Then out of the smoke, the bayonet men came running. Hawkwood knew there would be no time to reload; the troops in the forefront of the attack were too close. At least the narrow width of the road meant they were bunched together, so it would be a very poor marksman who wouldn’t find a target within the first volley.

The Mohawks’ muskets crashed out around him, filling the air with flame and smoke and the stench of rotten eggs. Hawkwood saw a corporal jerk back as if on a string, his face a bloody mask, his scream louder than the sound of the guns. Next to him, a private staggered as a ball took him in the chest. Sinking to his knees, he fell face down, his hands curled around the musket which lay trapped beneath him. Two more troopers in the first rank tumbled like skittles, their blood misting the air.

But as the Mohawk rose to shoot, they, too, became targets. Effa, already nursing the wound in his thigh, shrieked as his jaw was shot away. Chohajo, having loosed off his musket and knowing there was no time for a second shot, turned to his bow. He was able to loose two arrows before a musket ball shattered his left wrist. A second ball struck his left temple. And as he toppled backwards, the Mohawks’ guns fell silent.

Cageaga snatched up his tomahawk. Through gritted teeth, he let out a growl. “I am Cageaga of the Kanien’kehá:ka. If I am to die today it will not be as an old man waiting for death. It will be as a warrior, with my blade buried in a Yan-kee heart!” He gripped Hawkwood’s arm. “I will wait for you in the sky world, little brother! I will save you a place by the fire.”

And before anyone could stop him, he had stumbled from shelter, knife drawn and tomahawk raised, and launched his wounded body at the advancing troops.

Hawkwood heard Tewanias yell, not in warning or out of fear but in anger and support. As the war chief followed Cageaga out from the sanctuary of the log wall, with Kodjeote and Deskaheh at his side, Hawkwood was only half a pace behind, knowing in his heart that they should have stayed put.

But better to go down fighting than die like rats in a trap.

Shouts of alarm rose as the troopers caught sight of the painted figures charging towards them through the smoke.