He had thought that Lawrence might have remained conscious throughout and been in a position to fill the gaps for him, but it sounded as though the major must have succumbed to the pain of his own wound. Presumably Cageaga and his warriors had fashioned travois stretchers out of coats or blankets, and transported the two of them through the snow to this safe haven. Action that had undoubtedly saved their lives, for without it, Hawkwood knew, neither of them would have survived a night in the open.

Lawrence put a hand to his side and let go another half-stifled grunt. Lifting his shirt, he stared dolefully at the unsightly wad of vegetable matter clinging to his flesh. Touching the mess he raised his fingertips to his nose and sniffed. “What in the name of …?”

“Don’t worry,” Hawkwood said. “It won’t kill you. You’re in good hands.”

Lawrence grimaced. “I’ll take your word for it.” He indicated the bloody graze and the salve on Hawkwood’s scalp. “And you?”

“I’ll live.”

A faint smile played across Lawrence’s lips which slid away as his focus shifted past Hawkwood’s shoulder to the two warriors watching them silently from the fire. His eyes narrowed.

“Who are they?”

“Kanien’kehá:ka,” Hawkwood said. “Mohawk.”

“Mohawk?” Lawrence switched his gaze back to Hawkwood. His expression changed. He frowned. “I heard you talking. You were speaking their language.”

Hawkwood wondered if he was imagining the suspicious tone in Lawrence’s voice. “It’s been a while. I’m a little rusty.”

Lawrence stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“You remember that long story I mentioned?”

“How could I forget?”

“Same story, different chapter.” Hawkwood smiled.

Lawrence’s eyes continued to rake Hawkwood’s face. Then his chin came up. “Dammit, I knew you were holding something back! I had a feeling you knew more about this country than you could’ve picked up from a stolen map. Am I right?” Giving Hawkwood no opportunity to respond, Lawrence went on: “That Indian back at the encampment – I had my doubts then. You knew his tribe and his clan. And now we have these fellows, with whom you’ve been conversing like a native. What the devil—”

Suddenly Lawrence broke off. He seemed to sag, as if retracting into himself. Finally, he let go a sigh. “Forgive me. The last thing I want is for there to be distrust between us. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be rotting in a prison cell, or worse. I can only assume you’ve had your own reasons for keeping things to yourself. But look at it from my point of view. If nothing else, being kept in the dark’s bloody annoying! You have to give me something, even if it’s to prevent me from going mad!” He threw Hawkwood a beseeching look.