Shortly before noon, the three men rode out from the British lines, down the turnpike leading towards Copenhagen. Arthur rode a short distance ahead. To his left a young ensign bore a white flag aloft, gently waving it from side to side in the breathless air to ensure that the Danes would see that it was a flag of truce that he carried. To Arthur’s left, General Schmeiler sat erect, a strained expression on his face. He had cracked some ribs when he had crashed to the ground back in Køge and was in some pain as his horse walked slowly forward.

They passed between the last of the British outposts and emerged into the open ground between the two armies. The air was still and a slight haze wavered off the dried track in the distance.The hooves of the horses scraped and clopped as the saddlery creaked under the three riders. Now and then one of the horses snorted or ground its teeth on its bit. As they approached the Danish outposts several of the militiamen emerged from shelter, holding their muskets at the ready.

‘General Wellesley,’ Schmeiler said softly.‘What is to prevent me from joining my countrymen when we reach their lines?’

‘Just your word of honour.You have given your parole and I will not release you from it until this conflict is over.’

Schmeiler eased his mount forward until he was alongside Arthur. ‘And then you will release me?’

‘Of course. What would be the point of holding you prisoner any longer than was necessary? As I explained, we are here for your fleet and nothing more. Once France is defeated the warships will be returned to Denmark.’

‘So you say.’

‘So I mean.’Arthur looked at the Danish general.‘You have my word on it.’

They continued forward until they were no more than fifty paces from the nearest of the militia.Then one of them, a junior officer, raised his hand and shouted to the three riders.

‘He says we are to halt,’ muttered Schmeiler.

Arthur reined in. ‘Would you be kind enough to explain that I wish to speak to the senior officer of the gallant defenders of Copenhagen.’

Schmeiler translated the request and after a further brief exchange the officer saluted and trotted off towards the nearest redoubt. A moment later Arthur saw him emerge on horseback from behind the earthworks and gallop off towards the town a quarter of a mile beyond. They waited patiently in their saddles as their mounts ambled towards the grass growing along the side of the turnpike and lowered their heads to feed. Arthur turned to Schmeiler.

‘It is a shame that Denmark does not join us in the fight against Bonaparte. Surely you must see the danger he poses to us all?’