A Traitor in Our Midst

by: Shadow Chaser

Story 3 – Allies in Arms

Summary:

Season 3, Episode 9 "Blade on the Feather" and the beginning part of Mission 4 – Benedict Arnold DLC "The Battle of Westpoint." As Ben realizes General Arnold's treachery, he and Connor race to stop him. However, it seems Arnold's paid men off with what little coin he has left to stop pursuit and make good on his escape.

Story:

The man had identified himself as one John Anderson. Connor did not believe for one single second, it was not an assumed name. But the documents he carried made no other mention of any other name and so Connor had to content himself with watching the man like a hawk as he and the three Patriot skinners escorted Mr. Anderson back to Jameson's outpost. The documents that Anderson had upon his persons were puzzling in nature. The pass from General Arnold he understood, but the other document – detailed plans for Fort Westpoint? That made Connor uneasy.

For one thing, he walked as if he had been bred to arms a term that Connor had not learned until the first shots were fired at Lexington and Concord. Revere, for all of his loud-mouthed shouting had helped him evade a few patrols during their midnight ride across the countryside. He had spotted officers that were dressed in civilian clothing – ostensibly for off-duty purposes, but officers nonetheless. Revere said that militiamen, but more so British-trained military men had a gait of sorts that showed whenever they walked. Connor had taken the time after the battles to watch the coming and goings of the British holed up in Boston before they had evacuated and saw that indeed – officers could be easily identified in civilian clothing from the way they walked. But the same could be said for some Continentals, especially those like Washington or any of his higher ranked Generals.

Achilles had made mention that it was the lack of the so-called bred to arms that allowed Assassins to easily blend into crowds. But he also cautioned that some Templars had the ability too – case in point, his father Haytham. Assassin-trained, Templar-raised, he knew the skills in and out and what the Brotherhood utilized.

Connor had a feeling that Mr. Anderson was an officer, but he could not confirm his suspicions without coming across as suspicious to the skinners – thereby making them more liable to shoot him. They were already uneasy with his presence and he had heard more than one derogatory muttering to each other as they had escorted Anderson back to the outpost. He could have easily subdue them and then demand his answers out of Anderson, but Connor knew that any sign of bodies, any indication that there was a fight or even the discharge of a musket, would send the whole region on high alert. It would have made his mission a lot harder.

The Continentals readily controlled the various outposts and riverside forts that made up Fort Westpoint, but they did not control the paths that led to each outpost. That was neutral territory and crawling with hostilities from both skinners and cowboys. He knew that the skinners were more familiar with this part of the land and had a semblance of organization among themselves, which put him at a disadvantage. No, Connor knew he had to be patient – the business with this Mr. Anderson would sort itself out. If there was a fifth assassination plot against General Arnold, he would ferret out the man's secrets in due time.

But his current attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation between Jameson and Anderson was proving fruitless. For one thing, Anderson seemed reluctant to talk about whatever familiarity or knowledge he may have imparted from General Arnold. He was also prone to talking about nonsensical things. Nothing overt to indicate whether or not there was a fifth plot against Arnold and it seemed Jameson was content to let the matter be. The officer had not seemed inclined to accept the fact that there had been an assassin hiding among his own division here at the outpost, ready to assassinate the General should he happen by after his first inspection of the fort itself. In fact, he seemed rather disinterested – which made Connor suspicious. Was Jameson and this man Anderson in collusion against Arnold?

Connor had rifled through the man's reports as best as he could whenever he was not inspecting troops or sitting at his desk to write said reports, but they held no information. They were not even written in any code he could decipher. He knew that something was amiss, but could not place what it was and it was starting to frustrate him. Achilles' lessons in patience was grinding at him and Connor was starting to wish that he had not agreed to undertake this mission for Washington months ago. He wanted to go back to the Homestead to check on the Old Man, to make sure that he was comfortable and in relative good health. He was not blind to the fact that Achilles was getting old and age had finally caught up to him.

He supposed that his only consolation was that Washington was arriving soon – though there was no confirmation of a date of sorts. Connor did not want to wait at the main fort with the odious General Arnold, but he knew that once Washington made his presence known he would tell him that he was done with his mission and to leave the rest to Tallmadge and go home. Connor felt frustrated and exhausted and there was no new lead of any kind he could extract from the mysterious Anderson – even though Robert Rogers had obliquely mentioned it. He was beginning to suspect that Rogers just wanted him to do his dirty work – much like every person who had seen him and knew of his skills.

The neigh of a horse coming down one of the paths to the outpost pulled Connor out of his dark thoughts as he looked up from where he was hidden in the shrubbery to see the familiar blue and gold uniform of Major Tallmadge arriving. Washington must have arrived already if Tallmadge was here, Connor surmised just as the door to the cabin that was Jameson's office opened and closed. The daily messenger that ran reports between the outposts to give to Arnold seemed unhurried and unconcerned.

"Ah," he heard Tallmadge exclaim as he saw him side step the messenger, "those must be the reports to General Arnold, right?"

"Yes sir," the messenger nodded, briefly knuckling his forehead in a quick salute.

"Hmm...kind of a waste of time," Tallmadge muttered mostly under his breath, but Connor caught the man's words with his sharp hearing and frowned.

"Sir?" the messenger looked confused.

"No, nothing, go about your business. I'll get a verbal report from Jameson," Tallmadge easily dismissed the young messenger and Connor's suspicions rose again. If the reports were being sent to Arnold – which meant that Washington was probably staying at the main outpost and also receiving the same reports – why would Tallmadge be here? And even comment on the redundancy of his own presence?

Something did not add up.

He saw Tallmadge enter, the door closing behind him before the sounds of introduction were met and some other words exchanged. Anderson's sonorous voice spoke up in polite greeting, though there was a strain of sorts that Connor heard – much different than the genial conversation he had been having with Jameson earlier. Connor stood up from where he had been hiding and moved to the corner of the small cabin as the door opened and both Tallmadge and Jameson stepped out, Tallmadge with an intense urgent look on his face. Connor caught the quick, but subtle flicker of surprise on the other man's face at his sudden presence, but it seemed Tallmadge had mastered himself to not react in an overt fashion. He could not help the sudden small swell of pride at how fast Tallmadge seemed to be learning since they had last met. The man was not even a fully trained Assassin, yet was learning quickly about the craft in his own way.

"...tell me something, sir. Did it not occur to you that one of the skinners over there was wearing royal officer's boots? And that he had come in wearing nothing but his stockings?" Tallmadge asked in a quiet hiss.

Jameson's face seemed paler than usual, his eyes wide with growing astonishment, "S-Sir...I...I have to tell you that p-plans of Westpoint were found on his persons...signed by General Arnold himself..."

Connor stiffened as an immediate change came over Tallmadge's posture. Gone was the suspicious urgency in which he had talked and dread was quickly replacing it. Connor looked back and forth between the two Continentals – Tallmadge knew something that none of them did before the man suddenly stabbed Jameson with a finger hard in the shoulder.

"Keep him here," he hissed, "he is not to leave camp until I or General Washington sends for him."

Without even a second word, Tallmadge brushed past the startled officer and headed straight for his horse. Connor pushed himself off of the corner of the cabin and hurried towards the young dragoon.

"Tallmadge," he called out and saw him swing up on his horse, not even bothering with his helm.

"Lieutenant, give that man your horse," Tallmadge ordered curtly to two officers passing by with their horses. The officer blinked once and looked like he was going to protest giving Connor his horse, but with an icy glare from Tallmadge, reluctantly handed him the reigns and Connor took them.

"We need to get back to the main outpost. General Arnold is a traitor and a spy," Tallmadge sounded livid and the roiling unease that had been plaguing Connor for the last few months since he had arrived at Fort Westpoint resolved itself into a clarity that made sense. He nodded once as he mounted the horse and spurred it, quickly following Tallmadge away from the area.

It made perfect sense now, the assassination attempts, Arnold's dismissal of said attempts on his life – four times no less. He must have hired those assassins himself to make it look like he was being targeted while keeping his other activities under cover. He also probably had not expected Washington to send someone like himself – someone who could easily foil an attempt. Arnold must have met or somehow gave plans to the mysterious John Anderson, still sitting in Jameson's cabin, under the cover of cannon fire last night. But it seemed that while Arnold might have tried to neutralize his interference by pretending that there were more plots against his life so that he would be focused elsewhere, he had not counted on Tallmadge's intuition or suspicions to investigate himself instead of relying on reports.

And now...they had a traitor to stop.

Ben could feel that something was wrong, something that made him uneasy as he and Connor rode through the heavily wooded and hilly area that made up this part of contested territory. In his initial ride, he had been aware of the fact that both cowboys and skinners, Tory and Patriot-leaning bandits, were roaming the area, but they had not made their presence known. Now, as he and Connor rode back, he could not help but feel that they were riding into an ambush. He did not know what made him feel that way, but a niggling sixth sense of sorts – the same one that warned him of someone watching him during the winter days in Wethersfield – told him otherwise.

That sense resolved itself as Ben abruptly pulled on the reigns of his horse, the beast whickering and neighing in displeasure at being manhandled in such a rough fashion. He heard Connor do the same as they both halted a few feet away from a small group of men dressed in a motley assortment of colors standing in the middle of the road. It was an ambush.

"Major Tallmadge I presume?" what he assumed was more than likely the leader of the group spoke up, shouldering his rifle a little.

"You are in Patriot-held territory, sir. This is considered part of Fort Westpoint and-" he started, but stopped at the mirthless smile that appeared on the man's face as he shook his head.

"We know. And no one else ain't coming, Major," the man replied, "the gold we've got...well..."

He realized that the men weren't Tory cowboys at all, but rather Patriot skinners that had been paid off to either ambush or distract him. Ben narrowed his eyes as anger started to fill him. "You are impeding the apprehension of a traitor to the cause-" he stopped again at the movement of the man's rifle, watching it swing from his shoulder to his hand where he tapped it in obvious warning.

"Tallmadge..." out of the corner of his eye he saw Connor pull his horse in front of his own, half shielding his view of the skinner – or rather now Tory cowboy as he thought of them for taking such a bribe from either Arnold or Andre – and seemingly protecting him.

"Connor-"

"Tallmadge," the Assassin stated again before gesturing with his eyes downward.

"You being friendly with natives now, Major?" the skinner leader crowed, but Ben ignored him and discreetly looked in the direction that Connor had indicated and saw the three-barreled pistols Connor wore on the back of his weapons belt. And he had an excellent unobstructed access to them based on Connor's movement.

"I cannot protect you," Ben warned the Assassin under his breath as he understood what Connor wanted him to do. The Assassin apparently had heard of his skill with rifles and guns and so thought it would be prudent for him to use the weapons he had with him to great effect. Ben thought otherwise – with Connor in front of him, it covered his actions, but as soon as he drew the pistols and fired, the others would not hesitate to fire back – and Connor being in front of him would take the musket fire for him.

"You need not worry," the Assassin's golden-brown eyes gleamed with a feral nature that Ben remembered seeing the night he and four of his men had been ambushed in the woods by him.

"What are we planning hmm? Grimms, Billy, go relieve the Major and his native friend of their weapons-"

Ben pulled the first three-barreled gun, that looked almost like a duck's webbed foot, and fired it in the face of the two cowboys that had advanced towards them. The gun went off with a tremendous bang, but Ben wasted no time in sliding off of his horse, grabbing the other one off of Connor's belt just as the Assassin lunged from the saddle of his horse towards the nearest soldier, tomahawk extended. There was a faint pinging sound and something seemingly green washed across Connor's form as the others fired at the Assassin, but the balls were seemingly repelled by an unknown force.

Ben rolled onto the ground and came up on one knee before firing the other gun, watching with a small amount of horror as three barrels worth of blunderbuss buckshot blasted into two more soldiers, sending them flying back into the ground. Blood and fleshy matter flew through the air. Ben spat and wiped at his eyes at the blood that got onto him as he wasted no time and scooped up one of the rifles that had been dropped to the ground.

The others scattered and Ben could see Connor lunging at another two, slamming his tomahawk into the face of one before pulling it out and throwing a knife into the gut of another. He finished off the wounded man with a shot from the rifle he borrowed and dropped it. Ben's sixth sense screamed a warning and he ducked, just as the tree behind him splintered from the force of a musket ball. He saw the skinner-turned-cowboy leader hurry to reload as the rest of his men fired at Connor who ducked or used one of their own as human shields.

Ben scrambled across the woody ground and found the other dropped rifle, pulling it from the dead man's hands. He turned, kneeling on the ground as he pulled down on the hammer. He hoped that a ball was already primed in it as he saw the leader bring his rifle to bear on him at the same time he did-

Ben fired, waiting for the sudden bloom of pain to tell him that he had been shot, but as the brief smoke cleared the air, he saw that his shot had been true. The leader's sneering expression was a permanent death mask as he saw that a neat hole had appeared in the middle of his head. The blood had not even started to drip down it as the man crumpled to the ground, dead.

"Tallmadge, go! I got this," Connor shouted, his voice rough with exertion and Ben looked to his left to see the Assassin leaping towards the remaining cowboys, stabbing one in the face as he rolled his body to the ground before coming up in a crouch with his tomahawk extended. It slammed into the thigh of an unfortunate cowboy who screamed in pain before being abruptly silenced by a side blow with a knife in Connor's other hand.

Ben scrambled to his feet and hurried towards his horse who had bolted a little when the shooting had started. Mounting the beast, he spurred it and galloped away. He had no compunctions about leaving Connor, his fears on leaving an ally alone to face so many people quashed with what had just happened. Connor had proven himself time and time again that he was able to handle himself and Ben knew that at this point, he would only be in the Assassin's way as he did his deathly dance with the remaining cowboys. Likewise, he also knew that Connor was letting him apprehend the traitorous Arnold even though it had been he who had undertaken Washington's original mission to protect Arnold.

He had a traitor to catch, and if not, to execute.

The coins jangled in a small pouch that Connor had found on the former Patriot skinner leader's body. It was British poundage and considering that it was worth more than Continental dollars at the moment, it was clear that these so-called Patriot skinners were far more mercenary than he had given them credit for. They were also proof that Arnold had more than likely used the last of his coinage to bribe these men to stop him and Tallmadge from seeking him as he tried to escape.

He pulled his horse to a trot as he saw the main fort of Westpoint coming up and saw that the guards were on alert. He knew they had to have heard the gunfire in the woods. There was no sign of Tallmadge, nor did he hear any indication of gunfire that would tell him of Arnold's execution, so Connor supposed that either the other man had caught up to the traitorous general and had apprehended him or he had missed him entirely.

"Connor!" he saw the Marquis de Lafayette suddenly step out from the protective walls of the fort, waving a gloved hand at him before he nodded a greeting.

The Marquis waved back as he turned and hurried deeper into the fort. Connor had no doubts that the Frenchman was more than likely notifying Washington of his arrival. The General was the last person that Connor wanted to see, still feeling a little testy for having agreed to undertake the mission – but even more so now that he discovered that there was the potential that it had been Arnold himself who had hired those assassins to kill himself just to throw off any trail of traitorous thoughts or actions.

Connor heeled his horse to a walk as he saw the Marquis return with Washington, Hamilton – another one of Washington's aide-de-camps and whom Connor had met on occasion – and Tallmadge's shadow, a Lieutenant Brewster if he remembered correctly, walking behind him. He could see the grimness on Washington's face as they approached him and knew that Washington had discovered Arnold's treachery.

Connor finally pulled his horse to a halt, just as a lone single report of a gun being fired in the distance echoed across the area. He immediately turned to where the sound had come from – the docks to the river crossing. The shot must have been from Tallmadge, but there was no other sound that indicated he was under fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Washington and the others had also halted, Brewster looking back and forth between him and down the path towards the docks.

Suddenly the red-haired Hamilton broke away from the group and headed back into the fort. A few minutes later, Connor saw the other man ride out, cantering down towards the path where the docks were. Connor considered following him out of curiosity, but did not know why he waited, sitting on his horse in the green grassy grounds that stretched between the fort and the woods.

Minutes passed in silence before Connor first spotted the familiar blue and gold uniform of Tallmadge. His jacket and breeches were covered in flecks of blood from when he had shot the soldiers at close range with his duck-footed pistol, but the man's eyes were bright with anger. Hamilton was riding next to him, a pinched expression on his face and Connor immediately knew that Tallmadge had not been successful in apprehending or killing General Arnold.

Connor spurred his horse to approach the fort once more, timing it so that he arrived at the same time as Tallmadge and Hamilton. The three of them dismounted and Tallmadge immediately bowed his head a little towards Washington.

"I'm sorry to say, sir, that the traitor was able to escape custody," Tallmadge sounded far angrier and more furious than Connor had ever heard him. Something had happened, he realized, something had happened between Tallmadge and Arnold; and along that vein of thought, Connor wondered – had Tallmadge deliberately allowed Arnold to escape?

"I was able to confirm it, sir. Arnold has made good on his escape. He sent this back with the riverboaters he had ordered to row him to the Vulture. I've taken the liberty to detain them until they can be questioned, sir," Hamilton produced a small messenger pouch to which Washington took it. Connor could see that the General's expression was as disgusted as ever as he flicked a brief look at him and at Tallmadge.

"I want to know what happened," Washington's voice was quiet, but Connor could hear the furious anger in them. "Connor, Major, please come with me," he spun, his cloak whirling around him as he headed back into the cabin in the main fort.

For a moment, Connor considered not following the order, but pushed it aside and followed Tallmdage in. If Washington wanted to know what had happened, then Connor would tell him plain and simple. The man needed to hear the blunt truth – that it was his own arrogance, his own fault for not heeding the words of the Assassins and others around him that something like this had happened. Arnold was Washington's own mistake. And Washington let it happen.

~END~