Wellington is obsessed with tiny details, and so respectful of Napoleon's tactics, that he anticipates wide flanking manoeuvres and plans pre-emptive measures against them. Napoleon, by contrast, is a man in ill health. Perhaps unaware of the number of Wellington's true force, delegating responsibility to a level that he has never before adopted. A man of previously great strategies, wearily repeating himself - the best of his army lost in Russia, three years earlier. On the day, Roberts shows us Wellington as the man prepared. The aftermath of Waterloo sees a profound change in both men. Napoleon, wrongly believing Wellington responsible for his exile, becomes bitter and mean-spirited towards the man he once respected. So petty that he even bequests 10,000 francs to Wellington's failed assassin. Wellington, the man actually responsible for Napoleon's continued existence, becomes a somewhat ghoulish collector of Napoleonic ephemera - and spends the rest of his life referencing his greatest battle, either as a 'party piece' or correcting the mistakes of an antagonistic press.

Roberts paints an equally vivid portrait of the environments these two men inhabited. Napoleon, becoming an icon within his own lifetime, invulnerable to criticism - controlling the domestic press. Whilst Wellington is often undone by the actions of his own countrymen - whether it be the leaked dispositions of British troops or Napoleon deriving ceaseless encouragement from his British 'fan club' of Whigs. Ultimately, Wellington seems well aware of his subordinate place in history. And, astonishingly, in the later years of his life, even questions the benefit of Napoleon's removal - over the continuance of the Bourbon thrones. Such is the power of Robert's writing, the reader may ask themselves the same question.