‘Then we shall send them on their way.’ Somerset forced a smile. ‘The same as we did before.’

They waited a moment longer and then saw the heads of what appeared at first to be five large columns of infantry. There was no mistaking the uniform of the men approaching the ridge.

‘By God, Boney’s sending in the Guard,’ Uxbridge muttered. ‘In squares. Well, they need not have bothered. I’ve too few men left to mount a decent charge.’

Arthur turned to Somerset. ‘I want every gun turned on them. They must not get over the ridge. Ride the line and tell every battery commander.’

‘Yes, your grace.’

As Somerset galloped away Arthur took a deep breath. ‘Here it is, Uxbridge, the deciding moment.’

He looked along the ridge and saw the smoke-grimed faces of his weary men. The artillery, who had been exposed to enemy fire longer than any other arm, had suffered badly. All that remained of some batteries were the smashed fragments of their weapons, while others had lost guns, men and horses. Those still on their feet had been serving the weapons for eight hours and moved with the leaden stagger of men on the verge of collapse. As Somerset went along the ridge warning of the approach of the enemy, those units still in square hurriedly wheeled their sides out to form a line facing the ridge. The surviving guns blasted away, shooting canister into the faces of the French squares. Napoleon’s veterans instantly closed up the gaps, dressed their ranks, and continued forward, as if they were executing a parade-ground manoeuvre. With a rumble, some batteries of enemy horse guns trundled up between the squares and halted to unlimber. The crews had their weapons trained on the ridge and ready to fire in less than a minute.

‘Never seen guns moved so well,’ Arthur marvelled.

They opened fire, targeting the English guns with canister and cutting down their crews. For as long as they could Arthur’s gunners poured their fire into the advancing imperial guardsmen. The two battalions on the right of the French line were marginally ahead of the others, and as they came up to the crest of the ridge Arthur and Uxbridge cantered over to the safety of Halkett’s brigade. The infantry could not see the Frenchmen yet, but the sound of the drums carried to them clearly and they tightened their grip on their muskets and stared grimly ahead.

The tops of the bearskins appeared first, and above them the gold of an eagle atop its standard.

‘Make ready to fire!’ Halkett bellowed and his men advanced their weapons and pulled the hammers back to half-cock.

The front ranks of the first two French squares halted, raised their muskets and quickly fired a volley. Bullets zipped past Arthur and Uxbridge and a dozen or so of Halkett’s men fell.