‘Close,’ he muttered.

Arthur’s heart was pounding in his chest but he forced himself to keep his expression calm as he arched an eyebrow. ‘But not too close, eh?’

Somerset stared at his general a moment before glancing away and shaking his head.

As soon as the boat thumped up against the base of the quay, Arthur stepped out on to the stone steps and ran to the top. On either side, redcoats were forming up in companies and being led up the streets into Oporto. Arthur and Somerset joined a company of men from the Twenty-Ninth Foot and the small force marched up a wide street, fronted by the counters of fish merchants and chandlers. The windows of the buildings on either side of the street were filled with women fluttering their handkerchiefs and crying out in shrill delight as they caught sight of their liberators.

‘Viva Ingleses! . . .Viva Ingleses!’

Somerset waved back with a broad smile, but Arthur kept his gaze fixed ahead, watching for the first sign of the enemy. But they only encountered more and more of the excited inhabitants as they penetrated further into the city. When they reached the great plaza in front of the cathedral Arthur encountered a colonel of one of the first battalions to cross the river with the Portuguese. His men had occupied the square and were guarding the streets that led into it. In the centre, around a fountain, sat several hundred French prisoners.

‘Hughes! Your report, if you please.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ve got patrols searching the streets, but most of the frogs have gone. They’ve left their sick and injured behind, as well as wagons and supplies. Any Frenchmen we’ve encountered have just fired a shot and fled, or laid down their muskets and surrendered.’

‘Very well.’ Arthur nodded happily. ‘Then I want you to take four of your companies to the east of the city. There’s a track leading down to a convent held by our men. It’s under attack by a French column. Have your men block the track and call on the French to surrender.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘One last thing. Have you found Soult’s headquarters yet?’

‘Yes, sir, over there.’ Hughes turned and pointed to a large building with an ornate facade that stood on one side of the square.‘Seems to be the seat of the local government.’

‘Thank you.’ Arthur and Somerset made towards it, accompanied by the men who had escorted them up from the quay. They entered the building cautiously, but there was every sign that it had been abandoned in a hurry. Bundles of bedding lay strewn across the entrance hall. Paintings that had been stripped from the walls were propped in the corner, Soult’s staff presumably not having time to load them into wagons before leaving. From a balcony on the second floor Arthur had a clear view over the roofs of the city towards the north and east. Beyond the walls he could see the dense column of Soult’s retreating column beneath a pall of dust. There was little sign of an organised rearguard, just a long tail of stragglers and overloaded wagons. For the moment the French were safe. There was no chance of mounting a pursuit until the next day, when the rest of the allied army would have crossed the river. Unlike Vimeiro, there would be no letting the enemy escape,Arthur resolved.This time he would harry the French all the way to the frontier with Spain.

Chapter 57

Throughout the night the people of Oporto celebrated their liberation and pressed food and drink on any redcoats they encountered in the streets. Arthur had paused only long enough to enjoy the meal that was still set for Marshal Soult on the table at the headquarters he had abandoned.Then he had returned to the quay to supervise the crossing of the rest of his army. All through the night, boats continued to ferry the rest of the infantry, the artillery and supplies over to the north bank. The cavalry had been sent upriver to find a crossing and do what they could to harry the enemy before rejoining the main body of the army in the morning.

Late in the night Somerset presented Arthur with the official casualty list.

‘Twenty-three killed, ninety wounded and ten missing at present, sir,’ Somerset read from his notes.

‘Good!’ Arthur responded with relief. Given the risks that had been taken, the cost had been light. Caught by the surprise crossing to the convent, Soult had panicked and abandoned the city, and much besides. So much for the myth of French invincibility, Arthur mused contentedly. ‘What of French losses?’

‘So far, four hundred dead and eighteen hundred prisoners, including the wounded they abandoned in the churches of the city. We’ve also taken twelve guns, two hundred wagons and a store of powder and artillery supplies.’

‘Quite a haul,’ said Arthur. ‘Something for our people to celebrate back home.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset nodded his head towards the centre of the city. ‘And the locals seem rather pleased.’

‘Good. Now we must prepare for the final stage of Soult’s defeat. Send word to every battalion commander. I want their men ready to march at first light. There will be no drinking tonight. No one is excused duties, nor may they leave their formations.’

‘The men won’t like that much, sir. They’ll feel they’ve earned the right to indulge themselves.’

‘Then it is just as well that they don’t have rights,’ Arthur responded tersely. ‘This is an army, not a democracy, Somerset. They will do as I damn well order.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

‘Never mind. Just see to it that the order is given. We cannot afford any delay in our pursuit if we are to make the most of what we have won here today. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Then make sure that every man gets the message.’

The next morning dawned grey and overcast and the first drops of rain began to fall as the British and Portuguese troops tramped out along the road to the east, following the trail of Soult’s corps. Almost from the outset there was clear evidence of the desperate state of the enemy. The British encountered abandoned equipment, scattered along the side of the road. Backpacks, broken muskets, and then the less valuable spoils that had been carried away from Oporto, and the heavier items. In amongst the detritus lay the wounded who had been left behind.At first Arthur gave orders for the enemy injured to be carried back to the city for care alongside his own casualties, but soon there were too many of them to tend to and he cancelled his order with a heavy heart, knowing their likely fate if they fell into the hands of the local peasantry.

The Portuguese people had already suffered much under French occupation and now their torments increased as Soult’s retreating column pressed through their villages.The French soldiers were hungry and made free use of torture on any peasants they suspected of hiding food and drink. As Arthur’s soldiers marched along in the wake of the enemy column, squelching through the mud as they hunched down under the steady downpour, they came across frequent examples of the enemy’s cruelty. Bodies hung from trees. Mothers and infants had been bayoneted or shot in their hovels and young girls raped and left for dead. Villages had been burned so that faint columns of smoke and smouldering remains clearly marked the passage of Soult and his men. As he bore witness to these atrocities Arthur felt his heart grow heavy with a cold rage at the carnage endured by civilian bystanders of the war, and he vowed to do whatever he could to ensure that his own men did not follow the enemy’s example.