For a quarter of an hour the massed guns of both armies pounded each other, and so deafening was the noise of the barrage that Arthur did not hear Somerset address him and so was surprised to have his aide pluck his sleeve. He turned away from the spectacle as Somerset cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, ‘We’ve had a report from Graham, my lord! He has been held along the north bank of the river, and Longa’s division has been unable to cut the road to the French frontier.’

‘Damn,’ Arthur muttered. He had intended to block the enemy’s line of retreat. At once he realised that it was vital that he attacked and broke the French army as swiftly as possible before it could withdraw from the battlefield in good order. Already, he could see the first vehicles of the baggage train heading east along the road to Pamplona. He leaned towards Somerset and spoke loudly into his aide’s ear.‘The attack begins now. Tell Alten and Cole not to stop for anything. They are to keep pushing the enemy back and give them no chance to re-form and hold another line.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As he waited for the line to advance Arthur saw that Hill’s column was once again threatening to outflank the enemy. The surviving French guns fell silent and were hurriedly limbered up as Marshal Jourdan saw the threat and ordered his battered formations to withdraw. But before they could move, the centre of the allied army began their advance, pacing steadily across the open ground, their regimental colours swirling to and fro above their heads. Even as they approached Arthur saw the left flank of the French line give ground, and then form column before they began to march away to the east, leaving the rest of the French line to fight it out.

As the redcoats closed on the remaining French division holding its position, the British guns fell silent, and apart from the sounds of fighting from the Heights and away to the east, where Graham was struggling to fight his way over the river, a brief, dreadful quiet hung over the heart of the battlefield. The French were waiting in line, to bring every possible musket to bear as the British approached. Behind the infantry of Cole and Alten the cavalry trotted forward and deployed into lines, ready to charge and pursue the enemy the moment they broke and began to flee. There was a sense of inevitability about what was to come and the soldiers of both sides knew it. Arthur could not help admiring the courage of the Frenchmen waiting for their foes to strike the fatal blow. It was a terrible thing that it took war to bring out such a noble quality, he reflected.