Someone cheered, the cry was taken up and the tide reversed as the men of Arthur’s column pressed forward again, thrusting the Danes back across the square. Assailed from two directions the enemy’s discipline broke and the weaker-willed were already fleeing from the redcoats, racing off down the streets that were still clear.As the panic spread more and more men turned and ran, many casting aside their weapons in a bid to escape. Jumping down from the wagon Arthur thrust his way through the ranks of his men towards General Schmeiler, who was caught in a tight press of bodies. His horse’s nostrils flared in terror at the shouts and screams that filled its ears. It lashed out with its hooves, breaking the bones of those immediately behind the general, and the Danish soldiers tried to make space for it. Ahead of Arthur a burly sergeant of grenadiers clubbed aside two Danes before grasping Schmeiler’s sleeve and hauling him bodily from the saddle.The general crashed on to the cobblestones, emitting an explosive gasp as the air was driven from his lungs.The grenadier laughed, grasped his musket tightly in both hands and raised the bayonet ready to strike.

‘No!’ Arthur yelled, pushing his way to the side of the sergeant and grasping the barrel of the musket with his spare hand. ‘This one lives!’

The sergeant growled a curse and lowered his musket, then strode forward a few paces and slammed the butt into the side of an enemy officer’s head. Already the Danes were little more than a mob, each man running for his life, and the square was beginning to empty, leaving the redcoats to claim their prize and their victory. Arthur stood over General Schmeiler, who was still badly winded and dazed by his fall. Schmeiler shook his head to try to clear it, and then his hand groped for the hilt of his sword. Arthur lowered his blade and let the point rest on the Danish general’s breast.

‘Sir, I must ask you for your surrender.’

Schmeiler did not reply and his lips pressed into a thin line as his hand closed round his sword hilt. Arthur applied a little pressure with the point of his blade.

‘General Schmeiler, I insist that you surrender.’ Arthur paused. ‘Or die.’

Schmeiler stared back with a bitter expression, and then nodded, letting his hand slip to his side.Arthur breathed a quick sigh of relief and then leaned down, grasped his opponent’s arm and hauled the Dane to his feet. General Schmeiler bowed his head for a moment and then drew his sword and offered the hilt to Arthur. ‘I surrender. My sword is yours.’

Arthur accepted the ornately decorated weapon with a nod and tucked it under his arm.

‘General Wellesley! Sir!’