Shadow of great britain

Life is like a fable, its value lies not in its length but in its content.

——Lucius Anne Seneca

As night fell, the usually bustling streets were instantly surrounded by a tense and depressing atmosphere.

The gas lamps swayed in the cold wind, and the light and shadow were mottled. The crowds who had lost the sunlight seemed like a herd of out-of-control animals. Their faces and figures could not be seen, only countless shadows rushing in the narrow alleys.

The air was filled with a strong smell of smoke and rust, mixed with the pungent smell of gunpowder and an indescribable fishy smell.

Stones, sticks and broken glass bottles flew across the air like hidden weapons. The sounds of collisions, roars and screams were intertwined. It sounded like Beethoven's "Symphony No. 5 in C minor" - "Destiny" 》.

Bloodstains spread freely on the cobblestone road, weaving a shocking map along the gaps, depicting the cruel path of this disorderly conflict.

Some people fell to the ground and struggled in pain. Their clothes were torn, exposing their bruised and swollen skin after being hit with blunt objects, as well as knife wounds that were deep enough to show the bones.

In the pool of blood, some people had stopped breathing, and their faces were twisted in expressions of extreme pain. Their bodies that had lost their temperature meant that their lives had been ruthlessly taken away at that moment.

The carriage on the street corner was overturned, the horses neighed and fled in terror, and the bloody bodies under the wheels were horrifying.

The shop windows were smashed to pieces, and the goods inside were scattered all over the floor, becoming inconsequential grave goods in this riot.

A street sweeper wearing a single coat and a ragged felt hat dragged his lame leg and walked alone through the streets littered with chaos.

His face was sunken, and his skin took on an unnatural grayish-yellow tone. His originally bright eyes were now covered with a lifeless haze. His body was as thin as a handful of dried bones, and his clothes clung to his sunken body due to sweat and painful struggles.

He faltered, and every step seemed to use up the last bit of strength in his life.

The cold wind at night blew across his sweaty forehead, taking away the precious heat in his body.

He clutched his abdomen tightly with both hands, where the pain was coming from, and every spasm was mercilessly devouring the little life force he had left.

Suddenly, he paused at the corner of the street. A violent feeling of vomiting surged into his throat, and he vomited out liquid as clear as water, mixed with bile. All of this finally made it clear that this was a cholera patient who was terminally ill but could not receive treatment.

Finally, it seemed as if an invisible hand pulled him to the ground. His legs could no longer support him, and he knelt down weakly on the cobblestone pavement, making a dull impact on the deathly silent street. Voice.

There was nothing around him, no doctors or pedestrians, just an empty space surrounding him. He tried to look up to the sky, his eyes flashing with contradictory emotions, the desire for life coexisting with the fear of death.

But in the end, he was relieved. The scavenger showed a smile that seemed to be relieved, used up the last strength in his life to draw a cross on his chest, and finished his last prayer. The heavy eyelids slowly closed, like the setting sun, which could never be reversed.

"Loving Heavenly Father, I deeply feel your great love and mercy. Although I have weaknesses and failures in my life, you have never abandoned me. Now I am about to rest in your presence. Please remain with me at the last moment of my life. Feeling your presence allows me to cross the threshold of death with confidence and joy and enter the wonderful abode you have prepared for those who believe in you.”

Suddenly, he seemed to feel a hint of warmth in his cold hands, as if someone was holding his hand and responding to his expectations.

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. I do not give you as the world gives, so do not let your hearts be troubled or be afraid. I will never leave you nor forsake you. . God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. Today, you will be with me in paradise, Amen."

The scavenger tried his best to open his eyes, but he couldn't see clearly. He could only see a vague outline through the slit of his eyes. He saw that God had a tall nose and no wings, but Has a pair of slightly red, shining eyes.

The scavenger's body gradually hardened, and only a smile that he had never seen before in his life was left at the corner of his pale and purple mouth, which froze in front of Arthur's eyes. The scavenger's hand slipped from Arthur's hand, and his death words exuding heartfelt joy echoed in the streets.

"Lord, I praise you."

The police officers who were following Arthur fell silent when they saw the scene in front of them. Cholera patients, who were often avoided in the past, no longer seemed so scary at this time.

What they experience more is a kind of discomfort, a kind of regret, a kind of regret and regret that they are unable to face the pessimistic reality.

Arthur looked at the scavenger who fell in front of him, then turned around and looked at the police team behind him. None of the more than thirty tough-minded men dared to look at him.

"Gentlemen."

Arthur's voice attracted their attention, and everyone looked at his red eyes.

"That's why we're here now."

Arthur got on his horse, raised his whip and said, "We must restore order as soon as possible at all costs."

"As you command, sir!"

Arthur tightened the reins, and the horse raised its hooves and neighed: "Before things get completely out of control, we will win the greatest victory with the smallest sacrifice! March towards the Tower of London!"

Under the rising full moon, Agares stood on the spire of the clock tower and stared at the back of Arthur leading the police team away.

The red devil put on his glasses and turned over the parchment in his hand, which was filled with obscure devilish language. He gently picked it up with his fingertips, and saw the uncontrolled quill flying on the parchment roll and hastily listed a few calculations. The solution to this difficult problem made him frown while he couldn't help it. A hint of a smile appeared.

The red devil stroked the red-eyed raven standing on his shoulder and whispered: "This is a fatal situation, Arthur, I have warned you long ago. If you want to escape, the price will not be cheap."

…

The city of London tonight is destined to be filled with legends.

A carriage coming from the north passed through this messy street. From the window of the carriage, Oxford priest John Newman looked at the shocking devastation and the corpses lying on the street one after another. He pressed his hand on the Gospel His hands couldn't help but tremble slightly.

He muttered: "Almighty Lord! Can you tell me what exactly happened here?"

The driver of the car turned blue with fright at this picture of hell on earth. He asked tremblingly: "New...Mr. Newman, I think we should go back tonight? In London, It doesn’t seem to be peaceful.”

When Newman heard this, he reached out and put his hand on the coachman's shoulder: "Jenkinson, I can't force you to conquer your fear, so I agree to your leaving. But I will not leave. As a messenger of God, God Always teach me that where there is suffering, that is where I will go.”

"Mr. Newman?"

Newman stepped out of the carriage, dragging his cassock with him, and walked alone: ​​"I will preach the gospel of my Lord to the lightless places."

…

"Damn it! Louis, are you okay? Did you learn anything serious at the Swiss Military Academy? You still have the nerve to say that you are qualified to be the commander of the French artillery and lead them to form positions?! "

In a box at the Astley Amphitheatre, Alexandre Dumas knocked down the Scotland Yard officer who rushed towards him with one punch, then turned and roared at Louis, who was in a stalemate with another officer.

Louis was stimulated by Alexandre Dumas and kicked the police officer in the abdomen, pushing him to the wall and unable to get up again.

Louis wiped the blood on his mouth and spat: "Damn it! Alexander, you have to give me some time so that I can recall the close combat skills taught to me in school."

Miss Rabe held her son in her arms and squatted in the corner, looking with horror at the two artillerymen in front of her who represented France's highest combat effectiveness. She never expected that Alexandre Dumas's first reaction after coaxing her to untie the rope with sweet words was to go and have a fight with those amiable police officers.

Miss Rabe screamed: "Alexander! That's enough! Look what you are doing? These police officers are all good people. If you have any problems, can't you discuss it with them in a good voice?"

"discuss?"

Dumas widened his eyes and replied: "Caterina, you stupid woman! Do you know who they are? They are the police! You have only been here a few days, have you forgotten the conduct of the police so quickly? Here Although it is not Paris, when it comes to the conduct of the police, London and Paris are the same! I once thought I could make friends with the police, but it turns out that I was wrong! It is impossible for good people to become police officers, no matter how they behave How gentle and gentle, but at the critical moment, they will always reveal their true nature, and we can never imagine that these damn cops will stand on the side of the people!"

Louis loosened his blue wrist that was strangled by the rope, and suppressed his anger and asked: "Alexander, are you just going to show off your power to women? If you are good enough, don't we have to do it now?" Do something?"

Alexandre Dumas spat on the ground: "Of course! I have to go find him to settle the accounts! Arthur, damn, this bastard!"

Dumas had just finished getting angry when the door of the box was suddenly pushed open.

Louis, who was standing by the door, was about to stretch out his fist to punch the person, but when he saw the target clearly, his fist stopped suddenly.

"Mr. Dickens? And, Mr. Tennyson?"

Dickens and Tennyson were startled by the scene in the box. They asked: "Mr. Bonaparte, Alexander, can you two tell us what is going on here?"

Louis and Alexander looked at each other. Alexandre Dumas rubbed his hair and lied impatiently: "As you can see, a group of people broke into the box and wanted to kidnap Louis and me. But fortunately The two of us were strong enough to fight, so we drove that group away. Do you know where Arthur is? We plan to talk to him about this matter."

Tennyson exclaimed after hearing this: "Is everything in the newspaper true? Is France really behind the recent turmoil? The French July Monarchy not only incited tonight's street riots, but also planned to send people Tie you two back?"

When Miss Rabe heard this, she immediately said: "Two gentlemen, don't listen to Alexander, he is sick again!"

"You are the one who is sick!" Alexandre Dumas took out the gun from the waist of the unconscious police officer: "Am I, Alexandre Dumas, a man who can be restrained by a woman?"

Louis defended Alexandre Dumas on the side: "I guarantee that Alexander is not sick. Even if he is sick, I can control him. You two just said there was a street riot? At this time, as his secretary, I can't stay away from him. . From a duty perspective, he and I share life and death."

Dickens took a look at the situation in the room, then glanced at Alexandre Dumas who was loading his pistol, and suddenly asked: "Alexander, tell the truth, what are you going to do?"

However, before Dumas could answer, Officer Tom's voice came from the corridor: "Everyone, everyone! I just received a telegram from the local police station to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters. Superintendent Hastings requested , Sergeant Frank led the odd-numbered police officers to stay at the Astley Theater, and the plural-numbered police officers came out collectively to follow me towards the Tower of London for reinforcements!"

"Tower of London?" Louis heard the name of this place and chewed the bottle of gunpowder with his teeth: "Come on, Alexander, let's go there too!"

After hearing this, Alexandre Dumas stepped out without hesitation, but before he could put his head out, he felt something tugging at the back of his clothes.

Alexandre Dumas turned around and saw that the person grabbing his clothes was none other than his son who vowed to teach his father a lesson.

Dumas looked a little afraid of his father. He looked back at his frightened mother, swallowed and stiffened his neck and asked his question: "Dad...Dad, what are you going to do?"

Alexandre Dumas pulled his clothes and freed himself from his son's restraints. He patted Dumas on the face and said: "Boy, I want to go to the revolution. Learn more from your father. You are still far behind!"

…

London 1, Apsley House.

The white-haired Duke of Wellington put on his military uniform again today. In the heavy rain on the streets of London, the veteran who once stood side by side with Napoleon on the battlefield skillfully climbed onto his mount.

In front of his mansion, several generals from the Waterloo period were already waiting here.

The Duke of Wellington held the reins, looked at the fires burning in the sky, and asked, "How is the situation now?"

Viscount Henry Harding bowed his head slightly in return.

"Thugs causing trouble near the Woolwich Arsenal in Greenwich are being suppressed by the Royal Horse Regiment of Horse Artillery and the Royal Artillery, which are stationed near the Arsenal. The Royal Horse Artillery has four companies and the Royal Artillery. There are 4 battalions with a total of 32 artillery companies. Not to mention this ragtag group of people, even Napoleon's Old Guards cannot withstand a salvo of so many guns. If the social impact issues and With the destruction of city streets, these rebels have already been blown up to the sky. Your Excellency, you see..."

Upon hearing this, the Duke of Wellington raised his hand and interrupted: "Cannon fire is not allowed unless it is absolutely necessary. I don't plan to use Napoleon's experience in London yet."

"Understood, Your Excellency."

Having said this, the Duke of Wellington asked again: "Where is the Metropolitan Police Department? Are they in charge of Mayfair?"

General Murray on the side continued: "The Metropolitan Police responded quickly. After the riots, they immediately began to gather police forces and send reinforcements in all directions. After the Woolwich Arsenal was surrounded, the Metropolitan Police responded quickly. Chang Luowan immediately led the mounted police troops towards Greenwich. They are currently driving away the rioting crowd hiding there in the streets and alleys of Central Street. In addition, due to the narrow roads in the East District, it is not conducive to the deployment of the cavalry troops, so they are currently in traffic. Handled by Scotland Yard.

As for the demonstrators in Mayfair, based on the principle of proximity, they were all handled by the 'Piccadilly Butchers' Guards Cavalry Regiment stationed in Hyde Park. They deployed one company each in Oxford Street and Baker Street, and two companies were left in reserve as a reserve. We can take them out now if you need them. "

The Duke of Wellington looked up to the east, which was the direction of the Tower of London. He smelled an unusual smell in the smoke-filled air: "To be honest, I hate this feeling of being led by others. . Since they dare to choose the location of the decisive battle here, they should be well prepared."

Henry Paget, Marquess of Anglesey, took the reins and nodded slightly: "They probably want to drag us into the Tower of London just like you dragged Napoleon into Waterloo. From a safe perspective, I suggest waiting a little longer. Wait, it's best to gather more troops. The Tower of London is garrisoned by the Tower Guards and the 2nd Guards Infantry Regiment 'Coldstream', and it shouldn't fall for a while. We only need to wait for another twenty minutes, and we will Reinforcements were received from four more companies of cavalry, the 3rd Dragoons, 'The Old Canaries', and the 7th Dragoons, 'The Guards of the Virgin Mary'."

Upon hearing this, Wellington took out the pocket watch on his chest and took a look: "Paget, you know my temper. You have been a cavalry commander for so long and have experienced Waterloo, so I will only give you fifteen minutes." time."

…

On the banks of the Thames, a silent and tough fortress stands on the other side of the river.

Under the night sky, the Tower of London stands motionless, like a calm and thoughtful bystander, silently recording the most intense chapter in this country's journey towards the future.

This castle was built by William the Conqueror after he captured England in 1066. It has withstood the test of more than 700 years, and its internal architecture also illustrates its importance to the country, including the treasury, the Royal Mint, and the Royal Ordnance. The location of the library and the prison of the nobles.

Once this place falls, no one knows how many variables will arise in the already turbulent situation.

The ancient stone wall looked more eerie and solemn in the moonlight. A group of ravens were carving the ink-colored feathers under their armpits while watching the demonstrators holding torches under the city wall.

The watchman standing at the top of the Tower of London can clearly overlook the pulse of the entire city that is beating violently through the weathered stone windows.

In the distance, crowds of people were surging in the streets of London. They held torches and chanted various protest slogans for reform and riots. A mixture of anger and hope filled the air.

Dots of firelight illuminated their angry faces. Amidst the crowds of people, you could occasionally catch a glimpse of a few shabby flags flapping in the wind.

On the streets, chaos and order were at odds with each other, and the rioting crowd collided with the guards maintaining order.

In accordance with ancient customs and royal rituals, the Tower of London Guards, still wearing medieval armor and holding high shields and spears, were almost drowned in the sea of ​​rioting crowds. Stones, beer bottles, wooden sticks, butchering knives, and all sharp objects were thrown into the crowd. Non-sharp weapons were thrown at them.

The guards could not withstand the onslaught of the crowd, so they had to form a shield wall and retreat step by step. But soon, only a few gunshots were heard, and along with a burst of fire, someone in the guard's shield wall was shot and fell to the ground.

A hole was opened in the shield wall, and the originally solid formation was instantly shattered by the swarming rioters.

Even if the commander shouted: "Keep formation, stick to discipline!"

But the collapse of morale has brought about an irreversible reverse. In this battle with no sign of victory, it is impossible for the Guards to show the fearless courage to deal with the French.

Upon seeing this, the members of the guard stationed on the wall of the Tower of London glanced at the English longbow at hand, then at the flintlock musket beside them, and finally turned their attention to the commander.

Everyone understood the meaning of this look. They were waiting for the commander to make the final decision.

The captain of the guard looked at the flood of demonstrators and the idlers who wanted to squeeze in through the gate, gritted his teeth and said: "Draw the bow!"

When the guard members heard this, they felt disappointed and relieved.

They drew their bows and arrows, aiming at the rioters in the audience.

"put!"

With a command, the flying arrows splashed down like tonight's heavy rain, followed by bursts of screams of arrows, and the blood flowed freely and merged with the black rain, melting under the dark night. As one body.

Sticks, butcher knives, torches, armor, long bows, all of these seem to drag people back to memories hundreds of years ago, as if today is not the 19th century, but the 11th century, and this is not London, but 1066. Hastings, the battle for the throne of England that broke out between William the Conqueror and Harold II.

Seeing that the momentum of the rioters was suppressed, in an instant, fire broke out among the rioting crowd, and dozens of black projectiles flew to the top of the Tower of London, instantly taking the lives of many Guardsmen.

Blood blossomed on their faces, and painful screams rang through the night. Many people covered their faces and fell to the ground in pain.

When the rioters saw this, they burst into cheers.

The leading musketeer was also loading the gun while boosting morale: "Don't be afraid! Rush in, as long as we get the gun, we will soon be able to achieve our pursuit and goal in London!"

But before he could finish his words, another gunshot rang out.

The Musketeer felt his heart tighten, and then a mouthful of blood spurted out of his mouth. In the darkness, he could not see anything, he could only hear the sound of running horses' hooves and the sound of horse boots advancing in unison.

"I am Arthur Hastings, and all patrol officers under the Metropolitan Police Department obey my orders. The rioters carry a large number of firearms. For the sake of self-defense, police members are allowed to fire without restriction and suppress the demonstrators here immediately!"