While Somerset rode off with his orders for Hill,Arthur watched the French advance begin. As usual, the three dense columns of the attacking division were preceded by a wave of skirmishers who scurried from cover to cover as they exchanged fire with their British counterparts. As the enemy numbers began to tell, a shrill bugle signal recalled the defenders, and they began to give ground as they made their way back up the ridge. It was clear that the ridge was about to become the most vital part of the battlefield and Arthur decided that it would be best if he was at the heart of the fight, where he could control and inspire his men. He mounted his horse and rode forward to join Hill by the colours of the Twenty-ninth Foot. Besides the colour party, the only men between the officers and the approaching enemy were the skirmishers, and the French artillery was still firing over the attacking columns. Roundshot smashed into the ground, kicking up bursts of earth and stone, and Arthur had to steel himself not to flinch as a ball took the head off a sergeant standing at the end of the colour party line. The body collapsed like a sack of wet sand, the spontoon slipping from the lifeless fingers and clattering on the stony ground. An ensign who had been standing close to the sergeant grimaced as he wiped the man’s blood and brains from his cheek.

‘It might be as well for you to retire to a safer distance, sir,’ Somerset said quietly.

‘No. This will do. Besides, we must all lead by example today.’

General Hill nodded. ‘Aye, sir. The men will expect nothing less.’

The British skirmishers had reached the crest and were falling back to cover. A moment later the French guns ceased fire. Their skirmishers also fell back, between the dense columns climbing up the slope. The colour party, standing defiant on the crest, seemed to act as a beacon, and the centre column of the advancing French division made straight for the handful of redcoats.

Arthur cleared his throat and spoke calmly to Hill. ‘I think the time has come to bring your fellows forward.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Hill smiled and wheeled his horse about. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he bellowed over the crest of the ridge. ‘The brigade will advance, at the double!’