I have the wisdom of my own ancestry.So I wouldn’t be the Old Man of the Mountain, father of all assassins, but rather would I be his friend the poe... who sat under a tree by the fountain in the royal courtyard, paid a monthly stipend in gold with which to drink and think about sex and to write about thinking and drinking.After all who now can recall the political reasons or pure greed which motivated the drug addled murders of the hashishins- while every one even now recognize at least two. Surprisingly it moved, swinging inward slightly as it reacted to my knocking. From inside I dimly heard her voice inviting, no, instructing me, to enter.I slowly walked into the beautifully decorated sitting room to find it empty. The large double doors that led into the bedroom were both wide open giving me a clear view of the bed where Josie and I had spent so many happy times. I could see Claire's husband spread-eagled across one side of it, in his shirt sleeves with his trousers comically. More

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