Through the rest of the month, and on into February, the officers of both armies met frequently, enjoying their social and sporting events. Arthur kept his distance from such activities as he deemed it inappropriate for the commander of the British army to become involved. It took little imagination to picture the scandal that would result in London if it was reported that Arthur and Massйna had met socially. Accordingly, Arthur limited himself to offering an exchange of newspapers with the enemy general. The pages of the Paris press were filled with accounts of the activities of the imperial court as Bonaparte showed off his new bride to his people and to dignitaries from across Europe. At first Arthur had been surprised by the news of the marriage. Then he realised that the Austrians had little choice in the matter, following their humiliating defeat by Bonaparte at Wagram. Now it was rumoured that Bonaparte might be expecting an heir in the spring. That was ill news, Arthur reflected. If Bonaparte could establish a dynasty then there was no knowing how long his poisonous influence would endure on the continent.
The temperature rose in the first days of March and thick fog and mists lingered over the Portuguese landscape. Arthur rode to the front line to inspect the forts and lost his way several times as he struggled to follow the crude communication roads prepared by the engineers to link them. Most of the forts were garrisoned by Portuguese troops commanded by British officers. The British infantry were in camp a few miles behind the first line, ready to respond to any attack the enemy made. A short distance to the east of Torres Vedras he stopped at a post commanded by an officer in his forties. Colonel Cameron was typical of those who had transferred to the Portuguese army. Previously, he had been a British captain without any useful connections or enough income to buy promotion. By taking the transfer he had rank and a higher income, as long as the war lasted. He saluted as Arthur entered the fort, and Arthur touched the brim of his hat in response. ‘Good day to you. Colonel Cameron, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, sir. My apologies for the lack of protocol, sir.’
‘It is no matter,’ Arthur replied as he dismounted. ‘The visit is informal. How many men have you here, Colonel?’
‘A battalion, sir. Almost at full strength. The lads are in good spirits, though they’d be happier if the Frogs had some fight in ’em and tested our defences.’
‘That decision is down to Marshal Massйna, alas. After Busaco I suspect that he is in no hurry to be repulsed again.’
Colonel Cameron grinned. ‘If he comes, the lads will send him on his way soon enough, sir. They’re game all right.’
He gestured proudly round the interior of the fort and Arthur noted that his men were well turned out and their wooden shelters were neatly set out by companies. Most were clustered around their camp fires quietly talking or cleaning their kit. Up on the ramparts and in the towers those on duty were keeping watch on the dense banks of fog below for any sign of the enemy.
‘Your battalion looks like a fine body of men, Colonel.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Cameron smiled proudly.
‘Anything to report?’
‘Sir?’
‘Have you noticed any sign of any unusual activity by the enemy?’
‘No, sir. In fact they’ve been quiet today. Usually, our pickets exchange greetings in the morning, but there was no sign of them this morning. Either they’ve been ordered to keep silent, or they have been posted further back.’
Arthur felt a vague twinge of anxiety at the colonel’s words. Cameron’s explanations might be sound enough, but the failure to contact the enemy’s pickets could equally well indicate something else.
‘Colonel, I want you to send a patrol towards the French lines. They are not to engage anyone, but keep going until they see some sign of the enemy, then report back.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Somerset!’ Arthur turned round and strode towards his aide. ‘What’s the nearest cavalry unit to here?’
Somerset thought briefly. ‘The Light Dragoons, sir. At Mafra.’
‘Ride to them. I want them out across the lines as soon as possible. They are to confirm the location of the French and report back here at once. And send a messenger to headquarters. I want the order to go out to the army to be ready to concentrate and advance directly.’
‘Yes, sir. But in this fog we’re going to find it hard to manoeuvre.’
‘That may be,’ Arthur conceded. ‘However, if Massйna has stolen a march on us then the army will need to move swiftly to close up on him. Let’s hope that it’s a false alarm and that the French have merely fallen back a short distance. My concern is that Massйna may elude us and retreat to Spain.’
‘Surely, if he retreats, then we have won our victory without having to shed a drop of blood, sir?’
Arthur looked at him sharply. ‘You fail to understand the wider strategy, Somerset. If we allow Massйna to retreat then we merely prolong the struggle. It was my intention to starve his army before our lines and then attack him when I judged that the moment was right. If Massйna has begun to retreat, then that means that his men have reached the end of their endurance. We must not let him escape. We must pursue him and defeat his army utterly. Then we will have a victory that will shorten the war. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. It is important that you grasp the need for speed in our reaction to Massйna’s moves. You must impress that on the commanders of every brigade in the army. Now go.’
Once Somerset had left, Arthur made his way up into one of the watchtowers, together with Cameron. From their elevated position the view over the ground in front of the fort was still obscured by fog, above which only the tops of hills were visible, like great leviathans rising from a milky sea. Arthur strained his eyes and ears but there was no movement, and not even the faintest sounds from the enemy camp. Where he might expect to hear the sounds of horses, farrier’s hammers or the thud of axes, there was silence, broken only by the cawing of crows.
He turned to Cameron.‘I can’t see a thing in this fog. Assemble your Light Company. By the way, do you have a pocket compass?’
‘A compass, sir? Why yes.’
‘Good; we shall need it. Leave word for my aide that we have headed due north. If he returns before we get back he is to follow on and report to me.’
‘Yes, sir.’
A quarter of an hour later Arthur, Cameron and the men of the Light Company filed quietly out of the fort and down the slope of the rise on which it had been constructed. All unnecessary kit had been left behind and each man carried only his musket and ammunition in a haversack. Ten men spread out ahead of the rest of the company as they advanced into the fog, keeping in sight of each other. They advanced cautiously, alert to any sound or movement ahead as they crept over the ground that had been cleared the previous year to deny any cover to the enemy. They had gone perhaps a mile when the grey outline of a burned farmhouse emerged from the fog. The company halted while two men went forward to investigate. They were gone for a few minutes before they returned and reported to Cameron. He listened, nodding, and then translated for Arthur.
‘The farm has been abandoned. There are the remains of a fire there, but it appears to have been built up and then allowed to burn itself out. They left a wagon to burn as well.’
‘A wagon, you say.’ Arthur thought briefly. The wagon might have been awaiting repair, or it might have been abandoned if there were insufficient draught animals to pull it. The fact that it had been burned meant that the enemy did not want the vehicle to fall into the hands of the British. ‘Let’s continue forward.’