As Arthur composed his report to Richard there was little emotion left in him to celebrate the end of the war. There was no doubt, even in his mind - so resolved to underplay his achievements - that the victories his army had won were as great as any achieved by any British army in India, or beyond. But Arthur was wise enough to realise that when word of Assaye reached London the newspapers there would scarcely believe that such a victory could be achieved against such great odds. Therefore he took great care that his report did not seem boastful or in any way vain. Besides, Arthur felt that there was little to celebrate when so many good men had been killed and mutilated in order to defeat Scindia’s host. At length he completed his account, sealed the document and placed it in the hands of Captain Fitzroy to convey to the Governor General at Calcutta.

While the defeat of Scindia had left Britain the virtual master of the subcontinent, there were still a number of minor threats to deal with. With Scindia out of the way, Holkar assumed the mantle of the handful of rulers still opposed to British rule and he at once demanded that Arthur hand over Scindia’s lands to him. It was a bold threat, but one that Arthur knew he could counter with ease. Such was his reputation, and that of his men, that no Mahratta force dared face them in battle and the conflict with Holkar was marked by a wearying series of small raids and skirmishes that dragged on into the early months of the new year.

Then, early in spring, as Arthur was inspecting one of his sepoy battalions in the glare of the sun, his head began to spin, and his legs buckled under him. He lost consciousness so swiftly as he collapsed on the ground that he had no recollection of it when he came round.

His eyes flickered open and for a moment Arthur’s mind was hazy as he struggled to understand what had happened to him, and even where he was. The room was shaded and overhead a punkah swayed from side to side and stirred the air over his face.

‘Ah, awake at last.’

Arthur turned his head and saw Colonel Stevenson smiling at him from a chair beside the bed. Arthur swallowed and spoke softly. ‘At last? How long have I been here?’

‘Three days.’

‘Three days!’ Arthur repeated in horror. ‘And where is here exactly?’

‘Our supply base at Dimlah, sir.You’re in the hospital.’

Arthur frowned. ‘Was I injured?’

‘No, sir. Bless you, you collapsed. On the parade ground. Surely you recall?’

Arthur shook his head, furious with himself, and ashamed. He struggled to rise and found that it required all his strength merely to prop himself up on his elbows.