Johnson addressed his second-in-command: “Captain Scott, kindly inform the company commanders of the situation. They are to increase the pace, but subtly. We don’t want to spread panic among the civilians.”

Scott pursed his lips. “What about …?”

“If Corporal Stryker and his men fail to find the boy before nightfall and the enemy comes between us, they will have to take their chances. How good is Stryker?”

“Better than any damned militia, that’s for sure,” Scott said.

“Then I’ve no doubt they will make the rendezvous on time,” Johnson responded confidently. He turned to the scout. “How many men would you say Governor Clinton has to hand, Mr Boone?”

“’Bout fifteen hundred, give or take.”

“Dear God!” Scott paled and sucked in his breath. “That many?”

“We gave ’em a bloody nose, Colonel. They mean to get their own back,” Boone said. “One way or t’other.”

Johnson absorbed the comment. “I doubt they’ll march at night, which means we may yet have the advantage. So we move now and we move fast.” He addressed Scott. “Smartly, Thomas. Smartly.”

“Yes, sir.”

As his second-in-command cantered away, Johnson looked back down the column, thinking of the boy and the men he’d dispatched to look for him.

And the Devil take the hindmost, he thought bleakly.

5

December 1812

“How long before they come after us, do you think?” Lawrence asked, his tone suggesting speculation rather than worry.

Hawkwood shrugged. “Difficult to say. From what I saw, they’d be hard pushed to find their own arses in the dark, so it could be some time. It’ll have taken a while for them to round up their damned horses. And they had a blaze to put out. My guess is that should keep them busy ’til dawn, so we’ve a few hours in our favour.”

“Ah,” Lawrence murmured. “The fire; I’d forgotten about that.”

Hawkwood smiled ruefully. “A diversion was all I could think of. I heard they were planning to ship you off to Pittsfield, wherever the hell that is, so I didn’t have much time.”

Lawrence chuckled. “Well, I’m damned glad you used it wisely, my dear fellow! I could tell you were a resourceful bugger the first time I clapped eyes on you. Good to see you haven’t changed.”

The major raised his mug and in a lowered voice said, “To brothers-in-arms and confusion to the enemy!”

“Whomever they may be,” Hawkwood responded. The two men drank.

There had been no need for Lawrence to speak softly. They were alone in the taproom. The weathered sign hanging above the door had identified the inn as Peake’s Tavern. Anxious to snatch some sleep before daylight, and none too keen on bedding down outdoors in the cold and rain, they’d seen a light on in the window and stopped to enquire whether there might be a room available for what was left of the night.