Shock showed instantly in the prisoner’s eyes but only for a second. It was enough. Hawkwood flicked a glance towards McLeary and the musket he was holding.

He was to wonder later if it was the light of recognition that had shown so briefly on Lawrence’s face that caused Sergeant Dunbar’s sixth sense to suddenly snap to attention.

“Seen enough, Cap—” was as far as the sergeant got before the words died in his throat and he took a quick step backwards, realizing, that the deception referred to by this anonymous officer was no longer a possibility but a terrible reality.

As yet another alarm began to clang; this time a lot louder and much closer to home than the first.

Hawkwood identified the sound immediately. Someone was running the metal striker around the inside of the alarm triangle hanging from the underside of the guardhouse porch.

Spinning his hat towards the sergeant’s face, Hawkwood went for the man with the gun first, sweeping the musket barrel aside before driving the heel of his other hand up under the base of the sentry’s nose. This time, there was no attempt to pull the punch and he felt the cartilage rupture.

As the trooper went down Hawkwood pulled the musket free, pivoting quickly as the lantern dropped to the floor with a clatter, followed by a muffled grunt.

The sound was all Sergeant Dunbar could manage, given that Lawrence’s arm was wrapped tightly around the sergeant’s throat. Having dropped the lantern, the sergeant was trying to break free. His feet were scrabbling for purchase as he clawed at the arm, but without success. Ignoring the beseeching look on the man’s face, Hawkwood reversed the musket and drove the butt hard into the sergeant’s belly.

As the sergeant collapsed to the floor, Hawkwood reached for his key ring.

He was stooping over the prone body when Private Jennings ran in from the guardroom.

“Fire, Sergeant! The stables—”

The sentry skidded to a halt. His jaw went slack as he took in the scene. Had his musket been slung over his shoulder and not held in the port arms position, Hawkwood might have given the man the benefit of the doubt, but there was no time. As Jennings brought his weapon up, Hawkwood reversed the musket he was holding and fired.

The ball slammed into Jennings’ shoulder, punching him against the wall. As the musket fell from his grip, Hawkwood scooped up the keys, threw the discharged musket aside and sprang to the cell door.

There was a sudden silence from outside. The sentry who had been sounding the alarm was no doubt on his way to investigate the sound of the shot.

It took two attempts to find the right key before the bars swung open.

“Quick march, Major!” Hawkwood urged.