Had the defences been properly manned, it would have been virtually impossible to breach them. As it happened, they were more or less deserted. Scrambling over them, the advance guard sent the picquets scurrying away like startled animals. Pioneers laboured strenuously to level some of the ramparts to the ground and it was not long before Marlborough could take his cavalry and a detachment of foot soldiers over them. They dealt swiftly with any resistance and overwhelmed the defenders along a three-mile front, killing them, taking them prisoner or forcing a retreat. The dreaded Lines of Brabant, deemed impassable by the Dutch, had been broken apart with comparative ease. Progress had so far been rapid and largely unimpeded. It was a good omen.

Daniel Rawson was riding beside the commander-in-chief.

'We've put them to flight, Your Grace,' he said.

'They'll be back when they've had time to regroup and call up their reserves,' warned Marlborough. 'We'll be up against a strong French and Bavarian counter-attack. I daresay they'll have some Spanish horse as well.' He allowed himself a smile. 'But it was satisfying to draw first blood.'

'Where will Marshal Villeroi be now?'

'My hope is that he's still in the vicinity of Namur, wondering what happened to the Dutch army threatening his stronghold. By the time he realises that they stole away in the night to support us, it will be too late for him to get here in time.'

'It was a cunning strategy, Your Grace.'

'We've yet to bring it to a conclusion.'

'Do you have any accurate details of their numbers?'

'No, Daniel, but my guess is that we'll have an advantage.'

'Good.'

'If and when Marshal Overkirk gets here, of course, we'll have markedly superior numbers but the fighting may be over by then.'