“Best get on with it, then,” said Hawkwood wearily. “There’s a blockhouse awaiting your attention. I assume that’s still your objective?”

“Nothing to stop us now,” Quade said.

Hawkwood looked up at the sky. “You’ll have to move quickly. I’d say there’s more snow on the way.”

Quade peered heavenward.

“Been a hell of a morning, Major,” Hawkwood said.

Dropping his gaze, Quade stared at him for perhaps two or three seconds. “And the last one you’ll ever see.”

Hawkwood dropped his hands to his knees. “Maybe, maybe not; the day’s not over.”

Before Quade could respond, an officer appeared at his shoulder. “All the hostiles are accounted for, Major.” He stared down at Hawkwood as if mesmerized.

“Very good,” said Quade. “See to the wounded. Get the men back in line. Prepare to move out. We’ve wasted enough time.”

The officer hesitated and then responded curtly, “Yes, sir.” With a lingering look towards Hawkwood, he moved away and began issuing orders.

Quade was silent until the officer was out of earshot. Then he said, “Y’know what pleases me the most? Knowing my face will be the last one you’ll ever see. It’s why I told my men not to kill you.”

Hawkwood let his hand drift to the top of his right moccasin. He could taste blood in his mouth. “I’m flattered.”

“Ah, yes,” Quade said sarcastically. “And there it is – the attempt at levity. Your friend Lawrence fancied himself as a wit, too, as I recall. I don’t see him, by the way. Where is he?”

“Damned if I know. We got separated.”

Quade shrugged. “Pity. It would have been nice to have had you both together. No matter, we’ll just have to make do. All right, Corporal – when you’re ready.”

Hawkwood felt the pistol muzzle lift away from his scalp. “No blindfold then?”

This time there was no smile. “I told you; I wanted you to see my face.”

“My apologies,” Hawkwood said. “I forgot.” Glancing to one side, he saw a trooper lean over Tewanias’s body and aim his musket downwards. His breath locked as his fingers reached the hilt of the knife in his boot.

“God’s sake, Corporal,” Quade snapped. “Just do it.”

The sound of the shot was louder than expected and Quade’s eyes widened in shock.

As the corporal’s skull blew apart.

Hawkwood threw himself down as musket rounds tore into Quade’s men. The trooper who’d been about to shoot Tewanias in the head was now face down, his brains dribbling into the snow. Hawkwood looked back towards the abattis, to where soldiers in light grey uniforms and black bearskin caps were appearing through the smoke. Muskets boomed again. Pandemonium ensued. More troopers went tumbling.