‘Aye, for now. But with war, who is to say?’ He stabbed a finger at his desk. ‘I am not such a fool as to think we’ll march a hundred miles south of here, and find the most taxing task the re-drawing of my maps!’

‘Why go south at all?’ I said, emboldened by the colonel’s own fervour.

But I had misjudged the moment. The colonel cooled, his face no more animated than the animals of Drekenford’s bridge.

‘Though I may not personally appreciate the King’s motivations,’ he said, ‘it is my duty to enact them in the field. I would remind you of your own duty, Inspector.’

I considered, then quickly dismissed, a number of retorts – many of which were really accusations. I wasn’t there to debate military procedure or the larger, philosophical points of warfare, even if biting my tongue left a bitter taste. Instead, I did as the colonel asked and returned the conversation to matters of my duty.

‘Since our arrival,’ I said, ‘you’re sure no officers have visited the town?’

‘Quite certain. Those unaffected by the pox were far too busy.’

‘How many officers died?’ I asked.

The colonel was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if my question had been too blunt, callous even. But then this was a man who condensed the lives of hundreds of people to a ‘mark on a map’.

‘Five officers,’ he said, eventually. ‘The troopers fared worse.’

‘Could I have the officers’ names?’ I said, thinking of the flowers laid at the bottom of the track. It seemed likely that whoever had left the flowers now mourned one of those five soldiers – a former officer’s sweetheart.

‘If you must. Cornet Pitzmun will provide you a list.’

‘And when were the dragoons last stationed at Fort Seeben?’ I said.

‘Our rotations are every six months, Inspector. Now, if there is anything else?’

‘I’d like to see it.’

The colonel frowned. ‘See what?’

‘Where you burned the bodies.’

The Cornet was also given this duty. She led me down the stairs and out into the night. The rain had stopped, the sky even clearing a little to show patches of stars. We passed where Tabitha was hitched and I patted the mare in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.

The fort was unnervingly quiet; between our footsteps the only sound I heard was my own breathing. I began to wonder if I’d misunderstood the colonel, and that it wasn’t a quarter of his soldiers that had died, but a quarter was all that remained. When I mentioned the quiet to Pitzmun she shrugged.

‘Most of the regiment is out training,’ she said.

‘In the forest?’

‘Where else?’

This wasn’t the time nor the place to discuss my dislike of southern trees. Though what I saw on the far side of the fort did little to help my antipathy towards them.

We passed through a single door, much smaller than the main gates, yet still guarded. The trooper nodded to Pitzmun and passed her a torch. I stepped out into a small clearing, where the treeline had been pushed back from the fort walls – a kind of no man’s land. The ground was scarred and uneven and strikingly beautiful.