The faltering French attack struggled up the slope a short distance while more and more British troops appeared on the crest of the ridge. Soult reined in, sheathed his sword and surveyed the growing number of the defenders. Then he turned away and plodded back towards the rest of his army, calling an order out to the nearest officers as he passed. A moment later the drums stopped, and the French brigades halted. Arthur and the other officers watched and waited, in tense silence. Then the French began to turn about face and tramp back down the slope.

A chorus of whistles and jeers rose up from the men on the ridge and Hope snapped to one of his aides, ‘I’ll not have such damned indiscipline! Get along there and pass the order for them to be silent.’

‘No,’ Arthur interrupted.‘Indulge them. They’ve earned it. Besides, it can only add to the enemy’s discomfort. Indulge your men, Hope.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied reluctantly.

As the rest of the First Division formed up on the ridge, the French began to fall back beyond Barroilhet, leaving a screen of skirmishers to defend the village. Arthur told Hope to send pickets forward and then stand his men down.

‘You might consider fortifying your position this time,’ he added drily. ‘I’m prepared to forgive a man his mistakes, provided he learns from them immediately. I trust I make myself clear?’

‘Perfectly. I will do all that is necessary, sir,’ Hope replied, momentarily chastened. Then he cleared his throat and continued in a bluff tone, ‘That was a close run thing. Soult is a fine commander. Almost a match for you, sir.’

‘If you say so,’ Arthur replied dismissively. He was irked by the comparison, and by Hope’s effort to pass the blame for his incompetence to his commander. Even so, Arthur relented. Hope’s brave example had steadied his men at the critical moment. ‘But let me tell you the difference between Soult and me. When he gets in a difficulty, his troops don’t get him out of it. Mine always do.’ He paused and continued under his breath, ‘Even if their officers don’t.’

General Hope nodded contentedly, grateful to have saved his reputation. Then he turned away to issue orders to his staff. Somerset stared towards the last of the French troops pulling back through the village ahead. ‘Is it your intention to pursue Soult?’

Arthur was silent for a moment. ‘No. It will do us no good. There is little to be achieved in this weather. Soult will retreat to Bayonne and settle into winter quarters. Our men are weary and need time to rest and re-equip. The issue will be decided next year. Both here and in the north.’ He smiled thinly. ‘The days of Bonaparte are numbered, Somerset. Make no mistake about it.’

Chapter 47

Chapter 47