His eyes roamed over the tired faces, seeing in them the worn expressions of men who’d come to accept their personal defeat. Two or three looked to be half asleep; either that or they’d chosen to feign exhaustion as a means of avoiding the stares of onlookers and of exhibiting fear in the face of their captors.

The wagon jerked into motion. As it did so, one of the greatcoat-clad soldiers shifted position. Until then, his features had been concealed by the coat’s upturned collar. As he turned, his face came more into view.

Had Major Quade not mentioned Fulton by name, causing Hawkwood to revive memories of Narwhale and the events surrounding William Lee’s assassination plot, the mere turning of the prisoner’s head might not have amounted to anything.

Except …

It took a second or two and even then Hawkwood didn’t really believe it. But as he stared at the wagon’s occupants, the man in the greatcoat looked up. At first, there was no reaction; the soldier’s gaze moved on. And then stopped. It was then that Hawkwood saw it; the slight moment of hesitation before the prisoner’s face turned back. In a movement that would have been imperceptible to those around him, Hawkwood saw the soldier’s eyes fix on his and widen in mutual recognition.

And, immediately, Hawkwood knew that every move he’d been planning had just been made redundant.

2

May 1780

Tewanias led the way, with the Rangers and the boy following in single file behind. The dog kept pace, sometimes running on ahead, at other times darting off to the side of the trail, nose to the ground as it investigated interesting new smells, but always returning to the line, tongue lolling happily and tail held high as if the journey were some kind of game.

They walked the horses, letting the beasts set their own pace. Save for the occasional bird call, the woods were dark and silent around them. Talk was kept to a minimum. The only other sounds that marked their progress were the rhythmic plod of hooves on the forest floor and the soft clinking of a metal harness.

Every so often, a rustle in the undergrowth would indicate where a startled animal had broken from cover. At each disturbance the Indian and the Rangers and the boy would rein in their horses and listen intently but thus far there had been no indication that they were being followed.