“It was a long time ago; another life. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to remember it or put it all behind me.”

Lawrence thrust his hands into his coat pockets. “I can understand that, but you can’t run from the past, Matthew. No one can. There’s many who’ve tried. They’ve all failed.” He tilted his head and looked Hawkwood directly in the eye. “Were you ashamed of yours?”

Hawkwood considered that.

Not all of it.

Uncertain what to make of his silence, Lawrence continued: “I hope that wasn’t the case, because I’ve never known a man with less reason to be ashamed of who he is and what he stands for. I’ll say it now, Captain: it’s been a privilege knowing you and that’s God’s honest truth. Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t one to gush, but it had to be said. Ah, now I’ve embarrassed you. My apologies.”

Lawrence smiled ruefully at Hawkwood’s lack of response. “While we were locked in that prison hut, I made a comment that implied all Indians were only one step away from being Barbarians. I was wrong. If that’s what made you think you couldn’t confide in me, I apologize.” He pointed towards the longhouse. “Those two chiefs of yours, Tewanias and Cageaga, have more nobility in them than the feckless arse-lickers who make up the bulk of His Majesty’s officer corps; only reason most of them ever got a commission is because Daddy bought it for them.”

“The noble savage?” Hawkwood said.

“You’ve read Dryden?”

“I have. There’s no need to look so surprised, Major.”

Lawrence smiled. “‘When wild in the woods, the noble savage ran …’ Quite a line, ain’t it? Y’know where he took it from?”

Hawkwood shook his head.

“’Tis said he stole the phrase from a Frog explorer called Lescarbot. Lescarbot went on expeditions to Canada. Maybe he was referring to the Iroquois when he penned it.”

“I’ll ask Tewanias if he knew him,” Hawkwood said drily.

“Doubtful. He’d have to be two hundred years old.”

“Perhaps not, then,” Hawkwood said.

He turned towards the woods. Beyond the dogs, which were dashing around like demented wolves, nothing stirred. There was a strange, almost ethereal, beauty in the way the trees, weighted with snow, stood so silently. It could have been a scene from a child’s fairy tale about an enchanted forest that on the outside looked peaceful and serene, while deep within its heart there lurked dark and terrible dangers.

A spindly wooden structure at the edge of the trees caught Hawkwood’s eye. At first he thought it was a drying frame, but he knew the villagers would not have erected such a thing outside the palisade. Then he realized what it was. He did not look to see if Lawrence was behind him as he set off towards it.