Schmeiler stared back with a bitter expression, and then nodded, letting his hand slip to his side.Arthur breathed a quick sigh of relief and then leaned down, grasped his opponent’s arm and hauled the Dane to his feet. General Schmeiler bowed his head for a moment and then drew his sword and offered the hilt to Arthur. ‘I surrender. My sword is yours.’

Arthur accepted the ornately decorated weapon with a nod and tucked it under his arm.

‘General Wellesley! Sir!’

Arthur turned towards the voice and saw Stewart striding towards him. He had lost his hat and blood streaked his face from a cut in his scalp, but he was grinning like a madman. ‘We did it, sir!’ Stewart laughed self-consciously. ‘My apologies, General. You did it, sir. The town is yours.’

‘I thank you.’

‘What are your orders, sir?’

‘Orders?’ Arthur forced himself to calm his thoughts. ‘Right. Pass the word to all officers to continue the pursuit only as far as the limits of the town. Have the grenadiers take charge of any prisoners, and weapons collection. Find somewhere for the treatment of the wounded, and let the men know that there is to be no looting. No rape and no drunkenness. Clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh, and one other thing.’

‘Sir?’

‘Send a messenger to Lord Cathcart. Tell him I have the honour to report that the brigade has taken Køge, and that the Danish relief column has been routed. Nothing can save Copenhagen now.’

Chapter 37

The preparations for the siege were completed shortly after Arthur’s brigade returned to the British lines outside Copenhagen. Several batteries had been constructed within range of the city, and the engineers had ensured that the guns would be well protected by great ramparts of earth, fortified with fascines and stout wooden props. Behind the defences the siege guns were hauled into place and stores of powder and shot brought forward by long lines of redcoats sweating under the late summer sun as they toiled along the trenches that zigzagged towards the Danish positions. All of which activity was scrutinised by the defenders of Copenhagen as they helplessly watched their enemies crafting their doom.

There had been one attempt to disrupt the work when a Danish battalion had crept out from the city on a moonless night. Stealing across the open ground they had soon run into British outposts and after a brief skirmish, illuminated by orange flashes of musket fire, the Danes had been forced back having done little more than smash a score of fascines, and inflict a handful of casualties.

When the last of the siege guns was eased forward, and aimed at the outer works of the city, Lord Cathcart nodded with satisfaction as he inspected the biggest of the batteries in the company of his senior officers. In addition to the siege guns there were several peculiar iron contraptions that looked like cooking tripods except that one leg was longer than the others and was angled inside like a length of guttering. After a moment’s reflection Arthur realised that these must be the launch beds for the modest supply of Congreve rockets the army had brought with them from Britain. Sure enough, a small column of men approached carrying the experimental weapons, which looked to Arthur’s eye like large fireworks.

‘Damn fine work.’ Cathcart nodded happily as he leaned forward and squinted down the length of one of the rockets, which was lined up with a church tower the best part of a mile away. In the far distance lay the delicate-looking masts of the fleet that would be the prize of a successful siege. Outside the entrance to the harbour lay the fleet of Admiral Gambier, bottling the Danish vessels up and ready to bombard the city from the sea if necessary.

Cathcart clapped his hands together. ‘Those bloody Danes will have to come to terms now. If not, then we’ll pound their city to dust, and good riddance.’

Arthur cleared his throat and Cathcart turned towards the sound with a frown. ‘D’you have something to say,Wellesley? Speak up.’

Arthur glanced towards the distant roofs of Copenhagen gleaming dully in the sunshine. A faint haze hung over the landscape, adding to the peaceful appearance of the setting. He turned his attention away from the city and looked steadily at his commanding officer. ‘We have been sent here to secure the Danish fleet, my lord.’

‘I know that well enough, thank you. What is your point?’

‘Well, it seems to me that the most prudent course of action would be to do all in our power to take those warships with the least loss of life and damage to property.’

‘Damn it, man.’ Cathcart thrust his hand out towards the Danish warships. ‘There is the fleet, Wellesley. In case you had not noticed, the city lies between us and those ships.We must overwhelm the one to win through to the other.’

‘I agree, my lord.We must have those ships. But we do not want this affair to damage Britain’s reputation unnecessarily. Surely it would be better to try to persuade the Danes to surrender before any more blood is shed? If we can demonstrate that violence is our last recourse then we may yet emerge from this with more credit than we brought into it.’

Lord Cathcart shook his head.‘Do not if and but me,Wellesley.That is no way for a soldier to think. We have our orders and we will obey them to the best of our ability. Now then.’ Cathcart forced a smile. ‘Since you insist on using those terms, then if the enemy can be persuaded to surrender as soon as possible, then so much the better, eh? But if he is resolved to fight, then we must make sure that we crush him without mercy. Then all Europe will know the dreadful price that comes with defying the interests of Britain.’

Arthur thought about this for a moment before responding. ‘You are probably right, my lord. It might well be better to be feared than befriended. ’ He paused and tried to restrain a small smile as he continued. ‘However, I would rather not have our country compared to France in terms of the lessons we teach other nations.We make war as a last resort and even then we should not make enemies if we can avoid it.’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ General Baird snorted.‘War is war. It’s a bloody business. Besides, the Danes have brought this on themselves. They should have given way when they had the choice,Wellesley.’

‘That is so,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But their pride was affronted. Now that they have suffered a number of reverses, and are looking upon the muzzles of our siege guns, they might be more willing to negotiate.’

Cathcart shut his eyes for a moment and breathed heavily, as if struggling to control his temper. ‘Look here, Wellesley, if you think you can talk them round then you are welcome to try. I don’t give a damned fig for their city, but I will do what I can to spare our boys.’

Arthur felt his heart lift at Cathcart’s words. He saluted. ‘I’ll see to it at once, my lord.’