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Book Title: Traitor’s Game
Series: Soldier Spy, Book #1
Author: Rosemary Hayes
Publication Date: 26th September 2024
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Pages: 134
Genre: Historical Fiction
'Right from page one you know you are in the hands of a talented storyteller... An exciting tale of espionage and adventure in the classic mould.'
~ R.N. Morris, author of The Gentle Axe
1808.
Captain Will Fraser has just returned from the Front in the Peninsular War. He is disgraced and penniless, the victim of a conspiracy led by a jealous and influential officer. Fraser has been falsely accused of insubordination and cowardice and dismissed from his regiment.
Fraser and Duncan Armstrong, his wounded Sergeant, arrive in London to seek out Will’s brother, Jack, who works for King George’s Government.
But Jack has disappeared. He vanished from his lodgings a week ago and no one has seen him since. Friends and colleagues are baffled by his disappearance as is the young woman, Clara, who claims to be his wife.
Then Will is viciously attacked, seemingly mistaken for his brother, and only just escapes with his life. When news of this reaches Jack’s colleagues in Government, Will is recruited to find his brother and he and Armstrong set out to follow a trail littered with half-truths and misinformation.
For their task is not quite what it seems.
Will closely resembles his brother and it becomes evident that he is being used as a decoy to flush out Jack’s enemies. These are enemies of the State, for Jack Fraser is a spy and his colleagues believe he has uncovered evidence which will lead to the identity of a French spymaster embedded in the British Government.
Will’s search leads him to France but in this murky world of espionage, nothing is straightforward.
The soldier turned spy must unmask a traitor, before it's too late.
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Author Bio:
Rosemary Hayes has written over fifty books for children and young adults. She writes in different genres, from edgy teenage fiction (The Mark), historical fiction (The Blue Eyed Aborigine and Forgotten Footprints), middle grade fantasy (Loose Connections, The Stonekeeper’s Child and Break Out) to chapter books for early readers and texts for picture books. Many of her books have won or been shortlisted for awards and several have been translated into different languages.
Rosemary has travelled widely but now lives in South Cambridgeshire. She has a background in publishing, having worked for Cambridge University Press before setting up her own company Anglia Young Books which she ran for some years. She has been a reader for a well-known authors’ advisory service and runs creative writing workshops for both children and adults.
Rosemary has now turned her hand to adult fiction and her historical novel ‘The King’s Command’ is about the terror and tragedy suffered by a French Huguenot family during the reign of Louis XIV.
And Traitor’s Game, the first book in the Soldier Spy trilogy, set during the Napoleonic Wars, has recently been published.
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| Read An Excerpt |
Traitor’s Game - Chapter One
‘Bastard!’
Sergeant Armstrong shifted himself up into a sitting position on the deck of the barge.
‘Bastard,’ he muttered again, looking up at Will Fraser, until recently Captain of the Highland Light Infantry, who stood beside him, legs braced against the slurp of the tide, staring down at the grey waters of the River Thames.
Will Fraser dragged his thoughts back to the present. The privations and disgrace of the preceding weeks had taken their toll. His face was pale and drawn but he managed a faint smile.
‘Addressing me, Sergeant?’ he asked.
Armstrong shook his head and rubbed at the stump of his arm. ‘You know who I mean Captain, I …’
Will sighed. ‘Don’t call me Captain.’
‘Can’t help it sir.’
‘Or sir. I’m not an officer.’
‘Are to me sir, always will be.’
Will squatted down beside the Sergeant. ‘How’s the arm?’
‘Gone,’ said Armstrong, glad to see another brief smile cross Fraser’s face. ‘Och, it’s not so bad,’ he went on. ‘I feel a deal better now we’re off that stinking ship.’
The hospital ship bringing the wounded back from Portugal had been a leaky vessel with a belligerent crew. They’d had a miserable voyage.
Soldiers were used to dry land beneath their feet; most of the wounded on the ship had suffered terrible seasickness and many had died on the voyage. And those men still strong enough to voice their opinions had spent what energy they possessed hurling insults at the French prisoners of war sharing the cramped conditions on board.
The vessel had been storm tossed in the Bay of Biscay and further delayed by contrary winds until, at last. it had limped into the Channel and the wounded taken off the ship at Spithead.
After more delay, Fraser and Armstrong, with the rest of the wounded bound for London, had been transferred to one of the large estuary barges. Now that the tide was in they were finally making their way up the River Thames.
Their barge was one of many moving up and down the great river, all sailing low in the water, though theirs carried broken men, not the normal cargo of hay, rubbish, sand, grain or gunpowder.
Will Fraser, however, was not one of these broken men - at least not in body. He had no physical wounds.
Small knots of people gathered on the shore and stopped what they were doing to stare at the barge, the keen-eyed spotting the soldiers’ uniforms. At one place there was quite a large number of folk and they began cheering as the barge sailed past, but none of the men on board responded.
Will looked across at the excited crowd. ‘No doubt they’ll have read the dispatches about the great victory at Vimeiro and the glory of Sir Arthur Wellesley,’ he said bitterly.
‘No doubt sir,’ said Armstrong.
But neither man was thinking of that great victory. Their thoughts were of escape from death, of a rescue condemned as cowardice, and of jealousy and betrayal.
As they sailed further towards the city, the traffic increased and there was much activity along the river. New docks were under construction and trading vessels were loading and unloading their cargoes.
Will Fraser and Duncan Armstrong were from the North of England but there were other soldiers on board more familiar with London.
‘There’s been a good deal of construction these past years,’ said one of them. ‘The new East India docks do a brisk business.’
Aye,’ said another. ‘When our ships blockaded the French ports, Bonaparte told his allies
to stop trading with Britain, but it’s made no difference to trade with the East.’
After they passed Wapping wharf, the river became ever more congested. Will shouted to one of the four crew members who were skilfully steering the barge out of the way of other boats. ‘When shall we be set ashore?’
The man shouted back, over his shoulder. ‘We’ll tie up this side of Blackfriars Bridge, near St Paul’s,’ he said.
At last the crew lowered the sails, manoeuvred the vessel towards the river’s edge and after a lot of shouting and cursing, managed to find a space to tie up.
Armstrong and Fraser watched as some of the more badly wounded men were taken off and loaded onto carts.
The walking wounded gathered by the edge of the water to say their farewells before dispersing, some in groups of two or three, some singly. Now that they were no longer travelling along the water, the stench of the river was more obvious.
‘You’ll be going to your brother’s lodgings, will you sir?’ asked Armstrong.
Will nodded. He looked up at the dull October sky which was already beginning to darken. ‘It’s a good step from here. I should be on my way.’
He picked up his haversack and slung it over his shoulder. ‘And you, Sergeant? You mentioned an inn where you could lodge.’
Armstrong nodded at a group of departing soldiers. ‘They told me of the Haycart in Seven Dials,’ he said. ‘Cheap and not too flea-ridden, by all accounts.’
‘We’ll walk together then. My brother lodges in Drury Lane.’
Will offered to take Armstrong’s haversack, but only received a snarl of refusal in reply.
As they made their way along the river’s edge, past the great Cathedral of St Paul’s on their right, they had to share the street with carriages bowling along and a variety of wagons and carts transporting goods. When at length, they turned away from the river and then West down Fleet Street, the traffic was even heavier, folk heading for their homes or out to seek entertainment, and several times they were shouted at and told to make way.
When they reached Drury Lane, and the address of Will’s brother, the two men stopped. Unthinking, Will held out his right hand to the Sergeant.
‘Nothing to shake that side,’ said Armstrong. He put his haversack down on the ground and held out his left hand. ‘Try this one.’
They stood side by side for a few moments, hands clasped. Armstrong began to speak but Will stopped him. ‘Too much to say, Sergeant,’ he muttered.
‘Aye,’ said Armstrong. Then he picked up his haversack and, without a backward glance, strode off in the direction of Seven Dials.
Will watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight then he shut his eyes and for a moment relived that fateful moment which had ended his career.
If I had my time again, would I have acted differently?
But he knew that, despite everything, he would not - could not - have done so. He swallowed, braced his shoulders and banged on the door in front of him. It would be good to see his brother again.
Pray God that Jack will understand.
There was no response so, after a few minutes he banged again, more forcefully this time, and at last heard the sound of shuffling feet and some muttering from within. Then the door was opened a crack and a woman’s head appeared. She looked Will up and down.
‘Yes?’
Will smiled. ‘I’m Jack Fraser’s brother, Madame. Will Fraser, at your service. Is my brother in?’
The woman came out to stand in the doorway. She was of middle years, neatly dressed and with strong, knowing features. She folded her arms and stared at him.
Slightly discomforted, Will cleared his throat. ‘He will want to see me,’ he said.
She frowned. ‘He’s not here. He’s gone.’
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