‘You do that,’ Cathcart replied flatly and turned away as he raised his telescope and examined the Danish defences.
Arthur galloped back to his brigade headquarters and hurriedly briefed Stewart.
‘If anything happens, you will take command of the brigade.’
‘Yes, sir. Be careful.’
Arthur stared at him a moment as he sensed the man’s sincerity, and then bowed his head. ‘Thank you, Stewart. Now you have your instructions. I will need an officer to carry a flag of truce. Also I want General Schmeiler brought forward.’
‘Schmeiler?’
Arthur nodded. ‘I have a feeling he may prove useful.’
Stewart saluted and strode off to carry out his instructions leaving Arthur staring out of his tent flaps towards Copenhagen, shimmering in the heat. He reached down and unbuckled his sword, and laid it down on his campaign desk. Now that he was about to approach the Danish lines unarmed and with just one of his men, Arthur felt the first cold tingle of fear trace its way up his spine. At once he was furious with himself for the unworthy sentiment, and forced it from his mind. A general simply could not afford to succumb to such moments of weakness. He drew a cloth from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his brow before pressing his cocked hat firmly down over his crown.Taking a deep breath, he strode out into the sunshine and called for his horse.
Shortly before noon, the three men rode out from the British lines, down the turnpike leading towards Copenhagen. Arthur rode a short distance ahead. To his left a young ensign bore a white flag aloft, gently waving it from side to side in the breathless air to ensure that the Danes would see that it was a flag of truce that he carried. To Arthur’s left, General Schmeiler sat erect, a strained expression on his face. He had cracked some ribs when he had crashed to the ground back in Køge and was in some pain as his horse walked slowly forward.
They passed between the last of the British outposts and emerged into the open ground between the two armies. The air was still and a slight haze wavered off the dried track in the distance.The hooves of the horses scraped and clopped as the saddlery creaked under the three riders. Now and then one of the horses snorted or ground its teeth on its bit. As they approached the Danish outposts several of the militiamen emerged from shelter, holding their muskets at the ready.
‘General Wellesley,’ Schmeiler said softly.‘What is to prevent me from joining my countrymen when we reach their lines?’
‘Just your word of honour.You have given your parole and I will not release you from it until this conflict is over.’
Schmeiler eased his mount forward until he was alongside Arthur. ‘And then you will release me?’
‘Of course. What would be the point of holding you prisoner any longer than was necessary? As I explained, we are here for your fleet and nothing more. Once France is defeated the warships will be returned to Denmark.’
‘So you say.’
‘So I mean.’Arthur looked at the Danish general.‘You have my word on it.’
They continued forward until they were no more than fifty paces from the nearest of the militia.Then one of them, a junior officer, raised his hand and shouted to the three riders.
‘He says we are to halt,’ muttered Schmeiler.
Arthur reined in. ‘Would you be kind enough to explain that I wish to speak to the senior officer of the gallant defenders of Copenhagen.’
Schmeiler translated the request and after a further brief exchange the officer saluted and trotted off towards the nearest redoubt. A moment later Arthur saw him emerge on horseback from behind the earthworks and gallop off towards the town a quarter of a mile beyond. They waited patiently in their saddles as their mounts ambled towards the grass growing along the side of the turnpike and lowered their heads to feed. Arthur turned to Schmeiler.
‘It is a shame that Denmark does not join us in the fight against Bonaparte. Surely you must see the danger he poses to us all?’
‘Of course. But what can we do about it? Denmark is a small nation. Our army is no match for soldiers of France, or Britain for that matter, as I have discovered. If we defied the Emperor he would swallow us up in a matter of days. So we bide our time, and attempt to keep out of the wars of greater nations. Now you have brought war to us and we find ourselves caught between Britain and France without even the consolation of making a friend out of an enemy’s enemy.’
‘What’s that?’ Arthur looked at the Dane sharply.
‘Copenhagen is besieged by Britain and Denmark is besieged by France. Before I encountered your brigade, I had just been informed that a French army was massing on our border. I think their intention is clear enough. They mean to let you weaken our defences before marching on your rear, and taking Copenhagen the moment they have dealt with you.They could arrive within a week.Ten days at the most.’
Arthur nodded towards the militiamen watching them closely from a short distance away. ‘Did you say anything about the column to that officer?’
‘No. I will save it for his commander.’
Arthur felt his pulse quicken.This was bad news indeed and made it essential that the Danes surrender as soon as possible. He cleared his throat and continued calmly. ‘It would seem that Denmark faces a choice of giving way to us, or to France. I need not tell you that the consequences of the latter option are far more dire than permitting Lord Cathcart to remove your warships. Once we have those there is no purpose to our remaining on Danish soil. I doubt the French would leave your country quite so readily.’
Schmeiler thought on this a moment and then nodded slowly. ‘I think you are right.’
‘Then can I count on your assistance in helping to persuade the commander of the Copenhagen garrison to lay down his arms?’
‘I will not go that far,’ Schmeiler replied.‘But I will present your case fairly.’
‘Thank you.’
A quarter of an hour later a small party of horsemen reined in a short distance from Arthur and his two companions. Some were dressed in civilian clothes and one, their leader, wore a gaudy uniform. He saluted Arthur as he approached, and then frowned as he saw General Schmeiler. He addressed the latter sharply and there was a brief exchange before he turned his attention back to Arthur.
‘Sir, I am General Peymann, commander of the garrison. Whom do I have the honour of addressing?’
‘Major-General Sir Arthur Wellesley at your service, sir.’ Arthur touched the brim of his hat.
Peymann eyed him appraisingly.‘Is it true that your brigade defeated a division of regular troops?’
‘Why, yes, sir.’ Arthur sensed Schmeiler flinch at his side and decided it would be best to spare the man as much embarrassment as he could. ‘But only after a stiff fight, sir.Your compatriots did all that they could before yielding to my men.’
‘I am gratified to hear that,’ Peymann responded flatly. ‘Though it would have been better if our men had fought with more zeal. I can assure you that the defenders of Copenhagen will fight with rather more heart than General Schmeiler and his men.’
‘I have no doubt of that,’ Arthur replied politely. ‘I am sure that they are all good patriots. Like any man who volunteers for the militia. Be that as it may, they are up against regular soldiers, the best trained infantry in Europe. Our fleet anchored off the approaches to your harbour is manned by the victors of Trafalgar. Sir, there can only be one result if you should make the tragic mistake of opposing our demands. Admiral Gambier’s fleet will bombard Copenhagen.Thousands will die and many fine buildings will be crushed to rubble. Then the army of General Cathcart will storm the city.You know the rules of war, sir. If you fail to come to terms with us before the assault begins then our men will be fully within their rights to sack Copenhagen and take what, and whom, they like.’