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Having permitted his officers to reflect on the odds arrayed against them, Arthur continued his briefing. ‘Our latest intelligence reports indicate that the enemy is concentrating at Salamanca. Their forward elements have been probing General Craufurd’s outposts along the Portuguese frontier near Almeida since the first days of March. It is my judgement that Marshal Massйna will attempt to invade Portugal from the north. It is the best route. The alternative direction of attack is from the east, towards Elvas, but the roads there are atrocious. Bad enough for infantry, but impossible for artillery and wagon trains. Accordingly, I have ordered General Hill to march his corps to join the main army.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ General Hamilton interrupted. ‘But that leaves the eastern frontier unguarded.’
‘If you had permitted me to finish,’ Arthur responded coldly, ‘I would have said that Elvas will be defended by General Leite’s brigade. He’s one of the best of the Portuguese officers and I am confident that he will stand his ground - if the enemy should be unwise enough to attempt any attack from the east. The enemy will come from the north. Have no doubt about that. However, before Massйna can invade Portugal he will need to take the fortresses at Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida as they guard the route along which he will advance. General Herrasti, the governor of Ciudad Rodrigo, has written to inform me that he has a strong garrison and plenty of supplies. He can hold out until he is relieved by a Spanish army.’ Arthur smiled. ‘I know we have not had the best of experiences at the hands of our Spanish allies . . .’
Several of the officers who had served at Talavera muttered their agreement.
‘However,’ Arthur continued, ‘they may act with a greater sense of urgency since their compatriots will be in danger. But let us assume the worst. Ciudad Rodrigo will fall. We can only hope that it delays the French advance long enough for us to improve Almeida’s defences. There too we must attempt to delay Massйna, until we have cleared the land in front of the defensive lines at Torres Vedras and completed the fortifications.’ Arthur looked round the courtyard to make sure he had every officer’s close attention. ‘The opening stages of this campaign require us to buy as much time as possible. Every day we can delay the enemy is a day gained for the improvement of our defences. Every French soldier lost in assaults on the frontier fortresses is one fewer that our men will have to face. I will be blunt with you, gentlemen: we ca
‘Our goal is not to lose the campaign. If we achieve that, then we win.’ Arthur smiled sardonically. ‘Though the newspapers and other croakers in England may not be quite so accepting of this definition of victory. Do not expect to be the recipient of fine titles, pensions and other such spoils of war, gentlemen.’
His audience responded with a mixture of smiles and laughter. The newspapers and letters from England that reached the Peninsula were all too full of the opinion that Lord Wellington’s army was doing nothing in Portugal, and the soldiers should be withdrawn.
‘So, I am resolved that we will only fight on advantageous terms. When we come to face Marshal Massйna in battle you will all be required to move your men swiftly so that we may be strong where the enemy is weak, and that we quickly reinforce any points on our line that come under pressure.’ Arthur paused. ‘Any questions, gentlemen?’
One of the officers raised a hand, a stocky man in his early thirties, with piercing brown eyes and an almost completely bald pate.
‘Yes, Colonel Cox?’
‘Have you decided where to face Marshal Massйna, sir?’
Arthur was silent for a moment, wondering if he should take his senior officers into his confidence. If anything should happen to him, then it might be as well for them to know his mind, and adapt to his strategy for facing the enemy. On the other hand, Arthur realised that much as it might benefit them to carry on his plan, they would be handicapped by constantly attempting to pursue his intentions too strictly and thus lack the flexibility that characterised effective leadership. He fixed Colonel Cox with a steady look.
‘I have a location in mind.’
There was a brief, expectant silence, but Arthur said no more.
‘Where might that be, sir?’ Cox persisted.
‘All in good time, Colonel. You will find out soon enough.’
Two days later, Arthur was riding in the company of Somerset and a squadron of light cavalry scouting the landscape north of the Mondego river, the route along which Massйna was likely to advance, once he had disposed of the frontier fortresses. Most of Arthur’s army had already crossed the river and was camped around the town of Coimbra. The officers and men were in high spirits, almost eager to close with the enemy after so many months of waiting in camp, with the unending routine of exercise and drilling that their commander insisted on. Arthur was well aware that the army was spoiling for a fight, but so far Massйna had defied his expectations. The French had invested Ciudad Rodrigo slowly and the latest report from Arthur’s scouts revealed that the enemy had not even begun to dig any approach trenches, or establish any siege batteries. It would be some weeks before Massйna was ready to assault the fortress. The danger was, by that time the English soldiers might have lost some of their edge. The greater danger was that the longer it took for the invasion of Portugal to begin, the greater the chance that the government back in London might lose its nerve and issue orders for the evacuation of Arthur and his army.
As the small party reached the crest of a ridge on the road to Mortбgua they came upon the whitewashed walls of a convent. Arthur turned to Somerset.
‘What is this place?’
Somerset twisted round and fumbled for the map in his saddlebag. Drawing it out he unfolded the map and ran a gloved finger over it.‘Ah, here we are. The convent of Busaco, sir.’
‘Busaco, eh?’ Arthur muttered as he raised a hand to shield his eyes and examined the surrounding landscape. Ahead of him the road crossed the crest of the ridge and then descended along a curved spur. The slopes on either side of the route were covered with copses of pine trees interspersed with heather. To the left the ridge continued for two miles or so to the north before dropping very steeply to the valley floor. To the right the ridge ran almost straight, in the direction of the Mondego, nearly eight miles away. The crest of the ridge hardly varied in height and afforded a clear view along its length.
‘A good position to defend, I’d say.’ Somerset nodded as he gazed round. ‘We’ve a good view of the approaches to the ridge, sir, and any attacker is going to face a pretty tiring approach up the slope.’
‘Yes, so I imagine.’Arthur took another quick look over the position. The steep slopes would cancel out the enemy’s superiority in cavalry since they could neither charge up the rising ground, nor easily flank Arthur’s battle line and fall on the rear. He nodded with satisfaction and then turned back to his aide. ‘Make a note, Somerset.’
Somerset folded his map and tucked it back in his saddlebag before fishing out a pencil and his notebook. ‘Ready, sir.’
Arthur raised his arm and pointed along the ridge to the south. ‘I want our engineers to construct a road along there, in case we have need to move our men along the line to reinforce weak points. The route will have to be cleared of rocks so we can move the guns and ammunition wagons easily. Make sure that the road runs along the reverse slope. No sense in making our men a target for enemy guns.’ He turned to Somerset. ‘Got all that?’