It took less than a minute for the charge to break the enemy attack. As Arthur watched, the enemy columns crumbled as one formation after another dissolved and the men fell back down the slope, desperate to escape the wrath of the British soldiers sweeping towards them.

‘So much for Masséna,’ Somerset grinned. ‘He won’t be trying that again in a hurry, sir.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Arthur agreed. ‘He has been taught a lesson sure enough. But if he doesn’t attack the ridge again today, then you can be sure he will move to outflank us, there to the north.’ He nodded towards the end of the ridge.

Somerset turned to examine the clear ground beyond.‘Then we will be forced to fall back, sir.’

‘Of course we will.’

Somerset looked at his commander with a surprised expression.‘Was that always your plan, sir? Then why face the enemy here?’

‘I felt it would do our men good to see the French run. Certainly, it will have stiffened the backs of our Portuguese troops, eh?’ Arthur smiled.‘Not to mention shaken the confidence of Masséna and his army.’

Somerset pursed his lips and nodded as he turned to watch the Light Division pursuing the broken enemy columns down the slope. Craufurd let his men continue for some distance before he had the recall sounded. Such was the ferocious discipline of their commander that his men responded to the trumpet’s shrill notes at once, and began to climb back towards the crest where they re-formed their companies in high spirits, slapping each other on the arm, and jeering after the enemy, until their sergeants shouted at them to still their tongues and stand to attention.

For the rest of the day Arthur watched the French lines at the bottom of the ridge, but there was no further attempt to attack. Instead he observed a column begin snaking away to his left and knew that his position on the ridge would have to be abandoned. He turned to Somerset.

‘Pass the word to the army. We fall back across the Mondego and march towards the lines of Torres Vedras.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur detected a note of disappointment in Somerset’s response and offered him a smile.‘We have done our work here.’ He gestured towards the French bodies littering the slope.‘Masséna’s nose has been bloodied, and there’s something else.’

‘Sir?’

Arthur’s smiled faded a little. ‘Now the newspapers in London will have proof that the army has the measure of the French. There is no question that, man for man, we have the advantage.’

‘And yet we must retreat, sir.’