Below are the first two chapters of my newest book, Under the Raj.
Chapter One
“Williams”
“Sir!”
“White.”
“Sir”
The sergeant snapped out the names, the staccato rhythm of his roll call echoing across the parade ground. He held a roster in his hand, reading the names of the new recruits without looking up.
“Wellington.”
“Sir!”
The sergeant stopped when he heard the man he called Wellington respond. There was a slight accent to the man’s voice that sounded nothing like the regular ranks of Welshmen, Irishmen and the odd Londoner he was normally expected to train.
“Wellington!” he called again. “Front and center.”
A man wearing the distinctive uniform of British Expeditionary Force stationed in India stepped to the front. He was dark skinned, with fine, almost delicate features, and deep brown eyes. He snapped a smart, well-practiced salute. “Present and correct, sir!”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, boy!” The sergeant was livid. What sort of joke was this, putting some damned native in uniform.
“Sir?” The recruit looked honestly puzzled.
“Name!” Sergeant Springsworth was determined to get to the bottom of this or know the reason why.
The young man stood straight and tall, his parade ground stance putting the other recruits to shame. “Wellington, Seitan Albert Victor. Private first class, Queens Second Brigade India Corps, Sir!”
Something wasn’t right here. The boy sounded as if he was from a good family, his posture was perfect, he knew all the right words. But his face was that of the men who tended the camp’s stock, rather than that of an Englishman.
“So, Private first class Wellington, just what are you doing here?”
Seitan fought to keep from grinning. He was used to this sort of reception. He was lucky with the men in his regiment. When they had come through training, Seitan had quickly won their respect with his knowledge of British military procedure and his skill on the cricket pitch. “My father wanted to buy me a commission, sir, but I told him I did not want any special treatment, sir.”
Springsworth was not believing what this man spouted. A damned black-skinned native trying to pass himself off as an Englishman.
“And who, pray tell, is your father, Private Wellington?”
“Major General Edward Lord Wellington, Third Marquess of Sussex, sir.”
Oh, now here was a peach! Not only was this man trying to pass as English, he had the audacity to imagine himself the son of a peer and an officer to boot. “So, that would make you, what, the future Fourth Marquess?”
This time Seitan didn’t bother hiding his smile. “No sir. Not unless my eight older brothers meet with disaster. My choice was the church or the army. So here I am. Sir.” He added the last as an afterthought.
The sergeant still was not convinced. He slapped his swagger stick against his boot once, twice. “We’ll see about that.” Springsworth turned in a precise military turn and marched three spaces, stopped and turned to face his troops. “Attention! Dismissed!”
The men began to disperse. Before he had a chance to join his comrades, Seitan heard his sergeant call “Wellington! To me.”
Seitan hurried to catch up his superior, and followed him at a quick march to the division commander’s office. The private guarding the door snapped to attention quickly at the sergeant’s approach and had the door opened before the two men reached it.
