Blood bond
About four weeks went by which felt like months. Most of the time, my thoughts were - who would have thought? - with Connor. Where was he? Did he find the temple? Was he inside it right now and what was waiting for him there? These questions and so much more were circling through my head and at first, it was hard to distract myself. Of course, I tried.
The first week I spent mostly exploring the island with Emily. Spending time on the beach, walking through the settlement and watching the Assassins train. Once I let Caleb lead us through a part of the jungle surrounding the whole bay. A fascinating place, right from a fairytale. You were surrounded by green. Thick ferns, dark-leaved trees…the forests around Davenport were beautiful but I found this was a different kind of beauty and I couldn't get enough of it. The only thing missing were animals. Apart from the chirr and buzz of insects - mainly mosquitos - and the rustling of the wind in the plants' leaves, it was eerily silent. Caleb explained to me that they had extinguished the island's population of predators or big mammals in general years ago. There were just crocodiles left, but their domestic waters were far distant from the paths we chose so we didn't need to worry about meeting one of those giant lizards. Although I would have liked to see one. From a safe distance of course.
Soon there wasn't much left to see in the jungle and I had asked Caleb not to lead us to the waterfalls. As much as I wanted to see them up close, I wanted Connor to be able to keep his word and be the one showing them to us. I was looking forward to this trip since Connor had proposed it.
In the second week, we had already explored everything and while Emily was satisfied with being able to play with something, someone and somewhere, it was much harder for me to find a satisfying activity, as long as I didn't belong to the 'someones'. Additionally, the Caribbean summer was close to its zenith so the temperatures during the day were so high that I believed to be melting like snow in spring and even on our simple bed, the nights were still so warm that I couldn't sleep. The humidity was unbearable as well and so I got used to an aching head, temporal dizziness and overall tiredness. Sabana and Nerea kept reminding me to drink enough and stay away from the sun. People from the North weren't made for the Southern summer, according to their dry diagnosis. Maybe they were right or I was just more sensitive than I had thought.
But on some days, Emily was struggling with the weather, too and made me forget my difficulties when she was whining, sweating and wanting to get shepherd. But it was much easier to cool her down by letting her bathe in the watermill's stream or the shallow waters at the beach. I didn't dare to bathe, too, although other women, Assassins and not, did it without feeling embarrassed to jump around in their undergarments and splash each other with water squealing. Furthermore, we soon started to spend our days inside, in the shaded rooms of the villa, whose cool air felt heavenly whenever you came in from outside.
Here I found my favourite and most intensive activity which eventually kept me from thinking about Connor all the time. With Consuela's permission, I searched every document, every folio and every book I could find for information about Connor's grandfather. Edward James Kenway. That Connor wasn't interested in him didn't keep me from it. After all, Kenway was Emily's ancestor, too and maybe one day, she was going to ask about where she came from. And of course, I was extremely curious. I was still fascinated by the fact that Connor had such an interesting figure in his family. Although I couldn't forget that Edward had been a ruthless criminal before becoming an Assassin and so I was a bit afraid of what I was going to find.
For the start of my research, I chose a cushioned seat in the villa's main hall, Emily playing on the floor beside me. I worked through a stack of old logbooks from the years 1718 to 1722 that had all been inside a chest. I thought they were the perfect source of information about the man who had kept them. The first thing I noticed was the terrible handwriting. It was messy and cranky and parts of the tint were so smeared that it was unreadable and it took me a while to get used to it. It seemed like Captain Kenway hadn't enjoyed keeping these logbooks. Most entries seemed to be fleeting, short summaries. So either he had been lazy and careless in his work, or he had belonged to the kind of people who preferred being active over being bound to a desk. I knew another Kenway like that, although this one was still very considerate with his hated duties.
Shrugging I wrote down this finding on a separate piece of paper. I wanted to keep a neat summary of everything I learned, no matter how null the information seemed to be. Unfortunately, I didn't find much in these books. Kenway had been very careful with keeping his illegal activities out of his logs. Probably in case that he got captured and his logbooks could be used as evidence against him. Even though it would have been of no use to him. Especially the British had been rigorous in their convictions of piracy. Furthermore, Kenway's logs were easily interpreted by anyone who read them and knew about the true nature of his activities. The log of the 8th of December 1719 for example read:
Meeting with a Spanish trade ship. After elaborate negotiations, they handed us most of their load. 30 crates of sugar, 23 bolts of fabric, 38 crates of tobacco. Need to land at the next harbour to sell everything. Jackdaw needs some repairs, too. Unlucky misunderstanding with two British brigs after we negotiated with the trade ship.
I smirked about this shameless understatement since I was sure that on this day, and many more, there hadn't been any peaceful negotiations or unlucky misunderstandings. Probably Edward Kenway had enjoyed phrasing his logs like this. He must have been a sly dog, very different from his grandson. Luckily. Connor could surprise you with being sly, too but most of the time, he was open and honest. How honest could a man be, who made his profit by stealing from others?
This question kept popping up in my head while I worked through the logbooks and tried to take a glance behind the character of their keeper. Quite a hopeless procedure considering these entries were sixty years old and Kenway was long dead. So many of the things I wrote down were my assumptions. Things I believed to read between the lines, especially since Kenway had sometimes written down where the Jackdaw - the name of his ship - had landed and when it had supported his allies. The names of these allies were never mentioned. They were nothing more than initials. T, V, R, K, H. I had no idea who could be behind these names and still, I wrote them down. Just in case they were mentioned eventually. But there was nothing more. Neither in the logbooks nor in some old correspondences that were mostly unfinished letters. Kenway had never got farther than the salutation.
Most of them were addressed to a certain Caroline but I didn't find anything more about her. Had she been Connor's grandmother? I knew that Connor had read his father's diary and he had told me a little about it. But he had never spoken of his grandmother or her name. But hadn't there been a half-sister of Haytham? So there had been two women in Kenway's life but although I was very curious about them - romantic relations were often more interesting than dull facts - the documents I combed through had nothing on Kenway's private life and after I had read them several times, I put them aside and decided to continue my investigations on the island. I was sure that one of the Assassins could tell me more about Edward Kenway. After all, he had left the island to the Brotherhood and had even led them in London. But what I learned wasn't detailed, very sobering, but still interesting.
The Assassins, even Consuela, didn't know much about the former pirate. But they knew with certainty that he hadn't been an Assassin or even a friend of the Brotherhood from the beginning. Clueless about the century-old war between Assassins and Templars, he had sold information about the Brotherhood and some artifact to the Order. Information he had stolen from a renegade Assassin. The Templars had been able to find and attack the Assassins on their then home island Tulum. Kenway, who had learned about the Assassins and his crime against them by then and who had been on Tulum at this time because one of his pirate friends had been an Assassin, had helped them fight back the Templars. But still, the former Mentor Ah Tabai had banned him from Tulum until he had joined the Brotherhood years later as a battered man. This was the story they could tell me, but nothing more and I found that frustrating. At least it was the most interesting information I had got after days of dull reading.
"One thing is certain: The Kenways have a talent for being an enigma to everyone", I murmured, more to myself, as I finished my research and had retreated into the shade of a tree in the garden. Beside me lay the leather folder I had borrowed from Consuela and where I kept all my notes. By now, there were quite several papers, but I wasn't satisfied. Now I knew more about Kenway, but it wasn't enough to paint a clear image of the man. Furthermore, I had lost my most valued distraction that had been supposed to get me through the time of Connor's absence. It had at least gotten me through the three weeks Connor had planned to stay away, but he was still gone. He hadn't even sent word to inform us about his progress. It drove me as mad as it concerned me.
Emily's appalled squeal made me wince and tore me out of my thoughts. A bit unsteady, she came running to me and threw herself onto my lap and into my arms. I squinched up my face as her full weight hit my breasts, which started to hurt immediately. Additionally to all my troubles, my period announced itself, although it had been reliably unreliable for months, as always. Now that I was already not in my best mood.
Of course, I couldn't and didn't want to let Emily know, as I readjusted her on my lap and made her take her face from my shoulder and look at me.
"What happened?"
"Bug", she whined and pointed at the flower bed she had just played at.
"You found a bug? But it cannot do anything to you."
"But big."
"How big?"
Emily thought about it and then she held her hands up at some distance from each other. Based on this assumption of the bug's size, it must have been the dreaded cat bug. Named after the mammal that was just as big.
I smirked and lightly shook my head. "The bug will not hurt you, Emily. I'm sure it was more scared of you than you of it. After all, you are this big." I took my arms off of her and spread them until I reasonably implied Emily's size. She watched me with big eyes and giggled when I made a face and puffed my cheeks like a frog. The inhaled air exited my lips in a snort when Emily stretched and slapped both hands against my cheeks, which only made her giggle more.
"Hey, you rascal!" I laughed, lifted her off my lap and laid her on the grass, where I leaned over and tickled her. Her high-pitched laughter echoed through the garden and expelled all my dark thoughts at once. At least until someone from the villa called my name. It was Consuela, who approached us and smirked, as I sat up, lifted Emily back into my lap and pushed some strands of my hair, which had loosened from my braid, behind my ears.
"Someone wants to speak with you inside."
My heartbeat quickened and thoughts kept rushing through my head, all of them asking who this someone was and what he wanted from me.
"Is it about Connor? Is he back?"
Consuela shook her head and my emotions switched between disappointment and relief. Any news could have been good or bad. But rather than reading from him, I would prefer Connor's return. But this wasn't the case and I tried not to let my feelings show.
"It is Hank Reager, called Riggs. As a young man, he was a crewmember on the Jackdaw and heard that you are researching Edward Kenway. Obviously, he wants to tell you more. He is waiting in the community room."
A crewmember of the Jackdaw? My eyes widened. I hadn't even known that someone from Kenway's crew was still alive and on Great Inagua at that. I was on my feet in an instant, Emily in one hand, the folder clamped under my other arm. I needed to talk to this man. He could be my most important and most useful source after all the documents that hadn't helped at all. He had known Kenway personally. If he couldn't add some contour to the vague image of Connor's grandfather, I didn't know who could.
I followed Consuela back to the villa, filled with a sense of curiosity and uncertainty. When did you get the chance to talk to a real pirate? I didn't even know how to imagine this Riggs and still...I was disappointed when I saw him. In a seat in a corner of the room, sat an about seventy years old man. Quite an impressive age that was clearly visible. His black skin was wrinkled like weathered leather and his thin body and the crooked back, dressed in wide, torn white linen clothes, made him look extremely fragile. This man didn't look like he spent part of his life at sea and he didn't even look like I pictured a saber-swinging pirate. I inwardly shook my head about myself and this childish imagination. First of all, Riggs was a human being and his time on the Jackdaw was fifty years ago. What did I expect a man to look like after half a century?
"Mr Reager." I made myself known carefully after I had given silent thanks to Consuela and she had left for her study. Until now, the old man had only stared at the handle of his cane between his bony fingers and hadn't seemed like he had noticed us. When he raised his head and looked in our direction, I noticed the glassy expression in his eyes that I recognized from Theresa Bonham. He was blind. I cleared my throat and took another step in his direction. "My name is Lillian Kenway. I heard, you..."
"Aye, you are the girl that's asking around for the old Kenway. Sit." He bent his cane towards the sofa in front of his seat and a bit dumbfounded, I sat down, placing Emily next to me. She looked at the man with big, curious eyes and seemed to be especially fascinated by the cane, whose end hit the floor with a thud as Reager shifted his grip on the handle.
"So you're the grandson's woman." A faint grin flitted across Riggs' face and I wondered what was so funny. Maybe the thought of Edward Kenway having a grandchild, or children at all. I couldn't imagine that it was so common among pirates to settle down and have a family. When I simply nodded and verbalized my answer with "I am", his grin grew wider and Riggs leaned back in the seat. "So your husband is also a blonde, blue-eyed bastard, right?"
Now I smirked in amusement. This description was as far from reality as the moon was from the earth. But interesting how resemblances amongst families could change over two generations.
"Not quite", I said, still smiling. "Still I am curious about what you can tell me about Edward Kenway, Sir. I have to say, that it wasn't as easy as I hoped to find anything about him. But I'm sure you experienced a lot with him. After all, you sailed together."
"Aye, that's true." Riggs nodded. "I saw a lot under Kenway's command. Everyone knew to sign on the Jackdaw if you were looking for adventure and a lot of loot. We had plenty of both but I have to disappoint you, lass. There is nothing I can tell you about Kenway. At least not more than you have probably learned yourself."
Perplex I stared at the old man, hoping that he was joking. Was he trying to tell me that he had lived side by side with Kenway and didn't know anything about the man? I never expected that and was glad Riggs was blind. Otherwise, he wouldn't have considered me quite witty, judging by the way my mouth stood open. His words needed a moment to settle in but luckily he kept talking so that there was no embarrassing silence.
"Kenway was a good captain. Like I said, you never got bored under his command and he always made sure that we made regular prizes. But he had one big fault. He never trusted us, his crew. The quartermasters Adéwalé and later Anne Bonny were the only ones who knew, what was going on inside his head."
"And the crew never demanded to learn it as well?"
Riggs shrugged. "Why should we? Like I said, we got everything we needed. Of course, it bothered us but Kenway had a talent for keeping our spirits up. As long as we got paid, we didn't care about the rest."
Well, that was a...principled way of seeing it. Still, I felt disappointed. "Why did you want to talk to me then?", I asked, trying hard to keep a friendly tone. After all, it wasn't Riggs' fault that my curiosity wasn't satisfied.
"Because I wanted to give you something, lass."
This statement reawoke my interest and curiously I watched Riggs grabbing into the pocket of his worn-out coat, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to me. It was yellowed, and slightly torn around the edges but when I unfolded it, I was surprised that the carefully placed coal lines were still intact. It was a detailed and realistic drawing of a man. He had bright hair and bright, serious eyes. A strikingly shaped face, a nose that looked like it had been broken and scars. One crossing his right brow, another running across his right cheekbone. This man looked as bold as he looked dangerous and I believed to recognize his son in his face, even his grandson.
"Is that him?", I asked although I was sure I knew the answer.
Riggs nodded. "Aye. Used to spend my time with these scribbles. Almost drew every member of the crew, but only kept this one. Was my best. Thought it is of more use to you than it is to me. After all, I can't even look at it anymore." A self-depreciating smile adorned his lips which I decided not to comment on. Still, I was looking at the drawing with a bit of awe. Certainly, it wasn't just a scribble because, despite the simple materials it had been created with, it appeared almost lifelike. As if you were looking at Kenway personally. Riggs was a real talent and yes, it did help me. Maybe it didn't tell me anything about Kenway's story, but he had a face now and this was worth more than anything else. The image I had created in my head had got a literal contour.
"Thank you, Sir."
Riggs waved aside. "Don't thank me. Could never resist a pretty, British lady."
"I smirked. "So you can still tell by my accent that I'm British?"
"If you thought, your accent was gone, I must disappoint, lass." Riggs grinned and rose from his seat with a groan. "You sound so British, I would offer you tea if I had some."
I chuckled about this stereotypical comment and rose to offer Riggs my help on the way out. He refused and proved that he had a great orientation, despite his missing sight. Something I had seen in Theresa Bonham as well. It had always surprised me how sharp her remaining senses had been. Sharper than you might have wished.
I watched Riggs leave after we had said our goodbyes and then sat back on the sofa beside Emily. I was still holding the drawing of Edward Kenway in my hands and looked at it again. Emily, who was rather kneeling than sitting, crawled closer and curiously reached for the paper, which I carefully held out of her range. But I still made sure that she could look at it.
"Do you know, who that is?" I asked her quietly and put an arm around her, to pull her closer. "That's your great-grandfather."
Probably Emily didn't even know the meaning of this word but saying it felt sublime. I had always believed it was a privilege to know your ancestors and so it had been a privilege to me, to grow up with my paternal grandparents. I had spent some of the most beautiful days of my childhood with them. Because they had meant so much to me, I was sad for Emily, who would never be able to meet her grandparents. She wouldn't know it any differently so she probably wouldn't care, but still, I wished it for her. I was glad that there was at least something I could tell her about her ancestry and I would keep the drawing for her. I put it carefully into the leather folder, between all the other papers with the information I had gathered on Edward Kenway. Hopefully, it would survive there a couple more years or at least until we were home and I could find a more fitting place for it.
"Lillian?"
I raised my head and smiled when I saw Caleb standing at the entrance door. As always, he had spent his day somewhere on the island and I hadn't seen him once today. But when I noticed his serious face, my smile faded.
"What's wrong?"
"Connor just came back."
My eyes widened and I stood up so quickly that the folder slipped off my lap and onto the floor. I hardly noticed it. Caleb's expression couldn't mean anything good and the thought made my heartbeat quicken.
"Where is he? Is he fine? Is he injured?"
"No, but I'm not sure if he's fine." Caleb squinched up his face. "I was at the pier and helped with the landing and he left the ship, even before they had lowered the plank. He just walked past me and looked angry. He still had the Apple on him, too."
The breath I hadn't noticed I was holding, left my lips in a hiss and I closed my eyes for a moment. That Connor still had the Apple could only mean that the final part of his search had been unsuccessful, although I had been so sure it wouldn't be. I had hoped that everything was going to be over when he returned. Not only for my sake but especially for Connor's. This new failure was troubling him, I was sure of it.
"Could you keep an eye on the little one for a moment?", I asked Caleb and when he nodded, I left through the backdoor into the garden and from there, to the guesthouse. If Connor had walked to the villa without entering it - and I would have noticed if he did - he must be there. And I was right. When I reached our room, opened the door and carefully peeked inside, Connor was sitting on the bed, his elbows propped up on his knees, his hands put together and his fingertips on his lips. Like this, he was staring at the opposite wall with the window, until he noticed me as I entered the room and closed the door behind me.
"I did not find it", he said straight away, but entirely hard and emotionless. No anger. No disappointment. Again he was hiding his true emotions. Wordlessly I stepped to the bed and sat down beside him, while he had already continued staring at the wall. The silence was unpleasant but still, I didn't know what to say. Ask him how the search had gone? I knew the answer. How he was? This I knew, too. There was only one question I didn't know the answer to and it was the hardest one to ask.
"What now?"
I heard Connor inhaling deeply and saw him pull up his shoulders, only to let them sink when he exhaled. "I do not know", he said quietly. "I was sure the temple was somewhere in the Carribean. But maybe we were wrong and the temple in the Mayan legend is not the one we are looking for. It could be anywhere."
The last sentence had been angry and Connor stood up in a jerk, to walk to the window, where he leaned his hand against the frame and started staring again. I simply looked at his broad shoulders and felt helpless. When Connor had told me he felt stuck between two walls, I had said we would find a way to tear them down. When he had said he wouldn't give up the search, I had told myself it could take as long as it might, as long as the Apple would disappear from our lives. Now that thing was back on the dresser, next to the keystones that had started everything. Thinking about it, I had been torn since they had appeared, especially since we had got the Apple from Washington. I had wanted to get rid of them, no matter the price, no matter Connor's intention to use them and bring them to wherever they belonged. Then I had wanted to support him, only to wish again that he didn't need to trouble himself with them. But basically...I had only wanted to get rid of the Apple and the keys. Even now. Would I allow Connor to search the whole world for this temple, only to follow some spirit's wishes? That he let it control his life? Our lives? It harmed him. It would harm him as long as it took and so there was only one answer to these questions: No, I didn't want to allow it and I wouldn't.
Determined I stood up, stepped to the dresser and grabbed the three objects. I wrapped the leather strings, Connor used to wear around his neck, around my wrist and grabbed the bag with the Apple with both hands, pressing it against my chest as Connor turned his head over his shoulder and looked at me, pausing.
"Lillian, what are you doing?"
I didn't answer but turned on my heel, hurried to the door, tore it open and slipped through it, before Connor even realized what I was doing. I heard his enraged voice calling my name but had already walked through the front door as he left our room to go after me. I could see his angry face through the small glass window of the door, before I turned away and ran towards the path leading down to the villa, still clutching my prize. I needed to hurry if I didn't want Connor to stop me and he would try. Before reaching the path, I quickly changed my direction and ran around the guesthouse, hoping to deceive Connor and lure him to the villa, but he had already stormed outside and saw me, as I just scurried around the corner.
"Lillian! Do not dare to do this!", he called after me and took up the chase. I heard his steps behind me as I ran to the cliff. I had to throw the Apple and the keys far enough towards the sea. So far that they wouldn't hit land, decks or - even worse - heads and that they sunk so deep, that no one could ever recover them. I wasn't even sure if I could make it but at this moment, I didn't think about it. I just wanted to do what should have been done long ago. When we had sailed back from Mount Vernon. Back then I had asked Connor to throw the Apple overboard. I had told him that I didn't want it close to us, but he had referred to this female spirit. That she had already steered his destiny once and that he feared that something bad would happen if he didn't do as she told him. I had accepted it reluctantly, but by now I feared something bad could happen if Connor kept the Apple. I would prevent it, even if he wouldn't like it. At least I was convinced by it as I neared the cliff. But it wasn't difficult for Connor to catch up.
Still running, he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me so that my feet dangled over the ground for a moment and my breath got caught in my chest. But only shortly, because I hardly had got over the scare, when I started swearing like a trooper, kicking my legs and trying to free myself from Connor's relentless grip. At least I caused him trouble holding me and he wheezed quietly as he dropped to his knees and pulled me to the ground with him. Now it was much more difficult to kick at him and the arm he wrapped around mine and pressed them against my chest successfully kept me from holding my prize away from him. Which didn't mean that I didn't try. When Connor's free hand felt for the keys and the Apple I was still clutching to, I used my whole weight to throw myself to the side and managed to get out of his grip. I rolled onto my stomach, burying the objects underneath me. I didn't give a damn that we were looking like children fighting over toys. Connor had started swearing, too, while he tried to turn me around. With more growling than clamouring.
"Lillian, stop this nonsense and give them to me."
"No! I will not let you have these things any longer!"
"I do not think it is your place to decide. Give them to me."
"No way!"
"Lillian!"
"No!"
The next thing I heard was an annoyed huff and before I realized it, Connor had pulled me into an upright kneeling position and had wrestled the Apple and the keys out of my hands. Swearing I tried to get them back, but in vain. Connor simply had to stand up to get them out of my reach and he put the leather bands with the stones around his neck again.
"I wanted to help you!", I uttered angrily and stood up so that I didn't have to look up at him any more than I usually did. "You shouldn't keep the Apple with you any longer. It harms you!"
"I am fine", Connor growled and fastened the bag with the Apple on his belt again. I noticed that he was pulling the double knot of the laces even tighter. Someone wanted to prevent me from taking this oh-so-precious object again. I huffed indignantly.
"Oh, really? When was the last time you had a good night's sleep? When was the last time you thought of something else than the Apple and the temple? The last months exhausted you, in every way, no matter if you want to see it or not! But not only I see it. I talked to Bobby about it."
Connor's face darkened immediately but I ignored it.
"He told me you spent nights brooding over the Apple and maybe this caused the accident with the Aquila. Bobby said he wished he could have thrown the Apple overboard and I think this should have happened long ago."
"The both of you have no right to decide about this. You do not understand…"
"Understand what?" I glared at Connor. "Why not? Because we are just two ordinary people who were not chosen by some ghosts from the past, kingdom come or hell knows where?"
I stepped to him and it hurt when he took a step back and shielded the Apple with his hands. At this moment, I felt like he wasn't possessed by the Apple like Washington in this vision. But still, the Piece of Eden had got in control of him. Why didn't he see what it was doing to him? Did he want to find the temple only to do what the spirit had ordered him to? When it came to this, he was right. I didn't understand, but I raised my left hand and lightly wriggled my ring finger.
"I think when you put this ring on my finger, you gave me every right to decide about it. I don't care about this woman or the Apple. I care about you! About your well-being and our life getting back to normal. Maybe it was never ordinary, but it was better than it is now."
I took a deep breath after the words had streamed out of me and blinked away the tears that had sneaked into my eyes. I was angry, disappointed and…desperate. The Apple was controlling our lives for months now and by the looks of it, it was going to do so much longer. It couldn't be. Why didn't Connor see it?
The only thing he saw right now, was me. With serious eyes and a deep frown. I could tell that my words hadn't convinced him, although he didn't sound angry anymore when he answered.
"Lillian, I am sorry but I cannot do it. I cannot throw the Apple away, hoping that no one will ever find it. It would haunt me. No one should ever get their hands on it."
"But how do you know that it will be safe in the temple?", I tried again, this time audibly desperate.
"I need to trust that she spoke the truth."
She. I squinched up my face and tried to ignore this stab to my heart at the same time. "So the words of some…spirit are more worth to you than those of your wife? You don't care about what I think and say? That I am worried about you?"
"Of course not. It is just…" Connor paused and was struggling for words, but that was enough. In this situation, there was no "but". At least not for me.
"Then go ahead. Do whatever you want", I hissed and didn't give him the chance to say anything. I stomped past him and abandoned him.
We hardly spoke a word for the rest of the day. At least nothing more than necessary. I wasn't angry anymore, but disappointed. Since we had married, I had accepted everything regarding the Brotherhood. Although I had never liked, and never would, that Connor got himself in danger for it. But I knew that the Assassins were part of his life and so I always tried to make the best of it. To stand behind him and let him know that there was someone beyond the Brotherhood who loved him and accepted him as the person he was. No matter what. But Pieces of Eden and voices from the past were on a whole new dimension. I feared them more than the dangers he faced as an Assassin. They weren't from this world. Not like the Templars, who were human, too. They were something else. Something more dangerous and I couldn't blindly accept Connor's decision anymore and let him deal with them. Did it make me egoistic? Didn't I trust him anymore? Was I turning against him instead of being there for him? I simply cared about his wellbeing.
I sniffed quietly and angrily buried my face in the pillow as I felt the tears rising. They were a mixture of anger and disappointment. Damn it, why couldn't everything just be simply...simple? Sometimes I wished we lived in a bubble where all the problems couldn't get through. Where we could be together as a family and didn't need to worry about anything. My grandfather would have said, that we were responsible for our own peace. That we were the creators of our own troubles, but this thought only frustrated me more because I began to ask myself what had gone wrong. Why was Connor so stubborn? Why couldn't he just... agree with me? Everything would be fine. We would get rid of the Apple and the keys, sail home and everything would be back to normal. Maybe not entirely peaceful but...more peaceful. Now that I was lying in the darkness of our room, all of that seemed so terribly simple to me.
When I heard the door open and close quietly, I promptly closed my eyes, although Connor wouldn't be able to see that I was still awake. I heard his steps on the wooden floor, how he opened the buckles of his weapon belts and took them off. Then the quiet splashing of water and then nothing. I couldn't say why I was listening to his every move. Part of me wanted him to know how disappointed I was, while another wanted him to lay down beside me and take me into his arms. I hated fighting with him. The time I had with him seemed too precious since I always feared losing him. But it was just impossible to always agree on everything and I wouldn't hold my opinions back just to avoid conflict. I wouldn't be true to myself and dishonest to Connor as well. It would be wrong and especially now, I couldn't make a concession. Not anymore.
When I heard the rustling of paper, I slowly turned onto my back to look at Connor. He was standing by the dresser and had found the folder with my notes about his grandfather. He held the stack into the clear moonlight, shining through the window, to be able to see my handwriting. When he noticed, that I was awake, his eyes turned on me.
"Did you write all of them?", he asked quietly not to wake Emily. I nodded, even though he probably couldn't see it.
"But I didn't find as much as I had hoped."
Connor looked back at the papers in his hands and ran his thumb over their edges to count them. Then he raised them slightly and asked: "May I have a look?"
I frowned. "Of course." Why should I forbid him to do it? He had said he wasn't interested in his grandfather but if he had changed his mind, my research was at least useful.
"I will sit in front of the house", Connor told me, took the lamp from the dresser and left the room. Silently I stared at the closed door. What was I supposed to make of that? Had he developed a sudden interest in his grandfather, or did he just want to avoid me the same way I had tried to avoid him the whole day? I pinched my lips, pulled them through my teeth and let them go with a smacking sound.
"Oh, damn it, that's ridiculous", I swore and stood up. Wrapped in the thin sheet, that had hardly ever been used as a blanket, I left the room and stepped outside through the front door. After the heat of the day, the air was pleasantly cool and beside the sounds of nature, it was silent. Caribbean nights were beautiful and lately, I had often sat outside to enjoy them, after bringing Emily to bed. But for now, I had no eyes for this beauty. My bare feet carried me through the soft grass to the fence, that separated you from the steep cliff. Connor was leaning there, the now lit lamp next to him, the folder on his lap and the first sheet of paper in his hand. So he really intended to read my research.
"They are not in order", I murmured, feeling like I had to say something while I sank onto the ground beside him. "I worked through many different documents and tried to find something on your grandfather. Most of it is more interpretation than fact."
"It seems like you were very thorough. There are a lot of notes."
I simply nodded and lowered my eyes to my hands that were folded in my lap. While Connor was reading, I was uncertain if I should mention our fight earlier. He didn't seem angry but also didn't make the impression that he wanted to talk about it. I thought we had to. Maybe not now, but we couldn't let this stand between us. We had to come to an agreement. Somehow.
"Excessive self-confidence?"
I looked up when Connor read this note out loud, audibly amused and it made me smirk, too. I shrugged. "You should have read how he gushed about some of his ship's maneuvres. A real strutter."
Connor chuckled, shook his head and put the paper aside to grab the next from the stack, only to pause and take another one.
"Who is that?", he asked and I leaned a bit closer to glance past his shoulder at the paper. It was the drawing.
"Your grandfather", I answered quietly. "One of his former crewmembers drew this years ago and gave it to me."
Connor put the note, that had lain over the drawing, aside and held the artwork closer to the lamp, to look at it with wide eyes. His expression was like frozen. As if he had seen a ghost.
"What is it?", I asked, concerned about his sudden change of mood. For a moment I even believed that he was just overwhelmed by his grandfather having a face now and not being only a name on one of his family tree's branches. If I had only known how wrong I was…
"I have seen him once", Connor murmured, entirely disbelieving himself and still staring at the drawing. "On Tulum. When we sailed off, I looked back and there he was standing on the beach. When I wanted to tell Faulkner, I looked away for a moment and then he was gone. I thought I had imagined it, but now I am sure that I saw him."
For a moment, I was speechless and looked at him as if he was dubious to me. Because he was.
Ratonhnhaké:ton, this is an old drawing", I started slowly. "If you saw someone, they certainly just looked like him."
"No! I recognize him. It was him. I only saw him from a distance, but I am sure. I did not imagine him." Connor's eyes were still fixated on the drawing. The paper rustled as his right hand grabbed it so firmly that the edges crumpled in his fist. His other hand moved to the keystones around his neck and only when he touched them, he slightly bent his head to look at them.
"Lillian, what if the keys gave me a clue?", he asked quietly, but soon spoke louder, more excited. "Like they gave us the riddle or how they reacted to one another when I found the second key. Maybe the temple was close and I gave up the search too soon."
He looked at me and I could see this spark in his eyes he always bore when he had a trace, putting all hints together. Only these hints seemed absurd to me and my concern grew. Why was he rushing to speculations rather than staying rational, as always?
"I…I don't know", I could only stammer, but was able to put more force behind my next words. "This is crazy. Why now? Why didn't they give you a hint earlier? And why your grandfather?"
"I do not know either." Connor shook his head and started scrolling through my notes. He skimmed every page while I watched him confused. He looked…possessed. I had never seen him like this and I didn't know what to make of it. What were you supposed to think, when out of the blue your husband claimed to have seen his long-dead grandfather on an island? Everyone else, I would call crazy and wouldn't pay any heed…but Connor?
He raised his eyes from the note he had read and stared over its edge into the void while murmuring: "Where the blood once was banned…guardian step through the gate…"
"Ratonhnhaké:ton, what are you talking about? You are scaring me!"
It had bursted out of me and Connor seemed confused as he looked at me. As if I had torn him out of some deep thoughts. He cocked his head.
"The riddle, Lillian", he explained and only now I recognized the lines. "What if our whole interpretation was wrong? If the line about the blood does not mean blood in general, but a certain bloodline? My bloodline. My grandfather who was banned from Tulum, just like you wrote here." He gave me the paper where I could read this note. But it still didn't explain why he was linking this information to the cryptic riddle.
"Your…why the hell should the line of some stone's riddle be about your bloodline?"
It seemed far-fetched but to Connor, it obviously made sense. He stayed calm and objective as he tried to explain his thoughts to me.
"Every time the woman appeared to me, she called me guardian", he said and I squinched up my face with the mention of this woman. "She spoke directly to me so maybe the stones do, too. Maybe I have seen my grandfather in Tulum because I gave up the search there. They wanted to give me this hint."
He said it like it was the most logical thing on earth. The one true conclusion. But I shook my head. To me, this was anything but logical. To me, it sounded like he was clinging to straws. As if he was looking for clues in every corner, only to deny that his search for the temple in the Caribbean had failed.
"Why should a riddle be for you alone? It sounds crazy", I said quietly. I didn't want to hurt him. He shouldn't think I wasn't taking him seriously but I couldn't follow his thoughts, nor could I believe them.
Connor sighed and looked at the drawing he had placed on the grass between us. "But what if I'm right? What if I missed something on Tulum and the temple is there?"
I didn't know what to think. He sounded unsure but still convinced. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't crazy. He was someone who tried to think of everything. Someone who didn't want to rely only on speculations. He always wanted to know everything, even if it still left him storming head-first into any situation. He could be as volatile as water and still, I trusted him every time. Even if I didn't like his ideas. I hadn't liked this whole search, but I had allowed it and had trusted him until the point where he had reached the edge of what seemed possible to me. That was why we had fought today. Did he come up with this idea because of it? To convince me that he had to bring the Apple to the temple?
It was incredibly hard. I wanted to tell him, that he interpreted too much into this situation. That he was too exhausted and was seeing things. But he seemed so clear-minded. So convinced. So…hopeful.
One last chance, I thought. One last chance and if he is wrong, maybe he will realize that this whole search is senseless. And if he isn't wrong…the Apple will be gone. For good.
I sighed deeply. "Then you have to go there to be sure."