Lawrence needed no further encouragement. The two men sprinted for the door, reaching the guardroom at the same time as the incoming sentry. Astonishment flooded the trooper’s face as it had his colleague’s. Recovering more swiftly than his fellow troopers, however, he swung his musket round.

Far too soon.

There was a sharp crack and a flash as Lawrence swept up and fired Trooper Jennings’ still primed weapon. The sentry screamed as his jaw blew apart and he went down. With the wounded man’s shrieks rising in volume, Hawkwood led the way outside.

The cantonment was now wide awake. Hawkwood looked past the row of soldiers’ barracks towards the southern perimeter. Beyond the trees, flames from the burning stables were now licking into the night sky. Men were rushing towards the blaze, many in a state of semi-undress, too distracted to have heard the shots from inside the guardhouse. Hawkwood thought he could hear the sound of hooves over the increasing shouts of panic.

“I take it that’s your doing?” Lawrence said, in awe.

“What were you expecting? A guard of honour?” Hawkwood headed towards the trees. “This way, I’ve horses waiting.”

Lawrence grabbed his arm. “What about the others?”

Hawkwood knew Lawrence was referring to the captured redcoats. “Sorry, Major. I can’t help them. Not this time.”

Not ever, he thought.

Indecision showed on Lawrence’s face. He stared about him wildly as if some clue to their whereabouts might manifest itself.

“I don’t know where they’re being held,” Hawkwood said. “It’s a big camp, the alarm’s sounded and we don’t have time to search the place. I’m sorry.”

Lawrence looked him in the eye, then nodded. “You’re right. Forgive me.”

“Up there! Come on!” Hawkwood, pointed towards the pine trees.

As the guardhouse alarm started up again, followed by a ferocious yell:

“Prisoners escaping! STOP THEM!”

Sergeant Dunbar – doubled over and apparently still suffering the effects of the blow to his stomach – had made it out on to the porch and was running the striker around the inside of the metal triangle. Pointing and gesticulating frantically, he yelled again. “STOP THOSE MEN!”

Hawkwood glanced to one side and saw that the sergeant was gesturing in his direction. Two men had responded to his call for help; one of them carrying a pistol, the other carrying what looked like …

Hawkwood stared.

A pike?

“Should’ve locked the bugger in the cells!” Lawrence swore. “Where are those damned horses? No wait, I see them!”

“Stop them, God damn it!” Sergeant Dunbar had abandoned the alarm and was stumbling after them.

“He’s a game sod, though,” Lawrence muttered. “I’ll give him that!”

“You men! Halt!” The order came from the pikeman who, along with his companion, was running hard now.