He turned his head gladly as Moncey came down beside him. ‘Temeraire, they are hungry over by Nottingham Castle: there were not enough deer for everyone.’

‘They may come here and share our breakfast,’ Temeraire said, indicating the great pit where Gong Su had made them a great thickened wheat porridge flavoured with venison, greens and preserved lemons. It had been ingeniously waterproofed by a thick lining of canvas, and heated by stones which Iskierka had fired and dropped in. ‘And from now on we will all go on shares; you must all admit,’ he said to the others, ‘that it is perfectly nice.’

‘Nothing as good as a fresh hot buck all to oneself,’ Requiescat said, grumbling.

‘Well,’ Temeraire said, ‘if you prefer, you may take a single buck or a cow to yourself instead of three days of soup or porridge, because that is how far they may be stretched, Gong Su says.’

He was very happy to turn to mundane affairs, and pretend that he and Laurence had finished their conversation, although it made him feel a little ashamed. He knew Laurence would not interrupt him: Laurence did not think much of officers who had conversations or pleased themselves while their duty waited. So it was a good excuse, and as long as Temeraire made himself busy, he could be sure not to return to the difficult and unhappy subject.

He was quite resolved that he was not going to let Laurence be killed, no matter what. Laurence would certainly not be happy after being killed, so it did not seem to Temeraire much consolation that he should be a little happier beforehand. He was now very sure that the only certain way of protecting Laurence, was to make it plain to their Lordships that something dreadful would happen to them, if they dared to hurt him, so Temeraire had no intention of withdrawing his threat. But he could not help but peer cautiously sidelong to where Laurence now spoke with Admiral Roland: he looked tired, and although he would never let his shoulders slump, there was some quality of unhappiness in the way he stood, and Temeraire's conscience smarted.

At least Laurence was dressed respectably now. Temeraire felt that there, at least, he had done his duty a little better. He had whispered a quiet word to Lady Allendale, last night, and she had sent down some clothes from the house: a warm thick cloak, and some of Laurence's old things, which had been given to her to keep when Laurence had been imprisoned. It was not quite how Temeraire would have liked to see him dressed, but at least he had his sword again and better boots, and a coat that fitted.