So they were four aboard, where thirty were common and hundreds had been managed, all of them latched to the one thick band: it circled Temeraire's neck, and was joined by securing straps to bands about his shoulders, so it would not slide about. When they had all hooked on their carabiners, Temeraire sat up, and Laurence could see past the trees to where a cloud of French dragons moved like bees, back and forth along the road, setting down great numbers of men and guns.

He had seen these manoeuvres before, at the battle of Jena, and he was heartened a little to see that the British army was not idling by; guns were being hastily advanced to fire upon the French positions before they could be secured. The guns moved slowly however; the men struggled to drag them forward through the mud, and already the French were answering nearly as vigorously.

‘They are beginning without us,’ Temeraire said, and his roar roused all the dragons at once. ‘The enemy are here; are you all quite ready?’ he asked them.

‘No, wait, I have had an idea,’ the blue-green dragon said, the one called Perscitia, and leapt into the air. In a moment she had returned, with something in her talons, which she laid down upon the ground: it was a heap of the sodden and ragged straw figures from their decoy clearing; some were still smoking and charred. ‘Tie them on to us,’ she said, to the group of militiamen, rubbing their eyes, who had been sleeping beside her. ‘Tie them on with rope.’

‘They are quite wet,’ Temeraire said, sniffing at the figures. ‘I do not see the use of that.’

‘They will think you harnessed!’ Perscitia said. ‘Oh, and the paint, where is that black paint? Bring it at once too, and make straps for them—’

‘We have no time,’ Temeraire protested.

‘Their dragons are not fighting yet,’ Perscitia said. ‘Very well, very well, we will do it only to the heavyweights! Do you not see,’ she snapped, ‘they will jump over to try and board you, and then there will be nothing for them to latch onto, and you will have them off in a trice.’