Arthur helped himself to a few cuts of meat from the platter offered to him by one of the footmen. Major Simms, commander of the small contingent of engineers attached to the expeditionary force, was sitting opposite and Arthur leaned towards him. ‘What news, Simms? How long before the batteries are completed?’

‘Two more days, sir. Three at the most.’

Arthur nodded and was about to ask another question when General Baird, two places further along from Simms, interrupted. ‘What’s the matter, Wellesley? The Danes aren’t going anywhere. We have ’em bottled up like pickled onions.We can take as much time as necessary.’

‘I’d like to think so,’ Arthur replied evenly,‘but by now the whole of Denmark will know that we are here, not to mention the French. We need to finish the business before they can react.’

‘Pah!’ Baird shook his head. ‘You fuss so, Wellesley. But then you always did.’

Before Arthur could reply a young lieutenant entered the tent, breathless. He strode up to Lord Cathcart and leaned down to talk softly to the commander.

‘There’s trouble,’ Simms said quietly.

Lord Cathcart nodded to the lieutenant and waved him aside before tapping his wine glass with the edge of his knife.

‘Quiet, gentlemen! I pray you, be quiet.’

Once all had fallen silent and were looking in his direction Cathcart lowered his knife and cleared his throat. ‘One of our cavalry patrols has spotted a column of Danish soldiers marching on Copenhagen, no more than twenty miles away.’

‘What is their strength?’ asked Baird.

‘At least a division.’

Not enough to have any hope of defeating Cathcart’s force, Arthur decided, but if they managed to break through to Copenhagen it would make any assault on the city a much greater risk.

‘They must be halted,’ said Cathcart. ‘Halted, or, better still, driven off. But we must move swiftly.’

Before any of the other officers could speak, Arthur rose to his feet. ‘My men march as fast as any men in the army, my lord. Let me deal with the Danes.’

Cathcart considered the offer. ‘I admit your men are fine soldiers, Wellesley, but setting a brigade against a division? Those are not good odds.’

‘I beg to disagree, sir. A brigade of good British soldiers is worth a division in any foreign army.’

Cathcart grinned. ‘Well said, sir! Well said. Then you may put your confidence to the test.Take your brigade and drive those rascals before you.’

‘Thank you, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I must rouse my men. We’ll march within the hour.’

Chapter 36

Chapter 36