there: Emmett Scott, Caroline’s father. I’d last seen him at the wedding, when he refused his daughter her dowry. But here he was, offering his hated son-in-law a drink. That’s the thing about the drink, though. When you’re into the drink like I was, when you watch the level of your ale fall and wonder where your next one is coming from, you’ll take a fresh mug from anyone. Even Emmett Scott. Your sworn enemy. A man who hated you almost as much as you hated him.
So I accepted his offer of an ale, and he bought his own, pulled up a stool, which scraped on the flag-stones as he sat down.
You remember Emmett Scott’s expression? That of a man sucking a lemon. At that moment, talking to me, the hated Edward Kenway, you’d have to say he looked even more pained. I felt completely at home in the tavern, as it was an environment in which I could lose myself, but it didn’t suit him at all. Every now and then he would glance over one shoulder, then the next, like he was frightened of being attacked suddenly from behind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a chance to talk,” he said. I made a short, scoffing laugh in reply.
“Your appearance at the wedding put paid to that, did it not?”
Of course the booze had loosened my tongue, made me brave. That and the fact that in the war to win his daughter I had won. Her heart, after all, belonged to me and there was no greater evidence of her devotion to me than the fact that she had given up so much to be with me. Even he must have seen that.
“We’re both the men of the world, Edward,” he said simply, and you could see he was trying to make himself seem in charge. But I saw through him. I saw what he really was: a frightened, nasty man, browbeaten in business, who kicked downwards, who probably beat his servants and his wife, who assumed the likes of me ought to be bowing and scraping to him, like my mother and father had done (and I had a twinge of rage to remember it) at the wedding.
“How about we do a deal like men of business?”
I took a long slug of my ale and held his eyes. “What did you have in mind, father-in-law of mine?”
His face hardened. “You walk out on her. You throw her out. Whatever you want. You set her free. Send her back to me.”
“And if I do?”
“I’ll make you a rich man.”
I drained the rest of my ale. He nodded towards it with questioning eyes and I said yes, waited while he fetched another one, then drank it down, almost in one go. The room was beginning to spin.
“Well, you know what you can do with your offer, don’t you?”
“Edward,” he said, leaning forward, “you and I both know you can’t provide for my daughter. You and I both know you sit here
in despair
because you can’t provide for my daughter. You love her, I know that, because I was once like you, a man of no qualities.”
I looked at him with my teeth clenched. “No qualities?”
“Oh, it’s true,” he spat, sitting back. “You’re a sheep-farmer, boy.”
“What happened to ‘Edward’? I thought you were talking to me like an equal.”
“An equal? There will never be a day when you will be equal to me and you know it.”
“You’re wrong. I have plans.”
“I’ve heard about your plans. Privateering. Becoming a man of substance on the high seas. You don’t have it in you, Edward Kenway.”
“I do.”
“You don’t have the moral fibre. I am offering you a way out of the hole you have dug for yourself, boy; I suggest you think about it very hard.”
I sank the rest of my ale. “How about I think about it over another drink?”
“As you wish.”
A fresh tankard materialized on the table in front of me and I set to making it a thing of history, my mind reeling at the same time. He was right. This was the most devastating thing about the whole conversation. Emmett Scott was right. I loved Caroline yet could not provide for her, and if I was truly a dutiful husband, then I would accept his offer.
“She doesn’t want
So I accepted his offer of an ale, and he bought his own, pulled up a stool, which scraped on the flag-stones as he sat down.
You remember Emmett Scott’s expression? That of a man sucking a lemon. At that moment, talking to me, the hated Edward Kenway, you’d have to say he looked even more pained. I felt completely at home in the tavern, as it was an environment in which I could lose myself, but it didn’t suit him at all. Every now and then he would glance over one shoulder, then the next, like he was frightened of being attacked suddenly from behind.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a chance to talk,” he said. I made a short, scoffing laugh in reply.
“Your appearance at the wedding put paid to that, did it not?”
Of course the booze had loosened my tongue, made me brave. That and the fact that in the war to win his daughter I had won. Her heart, after all, belonged to me and there was no greater evidence of her devotion to me than the fact that she had given up so much to be with me. Even he must have seen that.
“We’re both the men of the world, Edward,” he said simply, and you could see he was trying to make himself seem in charge. But I saw through him. I saw what he really was: a frightened, nasty man, browbeaten in business, who kicked downwards, who probably beat his servants and his wife, who assumed the likes of me ought to be bowing and scraping to him, like my mother and father had done (and I had a twinge of rage to remember it) at the wedding.
“How about we do a deal like men of business?”
I took a long slug of my ale and held his eyes. “What did you have in mind, father-in-law of mine?”
His face hardened. “You walk out on her. You throw her out. Whatever you want. You set her free. Send her back to me.”
“And if I do?”
“I’ll make you a rich man.”
I drained the rest of my ale. He nodded towards it with questioning eyes and I said yes, waited while he fetched another one, then drank it down, almost in one go. The room was beginning to spin.
“Well, you know what you can do with your offer, don’t you?”
“Edward,” he said, leaning forward, “you and I both know you can’t provide for my daughter. You and I both know you sit here
in despair
because you can’t provide for my daughter. You love her, I know that, because I was once like you, a man of no qualities.”
I looked at him with my teeth clenched. “No qualities?”
“Oh, it’s true,” he spat, sitting back. “You’re a sheep-farmer, boy.”
“What happened to ‘Edward’? I thought you were talking to me like an equal.”
“An equal? There will never be a day when you will be equal to me and you know it.”
“You’re wrong. I have plans.”
“I’ve heard about your plans. Privateering. Becoming a man of substance on the high seas. You don’t have it in you, Edward Kenway.”
“I do.”
“You don’t have the moral fibre. I am offering you a way out of the hole you have dug for yourself, boy; I suggest you think about it very hard.”
I sank the rest of my ale. “How about I think about it over another drink?”
“As you wish.”
A fresh tankard materialized on the table in front of me and I set to making it a thing of history, my mind reeling at the same time. He was right. This was the most devastating thing about the whole conversation. Emmett Scott was right. I loved Caroline yet could not provide for her, and if I was truly a dutiful husband, then I would accept his offer.
“She doesn’t want
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