"As for New Orleans," Napoleon continued, "after this crushing defeat, Wayne will need at least a month before he can organize an effective offensive. Before then, Lieutenant Black Feather will launch harassment raids in Ohio. The Shawnee will cooperate with him."
Black Feather was the son of the Chalagosa Tribe's Tribal Chief. Their tribe had originally lived in northern Ohio and was intimately familiar with the terrain there. "But I fear he may not be a match for the Lexington militia."
Napoleon smiled. "He brought more than seven hundred soldiers. With the Shawnee warriors added in, that is enough to handle the local Americans."
There were fewer than ten thousand Americans in Lexington altogether, and with many militiamen having been recruited by Wayne, there could be at most two or three hundred troops there now. Brasseur's eyes widened. "How could he have so many soldiers?"
Napoleon gestured for an attendant to pull open the wounded soldiers' tent flap, then turned back to Brasseur. "Where did you think all those native soldiers who 'ran away' during our retreat had gone?"
At first, a small number of Native American soldiers really had fled—forget North America, even European armies found it difficult to keep desertion rates below three percent—but Napoleon had thought of exploiting this. He deliberately had some elite Native American soldiers leave the ranks and then gather at predetermined locations.
Even half of Little Turtle's ambush force had been assembled this way.
To Wayne, Indians fleeing the army was simply the most natural thing in the world. He had not harbored the slightest suspicion.
At the same time, the constant shrinkage of Napoleon's army made him increasingly contemptuous of his enemy.
Brasseur finally said nothing more. His eyes, fixed on Major Bonaparte's back, were filled with admiration.
Ohio was the main