As the warmth of the fire penetrated his bones, he gazed into the flames and thought about the chaos they’d left behind them. By this time Sergeant Dunbar would have been ordered to recount the evening’s events to his superiors, as would Corporal Jeffard and his card-playing associates. If there was one thing that Hawkwood knew about military procedure it was that every mother’s son involved in the fracas would be trying his level best to plant the blame on someone else. Part of him did wonder if the camp commander might not think it was a waste of his already over-stretched resources sending men to chase the fugitives. With luck, he would deem it an incident best swept under the carpet and his actions would be dictated by fear of high command finding out that one man, acting alone, had managed to breach the cantonment’s inner sanctum and break a prisoner out of the guardhouse.

He dismissed the thought as wishful thinking. At least one man, possibly two, had died and several others had been wounded, not to mention the damage to the stables and the loss of two horses. No, the army would be looking for retribution.

Which was all the more reason for Hawkwood and Lawrence to grab what sleep and sustenance they could while they had the opportunity. With a few hours’ recuperation under their belts they’d be able to continue their journey at sun-up and still be ahead of any pursuit party.

Lawrence’s voice cut into Hawkwood’s thoughts.

“So, my dear fellow, I think it’s about time you explained what the devil you’re doing here, don’t you?”

Hawkwood wondered how much he should divulge. Since it really didn’t matter in the long run, he smiled. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m trying to get home.”

Lawrence frowned over the rim of his mug. “From where?”

“France,” Hawkwood said.

The mug almost slipped from Lawrence’s grasp. “France! Good God! Well, I hate to cast aspersions, but your navigation leaves a lot to be desired! Shouldn’t you be pointing the other way?”

“It’s a long story,” Hawkwood said with mock weariness.

Lawrence fixed him with a perceptive stare. “Well, we’ve a fire in the grate, food in our bellies and a drink in our hands – and neither of us has a bed to go to. So, if you’ve the inclination to regale me, I’m all ears. If I should nod off, though, don’t be offended. Just take my drink away and let me sleep.”

Stretching out his legs in front of the hearth, the major lifted a hand in a regal salute. “Proceed.”

Hawkwood studied him for a moment and then grinned. “All right, Major; you asked for it. Tell me, what do you know about the Alien Office?”

Lawrence blinked. “Not a damned thing. What’s that when it’s at home?”