Even hooded and perfumed, the horses would not run directly at a dragon. The cavalry-charge wavered, and broke. The horses' necks bowed deeply, or pulled frantically away to either side, as they fell into a stumbling gait and fought the reins. One, out in front recoiled too late and slid on its hind legs as it came too close. The Pou de Ciel leaned over and snatched the horse off the ground with one clawed forehand, shook the rider unceremoniously off onto the ground, and opening its jaws wide took off the flailing horse's head with one bite; the French dragons had likely been on short commons for a while now.

The effect of sight upon the remaining cavalry was pronounced; the horses were immediately given their way, and wheeled away back to the British lines, most never having come within ten yards of the infantry square at all. The Pou de Ciel leapt away as soon as the cavalry had fled, before British artillery could be brought to bear against it, having had a little rest and a little supper besides.

Further to the rear of the French army, Laurence saw more of their dragons dropping down for a rest, out of artillery-range and amidst the infantry companies, who did not flinch.

‘Well, I do not need a rest,’ Temeraire said bravely, ‘but if I did, there are Ballista and Requiescat coming now, with the fresh shift. I suppose I would not mind setting down for just a minute, perhaps,’ he added, ‘and a little something to eat.’

‘I think we cannot,’ Laurence said, grimly. ‘He is sending in his reserves.’ The fog was thinning now a little, blowing away from the land. Far to the rear of the French lines dragons were leaping into the air, one after another. And now the advantage would tell: none of the French dragons, with their short and frequent rests, were withdrawing. There would be no rest for Temeraire, or any of the British dragons who had been aloft and fighting since first light.

Temeraire pulled up abruptly, so Laurence was flung against his leather straps. A determined crowd of six little Garde de Lyons charged him in a body, and began belabouring his head and neck wildly, shrieking in exaggerated voices, batting with wings and claws.

Temeraire backwinged with two mighty strokes and roared to scatter them. The tremor of the divine wind knocked them back, but in those few moments, the enormous Grand Chevalier they had seen earlier came crashing past, and threw herself at the square of the Coldstream Guards.