Her sword arm relaxed as she recognised the man standing in her room, "Warwick, you scared the shit out of me! What on earth are you doing here?"

The little man's face instantly became a mask of guilt but quickly transformed into a genuinely welcoming smile. "Maria, it is so good to see you!" rushing towards her opening his arms to embrace her, "I had almost lost hope of seeing you again, but here you are, in the flesh and large as life."

Maria was dragged into a hug, one which she happily returned –sword still in hand- affection had been rather thin on the ground lately and besides she had a real liking for Warwick. Once she had established herself with Robert she had made it her first task to have Warwick transferred to her service. "It's good to see you too, but here Warwick? Why are you here, in my home?"

"Sir Stephen, Marshall the younger that is... He has taken lodgings here since your disappearance, he says it's for the peace and quiet but I think he wanted to be here on the off chance you came back. I come around and give the place the once over when he's away but I couldn't make it last night, got up bright and early so it's all done and ready for him. Ready for you as it happens." This statement earned her a pat on the back, which in turn earned him a huge grin.

"Oh my dear, you have been in the wars haven't you?" Standing back from her, surveying her from head to toe, "We shall have to get you cleaned up little lady, it won't do for you to be seen in this state."

She screwed up her face, "Well next time someone takes me hostage I'll be sure to enquire about their bathing habits before I permit them to take me. Really Warwick, you call yourself a soldier? Rather than asking where I've been you cluck like a mother hen about my appearance!"

He led her to the mirror, she was indeed a mess! Her hair was frizzy; her face streaked with dirt and her clothes filthy, least she knew why people had been staring at her.

"I call myself a farmer Maria; I never wanted any part of this foolishness. I want to be home in England with my feet under my own table, my lovely Rosie and my girls beside me." He busied himself organising her belongings while Maria sat on a low stool watching him. "So while I fix it up for you to have a much needed wash why don't you tell me what happened? We know there was an attack, a few of the soldiers bodies surfaced in the water. Saints preserve us Maria! Stephen went on a wild rampage through Acre, trying to hunt you down. He sent teams far and wide trying to find you. "

Maria smiled, her chin resting on her hand, he had asked a question and kept right on talking.

"We heard of sightings of you from every direction the wind blows, from Egypt to England!"

It seemed her part in the affair on Limassol was unknown.

She distracted him with small talk –an easy task with that man- until she had bathed and eaten. The bath had been a good idea, the warm and beautifully scented water was so much better than plonking her arse down on a dirty smelly boat! Warwick left her to bathe, going out to organise a meal for them both.

He returned just as she had finished dressing, her spending most of that time trying to figure out what her next move should be. The assassin had tried to convince her conspiracy wouldn't end with Bouchart's death, that someone would take up the mantle but Maria wasn't so sure.

The man now seated across from her was one of the reasons she still had faith in her brothers. She knew the assassin would see his gambeson emblazoned with the Templar cross and see only an enemy, she doubted he was capable of seeing the man beneath the uniform. She decided Warwick deserved to hear the truth about her time on Limassol; it was bound to come out eventually anyway.

During the simple but much needed breakfast -of which Maria ate twice as much as her companion-, Warwick kept his inane chatter going. She changed her mind about telling him a hundred times, and then finally she could stand it no longer. She leaned across the small table placing a hand over his and put her life in his hands.

"I have to tell you something, I have to tell someone..." The fingers of her free hand were drumming on the surface of the table, "What I have to say may seem unbelievable but I assure you I say it with no hint of jest, I am entirely in earnest and when I have concluded speaking if you feel you must turn me in I will completely understand."

Warwick leaned back on his chair, a wounded expression on his face, "Now why would you go and say a thing like that lass?"

"Please just hear me out. I was the hostage of an assassin, taken to Cyprus. For most of that time I was his prisoner but what I learned when I managed to escape changed everything. I aided the assassin showed him the archive on Limassol and killed guards to clear a path for us to reach and finally kill Armand Bouchart."

He slid his hand out from under hers, for the first time in all the years she had known him, either as Matthew or Maria, he looked at her with contempt. "You killed our own men! I'm sorry I don't understand. How are you going to make me understand why you would do such an evil thing?"

She could see his desperation for her to redeem herself, she could understand it too. Warwick respected her and liked her and now he was looking at her in the same way she would have looked at Robert, had he lived long enough for her to confront him that is.

She paced around the room, chewing her lip, trying to find the right words to say to make him understand as she did. Finally facing him she began to speak, telling him about the piece of Eden, what it was capable of, even what the conspirators had planned to do with it.

At some point she pulled her stool in front of his and took both his hands in hers, she was almost imploring him to believe her, because if he, nothing more than a foot soldier, believed her it would somehow vindicate her actions, alleviate some of the guilt she undeniably felt. Suddenly this man's approval meant more to Maria than anything in the world. He was a good man and to her that is what he represented... good.

When her tale was told his eyes were downcast, his hands still in her grasp. She pitied him, that she had placed such a heavy burden on his slight shoulders. "I know it's hard to believe but I saw the assassin use the apple with my own eyes, the crowd's fury was instantly abated. Men of ill intention must never possess this artefact and I did what I did to try to ensure that they wouldn't."

He slowly raised his head; his eyes were distant as though lost in a memory. "Not so hard to believe as you might think..."

Her heart jumped at his words, was it possible he believed her? "What do you mean?"

"Listen lass there is goings on in this place that lowly men such as I will never be party to but soldiers have a way of learning what they shouldn't ought to have learned if you follow my meaning."

Eyes wide, balancing on the edge of her stool she urged him to continue, "What have you learned?"

"It's no secret what old Father Naplouse was up to in that hospital of his, if we can call such a place a hospital that is, but there is talk of another place. The likes of which I hope I never have to see, but if you choose to go I won't have you go alone."

"What place, what you are talking about Warwick?" She had his hands in a death grip now.

He brought his head closer to hers, looking around the room to ensure he wasn't being overheard, whispering the words as though merely speaking them could invoke some terrible evil, "Crack de hospital."

For a second Maria's mind was blank, and then understanding dawned. "Crac de l'Ospital, is that what you mean the Hospitalier castle at Homs? What could possibly be there that makes you want to stay away and how does it relate to my story?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "Do you never talk to soldiers? What is there and how it relates is this... The people you spoke of the ones who the assassin controlled, could it be that there are just such people there. They have long been likened to those poor souls under Naplouse in Acre only worse, much worse. They speak of wailing and crying, of poor lost damned souls. Any who serve there never want to return, 'cept of course the priests and they have to."

Maria was astonished, "And because of this you believe me?"

Warwick's sudden burst of laughter made her jump, "Don't be silly lass I believe you because of you. You have to admit though there is some strange goings on with those French Hospital Knights."

His last words went unheard by Maria; she was close to being overcome by his first words. Never in her life had anyone displayed such blind faith in her. Her body slumped forward until her head came to rest on his narrow chest making her miss her friend's expressions transmogrify. No longer cheerful, Warwick's smile was a thin sneer, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Thank you; I can't explain what that means to me."

He clumsily patted her head, and then incredibly she watched him wipe his hand on his leggings.

"I assume that means you don't want to run your fingers through my hair?"

"It's not your hair it's that horrible stuff you put in it."

"I think you mean soap, it is what most people use to remove dirt!"

"It's what dirty people use; being a clean person myself I have no need of such foolishness."

She laughed, playfully shoving him, "They speak of wailing and crying indeed! Between sailors and soldiers I can't decide who the worst for gossip and superstition are. I confess you had me going there for a minute old Warwick."

Maria tossed and turned, it was her second day back in Acre and her second restless night spent in the bed she had shared with Robert. Dawn was still hours away but so was sleep. Her mind was racing, dwelling on things she didn't want to think about, namely Robert and Altair. There had been no sign of the assassin but then why would there be? Her usefulness to him was at an end and he was back with his brothers now.

Maria's loneliness flared at that thought. Warwick had taken her to "Say hello" to the few men who had remained loyal to her after Robert's death. One of them suggested she go in to meet with Conrad but she had lied telling him she was busy. She had no desire to be face to face with Conrad, not after aiding the man who killed his father. She had passed a little time chatting with them, learning a few interesting things about the goings on at the fortress and with the Templar's themselves; it seemed a lot had changed since Robert's death.

Again she stopped herself, this line of thought would only lead her to a dark place, she knew the man she loved had lied to her, possibly used her but only her head knew it her heart was still in denial. She threw the covers back, getting out of bed. Dressing quickly, she walked out into the dark, foggy streets of Acre. It seemed she had somewhere to go after all...

Maria wasn't the only person struggling to shut out the worries of the day; Altair had lain awake for hours. Chewing over the events of another unsuccessful day, the Templar's cargo and plans still went undiscovered. Yet it was a conversation he and Malik had shared which was keeping him awake, Altair went over it again and again. Was he the right man to lead the assassins? His thought process was far more methodical than Maria's but no less troubling.

Again he went over the earlier conversation, Malik had told him he needed to make a choice but that wasn't true, there was no choice to make, there never had been. Being born into the order meant you died in the order and Altair was no exception. They had discussed the situation with the Templars but when the Rafiq left for the night, Malik returned to their previous conversation of Altair's plans to travel.

They had been sitting in one of the back rooms of the bureau; the rooms most novices didn't know existed. Altair would never forget his wonder when the Rafiq had pulled the shelf forward and shown him the true extent of the place.

"Is it safe to assume that your travel plans have been cancelled and not delayed Altair?"

"It is never wise to assume anything, you told me that."

His evasive response earned him an irritated look. "You left and went to Acre, then Cyprus and I cannot deny there was value in your mission but as much as we gained we lost, that was time you could have spent augmenting your position. Had you left for India I have no doubt you would have returned a wiser more knowledgeable man but what would you be returning to?"

The Grandmaster sat in silence waiting for Malik to answer his own question.

"You would be returning to lead an order who don't know or trust you. Perhaps to an order broken by the schisms that already exist, but these rifts are small we could stop them now before the damage is irreparable. Altair you must return to Masyaf, the brothers need you. By our very nature we look to our Mentor for guidance and you have made yourself unavailable."

"The Templar threat on Cyprus was worthy of our attention Malik. I was serving the brotherhood."

Malik nodded, exactly the reply he had expected. "Is there no other in our order you trust to perform these duties? If that is true then we are doomed to failure."

Resting his forehead on his fist Altair sighed.

Malik saw how tired he was, perhaps how lost but he had much yet to say and Altair needed to hear it. "You have doubts, that is natural and we will make mistakes but we will learn from them. We are both changed men Altair, neither of us bear much similarity to the men who entered Solomon's Temple, the mistakes we made that day changed us both forever and for the better."

Altair's eyes were inevitably drawn to Malik's left shoulder, the missing arm a constant reminder of that day. "Do you doubt my commitment Malik?"

There was no challenge in his tone it was a question pure and simple and Malik was encouraged by his willingness to consider his words. "To the order no, how could I? You have served with distinction and even now you continue to do so. Altair it is not your devotion to the order I question but your desire to lead the order. You took the first opportunity to leave and you seem to be doing your damndest not to return."

Altair's continued silence was beginning to make Malik uneasy.

"You need to let go of your former life Altair, you are Grandmaster and as such you must trust others to reach the higher levels and trust yourself to show them how."

Malik remembered when Altair had met Adha, how he had planned to change his life, to lay down his arms and live as a normal man with her and now this other woman was in his life and he once again was attempting to alter his plans to fit around her. Malik was almost sure she was the main reason Altair wanted to travel and while he had no objections to it in theory, he had to make his brother see the time was not right.

"Malik I know how my absence must look but I always intended to return to Masyaf."

"At the very least delay your travel plans for a year or two, return to Masyaf and give the order the stability it needs. Most of the men will follow you willingly and those who wouldn't lack the courage to confront you. You must choose whether to travel or to lead the assassins, I don't think both are possible right now."

Altair got up from the pallet and made his silent exist from the bureau. The night air was cold and instantly invigorating. He dropped to the ground, not stopping for second to consider his direction. Walking at night was never a good idea but even more so now, Acre was bursting at the seams with soldiers any of whom would stop and question him on sight. The assassin lowered his head and began walking towards the rich district.

His footfall should have echoed around the empty streets but he made no sound. He moved among the broken buildings with his usual stealth, a habit formed over a life time. The poor district of Acre always had a negative impact on his mood and the darkness did nothing to hide the ruin, the sheer ugliness, of both the place and the lives of the people who lived within its crumbling walls and rat infested streets.

A stray cat loudly mewling and the dim glow from a candle in a window served to remind the assassin he wasn't alone but he felt alone. The ruins behind him now, the shabby, dirty homes which housed the poor and the needy had been replaced by larger far sturdier buildings. He felt that was probably true of their lives as well, the more affluent people of Acre, of anywhere for that matter, had a more solid footing on life.

He had known where he was going before he got off the bed, he wanted to see Maria, even if it meant a quarrel it would still be better than this feeling he had. He missed her, the past two days had been hectic but he still felt her absence keenly. He liked being with her, she made him think of things he normally wouldn't, forced him to look at life from a different angle, it was refreshing.

Before he turned into the street which housed her building he took to the rooftops, he didn't know which part of the house she lived in, he would have to be creative. It never occurred to him that if she caught him looking in her window she would rip his eyeballs out, this was simply how the assassin got things done... by the most direct route possible.

He found her room quickly, her possessions scattered around the room told him that much but she didn't appear to be there, not from his vantage point on the window ledge at least. He let himself drop onto the ground, not liking how disappointed he felt. Where was she? Panic was something Altair never did and this time was no exception but he was anxious. As far as he knew this was the only place she had to go, she should be here.

Climbing back to the rooftops he made his way farther into the rich district, in the direction of Richard's Citadel. He would listen to the soldiers on guard and try to pick up any pieces of stray information. It had been a mistake to leave her alone, he knew she was probably safe but he wouldn't rest until he absolutely knew it, until she was back safely with him.

The fortress was no less heavily guarded at night, he already knew that but it still made his teeth clench to see so many soldiers surrounding a place he needed to get inside. He was moving along the low rooftops listening to snippets of chatter but none which interested him. He stood up looking around, trying to decide where next to look when he saw her. Was it her? The hood on her cloak was up and he had just caught a glimpse, but the way his heart was hammering in his chest was undeniable, he took off after the shape.

'Damn it!' She kicked out at a crate sending it skittering along the ground.

Maria finally conceded she was not getting into the fortress, bloody guards were everywhere and not one of them a friend who would let her slip past. All she wanted was to stand on the tower and watch the sun rise, but no, it seemed even that small thing was beyond her now. She watched the soldiers for a time, hating how she felt. She was not part of them anymore, today had made that clear.

A small smile graced the assassins face; he was now certain it was her. He couldn't just drop down behind her, she would scream and the guards would be upon them in seconds. In a tone just above a whisper he called her name.

Stopping she looked around, "Who's there?"

"It's Altair, don't scream Maria."

Her pulse quickened at his name, was she still angry with him? "Where are you?"

"Behind you."

The voice came directly behind her left ear and despite the warning it still made her jump, "Bloody hell, don't do that." When she faced him she saw he was smiling and despite their last encounter she returned it. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep so I went to visit you, and then had to go looking for you. You shouldn't walk alone at night Maria, it's not safe." His expression now serious," What if you had been attacked?"

She grinned, patting her sword in reply and the assassins face once more softened. She turned her head back towards the highest tower, "I wanted to go up there, just being there calms me and helps me think."

Altair squinted at the tower in question; he had used it as a vantage point several times. Nodding in understanding, "Come with me."

He led her through the streets back towards the poor district. They walked for several minutes in silence until he stopped beside some boxes. "Up you go."

"You want me to go up there!" Her finger pointing skyward, but then she looked past the roof and back to the assassin, eyebrow cocked "Alright."

He went ahead helping her scale the distance from the box to a beam, then to the rooftop. "It's an easy climb and even if you fall you won't have far to go. I'll be right behind you." Offering her a few more words of instruction Maria Thorpe climbed her first tower.

Standing in the belfry Maria made to climb over the edge to attain the very top of the tower but he caught her tunic, "This is good enough for now Maria, if we go up there we expose ourselves to the guards."

It was nowhere near as high as the tower at the fortress but it was nice and she had scaled it, had actually climbed the damn walls! Excited energy coursed through her body when she had begun to feel the wind lashing against her and now standing on the small wooden floor she was still feeling its effect.

"Thank you, this is nice."

He understood he loved being above the city, far higher than this where even noise cannot reach. "There is a tower in Masyaf, if you stand on the ledge you can see the village, the Orontes River and beyond." He remembered the death he had rained down upon the Templars the last time he had stood there but he left that part out. "Perhaps I could take you there one day, the view is breathtaking."

Her voice was even more dubious than her face, "I think it highly unlikely I will ever see Masyaf, your brothers would boil me in oil."

They sat under the bell, chatting to each other until after sunrise. Maria caught glimpses of his eyes, still shaded by his hood but visible. They were the most extraordinary shade of amber and unlike the rest of his face, they shone with emotion. She saw amusement, intellect, sadness and loneliness all reflected in them. No wonder he kept them hidden.

Maria yawned and he immediately stood, "Let me walk you home."

"A couple of question first if I may? How do you know where I live and how do you suggest we get down?"

She couldn't resist smiling at the boyish grin on his face, "That depends on you Maria, do you want to scramble or soar?"

He looked around the rooftops checking for guards, there were none in view. Stepping onto the edge he reached back for her. Once outside she expected them to descend but he grabbed her waist and hoisted her up to the ledge above. "Grab the lip and pull yourself up, then lean back onto the slope of the roof."

She should have been scared, terrified even but she wasn't, she was having the time of her life. The assassin joined her on the roof and guided her slowly to a small wooden support beam. Looking down she saw the haystack and turned to him, her face bursting with excitement. He joined her on the beam, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her and began whispering instructions.

Perhaps he was a little closer than he needed to be and maybe he gave a few more instructions than was strictly necessary but neither complained. When the time came for her to jump he took both her hands and extended her arms away from her. Inhaling deeply one last time, taking in the scent of her skin he said, "Whenever you are ready Maria."

She craned her neck to face him, her breath fanning his face, "You do understand if I survive this I will expect you to take me higher next time."

He could only smile in response, the proximity of her lips to his had it seemed stolen his ability to think. For a second she met his eyes before taking a tiny step forward into nothing. It wasn't far, it was over in seconds but Maria felt a thousand things as the air whipped her cloak and her body descended. Everything felt alive, more alert. When she dropped into the hay her bottom hit the cart but the hay had cushioned the impact so it was painless.

As instructed she climbed out of the hay bale, her feet had barely touched the ground when she saw a splash of white land in the hay. He acrobatically sprang from the cart landing beside her. Still charged with pure energy she threw her arms around his neck.

"That was incredible; I can't believe you never showed me this before. Thank you so much!"

Surprising himself he returned her embrace, pulling her body as close to his as was acceptable. "I would have had I known how happy it makes you. Our time on Cyprus would have been less painful... you almost knocked out my teeth with that kick you delivered."

"Aw, I'm sorry did I hurt the poor assassin with my tiny little woman foot?" She planted a kiss on his left cheek, "There all better, my Mother used to kiss all my lumps and bumps better hopefully I inherited some of her magic."

She expected him to be smiling but he wasn't. He was looking at her with such intensity she felt as though he was seeing beneath her skin, seeing all her thoughts. She took a step back, and thankfully he broke eye contact. She paid a bit too much attention to rearranging her clothes, trying to cover how flustered she felt.

She realised she was twiddling her fingers, "I should go; the streets will be busy soon."

He insisted on walking her home and when they reached her rooms he walked inside the building with her.

"There is some where I would like to take you, if you have no plans for this evening that is."

Maria chuckled, "My schedule is fairly hectic but I'm sure I can squeeze you in."

He nodded and turned to go, leaving her feeling a tinge of what, disappointment?

'Get a grip of yourself Maria Thorpe.'

He halted, "I'm unsure what hour I will arrive but shall be as early as I can."

Too eagerly she replied, "That's fine come anytime." Then trying to cover up her willingness to see him she continued, "I simply mean I have no plans so it will hardly be a great inconvenience awaiting your arrival. So yes, whenever you can arrive will be perfectly acceptable" Screaming inside her own head to stop talking but she kept going. "Hopefully not too late, I haven't been sleeping well."

She turned away climbing the stairs. One look from him and she was behaving like and awkward, blabbering girl she had to get away! She hadn't realised quite how lonely she had become, she would have to be careful...

"Maria..."

She stopped, his voice made her name sound beautiful, almost exotic. Why had she never noticed that before? She cleared her throat and faced him with as much control as she could muster, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I left you alone on the dock. I truly am accustomed to being alone, I have much to learn."

She muttered, "You are forgiven." before dashing upstairs to the safety of her rooms.

Gerhard rolled over on his bed, his hand hit against something unfamiliar. He patted around the form for a second before the memory of the previous night crept into his conscious. He leaned on one arm looking at her face, the bruising was clear even in the morning light. He had gotten a little rougher than he intended that seemed to be happening more and more lately. He would have to pay her an extra few coins before he sent her back to the brothel.

Normally she would be shoved to the floor and told to go away but he really had been very hard on her and she was younger than the usual whores, probably barely reached her twentieth year, he would let her wake up on the soft bed just this once.

He got out of bed and went to relieve himself in the pot. Lifting the front of his gown, exposing a pair of legs which seemed to have bowed under the weight of carrying his rotund body but his misshapen legs were nothing new he had been born with them. His father had spent a great deal of money trying to correct that particular deformity but each contraption had done nothing to straighten his legs, the scars each failed attempt left on his sons legs and mind were the only permanent effects of his efforts.

He crossed to the window looking out over the port, imagining he could see the exact spot that strutting fool Sibrand had met his end. How he had hated that man! He was everything Gerhard wasn't, handsome, brave and loved by his men but all that did him no good he had still fallen to the assassin.

Gerhard shuddered as he remembered all the effort he had wasted trying to ingratiate himself to the former Hochmeister all to no avail, his powerful family had ensured him a good place in the order, reaching the position of Ordenstrappier but Sibrand would have stopped him there. He would much rather spend his time fawning over that idiot De Sable and his English whore than to take the time to notice worthwhile men in his own order.

His eyes narrowed and darkened, the lower half of his face seemingly split by what passed for a smile with the German knight, Grandmaster of the Teutonic order and master of all he surveyed. Sibrand had excluded him from his plans but Sibrand was dead, his throat cut by an assassins blade. That slice had ended one man's life and began another's anew. Below his bed gown his penis grew hard, his hand reached down to massage it, giving him cause to be glad he had left the whore where she was, she still had some work to do.