‘The Light Division will cross the river and form a line to the south, linking up with Cole’s men once they have crossed at Nanclares. Then both divisions will advance on the French line.’

Alten cocked an eyebrow. ‘Two divisions against the main French battle line? As you wish, my lord.’ He scanned the dense enemy formations waiting less than a mile beyond the river. ‘A frontal attack will cost us dearly.’

‘It will, but there is no alternative. The French will have men and guns covering every available crossing point. We must cross here and prepare to attack.’

Alten puffed his cheeks and nodded. He was about to reply when the sound of hoofbeats from behind caused both men to turn. Somerset was galloping up the slope to catch up with his commander. A short distance behind him rode General Alava and another man, a Spanish peasant, on a small pony. Somerset reined in and saluted Arthur.

‘Who the devil is that?’ Arthur gestured towards the peasant as the other two riders joined them.

‘My lord, if I may?’ Alava broke in before Somerset could reply.‘This man is Jose Ortiz de Zarate. He owns a farm by the river over there, near the village of Tres Puentes.’ Alava pointed to the north where the river curled round the slopes of a small hill on the far bank.

‘Well, that’s very nice for Señor Zarate, I am sure,’ Arthur replied tersely. ‘But what of it?’

‘He says that the bridge there is undefended. There is not a Frenchman within a mile of it.’

Arthur stared at the peasant, and then looked towards the village, which was all but obscured by the hill. There was no sign of the bridge. Arthur felt a sudden thrill of excitement as he turned back towards General Alava. ‘Ask our friend if that hill masks the bridge from where the French are positioned.’

There was a hurried exchange before Alava turned back to Arthur. ‘He says it does. Or at least he could not see the French when he stood on the far end of the bridge less than an hour ago.’

Arthur fixed Zarate with a steely glare. ‘He is sure that there are no French soldiers nearby? And that the bridge has not had charges set beneath it?’

‘He says he is certain of it, my lord.’

Arthur’s pulse quickened as he viewed the ground and the positions of both armies in his mind’s eye. Then he nodded his thanks to the Spanish farmer. ‘Tell Señor Zarate that if he is right, then he has done his people a fine service.’