Taking the knife from his boot, Hawkwood looked to Tewanias for confirmation and used the point of the blade to scrape a crooked line in the dirt. “Plattsburg, Chazy, Champlain, Lacolle, yes?”

Tewanias inclined his head.

“The border’s here.” Hawkwood drew a horizontal line severing the road north of Champlain. “Where are we?”

Tewanias pointed with his finger to a spot due west of Chazy.

“How many leagues from Plattsburg to Champlain?” Hawkwood asked.

Tewanias’s eyes narrowed. “Seven.”

“And Gaanundata to Champlain?”

“Four.”

Hawkwood leaned back and tapped the knifepoint on the dirt.

“I see what you’re getting at,” Lawrence said. “We cut across, get to the road before them. You think it’s possible?”

“Maybe.”

Lawrence stiffened. “Damn it. There’s that bloody look again. You’ve thought of something else, haven’t you?”

“Maybe while we’re at it we can slow them down a bit.”

“Oh, yes? And how do you propose we do that?”

“Same way we dealt with the Frogs in Spain.”

“Remind me.”

“With a little help from our friends.”

Lawrence stared at him, then his eyes widened.

Hawkwood grinned.

“Well, you said you were here to recruit the natives. Now’s your chance.”

The mood in the longhouse was sombre.

The dozen or so warriors gathered around the fire listened in silence as Tewanias explained why they had been summoned to council. Seated on Tewanias’s right, Hawkwood watched the firelight play across their faces. Most of the men were Tewanias and Cageaga’s age, though a couple were slightly younger. Elders and chieftains from the three clans – Turtle, Wolf and Bear – their expressions ranged from stern to quizzical.

When first assembled, there had been little emotion on display, but then Tewanias had called Hawkwood and Lawrence forward. As Hawkwood entered the circle, Tewanias had referred to him as Kahrhakon:ha. That had drawn an instant reaction. Heads had lifted and eyes had narrowed as he and Lawrence resumed their places. Hawkwood had been careful to maintain a neutral expression throughout.

When Tewanias had finished speaking, it took only a second or two for the significance of the argument placed before the council to sink in.

A sedate-looking elder, introduced as Sonachshowa, cleared his throat. “To consider taking up arms against the Yan-kees is a most serious matter. You tell us their soldiers do not march on us. If that is true, we have no need to raise our weapons against them.”

“They do not march upon us today,” Tewanias said, holding the older man’s gaze. “But they will come. Sooner or later, they will come.”

“It has been many winters since the Kanien’kehá:ka took to the war trail,” another gaunt-featured warrior pointed out.

“That is why our young men grow soft,” a third warrior growled, a comment that was met with a chorus of low grunts, though whether in approval or opposition, it wasn’t easy to tell. “They would rather hunt than make war.”