If they meant to give up the centre, it must be soon. But Wellesley gave no order. He observed the battle from a ridge on the right flank, where a few tents had been erected for the headquarters. At the moment he was looking out to sea, gauging perhaps the weather, which had begun at last to clear, before sweeping his glass back towards the French rear. Laurence followed his line of sight with his own glass, and saw Napoleon's standard in the thinning mist, and the Emperor himself in his plain grey coat and black hat, mounted on a white horse and backed by the gleaming and polished ranks of his Guard.

As he watched, Napoleon raised a hand, and with a single economical gesture set ten thousand men in motion. The word ran along the French lines, and one after another of those marshalled companies began their steady march forward, into the British centre. The Emperor turned towards the fishing huts, just taken, and the Guard followed in steady ranks as his company shifted forward.

On either flank, the dragons of the Corps were fighting fiercely to hold off the advance, but they too were tired. On the right, the great Flamme de Gloire, Accendare, loosed a torrent of flame against Lily's formation, and to his horror Laurence saw Messoria recoil, her wing blackened and smoking. She did not fall out of the sky, but reeled heavily against little Nitidus, fouling his flight, sending a few of his men tumbling down through the sky.

Two of Accendare's wingmen darted in to press the advantage, and boarders leaped across to Lily's back. She twisted and plunged, trying to shake them loose, and in the opening a spectacular gold, blue and red Honneur d'Or went through the shield, diving towards the massed ranks of British cavalry with a great roar, his crew fired off flares from his shoulders as he spread his wings wide.

The horses shrilled and bucked in terror, and stampeded madly straight ahead, pouring into the open field, and providing the French with a shield against the British artillery. The advancing ranks of the French infantry broke now into a steady jog, their bayonets fixed low as they came. Over the French camp, dragons formed into line: heavyweights and middleweights, with a screen of lightweights and courier beasts before them. Together they began a slow, measured advance, one wing-beat after another.

*  *  *

‘Laurence, if we do not give them the centre now, I think they will take it themselves,’ Temeraire said, doubtfully. Still Wellesley did not give the order. The signal-flags on the hill, when Temeraire could get a glimpse of them through the fog, still showed hold fast.

‘I know,’ Laurence said. ‘We must keep off the advance, as long as we can. If you will break their line at scattered points, and engage the heavyweights—’