Chapter 14

A Knight in a Courier's Uniform

Nathaniel watched in helpless horror as the servant he had known for months – and was certain Catherine's family had adopted as one of their own over the years – fell lifeless against the sandy grass of the family yard. The lantern nearby had lost its glow as the oil inside burned the last of its supply, and the wick blackened beneath what was left of the flame, casting an eerie shadow over Martha's face.

Nathaniel admitted that he didn't really know the servant other than their greetings and salutations, with the exception of her occasional comments on the weather or her complaints at the overabundance of insects as they flew into the house. But, what he always did see was that Martha cared for Catherine no less than an older sister or a second mother. The servant had taken her role of chaperone seriously where Catherine's interests were concerned, and she had a sixth sense for knowing when to interrupt Catherine's prolonged conversations with him.

Nathaniel pushed aside his memories of the servant, grateful that he had shared in small moments of her life. Instead, he brought his eyes up and scanned them over the nearby ground, hoping to find something – anything – that would give him a clue as to where Catherine might have been taken. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself to allow his concentration to flow. The world around him muted, the night mammals streaking by in a glow he had never seen them do before. It nearly broke his concentration, but Nathaniel forced himself to stay on task and ignore the wildlife.

He stayed in that awareness for a few moments longer, seeking the ground for something that didn't belong. Nathaniel shifted his attention in small blocks around where he knelt, studying each part of the ground carefully. In the hazy and glowing light of his concentration, he saw blood droplets and a large boot print that stood nearly on top of the gore, and it was clear now that the blood was not from Catherine but from the hulk of the man who stood in that place. There were no additional droplets, and any trail Nathaniel hoped to find had turned cold. The ground gave away no other secrets, so he then moved his attention towards the trees and the house, but again the people who had taken Catherine had been discreet, quickly bandaging the injury to prevent further blood loss.

He cursed silently, giving up his hunt as there was nothing of interest. Anger boiled inside him, and his concentration fell apart as the world returned to its dark grays and shades of black that represented the night under this hazy island sky. Even the half-moon was fighting to shine its glow on the earth below and was struggling to give enough light.

Nathaniel looked around him as though lost because he didn't even know what way to start looking for Catherine, and even if he did, he never had any formal training to take the on the people who had abducted her.

Feeling a wave of defeat, Nathaniel's eyes shifted around him to catch the house before him, and he saw the soft glow of candles in the windows.

Standing, Nathaniel walked with a new purpose to the Robinson home and as he came to the front door, he did not bother knocking. Instead, he grasped the door handle and pushed the door open. The hallway was not as bright as he was accustomed to seeing, as he had never been to the house after his working hours. There was no particular candle arrangement in the hallway, and the only light here had spilled from the other rooms, the places he was certain Martha had lit before going on her ill-fated search of Catherine.

Arriving at the business office of Master Robinson, Nathaniel found him still at his chair, reading correspondence and making notes with his quill on a piece of parchment.

"Ah, Catherine, I received the ledger from the Starlight…"

With a frustration that Nathaniel could only describe as his defensive nerve, he stepped into the office and planted his hands firmly on the older Robinson's wooden desk.

Alexander looked up about to amusedly reprimand his daughter, but when he saw his courier standing over him, his expression shifted to one of anger at the young man's impudence. However, before he could state his complaints, Nathaniel's words came faster.

"Catherine has been taken, and they killed Martha in your own yard," Nathaniel growled, not even caring that he had dropped the polite formalities he had used with this family for his entire employment. "Catherine told me that she saved her mother from death, but it appears that those people took retribution and killed her chaperone instead."

The older man shook his head, and a regret filled his eyes as he fell back against the chair. His voice shifted between sadness and anger. "They had agreed to leave Catherine out of this. I did everything – everything – they asked…"

"But Catherine did not," Nathaniel countered. "She knew what she risked and she did so willingly."

Alexander stood, going almost nose-to-nose with his courier. "You know nothing, young man!"

Nathaniel held his ground, allowing whatever flame that had ignited within him to burn, and rather than feel lost because of the conversation that Kenway had with him earlier in the day, he was grateful for all his recent knowledge. His words were even-toned despite the cauldron of anger that stewed within the pit of his stomach.

"I met an Assassin who parades himself as a pirate, and there are ancient objects called Pieces of Eden that the Templars want. One of those artifacts is the Ribbon of Samson that is the cause of your family's recent troubles, and you had been practically imprisoned by these Templars for over a year because Catherine made the mistake of crossing paths with them. Now, she is missing, and your servant paid the price because Catherine saved her mother from them the other night. What do I not understand?"

Alexander's strength suddenly drained out of him, and he fell back onto the chair. His head fell into his hands as he leaned his elbows on the desk.

"Oh my God, Catherine, what have you done?" Alexander asked softly. "She promised me she would never raise a weapon again. She told me that Captain Kenway rescued my wife and is keeping her safe."

Nathaniel eased his shoulders and stopped leaning over the older Robinson, realizing now that Catherine had lied to her own father to protect him from her actions. Feeling his voice grow soft but stern, he understood the extent of trust she had put in him, and what they shared only moments ago in that alcove was deeper than just a mere kiss.

"Kenway disguised Catherine as a man when she saved Mistress Sarah," Nathaniel explained. "She confided in me that she killed a man in the process, and even though she was disguised, I fear that the Templars had figured out what she had done. Catherine does not have it in her to ignore the plight of others – especially those she cares about most, and I intend to find her before they harm her."

Bringing his head from his hands, Alexander looked to the courier with an admiration he had not shown the young man before. Shaking his head, he pleaded, "Dear God, son. I did my best to keep you out of her troubles and distanced from her for your own protection. You would be wise to run while you still can."

"I will not abandon her," Nathaniel assured, squaring his shoulders as he straightened his back.

"You're in love with Catherine, and clearly she is with you," Alexander breathed softly, understanding now why his daughter would entrust such secrets to the courier whose eyes only ever looked upon her with respect and compassion. "I suspected she has cared for you for a long time, Nathaniel, but I can plainly see in your eyes that you would truly die for her, wouldn't you?"

"She would do no less for you or me," Nathaniel quietly responded. "The question is whether I can convince Kenway of the same because I fear he is the only one capable of taking on these Templars."

Then, Nathaniel spun and stepped with determination out of the Robinson home. It was time he paid the Assassin a visit and began whatever training he could take on in whatever amount of time he had. He just prayed that the Templars who had Catherine would take their time in planning whatever they had wanted to do to her.

Prisoner of Betrayal

Catherine felt the dull ache consume her head, and she brought her hand forward to press on the pain that emanated from her temples and wrapped around from her forehead towards the spiking ache at the base of her skull. She felt a soft blanket beneath her, but she didn't remember going to bed yet. However, there was very little light in the room, and she used her waking moments to piece together why she was so confused. A damp breeze trickled over her face, and then the sound of someone in pain – or perhaps in pleasure – echoed softly in the darkness.

An image of Martha being stabbed in the stomach and the look of horror on her motherly face gave Catherine the startling shock she needed to clear her head. She opened her eyes and now the entire ordeal had come back to her in a completely vivid memory.

Sucking in a breath, Catherine refused to complain about the headache, knowing that she would have it for a while longer. With one hand against her temple, she used the other to sit up. She and Nathaniel had shared a moment – a sweet, passionate moment – that they both had hoped would not have ended so abruptly. There was something important that Nathaniel had to tell her, something about Assassins and Templars, and then Martha had come looking for her.

Catherine left Nathaniel in that secret place of hers, promising him that she would be there as often as she could. When she had returned to the yard, she was grabbed from behind and saw that Martha had been grabbed as well. Their attackers told them to remain silent and they would not harm Martha. Catherine had agreed, using the opportunity to work on formulating a plan. Martha, however, had no intention of cooperating, as she played her role of chaperone to her final breath. Unfortunately, the man's knife had been faster than Martha's voice, and just as the servant released a shout for help, the knife had plunged deep into Martha's stomach.

Catherine fought her abductor, but he had wrapped his arm around her neck and was closing her windpipe to keep her quiet and force her into unconsciousness. Remembering her lessons, Catherine waited until the darkness was just on the edge of her vision and then she fell limp, letting him think she had blackened out from his assault. She then used that moment to grab the dagger from the sheath on the man holding her and when he thought she was no threat, she plunged the dagger into his forearm. That was when the other attacker had landed something hard and unmovable against the back of her skull, and then she was on the ground, lost in black oblivion.

Remembering now the events of the attack, Catherine brought her hand to the point where the object struck her, and she felt a large lump but, luckily, she had suffered no laceration.

Once again, the distant sound of someone seeming in pain echoed softly, breaking Catherine from her memories. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the dim torch on the wall, noting that there was an empty place on the opposite side of the room for another torch. She looked to the prison-like door before her that was sturdy in its construction and had a series of bars in the square opening. She staggered off the bed and nearly fell against the door, but she leaned against it as she peered through the bars, pulling and pushing on it with the hope that it had been left unlocked. As she suspected, it was secured, but she had to try just in case her captors were forgetful or mindless.

Bringing her eyes now to the hallway outside the door, she saw that it was very small and dimly lit with torches upon the wall, and only one other room like hers. That room was directly across the hallway before hers, and it was from where she had heard the sounds and noises echoing.

She heard the human sound again, but it had grown rhythmic, rather than just random. Catherine could have sworn it was not the kind of sounds one makes when being tortured, but then there was a second, muted indistinguishable voice. Without warning, the first one shouted as though from feeling pain, and then it grew quiet again on the other side of the hallway.

Catherine turned away from the other place outside her door and looked about her room, trying to determine exactly where she could possibly be. The bed was small, large enough for just one person to fit and furnished with a set of thin blankets, almost as an accommodation rather than a necessity for a prisoner. Her eyes caught the chains on the wall to the left of the bed and a set of them hung from the ceiling. However, there was something odd about this room that gave her the impression it was anything but a dungeon or a jail.

The pain from her headache struck her again, and she stumbled once more from the door and fell onto the bed, catching herself and sitting upright. Her hand came to that shooting ache across her head, and she hoped it would not last much longer. She would need her mind to work on an escape and her strength to ensure she was not caught or killed as she proceeded to get free.

"Miss Catherine Robinson," came a female voice from the hallway outside. "My apologies for these accommodations."

Taking her hand from her head, her fingers now clenched in anticipation of a fight, and Catherine sat herself to her full height, ignoring the ache in her head and willing it to dull.

"And just who is it that has forced me under these accommodations?" Catherine asked coldly. She heard the lock on the door release, and she mentally prepared herself for a confrontation.

When the woman stepped through the door, she had with her a second torch that she set on the empty holder to the right of the door. It brought much-needed light to the small chamber, and Catherine took note of the elusive pickpocket in green.

Catherine could see that she was, perhaps, in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair and mud-colored irises. Her face had a distinctive scar across her cheek that broke into the beauty of her high cheekbones and rounded features, and Catherine could not hold in the gasp of recognition when she saw her old sword master. Whatever thoughts she had for escape fell apart at the sight of the woman who had taught her everything about how to use her size and her agility and all the tricks that a woman would need in a fight.

"Madame Talbot?" Catherine asked, confused and scared. She knew that if her former sword master was the pickpocket no one could catch, then she had no hope of escape herself.

"This was the safest place I could find for us to talk," the older woman explained. "We're beneath the brothel in the chambers used for special requests by those willing to pay extra for it and remain anonymous."

As if on cue, the moaning in the room across the hall from Catherine's had begun anew.

"I don't understand any of this," Catherine breathed, ignoring the renewed rhythmic noises. "I've heard others refer to you as Abigail, but you told me your name was Elizabeth."

The older woman leaned against the closed door and gave a small smile that contained wistful sadness. "I took my murdered sister's first name and became an outcast pickpocket in need of a purpose. It was the perfect guise, as I could grace myself within the Templars and rise once again within their ranks. I could never let them know that I had been responsible for training the eager student who had humiliated two Templar enforcers over a year ago."

Catherine still could not read her former master's intentions, but she sensed there was something deeper to Abigail than simply wanting to be a Templar. "What does that have to do with me now? My father paid the Templars and all those who held out their hand for payment in order to start anew here in Nassau."

Abigail laughed in a way that was nearly condescending. "My dear, sweet Catherine. Have you remained entirely naïve all this time? Do you think that I would not recognize the very techniques I once taught you? Ezekiel Brown was no friend and the world is better without him in it, but not even a clever sailor disguise could hide that it was you who had killed him."

A wave of fear washed over Catherine, and she felt her eyes fall to the floor. What she had done went beyond simply being imprisoned by the Templars. She now would be taken to the gallows and executed for her crime. For all Captain Kenway's cleverness, neither of them could have possibly known that Catherine's former sword master had witnessed that she had killed a man. Her mother would remain hidden away with strangers, learning of her death from those for who she had no connection, and she would have no one to console her in her grief. Catherine's heart then raced in an ache that was new for her at the thought of Nathaniel being witness to her public hanging for the crimes she had confessed to him just hours ago.

Abigail now snickered and shook her head in a combination of admiration and scolding. "You would have made for a convincing boy if you weren't using feminine maneuvers. But, I will say that I am grateful that your skills have not waned in the year that you were exiled here."

Catherine had no interest in praise from the woman she once respected and mentored under, especially when it would be this woman who would see to her death for breaking the Templar's restrictions on her.

"How long before I am executed?" Catherine asked coldly.

"Oh, Catherine," Abigail sighed. "I worked so hard to convince the Templars that I had my own agenda for you, and they had agreed to leave you for me, despite what they wanted to do to your father for his insolence. That day I stole your purse, it was supposed to have been you who pursued me – not that courier and certainly not the Assassin who discovered our plans. I wanted to reveal myself to you to in secret to show you that I was still on your side –despite what those bastards had done to you in England."

Shaking her head, Abigail then brought her eyes to Catherine's. "When I was training you, I saw potential in your skills, and I wanted to groom you into a Templar like me. In truth, I never intended to give the Ribbon of Samson to those short-sighted Templars, and my purpose for the Ribbon is not merely world domination as your Assassin friend would have you believe. With the Ribbon in my grasp, I would give you the privilege of being my second-in-command, and you would be free from the restrictions those men had put upon you."

Catherine saw the passion in Abigail's eyes, the fervor that she had truly wanted to do something more than hide in the shadow of the men who governed so much of the world.

"My father nearly sacrificed my mother to keep the Ribbon hidden," Catherine explained, knowing that Alexander Robinson would die keeping the location a secret. "He will not disclose that information to anyone, regardless of what excuse you would give him."

Abigail's fist clenched in frustration. "Clearly, you see for yourself how we women are oppressed. Your father's selfishness for your mother's life is just one example. Imagine if we had one strong champion, one who could not be defeated by the likes of anyone, especially men. I wish to give our voices strength and our gender an equality that the world has never known. If a woman defeats one man, she is considered lucky. She defeats ten, she develops a reputation. She defeats one-hundred, she becomes feared. When she defeats the majority of them, she finally becomes an equal. Just as they control us through their strength, I would do the same with them."

Catherine realized this was not the same woman who had taught her the combat skills she now knew. Something had happened in her life, something that changed her and produced biased views, because Madame Elizabeth Talbot was a kind and forgiving woman when Catherine trained under her.

"What have they done to you?" Catherine dared to ask, her voice soft and keeping the accusation out of it.

Abigail lowered her head, her passion easing. When she brought her eyes back to Catherine, there was a sadness and an honesty in them. "My sister, Abigail, saw a path so different from mine. She wished to be an instrument of God, and there was no amount of Templar evidence I could produce that would convince her otherwise. We stayed close despite our different beliefs, and I saw that she was genuinely happy in the convent, dedicating herself to the church. She had a kind heart and gave willingly to those who needed the aid she could give."

Catherine watched her former mentor's eyes shift from that pure joy of having her sister in her life to a coldness that held no iota of kindness.

"One morning, she was arranging the church for the services later that day. Two prisoners who had been on the run for weeks decided to find sanctuary in my sister's church. They slaughtered the few clergy at that church, but they decided to defile my sister repeatedly. When I came across the aftermath of the scene, I told her she would not suffer in vain for what they had done to her. I asked my Templar masters for assistance on finding the prisoners and bringing them to justice, but I was told that their actions were a minor crime compared to the larger hunt I was tasked with undertaking. Knowing I had no backing from the men I once respected and trusted to help me, I took it upon myself to hunt the prisoners down. When I caught them, I gutted them and gave them more pain than they could endure. I lost track of how many days I held them as my captives but when I was finally done and killed them, I returned to my sister only to find that she had been found dead, hanging from a noose in her dressing chamber. She had committed the egregious sin of suicide, one of the cardinal evils that would damn her to Hell."

Catherine felt Abigail's pain radiate off her in a way that nearly made her skin crawl. "I'm so sorry."

Abigail straightened herself and revived her dignity, lifting her chin. "Eventually I learned that Abigail didn't commit suicide, but my Templar masters in England had arranged it to look as such. She was denied the proper burial of her beliefs because of the way her death presented. When I confronted the Templars about it, they told me it was my punishment for disobedience of their orders. Betrayed over what they had done, I turned my back on that faction of the Order, and it was only shortly afterwards that I heard about the excursion for the Ribbon of Samson in the Caribbean. I made Elizabeth Talbot disappear and instead became humble, pathetic Abigail Smith. With this new guise, I worked the Caribbean Templars from the outside in, and it was only by coincidence that my path crossed once again with yours."

"What the Templars did to you and your sister was unforgivable," Catherine offered carefully, "But, why stay with them?"

"They have the resources to find the artifacts I would need to become powerful. With the Ribbon of Samson, I plan to rise further and enact my revenge after being betrayed by them," Abigail explained. "I hope you take the opportunity to stand beside me, to be the first in the new world I wish to create. It would be an opportunity for you to have your revenge on them as well."

Catherine had her doubts about Abigail's vision, as she could not justify living in a world in which half the population was oppressed. While she would love to live in a world of equality, she knew this was not the way to accomplish that goal.

"What happens if I refuse?" Catherine asked softly.

Sadness flashed across Abigail's brown irises, and quietly she said, "Then, I must submit a declaration as witness that you defied the Templars by murdering Ezekiel Brown and demand that your father turn over the Ribbon of Samson or see his daughter publicly executed."