He rode on, angling down the slope until he emerged from a vale and out on to the dusty plain behind the hills. Ahead of him was a column of redcoats, and a regiment of Portuguese dragoons, tramping south along the Salamanca road and kicking up a cloud of dust as they took up their position to cover the flank. He saw the colours of the division’s battalions marching in a cluster behind a small group of horsemen. At their head was the tall, elegant figure of their general. Arthur urged his horse on, and approached the column fast, hooves pounding over the hard, dry ground beneath him. Faces turned towards him as he approached and he heard a voice cry out, ‘It’s our Arty!’ A cheer sounded from some of the men, but they were too tired and too thirsty for any more. He slowed the horse as he reached the divisional staff officers and then reined in behind his brother-in-law.

‘Edward!’ he called out, and Kitty’s brother turned round with a quizzical look that turned to a smile as he saw Arthur. ‘Edward, I want you to continue advancing with your division. Beyond this ridge there is another. Take it and then drive back the French you will see to your front. Go in hard, and keep pushing them back for all you are worth, is that clear?’

‘Perfectly, my lord.’

‘Good. Then before the day is out we shall have Marshal Marmont caught in a vice of his own making. Good luck!’

Arthur turned and spurred his horse back up the slope to the ridge. The Third Division had two more miles to advance before it took the hills Arthur had described. Most of the time they would be shielded from French view by the Lesser Arapil, so that their attack would come as a surprise to the enemy. If Packenham struck swiftly he would smash into the French vanguard and start rolling their line up.

As soon as he reached the ridge Arthur rode to the two divisions waiting on the reverse slope, and ordered them to advance into the enemy’s flank strung out before them. With Pakenham driving Marmont from the right, the French advance would be halted in its tracks, and then there would be chaos, and easy pickings for the Fifth and Fourth Divisions as they joined the assault. If all went well, the enemy’s line would be shattered. All that remained was for the left flank of the allied line to advance and finish the job.

By the time he returned to the farmhouse the roar of cannon echoed across the left flank of the battlefield as the British and French artillery fought a duel across the valley that separated them. It was of little immediate concern to Arthur. As long as the French guns concentrated their fire in that direction they could not intervene at the decisive point.