Arthur was out of bed in an instant, and hurrying to the large crudely constructed table he was using as a desk. ‘Bring your lantern over here and show me.’

Somerset leaned over the map and pointed to the town of Torres Vedras. ‘The scouts reported that the enemy were marching up to the right of the road to Vimeiro, sir.’

‘To the right of the road?’ Arthur frowned. ‘Why not on it?’

‘Perhaps they wish to avoid our patrols, sir.’

‘Hm.’

‘In any case, it appears that General Junot means to surprise us at first light.’

‘Yes.’ Arthur nearly laughed at the irony of the situation. Earlier he had been fretting about Sir Harry’s not taking the fight to the French, and here was Junot saving him the trouble. Better still, he would reach the British lines and make his attack several hours before Sir Harry arrived to take command of the army. It seemed that fate had decided to give Arthur a chance to take on General Junot after all. He leaned forward and examined the map closely for a moment before tracing his finger along the line of a ridge that ran west to east behind the village.

‘Here.This is where we will form our battle line. Send word to every commanding officer.They are to rouse their men and prepare for battle.’

The scent of myrtle filled the air as Arthur stood on the top of the ridge and waited for there to be enough light to show him the terrain to the south.The air was cool and refreshing and he allowed himself a moment to indulge the sensation. When morning came the heat would soon become oppressive but for now he relished the chill. Behind him, and spread out on either side, stood the eight brigades of his army. His army. He smiled at the phrase. They were his only until Sir Harry took command, but Arthur dismissed the thought. He would deal with that later. He must concentrate on the coming battle. His line extended to the right as far as the coast, to cover the shore where further reinforcements were due to land.The left flank rested on Vimeiro Hill, rising up just to the south of the village. It was a good position, strong enough for the British to repel any direct assaults up the slopes.