“Fortunately,” de Salaberry added, “I was able to deter him from leading the charge.”

“That would be a first,” Hawkwood said, watching the anguish creep across Lawrence’s face at the sight of the dead warriors.

“Lieutenant Hersey, our medical assistant,” de Salaberry explained, as a green-jacketed officer approached at a run.

As the lieutenant crouched to examine Tewanias’s wound, Hawkwood stood up and walked forward.

Close to, Lawrence looked even paler than he had from a distance. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“What the hell for?”

“This.” Lawrence gazed despairingly at the carnage around him. “We were too damned late.”

“No, Douglas. You weren’t. The bastards are broken. They’re on the run.”

“But Tewanias? His warriors?”

“His men are gone but Tewanias is alive. The medic’s attending him now.”

Lawrence’s face twisted with pain. “Goddamned bastards!”

“You’re hurt.” Hawkwood went to reach out. “How …?”

“I fell off my damned horse.”

Hawkwood stared at him.

“On account of I was shot.”

“Shot? God’s teeth! Not by …?” Hawkwood’s gaze swung accusingly towards the two Voltigeurs.

“Lord, no! It was that bloody Observer fellow we saw back at Plattsburg. I ran into his scouting party. His name’s Walker, by the way, God rot his socks.”

“Was Walker,” Hawkwood said.

“What?”

“Not is,” Hawkwood said. “Was.”

It took a second for the emphasis to sink in. Lawrence’s eyes widened.

“I had a run in with him, too.”

“The devil you say! And …?”

“He lost.”

“Good,” Lawrence spat savagely. “Serves the bastard right.” His chin lifted. “And our friend, Quade? I don’t suppose …?”

“He didn’t make it, either.”

“Then, by God, the drinks are on me.”

“And don’t think I won’t hold you to that,” Hawkwood said wearily.

For the first time, Lawrence allowed himself a weak grin. “Well, someone had better hold me, because if they don’t, I’m going to fall on my arse. By Christ, Matthew, it’s good to see you!”

Drawing himself up, he shrugged off the two Voltigeurs, held out his hand and took an unsteady pace forward.

And promptly collapsed.

As de Salaberry’s men bent to help him, Hawkwood spun quickly. “Colonel!”

De Salaberry looked round.

“We’re going to need another litter,” Hawkwood said.

They transferred Tewanias and Lawrence to Lacolle on litters crafted from cut-down branches. The litter-bearers were Kahnawákeró:non warriors who carried out the task at their own insistence when it was discovered that Tewanias was known to their war captain – though the two men were from different clans. The Mohawk auxiliaries, also with de Salaberry’s full agreement, made litters for the bodies of Tewanias’s men, so that they, too, could be removed from the place of battle.

Hawkwood, hurt but in no serious need of assistance, commandeered Lawrence’s horse.