Which was more than could be said for the manacles that had been secured about their wrists by the escort tasked to deliver them topside, where a gloating Quade had been waiting to greet them.

He indicated the restraints. “I had one of the boat’s mechanics fashion them as a precautionary measure. Not too uncomfortable, I trust?”

“I’ve known worse,” Hawkwood said.

The smirk vanished, to be replaced by a frown. Lawrence stifled a grin and, manacles clinking, blew into his cupped hands.

Hawkwood looked over to where the last pieces of cargo were being unloaded. A wooden hoist had been rigged to offload the cannon and other heavy goods from the boat, while troops had formed a human chain to pass the lighter items down the gangplank and on to the mule-drawn wagons waiting in line on the quayside. He wondered if the soldiers were a permanent on-board fixture or if, like Quade, they’d been on their way to a new posting. Either way, their presence had proved annoyingly inconvenient.

When the last item of cargo had been transferred, the major gave the order for Hawkwood and Lawrence to be taken ashore. Guarded fore and aft, they were led towards the gangplank. About to descend, Hawkwood paused and looked aft to where Captain Winans and First Officer Renner were standing side by side.

Hawkwood inclined his head in a silent acknowledgement, though he couldn’t have said what made him do it. At first, neither man reacted. Then, just as Hawkwood turned away, the captain nodded back while next to him Renner smiled ruefully before dropping his eyes towards the deck.

“You do realize,” Lawrence whispered from behind, “that fraternizing with the enemy’s a capital offence.”

Hawkwood spoke over his shoulder. “For them or me?”

“Them,” Lawrence responded with a grin. “Your name’s already on Quade’s list.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Hawkwood said. “But he should have been more careful.”

Lawrence frowned. “How so?”

Hawkwood looked to where Quade was brushing a speck of dirt from his sleeve, and smiled ominously.

“Bastard should’ve carved it in stone.”

They were marched away from the quay.

At least two of the wagons had space enough in the back to have accommodated both prisoners and escort, but Hawkwood suspected that making them walk allowed Quade to feed his vanity, basking in his own glory as he rode on the wagon behind. Having suffered the slings and arrows, the major wanted everyone to see that he was the one who’d made the capture. That way, his name and credibility would be restored. Delivering the fugitives in person was to be the cherry on the cake. His loyalty proven, promotion could only be a recommendation away. No wonder he was smiling.

Hawkwood, meanwhile, was studying the road.