“Not if I can help it, Sergeant. Frankly, I doubt the bastards could raise enough of a mob for that to happen. No, if there is to be an attempt, they will employ subterfuge – that’s what we must guard against.”

“Subterfuge, sir?”

“Deception, Sergeant Dunbar. Deception.”

“Well, they’ll have to be damned quick, sir. We’re only holding them for one night. They’re off to Pittsfield in the morning.”

“True, Sergeant, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be vigilant. That’s the thing about deception: you never know where and when it’s going to be used. That’s why I’m here.”

The sergeant’s eye moved towards the heavy wooden door at the back of the room. Then he turned to Hawkwood and frowned. “Sir?”

That way to the cells, then, Hawkwood thought.

“I’m to inspect the facilities, to reassure the colonel that we’ve done everything possible. No criticism implied, Sergeant, but you know how it is: the colonel climbs on my back and I climb on yours. It’s the army way.”

Hawkwood had no idea who the colonel-in-charge was, but there was bound to be one somewhere and Sergeant Dunbar, he hoped, would come to his own conclusion on which one it might be.

The sergeant gave Hawkwood a look which spoke volumes. “Indeed, sir.”

“Let’s get it over with then, shall we? Might as well start with the officer. Lead the way.”

“Sir.”

The sergeant reached for a set of keys hanging from a hook on the wall behind him, then turned to the two privates. “All right, McLeary, make yourself useful. Fall in with the Captain and me while we check the prisoner. Jennings, you stay here and try to look alert. This way, sir.”

Sergeant Dunbar had no sooner stepped forward to lead Hawkwood across the room when a distant bell began to clang.

The sergeant paused in mid stride. His head came up. He looked at Hawkwood. “That’s an alarm, sir.”

Hawkwood turned. “You’re right. Find out what’s happening, Jennings.”

“Sir?”

“At the double, man!”

The private broke into a run. Hawkwood turned back. “It’s probably nothing. Carry on.”

The sergeant hesitated, then thought better of questioning an officer and unlocked the door.

There weren’t as many cells as Hawkwood had been expecting. Just six of them, arranged along a stone-walled corridor lit by a solitary lantern.

Dunbar lifted the lantern off its hook. “He’s in the one at the end. Got the place to himself at the moment, as you can see.”

Though conscious of Private McLeary hovering at his shoulder, Hawkwood betrayed no concern. “Has he given you any trouble?”

The sergeant shook his head. “Been as good as gold. Can’t tell you about the rest. You’ll have to check with the provost.” Adding as an afterthought: “… sir.”