Quade raised an eyebrow. “Remiss in your duty? Really? Well, perhaps, Lieutenant, it would be remiss of me not to issue you a reminder of the penalty for questioning the orders of a senior officer.”

Dettweiler coloured. “Sir, you misunderstand. I’m not questioning your orders, I am merely—”

“Drawing my attention to the casualty list? Yes, well, I thank you for your insight, Lieutenant. You may consider your duty done. And while I share your concern regarding our dead and wounded, you seem to have overlooked the fact that we are at war. And in war, losses are, sadly, inevitable. We will, therefore, proceed as ordered. We’ve been entrusted with this mission by Colonel Pike. I do not intend to disappoint him. Do you?”

Dettweiler, stung by Quade’s accusation and with his resolve wavering, was given no time to reply.

“I ask you this,” continued Quade, “do you suppose Captain van Roos and Captain Carradine would want us to turn back?”

Quite possibly, Dettweiler thought. Instead he said carefully, “No, sir.”

Quade jabbed a finger. “Indeed. We thrashed the Limeys once and, by God, we can do it again. Only this time, it’ll be permanent. This time, we’ll sweep them off the whole damned continent! You say there are, what, seven hostiles? Damn it, man, we’re sixty times their number! I doubt they’ve more than twenty rounds between them. It’ll be like an elephant stepping on an ant. Our armies have suffered enough embarrassment these past few months. It is my intention to redress the balance. You think we can’t defeat a handful of savages who blacken their faces and stick feathers in their hair?” Quade glowered at the lieutenant. “Well, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“Damned right; ‘No, sir’! Then we are in agreement, are we not? This ends here and it ends now.”

Conscious of Cageaga’s laboured breathing close to his ear, Hawkwood raised his head cautiously. After the initial ferment, the shooting had dwindled away and an expectant and uneasy hush had fallen over the road, as if every man – with the exception of Cageaga – was holding his breath.

He thought about a stretch of barren foreshore and a barricade of uprooted, sun-bleached trees behind which a small band of loyal Rangers had fought to the bitter end. Lawrence had mentioned something about coming full circle in a conversation they’d had on the Snake. Maybe it happened to everyone, sooner or later.

He thought, too, about the men around him.

They should not be here. Their village needed them. They should be in their longhouses, gathered around the fires with their families. They should not be preparing to die.