ZIIO
For nearly an hour I sat irritated.
All I could hear in the beginning was men's voices greeting one another from downstairs. Eventually they became more muffled, which – I worked out later on – was good news: they had sat down to dinner.
So I decided to do the same. Although the feast Rose delivered took my senses to bliss, I needed to listen. I placed the tray down with difficulty: my legs were still paralysed from the pain.
The clatter of cutlery and clink of glasses was barely audible. I had not seen the downstairs of Haytham's house, but I assumed that the room they ate in had no door. I could hear every word of their unimportant chatter. Why would they not hurry up and talk about their work; their wreckage of my land and life, if it was so paramount?
Finally, while I lay drumming my fingers on my full stomach, the word 'land' flung my eyelids open again.
"So, what of the land?" Haytham asked.
"We have made no progress," another replied. "We obeyed your orders and continued our excavations in the West and by the storehouse itself."
Why, you filthy, lying bastards, I thought. I was so occupied with stirring up anger in my head that I missed the next spoken sentence. I did hear its response from a cockney-sounding voice:
"No. We all stayed put, I promise."
Silence. Only the scraping of a knife against the masonry they ate from. I tensed, listening like a predator ready to pounce.
"I see. And what of George Washington?"
"Rumour has it that he has been wreaking havoc in the forest. Apparently he marched upon a Mohawk village just a few days ago."
"Oh?" Haytham seemed intrigued.
"It was only a rumour," the man dismissed. "Not most believable, either. Why would Washington waste time on those savages, in any case?"
I was only too used to the word 'savage'. It didn't vex me: only fill me with resentment.
"He might, you know." Haytham paused, before carefully saying: "Wait...from whom did you hear this?"
"Um...oh, I cannot recall, some men talking in a tavern, I think."
"Most unlike you to forget, Charles."
"Sorry, Haytham. I have been rather...busy of late. My memory is not at its optimum."
"Never mind. So, tell me, what do you all propose we do next? Clearly our recent efforts have taken us no further. I have skirted the edges of the Tribal land, without entering it. What steps should we take now?"
"I think that we should venture further into the land and question some Natives...peacefully, of course."
By setting fire to their village, yes.
"William," Haytham sighed, "I already told you that I have no intentions of dragging the Natives into this again."
"But they are no threat, are they? They are the most knowledgeable about this land, aren't they?" the supposed 'William' replied.
Wait...William. William Johnson...?
Could it be?
The man who killed my father and brothers. I knew it.
Calm yourself, Ziio.
"Yes. That is very true, but you forget: the amulet is not their problem. It is ours and ours alone. We don't want to go starting wars, do we?"
Was I hearing this correctly? Was Haytham really defending my tribe? I felt a rush of thankfulness, missing the next few speeches. That...that was awfully kind of him. But why? Because he knew I might be listening?
I doubted it. There was something else.
Later on that evening I re-read Haytham's letter time and time again. I imagined what was going through his mind when he wrote it. I pictured him sat at the wooden desk in the corner, his flawless eyes sparkling with heartbreak and biting his soft lip. I pictured the pure emotion spilling from his heart and into the ink. I watched the quill drift across the page, the raw passion flowing through the strokes and dashes. A passion that came from deep within.
All this time I'd thought he was a monster. My own son believed that his father was no father to him; just a ghost from his mother's troubled past. I was wrong.
Yes, he was a Templar. Yes, it was his men who murdered my father and brothers, before destroying our wonderful village. But that wasn't the Haytham I knew. He was selfless, cool-headed, wise and caring as a mother wolf nurturing her cubs. That was the one I knew. But the moment the word 'Templar' was thrown into the equation, everything was distorted. Suddenly he was a fiendish demon with intentions of killing innocents.
What if Haytham has never changed?
That must have been the eye-opener. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop the feelings latching on my heart like mosquitoes. The realisation swept over me; a wave of emotions which concluded one terrible, terrible thing.
Part of me may never have stopped loving.
Only part of me. That would do no harm, would it? Love could never blossom again for us, anyway. All ties were broken, and all trust was destroyed long ago. It would never work. Heaven knows how Haytham and I thought that our relationship would last even then. I simply told him that 'Fate will guide us. Have faith.', but now I knew he was right in that letter. Our lives were polar opposites. His men's behaviour was an example of his dreadful lifestyle.
My subconscious was so entwined with the letter that a man's voice made my heart lurch in surprise. It was much quieter downstairs now; I'd missed half of the Templars' little dinner party. Only two voices were audible...and no longer muffled.
"Right, I ought to be heading home," groaned a voice.
"In the dark?" It was Haytham.
"Yes, I suppose. Alas, I have had a little too much to drink..."
It sounds like William Johnson. My insides squirmed, just at the thought of his name.
"You could stay the night here," Haytham suggested.
I gasped aloud. Surely this was the only spare chamber Haytham had? What if Johnson discovered me here? I could hardly run away in my condition. Haytham, you fool! Don't allow him here!
"Oh, thank you, Haytham! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I shall leave early tomorrow morning. I shan't cause any bother..."
His voice was getting closer. Was he ascending the stairs? My heart jolted like a firing musket. What was I going to do? I couldn't run! I closed my eyes, begging, pleading for my safety...
"Ho there –" Haytham's spilled relief over me like refreshing water. "Where are you going?"
"To your spare bedroom," he replied.
"Ah – well, I forgot to mention...the bed is broken in there. I'm afraid you may have to sleep in the drawing room. Is that alright with you?"
"Oh, that's fine! So long as I'm not on the floor!" he cackled.
"You are hurt," I murmur, awestruck by his wound.
"Agh, it's nothing." He touches his bleeding cheek...only to wince in pain.
Thinking quickly, I reach behind the bar for a bottle of alcohol and pour it onto my handkerchief. I hesitate before I press it to his tender face. What is holding me back? Am I – for the first time in years – afraid?
"Here." I shake my head and proceed...but nothing stops the prickling feeling when the liquid seeps through his skin. But it is a pleasant type of sharpness; like juice from the forest fruits. "This should stop the bleeding."
His eyes meet mine for the first time. They adjust and swell, their mysterious blue drinking my coyness in. His pupils shimmer with wonder and amazement, which – although feels like a strict inspection – fills my heart with a beautiful confusion. Suddenly I am trapped; I cannot tear my gaze away...but I like it.
When I turned over my eyes were already drooping. I became lost in a different dream...
"Ziio?"
I lie stifling my shivers in the bone-chilling snow. My arms clench and quiver like trees, but I must stay still for the joke to work.
"Ziio? Where are you?" The panic in his voice intensifies. Footsteps crunch in the snow as he comes closer...followed by a gasp of horror. "Oh my god...ZIIO!"
I feel his warm hands gripping my own, feeling for a pulse. His frantic fingers stroke my forehead; my stomach doubles backwards, despite my attempts to stop it. If I haven't given myself away, I may as well now before his heart stops dead.
"Scared you, didn't I?" I smirk, eyes still closed.
"Ziio!" He lurches backwards in fright, before recovering himself. "DON'T...YOU EVER...DO THAT...TO ME...AGAIN!"
My eyes whipped open at once. The irate words rebounded in my head, making my heart hammer at double speed. While catching my breath I contemplated my surroundings. Darkness. Moonlight beaming outside the window. A candle flickering somewhere outside an open door, propped against the wall with a wooden chair.
I'm still here, I realised with disappointment. It was just a dream about...
About Haytham. About...us.
I sat up, and heard something crinkly fall from my arm. I'd fallen asleep holding his letter. Perhaps that was the reason for my odd sleeping memories...who knows. I picked it up and straightened the paper out. There was just enough light from outside for me to see the words.
At that point, one particular memory of our days together came back: Koshisigre's rescue. When I told Haytham the terrible story of my father and brothers' deaths. When I mentioned what I knew about the man who caused their untimely downfall, Haytham had turned paper-white. Why did I not realise the instant recognition in his face? It was William Johnson: the man responsible. His corrupt hands were stained with the blood of my own family. And his master was no other than the man I once loved. Haytham kept this from me for a long time. Until it was too late.
Johnson was just downstairs. Just a few second's walk. I felt a raging backwash of uncontrollable loathing for him. I could kill him in his sleep, if I wanted to. Haytham couldn't stop me.
With a new determination I replaced the letter on the table. I needed to practise standing up first. How painful would it be? Even dragging my legs along the mattress felt like running a blade along them. Brushing my white nightgown off, I leaned forward, attempting to lever myself up. I knew my arms were far too weak. But I'd have to try, like a fledgeling learning to fly. It'd be worth the slaughter.
My feet were numb, but I could feel the wood brushing my heels. Immediately pain swept up my legs, making me tense in agony. The burns all over my body throbbed angrily. They made my legs give way; I collapsed on the wooden floor with a dull thud.
Clever move, Haytham, was the first thing I thought. Hiding me prisoner here, too weak in my condition to cause any harm. Well played.
Well that was a long chapter! I hope you like it. Favourite/follow/review etc! Thank you :)
