.Ideflected,buthewasquick,spanandstruckmebackhandedwithhisswordhiltabovetheeye.MyvisioncloudedandIstaggeredback,defendingwildlyashetriedtopresshomehisadvantage.BysheerdumbluckIhithisinjuredarm,gainingahowlofagonyandatemporarylullaswebothrecovered.
Anothercannonboom.Moredustdislodgedfromthewalls,andIfeltthefloorshake.Bloodcoursedfromthewoundabovemyeye,andIwipeditawaywiththebackofmyhand.
“Thepatriotleadersdonotseektocontrol,”Iassuredhim.“Therewillbenomonarchhere.Thepeoplewillhavethepower—astheyshould.”
Heshookhisheadslowlyandsadly,acondescendinggesturethat,ifitwassupposedtoappeaseme,hadexactlythereverseeffect.“Thepeopleneverhavethepower,”hesaidwearily,“onlytheillusionofit.Andhere’stherealsecret:theydon’twantit.Theresponsibilityistoogreattobear.It’swhythey’resoquicktofallinlineassoonassomeonetakescharge.Theywanttobetoldwhattodo.Theyyearnforit.Littlewonder,that,sinceallmankindwasbuilttoserve.”
Againwetradedblows.Bothofushaddrawnblood.Lookingathim,didIseeanolderversionofmyself?Havingreadhisjournal,Icanlookbacknowandknowexactlyhowhesawme:asthemanheshouldhavebeen.HowwouldthingshavebeendifferentifI’dknownthenwhatIknownow?
Idon’tknowistheanswertothatquestion.Istilldon’tknow.“Sobecauseweareinclinedbynaturetobecontrolled,whobetterthanthe
Templars?”Ishookmyhead.“Itisapooroffer.”“Itistruth,”exclaimedHaytham.“Principleandpracticearetwovery
differentbeasts.Iseetheworldthewayitis—notasIwishitwouldbe.”Iattackedandhedefended,andforafewmomentsthepassagewayrangto
thesoundofclashingsteel.Bothofusweretiredbythen;thebattlenolongerhadtheurgencyithadoncehad.ForamomentIwonderedifitmightsimplypeterout;iftherewasanywaythatthetwoofuswouldsimplyturn,walkawayandgoinourseparatedirections.Butno.Therehadtobeanendtothis.Iknewit.Icouldseeinhiseyesthatheknewittoo.Thishadtoendhere.
“No,Father...youhavegivenup—andyouwouldhaveusalldothe
same.”Andthentherewasthethumpandshudderofacannonballstrikenearbyand
stonewascascadingfromthewalls.Itwasnear.Sonear.Ithadtobefollowedbyanother.Anditwas.Allofasuddenagapingholewasblowninthepassageway.
ii
Iwasthrownbackbytheblastandlandedinapainfulheap,likeadrunkslidingslowlydownthewallofatavern,myheadandshouldersatastrangeangletotherestofme.Thecorridorwasfullofdustandsettlingdebrisastheboomoftheexplosionslowlyebbedawayintotherattleandclatterofshiftingrubble.IpulledmyselfpainfullytomyfeetandsquintedthroughcloudsofdusttoseehimlyinglikeIhadbeen,butontheothersideoftheholeinthewallmadebythecannonball,andlimpedovertohim.Ipausedandglancedthroughthehole,tobegreetedbythedisorientatingsightoftheGrandMaster’schamberwithitsbackwallblownout,thejaggedstoneframingaviewoftheocean.Therewerefourshipsonthewater,allwithtrailsofsmokerisingfromtheircannonsondeckand,asIwatched,therewasaboomasanotherwasfired.
IpassedbyandstoopedtoFather,wholookedupatmeandshiftedalittle.Hishandcrepttowardshissword,whichwasjustoutofhisreach,andIkickeditskitteringawayoverthestone.Grimacingwiththepain,Ileanedtowardshim.
“Surrender,andIwillspareyou,”Isaid.Ifeltthebreezeonmyskin,thepassagewaysuddenlyfloodedwithnatural
light.Helookedsoold,hisfacebatteredandbruised.Evenso,hesmiled,“Bravewordsfromamanabouttodie.”
“Youfarenobetter,”Ireplied.“Ah,”hesmiled,showingbloodiedteeth,“butIamnotalone...”andI
turnedtoseetwoofthefort’sguardscomerushingalongthecorridor,raisingtheirmusketsandstoppingjustshortofus.Myeyeswentfromthemtomyfather,whowaspullinghimselftohisfeet,holdinguparestraininghandtohismen,theonlythingstoppingthemfromkillingme.
Bracinghimselfagainstthewall,hecoughedandspatthenlookedupatme.“Evenwhenyourkindappearstotriumph...stillweriseagain.Doyouknowwhy?”
Ishookmyhead.
“ItisbecausetheOrderisbornofarealization.Werequirenocreed.Noindoctrinationbydesperateoldmen.Allweneedisthattheworldbeasitis.ThisiswhytheTemplarscanneverbedestroyed.”
Andnow,ofcourse,Iwonder,wouldhehavedoneit?Wouldhehaveletthemkillme?
ButI’llneverhavemyanswer.Forsuddenlytherewasthecrackleofgunfireandthemenspananddropped,takenoutbysniperfirefromtheothersideofthewall.AndinthenextmomentIhadrushedforwardand,beforehecouldreact,knockedHaythambacktothestoneandstoodoverhimonceagain,mybladehandpulledback.
Andthen,withagreatrushofsomethingthatmighthavebeenfutility,andasoundthatIrealizedwasmyownsob,Istabbedhimintheheart.
Hisbodyjerkedasitacceptedmyblade,thenrelaxed,andasIwithdrewithewassmiling.“Don’tthinkIhaveanyintentionofcaressingyourcheekandsayingIwaswrong,”hesaidsoftlyasIwatchedthelifeebboutofhim.“Iwillnotweepandwonderwhatmighthavebeen.I’msureyouunderstand.”
Iwaskneelingnow,andreachedtoholdhim.WhatIfeltwas...nothing.Anumbness.Agreatwearinessthatithadallcometothis.
“Still,”hesaid,ashiseyelidsflutteredandthebloodseemedtodrainfromhisface,“I’mproudofyouinaway.Youhaveshownconviction.Strength.Courage.Thesearenobletraits.”
Withasardonicsmileheadded,“Ishouldhavekilledyoulongago.”Andthenhedied.IlookedfortheamuletMotherhadtoldmeabout,butitwasgone.Iclosed
Father’seyes,stoodandwalkedaway.
2OCTOBER1782
Atlast,onafreezingnightatthefrontier,IfoundhimintheConestogaInn,whereIenteredtofindhimsittingintheshadows,hisshouldershunchedforwardandabottlecloseathand.Olderandunkempt,withwiry,untamedhairandnotraceofthearmyofficerhehadoncebeen,butdefinitelyhim:CharlesLee.
AsIapproachedthetablehelookedupatme,andatfirstIwastakenabackbythewildnessofhisred-rimmedeyes.Anymadnesswaseithersuppressedorhidden,though,andheshowednoemotiononseeingme,apartfromalookthatIsupposewasrelief.ForoveramonthIhadchasedhim.
Wordlessly,heofferedmeadrinkfromthebottle,andInodded,tookasipandpassedthebottlebacktohim.Thenwesattogetherforalongtime,watchingtheotherpatronsofthetavern,listeningtotheirchatter,gamesandlaughterwhichtheycarriedonaroundus.
Intheend,helookedatme,andthoughhesaidnothing,hiseyesdiditforhim,andsoIsilentlyejectedmybladeand,whenheclosedthem,sliditintohim,undertherib,straightintotheheart.HediedwithoutasoundandIrestedhimonthetabletop,asthoughhehadsimplypassedoutfromtoomuchdrink.ThenIreached,tooktheamuletfromhisneckandputitaroundmyown.
Lookingdownatit,itglowedsoftlyforamoment.Ipusheditunderneathmyshirt,stoodandleft.
15NOVEMBER1783
i
Holdingthereinsofmyhorse,Iwalkedthroughmyvillagewithamountingsenseofdisbelief.AsI’darrived,I’dseenwell-tendedfieldsbutthevillageitselfwasdeserted,thelonghouseabandoned,thecookfirescold,andtheonlysoulinsightwasagrizzledhunter—awhitehunter,notaMohawk—whosatonanupturnedpailinfrontofafire,roastingsomethingthatsmelledgoodonaspit.
HelookedatmecarefullyasIapproached,andhiseyeswenttohismusket,whichlaynearby,butIwavedtosayImeantnoharm.
Henodded.“Ifyou’rehungry,I’vegotextra,”hesaidgenially.Anditdidsmellgood,butIhadotherthingsonmymind.“Doyouknow
whathappenedhere?Whereiseveryone?”“Gonewest.Beenafewweekssincetheyleft.SeemssomefellafromNew
YorkwasgrantedthelandbyCongress.Guesstheydecidedtheydidn’tneedapprovalfromthosethatlivedheretosettle.”
“What?”Isaid.“Yup.Seein’ithappenmoreandmore.Nativespushedoutbytradersand
rancherslookin’toexpand.Governmentsaystheydon’ttakelandthat’salreadyowned,but,uh...Hereyoucanseeotherwise.”
“Howcouldthishappen?”Iasked,turningaroundslowly,seeingonlyemptinesswhereonceIhadseenthefamiliarfacesofmypeople—thepeopleIhadgrownupwith.
“We’reonourownnow,”hecontinued.“NojollyoldEnglishpartsandlabour.Whichmeanswegottagoatitourselves.Gottapayforittoo.Sellin’landisquickandeasy.Andnotquitesonastyastaxes.Andsincesomesaytaxesiswhatstartedthewholewar,ain’tnorushtobring’emback.”Hegaveafull,throatylaugh.“Clevermen,thesenewleadersofours.Theyknownottopushitjustyet.Toosoon.Too...British.”Hestaredintohisfire.“Butitwillcome.Alwaysdoes.”
Ithankedhimandlefthim,togotothelonghouse,thinking,asIwalked:I
havefailed.Mypeopleweregone—chasedawaybythoseIthoughtwouldprotectthem.
AsIwalked,theamuletaroundmyneckglowed,andItookitfromaroundmyneck,helditinmypalmandstudiedit.PerhapstherewasonelastthingIcoulddo,andthatwastosavethisplacefromthemall,patriotsandTemplarsalike.
ii
InaclearingintheforestIcrouchedandregardedwhatIheldinmyhands:mymother’snecklaceinone,myfather’samuletintheother.
TomyselfIsaid,“Mother.Father.Iamsorry.Ihavefailedyouboth.Imadeapromisetoprotectourpeople,Mother.IthoughtifIcouldstoptheTemplars,ifIcouldkeeptherevolutionfreefromtheirinfluence,thenthoseIsupportedwoulddowhatwasright.Theydid,Isuppose,dowhatwasright—whatwasrightforthem.Asforyou,Father,IthoughtImightuniteus,thatwewouldforgetthepastandforgeabetterfuture.Intime,IbelievedyoucouldbemadetoseetheworldasIdo—tounderstand.Butitwasjustadream.This,too,Ishouldhaveknown.Werewenotmeanttoliveinpeace,then?Isthatit?Areweborntoargue?Tofight?Somanyvoices—eachdemandingsomethingelse.
“Ithasbeenhardattimes,butneverharderthantoday.ToseeallIworkedforperverted,discarded,forgotten.YouwouldsayIhavedescribedthewholeofhistory,Father.Areyousmiling,then?HopingImightspeakthewordsyoulongedtohear?Tovalidateyou?Tosaythatallalongyouwereright?Iwillnot.Evennow,facedasIamwiththetruthofyourcoldwords,Irefuse.BecauseIbelievethingscanstillchange.
“Imayneversucceed.TheAssassinsmaystruggleanotherthousandyearsinvain.Butwewillnotstop.”
Ibegantodig.“Compromise.That’swhateveryonehasinsistedon.AndsoIhavelearntit.
Butdifferentlythanmost,Ithink.Irealizenowthatitwilltaketime,thattheroadaheadislongandshroudedindarkness.ItisaroadthatwillnotalwaystakemewhereIwishtogo—andIdoubtIwilllivetoseeitend.ButIwilltraveldownitnonetheless.”
Idugandduguntiltheholewasdeepenough,deeperthanthatwhichwasneededtoburyabody,enoughformetoclimbinto.
“Foratmysidewalkshope.InthefaceofallthatinsistsIturnback,Icarryon:this,thisismycompromise.”
Idroppedtheamuletintotheholeandthen,asthesunbegantogodown,IshovelleddirtontopofituntilitwashiddenandthenIturnedandleft.
Fullofhopeforthefuture,Ireturnedtomypeople,totheAssassins.Itwastimefornewblood.
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LISTOFCHARACTERS
Achilles:Assassinal-Azm,As’adPasha:Ottomangovernor,d.1758Amherst,Jeffrey:Britishcommander,1717–97Barrett,Tom:youngestsonoftheBarrettsTheBarretts:neighborstotheKenwaysBetty:nursemaid,assistanttoEdithBirch,Reginald:seniorpropertymanagerforEdwardKenwayBraddock,Edward:Britishsoldier,1695–1755Church,Benjamin:doctor,1734–78Connor:AssassinCutter:torturerMissDavy:TessaKenway’slady’smaidTheDawsons:neighborstotheKenwaysDigweed,Jack:EdwardKenway’sgentlemanDouglass,CorneliusandCatherineKerr:ownersoftheGreenDragonEdith:nursemaidEmily:chambermaidFairweather,James:shippassengerMr.Fayling:tutorHarrison,John:KnightoftheOrderHickey,Thomas:associateofWilliamJohnson’s,d.1776Holden,Jim:soldierandHaytham’sgentlemanJohnson,William:official,1715–74Kaniehtí:io(alsoZiio):MohawkwomanKenway,Edward:Haytham’sfatherKenway,Haytham:writerofthesejournalsKenway,Jenny:Haytham’ssisterKenway,TessanéeStephenson-Oakley:Haytham’smother
Lee,Charles:soldier,1732–82Pasha,Raghib:grandvizierinIstanbulPitcairn,John:soldier,1722–75Scott,Caroline:Jenny’smotherMrs.Searle:theKenway’shousekeeperMr.Simpkin:estateexecutorSlater:Braddock’slieutenantThatcher,Silas:slaverTwitch:informantVarela:SpanishcheesemakerVedomir,Juan:SpanishinvestorViolet:neighborWashington,George:soldier,latercommanderinchiefoftheContinental
Army,1732–99
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
SpecialthankstoYvesGuillemotStéphaneBlaisJeanGuesdonCoreyMay
DarbyMcDevitt
AndalsoAlainCorreLaurentDetocSébastienPuelGeoffroySardinXavierGuilbertTommyFrançoisCecileRusseilJoshuaMeyer
TheUbisoftLegalDepartmentChrisMarcus
EtienneAllonierAnoukBachmanAlexClarkeHanaOsman
AndrewHolmesVirginieSergentClémenceDeleuze
AcetitlesbyOliverBowden
ASSASSIN’SCREED:RENAISSANCEASSASSIN’SCREED:BROTHERHOOD
ASSASSIN’SCREED:THESECRETCRUSADEASSASSIN’SCREED:REVELATIONSASSASSIN’SCREED:FORSAKEN