Hawkwood nodded. “The Iroquois teach their sons how to hunt and how to use weapons, how to stalk, track, ambush and survive in the wilderness. Most boys have been on their first hunt by the time they’re ten. I was considered a late starter, though I did know how to shoot.

“Even their games are a form of training. There’s one they play, with sticks and a ball. They set up a gate at opposite ends of the field; it could be a tree stump, a couple of poles set in the ground, anything. The object is to drive the ball through your opponents’ gate only using the sticks. There’s no limit to the number of players or the size of the field. In the old days, there’d be hundreds of players and the goals could be a couple of miles apart. Some games went on for days.”

“Like a battle,” Lawrence said.

“Exactly. And there’s no quarter given. Players often end up with split skulls or broken arms and legs. A few even die. It’s called Tewaarathon – the Little Brother of War. Gives the young bloods a chance to test their mettle. Swinging a stick in a mêlée’s good training for swinging a club or a tomahawk.”

“Is that how you learned?”

“Yes. Cageaga was the one who taught me. Showed me how to throw a tomahawk, too. I’ve seen him hit a corn husk at sixty feet.”

Lawrence smiled. “Well, from what I’ve seen, it’s stood you in damned good stead. But how did you get from there to taking the King’s shilling?”

The question was met with silence. Sensing a mood change, Lawrence frowned and looked up, to discover that their walk had taken them out of the village and beyond the palisade. Fifty yards of open ground separated them from the edge of the forest. They weren’t alone. A couple of the village dogs had latched on to them and were loping back and forth across the snow, tongues lolling.

“There was a girl,” Hawkwood said.

“Ah.” Lawrence allowed himself a knowing smile. “There usually is.”

Then he saw the look on Hawkwood’s face and the smile slid away.

Hawkwood stared off towards the woods. “Her name was Ehrita.”

Lawrence waited. Instinct told him the best thing was to remain silent.

Hawkwood turned. “It means ‘Moon’ in Kanien’kehá:ka. She was Cageaga’s sister. He’d taken me under his wing. At that time, she was as thin as a stick, annoying, always getting in the way. As we grew older, I started to realize she wasn’t as annoying as I’d first thought.”

“How old were you?”