Once he was certain that the Spanish were indeed taking up the positions allotted to them, Arthur gestured to Somerset to follow him. They trotted across the plain towards the small force sent forward towards the Alberche river to cover the retreat of the Spanish. The twin towers of an old fortified manor house rose above the olive groves and small oak trees that grew along the near bank of the Alberche and Arthur followed the road that ran through the trees towards the building. He passed through one of the brigades spread out through the trees and nodded a quick greeting to their commander, General Mackenzie, as he saw him in a clearing. When they reached the manor house Arthur saw a number of his men resting around the walls, with their muskets stacked as they talked quietly. More men were visible, spread out through the trees. Those closest to the entrance to the manor hurriedly rose and stood to attention when they spied their general and his aide approaching. Arthur dismounted and went inside.

The manor was built round a courtyard, and seated on the edge of a small pool into which a fountain trickled was the officer charged with guarding the route through the surrounding olive groves.

‘Good morning, Donkin,’ Arthur nodded as he strode up. ‘How is it with you?’

Major Donkin stood smartly and brushed away the crumbs of a pie he had been breakfasting on. ‘All’s well, sir. No sign of the French yet, but my lads will send ’em packing the moment they show up.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Arthur pointed to the nearest tower. ‘Come, let’s see what’s happening.’

Stuffing the last morsel of the pie into his mouth and chewing ferociously, Donkin followed Arthur to the narrow staircase that ascended inside the tower. At the top they climbed out through the narrow opening into a square room with open arches on each side that afforded good views across the olive groves. A mile to the west Arthur could see the narrow course of the Alberche river, and on the far bank some swirling black clouds of smoke where several buildings were on fire. The smoke made it hard to see the river at that point and Arthur glanced further to the south, towards where the road from Madrid crossed a bridge. Clouds of dust indicated where the main French columns were closing on the river and with an anxious twist in his stomach Arthur estimated that the enemy must have some fifty thousand men.

He pointed towards the burning buildings. ‘What happened there?’

‘Mackenzie’s men set fire to them before they retreated back through my line.’

‘Why?’

‘To prevent the French from using them as strongpoints, sir.’