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.

EXTRACTSFROMTHEJOURNALOFHAYTHAME.KENWAY

PARTI

1735

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.

PARTII

1747,TWELVEYEARSLATER

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?”

PARTIII

1753,SIXYEARSLATER

7JUNE1753

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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.

ii

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.”

25JUNE1753

i

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.

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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?

14JULY1754

i

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.

15NOVEMBER1754

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.”

iii

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.

ii

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.”

Andatthathegrinned.“Maythefatherofunderstandingguideus,”Isaid,andthemenjoinedme.Ourteamwascomplete.

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.

iv

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.

PARTIV

1774,SIXTEENYEARSLATER

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?”

“That’swhereBenjaministobefound.”“Thenthat’swhereweneedtobe.”

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.

EPILOGUE

EXTRACTSFROMTHEJOURNALOFCONNORKENWAY

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

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