Tewanias grimaced. Gripping Hawkwood’s arm, he pulled himself up. He stared desolately around him, at Cageaga’s bloodied, crumpled form and at the bodies of the others. “We are the last?”

Hawkwood nodded. “Ea.”

Hurt filled Tewanias’s eyes when he saw Deskaheh and his brother. He looked up, past Hawkwood’s shoulder.

Hawkwood turned and stared up at the figure standing behind him dressed in an unbuttoned military greatcoat, a rifle-green uniform showing beneath it, a scabbard hanging from his hip.

What the hell was an officer of the 95th doing here?

His heart rose. And then he saw the cap and the differences in the tunic and accoutrements suddenly became apparent. This wasn’t the 95th.

“Captain Hawkwood?”

The enquiry had been made in a distinctive Gallic accent.

Cradling Tewanias, Hawkwood looked at the grey-uniformed men who were moving among the bodies, checking for life and retrieving weapons. Others – marksmen – were attempting to pick off targets among the American back markers.

“Yes,” he responded cautiously.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Charles de Salaberry at your service, Captain.”

“Colonel,” Hawkwood said.

The officer smiled. “Do not worry, Captain. We are Voltigeurs Canadiens. We’re on your side.”

Hawkwood let go a breath. He could see the man was intrigued by the paint on his face. The colonel’s gaze moved down and he frowned. “You’re wounded?”

“I’m all right. My friend is not.”

The colonel dropped to his haunches. “I will see he gets attention.”

“Major Lawrence?” Hawkwood said.

“Ah, yes.” De Salaberry smiled again. “A very brave man.”

“You’re from Lacolle?”

“We are quartered close by. We found him on the road.”

“How many are you?” Hawkwood asked.

“Three hundred and forty. We are a combined force, French Canadian mostly; Voltigeurs, Embodied Militia, Voyageurs, plus some Mohawk auxiliaries.”

“Mohawk?”

“From Kahnawá:ke.”

Hawkwood felt Tewanias stir.

“This is Tewanias, Colonel,” Hawkwood said. “He is also Mohawk. He and his men were—”

De Salaberry laid a hand on Hawkwood’s arm. “I know who he is. Major Lawrence told us of your plan to delay the column.” Staring forlornly at the bodies of the dead warriors, he added softly, “And I see you have paid a heavy price.”

Tewanias shifted and emitted a sharp gasp.

“We need a surgeon,” Hawkwood said.

Regret showed instantly on de Salaberry’s face as he rose to his feet. “I’m afraid our surgeon is not with us. He was called away from the post yesterday. We have his assistant, however – Lieutenant Hersey. He will supervise the transfer to Lacolle.”

“You’ve a wagon?” Hawkwood enquired hopefully.

“No wagon, either, I’m afraid. We will have to improvise. We will construct a litter.”

Hawkwood looked past de Salaberry’s shoulder.

The colonel saw what had caught Hawkwood’s attention. “He insisted on accompanying us. He was most … ah, persuasive.”

Lawrence was propped between two of de Salaberry’s men. It was obvious they were the only things keeping him upright.