“Belongs to my family,” the colonel explained. He seemed unconcerned that Wyatt was loitering. “Bequeathed me by my father. We weren’t able to take it with us when we went north, so we concealed it beneath the floor in the cellar.” Sir John indicated the manservant, who was brushing himself down. “William here was the only person we entrusted with the hiding place. He’s kept it safe these past four years. Well, this time, it’s coming with me. I’ll not have those damned rebels lay their hands on it. I’ve seen too many friends who’ve had their inheritance usurped by those scoundrels.” He watched as the last piece of silverware was exposed before turning to the lieutenant. “There should be around forty pieces all told. Split the load. One item per man. Full inventory to be taken.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant turned and waved an arm towards a small detachment of troops waiting by the blockhouse. “Number Two Company, fall in! Quartermaster to me! Sharply now!”

The troops ran across to form a line and began to open their knapsacks. The Quartermaster produced his ledger and licked the point of his pencil. As the plate was distributed, a description of each item was written alongside the name of the soldier to whom it had been entrusted.

Wyatt couldn’t help but smile to himself. How, he wondered, would the army function without lists? It didn’t matter if they concerned cockades, cannons or the colonel’s heirlooms; lists were as integral to military life as marching and muskets.

Having satisfied himself that the inventory was being conducted to the required standard, the colonel turned to McDonell and the other officers who’d been with him around the table and who’d been observing the disinterment with considerable interest.

“Right, gentlemen – back to business. As I recall, we were conducting a situation report. Captain Anderson?”

A dark-haired, thin-faced officer dressed in the uniform of a Grenadier stepped forward.

“Colonel?”

“The patrols that were sent to retrieve our people should have returned by now. How many civilians have we collected?”

“By my count, one hundred and fifty-two, Colonel.”

The colonel looked towards Wyatt. “Better amend that, Captain. Make the total one hundred and fifty-three.”

“Yes, sir. We’ve also acquired thirty-two Negro servants.”

“Very good. Prisoners?”

Captain Anderson consulted his figures. “Twenty-seven in total, mostly civilians …”

There was a pause, then Anderson continued “… including Sammons and his brood.”

A nerve flickered along the colonel’s jawline. “Release those that are too young or infirm. We gain nothing by subjecting them to the rigours of the return march.”

“And Sammons?” Anderson enquired tentatively.