Wellesley arrived a little past noon, and commandeered the derelict barn, where the crews had been sleeping, for his headquarters. ‘Out, the rest of you,’ he said, jerking his head at the crew and even the aides sweeping the floor, fixing Laurence in place with a cold look. ‘Cleverly done, Laurence,’ Wellesley said, when they were alone. ‘Not so simple after all, are you?’

Laurence was silent, uncertain, until Wellesley added, ‘I will not waste my breath asking who on my staff passed you the news, but you will understand me: if you have the infernal gall to waste my time now, with some damned attempt at extortion, I will shoot you myself.’

And then Laurence understood. Wellesley thought his letter had been timed deliberately, on the eve of his southward advance, to establish Wellesley's responsibility for the slaughter of the French irregulars.

‘I will not hear a damned word about pardon from you,’ Wellesley said, ‘not a one. In three days’ time we will meet Bonaparte, and if I win, no one will give a damn whatever accusations you like to make. And of course,' he added, icily, ‘you will be well looked-after in the event of a loss. Rowley!’ he bellowed. ‘Get my desk in here, and call in the general staff.’

Officers began to pour in, struggling under tables and maps and chairs. Laurence was at once pressed away from Wellesley as they thronged around him, and any reply he might have made was lost in the crowd.

He urgently wished to push through, to seize Wellesley and to argue; but he forced himself to be still. It did not matter. He could make no denial Wellesley would believe. In any case, that Wellesley thought him a blackguard for refusing to continue, rather than for having begun at all, made little difference; Laurence had earned the condemnation, and he might as well bear it for the wrong cause.

‘Emily,’ he said, turning instead, and beckoned her into the building. She had been peering in at the door cautiously, to one side of the stampede. ‘Take Demane and go and get those hayloft doors open,’ he told her, ‘so that Temeraire and the other dragons can hear.’

He went outside. It was already becoming impossibly cramped upon the ground, though more trees had been uprooted and a broad avenue opened up to the road. Every dragon who had landed and dropped off their men soon jostled for space at the hayloft.