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William Johnson had always led a peaceful life, his time spent between his business in Boston and his mansion in the frontier. He was indeed a clever man who had not merely inherited the family business, but had seen it flourish and under his watchful eye. Unlike his uncle, he had always thought it essential to establish a good relationship with natives in order to carry out a successful trade. However, William Johnson had soon discovered himself fascinated with Mohawk’s costumes and tradition; it felt to him that their simple yet powerful bond with nature, their ancient ritual and dances were something to preserve and treasure, so that his respect for the Iroquois soon turned into fascination.
What William had never expected, however, was to find himself making a truce with a native boy who declared to be an Assassin. How could that be possible? Assassins were long gone, and he alongside Haytham had seen to that.
He could recollect the day they met in detail. Johnson had called the chief of all the nearby village to explain them his latest move to safeguard their land.
“There people out there who would buy your land to get profit from it. I am not that kind of person” he had said in perfect Mohawk, “I will purchase your land to keep it safe”
“What proof is there that we can trust you, that you will not kick us off when you get the change?” An elderly chief had asked.
“You have my word”
“Your word is useless!”
Just as he was beginning to think that it was nearly impossible to convince those men to see things his way, a young boy- about twenty, he reckoned- had jumped down from his roof and came to stand right next to him.
“Please, all of you. Listen” he had said calmly. His controlled ways, the softness of his voice and especially his Iroquois features reassured the tribe members more than William’s kind words.
The boy had gone on talking for a while, and in the end an arrangement was made. Johnson could hardly describe his relief when the whole matter was over, even though there was a more difficult part still to be faced.
“Have you come here to kill me?” Johnson had asked the boy once the deal was settled.
“My intention was that, yes. But not anymore”
The older man looked at his young and unexperienced face, and then glanced at his Assassin robes.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I do. You are a Templar, William Johnson. I have jeopardised your business in the past, but.... your act of generosity today has made me change my mind about you. You want to protect my people, which is my priority as well”
“I have been friends with the Mohawks for a long time, ever since I have settled here. I have no intention to harm your people”
The boy shifted his weight uncomfortably.
“Are you worried that I might give you away?” Johnson asked after a while. “I won’t. It is true, I am a Templar, but first of all I am a great admirer of your people.”
The young Assassin regarded him with a long but not hostile look.
“Even though my people might be safe for now, it is not a lasting condition”
“I know. We are in the middle of a war with a rather uncertain outcome. Still, with your aid I am sure there is much we can do”
Finally, the young man raised his eyes to met William’s.
“Let us give it a try”
Without further explanation, the boy turned his back to William, a clear end to their conversation.
“One last thing” the Templar called him before the boy disappeared from his view. “You seem to know my name already. How are you called?”
“Ratohnhakè:ton”