Arthur touched his hand to the brim of his hat. ‘Good day, sir. Or at least it would have been, had the battle begun. It was my understanding that we should attack at two in the morning. Where were you, sir?’

Cuesta shrugged and then made a curt comment to his translator.

‘His excellency says that you asked the impossible of our soldiers. The distance was too great to march in the darkness. Your plan was flawed.’

‘Nevertheless, my army has been in position since midnight. After having marched through the night to take up its appointed position. If my men could do it, then why not yours? It was not the fault of the plan.’

General Cuesta lurched forward as Arthur’s comments were passed on to him. He stabbed a fleshy finger towards Arthur and launched into a bitter tirade which O’Donoju struggled to keep up with.

‘His excellency says that he tires of the demands you make of him and his army . . . Who do you think you are to order him to provide you with food? To tell him where and when to wage his battles? The English are every bit as arrogant as he had heard. He will not endure this any longer.’

‘Enough!’ Arthur raised a hand. He drew himself up to his full height on his saddle and tilted his head slightly to look down his nose at Cuesta before he continued. ‘I’d be obliged if you tell General Cuesta that I have never heard of a situation where an ally has been so ill-treated. You gave me your word that my army would receive supplies and yet my men are forced to march on half-rations thanks to your broken promises. And now you have failed to grasp the chance to strike a humiliating blow at the enemy. Hear me clearly, O’Donoju. As soon as Marshal Victor realises that he is outnumbered he will fall back. I tell you now that I will not lead my men one step further towards Madrid until you hold good to your word, and give me the supplies I was promised. Moreover, I am not prepared to extend any further military co-operation until General Cuesta concedes overall command to me.’

Cuesta’s mouth sagged open as O’Donoju translated. Then his thick eyebrows knitted together and his expression tightened into a scowl. When the last of Arthur’s remarks had been heard he made his reply in an umistakably furious tone.

‘His excellency says that you and your soldiers can stay here and rot for all he cares. Why should he feed you? You are parasites. The Army of Extremadura does not need you. We can defeat the French on our own. While you sit here, his excellency will pursue Marshal Victor alone. The glory will be his and you will be left to wallow in your mire of shame.’