Arthur permitted himself a small smile as he regarded them. The men had performed well at Oporto a month earlier, where they had surprised Marshal Soult and sent him fleeing towards Spain, abandoning all his artillery and wagons in the process. Besides proving that they could march hard, the redcoats had shown that they could stand up to the fanatical attacks of the French at the earlier battle of Vimeiro. Arthur was confident that his army, even outnumbered as it was, had the beating of all the marshals and men of Napoleon’s forces in the Peninsula, provided that the French were prevented from concentrating their armies. That was the trick of it, Arthur reflected. He must defeat them in detail until the Peninsula was liberated. Conversely, he dare not let his army suffer a single setback.

He commanded the largest British army in the field and there were many at home in England who loudly questioned the sagacity of supporting such a large force in the Peninsula, far from the vital battlefields of central Europe, where Arthur’s men could be better used. He disagreed. It was best to deploy valuable British soldiers where they stood a good chance of tipping the scales. Even so, Arthur’s political masters had proved reluctant to allow him to take risks. Or they had been until the victory at Oporto. Then, true to form, the politicians had veered from caution to opportunism in an instant.

Before Oporto Arthur had been forbidden from entering Spain without the express permission of the British government. Now that the news of the victory had arrived in London, together with Arthur’s report of his pursuit of Soult as far as the Spanish border, the Prime Minister had sent him a despatch expressing his disappointment that Arthur had not fully exploited his success. The Prime Minister now urged Arthur to invade Spain, capture Madrid and drive the French out.

Arthur heard footsteps approaching the table and looked up to see his senior aide de camp approaching. Lord Fitzroy Somerset was a handsome youth, but unlike many of the other younger officers in the army he dedicated himself to his duties with a high degree of organisation and intelligence. He had proved to be a valuable member of Arthur’s small team of staff officers and the general had come to rely on him and, on occasion, seek his opinion.

‘Good morning, sir,’ Somerset smiled, proffering a small bundle of letters.

‘Put them there, on the corner of the table. You can deal with them in a moment. For now, read this.’ Arthur pushed the despatch he had been reading across the table to Somerset as the latter pulled up a stool and sat down.

Somerset picked up the document and read through it quickly, his expression settling into an irritated frown as his gaze flitted across the text. He looked up as he lowered the letter.

‘He must be joking.’

‘Only at my expense,’ Arthur muttered.