A raised outline in the snow beneath the bark platform showed where the funeral fire had been lit.

“What is it?” Lawrence asked, looking up.

“A burial scaffold.”

“They leave the bodies out in the open?”

“For a period; it’s to shorten their path to the sky world, and to make sure they’re dead.”

Lawrence looked at him.

“To be on the safe side,” Hawkwood said.

“Then what?” Lawrence enquired, not without some trepidation.

“They either wait until the body rots and bury the bones, or else they bury the body after the fire’s allowed to die down.” Hawkwood pointed to the snow-covered hearth stones. “Or they store them in their lodges.”

“Dead bodies?”

“Yes.”

Lawrence thought about that. “And when they move the village?”

“They collect the bones from each clan and bury them in a common grave.” Hawkwood smiled. “Would you like to change your opinion about them not being Barbarians?”

Lawrence smiled back at him. “No. I meant what I said. Is this where Ayon—” Lawrence’s brow creased. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall his name – was laid?”

“Ayonhwathah? Probably.”

Lawrence fell silent. Hawkwood knew the major was wondering how many corpses there might be stored beneath the longhouse’s roof and how near he’d been to them.

“Do you ever think of her: Ehrita?”

The question caught Hawkwood off-guard. He turned away. “Not often.”

But when I do, it cuts like a knife.

Another excited bark sounded. The dogs had latched on to a scent and were off, heads down, following a trail of sunken paw prints that disappeared into the trees.

Letting them go, Hawkwood and Lawrence retraced their steps. Entering the palisade, they found Tewanias waiting for them. Cageaga stood at his shoulder. With them were three armed warriors, dressed in furs and leggings and with snow shoes upon their feet.

“The scouts have brought news,” Tewanias said. “The Yan-kees are marching.”

“Damn it,” Lawrence muttered. “I was hoping we’d have more time.”

They were seated around the fire. The scouts were wolfing down a breakfast of reheated stew and bark tea. From the speed they were eating and from the appreciative sounds they were making, Hawkwood guessed they hadn’t eaten a hot meal for a while. All three were lean and muscular. They must have covered a lot of ground in the night and yet, beyond their obvious hunger, not one of them looked wearied by their trek.

They had greeted Hawkwood and Lawrence’s presence with silent nods, though Hawkwood thought he saw a flicker of recognition flash across their faces when introductions had been made and his own name given. He wondered how much Tewanias had told them. As they ate, they kept stealing glances towards him.

“What road do the Yankees take?” Hawkwood asked.

“They march north.”

“Not west, towards Gaanundata?”