The rest of the night passed slowly, and as the sun fringed the eastern horizon in a pale orange glow Arthur gave the order for his army to stand to. All along the line, the men wearily rose to their feet, stretching their muscles before forming ranks. As the light strengthened the French sentries on the other side saw the massed ranks of the British army and at once a warning shot was fired to alert the main camp.

‘There goes our surprise,’ Somerset said bitterly.

‘That can’t be helped,’ Arthur responded. ‘We just have to hope that Cuesta begins the attack before Victor can break camp.’

‘Sir, what is to stop us beginning the attack ourselves?’

Arthur turned to his aide. ‘My dear Somerset, if we attack across a river against defensive positions without support then we will suffer grievously. So much so that I doubt we could continue offensive operations in Spain. I would be obliged to fall back, and if we were pursued then I dare say we would be forced to repeat General Moore’s retreat to Corunna. England can endure only so many such defeats before being forced to kneel to Bonaparte.’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘We must wait for Cuesta.’

Now even the minutes seemed to drag by, and as the first brilliant rays of the sun broke across the eastern horizon the first French battalions hurriedly marched forward to cover the fords, together with several guns. The opportunity to attack was fast slipping away and Arthur forced himself to remain still in his saddle, ears straining for the first sound of cannon fire that would announce Cuesta’s attack. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Somerset discreetly draw out his pocket watch, glance at it with a raised eyebrow, and then slip it back into his waistcoat.

‘You might as well tell me the time,’ Arthur muttered.

‘Ten minutes gone six, sir.’

Both men were still for a moment, then Arthur took up his reins and slowly turned his horse. ‘The army is not to move until I return. If the enemy opens fire, then have our fellows fall back to cover and leave our guns to their work. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir. Might I ask where you are going?’

‘To find Cuesta. It is time to speak plainly to his excellency.’

General Cuesta was taking his breakfast in a large open carriage when Arthur rode up to him near Salcidas. The leading units of the Spanish army had downed their packs and some were already busy foraging across the surrounding countryside for the day’s meal. The following columns were still strung out along the road, cloaked in the dust kicked up ahead of them. Arthur regarded the scene in a cold rage for a moment before he approached Cuesta. The Spanish commander regarded him warily. He bowed his head briefly in greeting and called for O’Donoju to attend him.