Chapter 415: Non-Standard Hero, Non-Standard Reactionary (5K4)

There is no peace for those who are kings.

——Shakespeare's "Henry VIII"

When your head is submerged in dirty muddy water, when your ears are stained with straw on the roadside, when the boiling blood in your heart flows along the wound, when such a moment comes, what will you think of?

Is it fear, is it mania, is it sadness that I am about to say goodbye to my family and friends, or is it that I want to take another look at the world.

No, neither.

Arthur just felt strangely peaceful.

He was so peaceful that he could distinguish every sound that came into his ears.

It was the dripping of rain, the landing of horse hooves, the knock of the stick of civilization on the skull, and the roar of Tom and Tony at the top of their lungs, just like the roar of the locomotive on the railway.

He was very peaceful, so peaceful that he could see or think of many things. He saw all twenty-one riots that broke out across London that night, and saw many things that preceded the riots.

Let me ask you, is there anything in the world that is more bizarre than the initial riot before the riot?

Everything exploded at the same moment.

Was this foreseeable?

Yes.

Is this ready?

no.

Where did this originate?

Street center.

Where did it fall from?

cloud.

The riot that took place here was of a conspiratorial nature, but there it was launched on the spur of the moment.

The first person to discover this can seize the common trend of the masses and lead them to follow him.

At first, their hearts were filled with panic, but also mixed with a terrifying sense of elation.

At first, there was a lot of noise, shops were closed, and the goods on display were picked up and removed by the rioting crowd, and then disappeared.

Then there were scattered gunshots, pedestrians running, and the sound of gun butts hitting large car doors on the street.

People heard some maids laughing and saying in the yard behind the gate: "It's really lively now."

In Covent Garden Market, about 20 young men with beards and haircuts entered a cafe and walked out immediately, holding a horizontal three flags and a tricolor badge on their hats. Their three leaders were all armed, one had a command knife, one carried a rifle, and the remaining one held a spear.

In the alley of Tower Hamlets, there was a neatly dressed bourgeois man with a slender belly and a gold watch in his arms. His voice sounded loud, his hair was sparse, and his black beard looked like a seal. He separated it to the left and right as hard as a stick, and he took out a roll of something from his pocket, which looked like banknotes. There were also boxes of bullets and gunpowder piled around him. The servants were openly distributing these funds and bullets to Young people passing by.

On Central Street in Greenwich, shirtless blacksmiths walked down the street holding a black flag. The afterglow of the setting sun shone on their flag, illuminating the slogan they wrote on the flag: "Give us no freedom." , then we choose death.”

An antique shop on Regent Street was broken into by the crowd, who took away several Turkish scimitars and flintlock muskets lying on the table. And through the bright glass of the shop, you can still see the body of a mason who was killed lying there.

On the south and north banks of the Thames, at St. James's Palace and Buckingham Palace, at the gates of the Houses of Parliament and the Court of Chancery, at the Town Hall and the Police Station, in the surrounding town markets and stations, there are countless panting people, including workers and others. Students, some small businessmen, and some illiterate people who could not read all twenty-six letters, held up today's "The Times" and read out their slogan: "We want the parliamentary reform to be passed."

Everyone is shouting this, even if some of them don’t even know what parliamentary reform is about. They don't understand it, and they don't need to understand it, but they want the reform to pass.

They smashed street lamps, untied the horses, dug up paving stones, pried off house door panels, uprooted trees, searched cellars, rolled wine barrels, and piled stones, stones, furniture and boards as roadblocks to block the advance of suppression. Their troops and Scotland Yard officers.

"Arthur, Arthur!"

Arthur turned his head and saw red-eyed Tom and Tony pushing away the chaotic crowd and rushing toward him like two out-of-control beasts.

In this meaningless struggle, almost everyone lost, and they were no exception. But, luckily, their wounds were shallower than Arthur's.

The bruised face, the swollen back of the hand from being hit by the stick, the blood overflowing from the scratch at the corner of the eye. For the two Scotland Yard patrol officers, they have long been accustomed to such minor injuries.

Because they knew that no matter how badly they were beaten by thugs in an alley, as long as they could hold on until the newly recruited college police officer named 'Arthur Hastings' came to the scene, he would definitely reach out. His scholarly hands saved them from the darkest abyss.

"Arthur!" Tom's eyes were red and bloodshot, and he was breathing heavily and yelling, as if he wanted to cheer Arthur up with his voice: "You lie down and don't move, we will send someone right away. Go find a car and I'll take you to the doctor right away."

"Don't be stupid, Tom."

Arthur's face was pressed against the cold stone bricks, and he felt something warm spreading from his chest to his jaw: "It's not a big deal, there will always be people falling along the way. It's just luck this time No, it happened to be me who fell."

Tony could no longer suppress his emotions when he saw the blood stains on Arthur's uniform spreading more and more. Water drops dripped down his chin. He knelt down beside Arthur and roared: "You bastard! Do you know what you are saying? You are going to die!"

Arthur wanted to turn his head to look at Tony, but he didn't even have the strength to turn his head. He could only smile: "I am not dead, I just changed a way to live. Live towards death, do you know its meaning? When you are infinitely close to death, you can deeply understand the meaning of life. If I am dying, it is because I hope you can all live. Tom, Tony..."

Tom and Tony knelt down on the ground, they lay on the ground, trying to let Arthur see their faces clearly.

Arthur saw the faces of these two old friends, and couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile from the heart: "Please live in the kindest way you know. I died in the dark, but I hope that when we meet again, I can see the light when I open my eyes..."

The heavy eyelids slowly fell, like the bronze door that was forever closed in the desert temple. No one can appreciate the beautiful and glorious past of the temple anymore. It will eventually become a dusty memory that will be erased and smoothed over time.

"Arthur, Arthur!"

Tony held Arthur in his arms. The warm blood and gradually cold body, the painful howl startled the flocks of ravens on the top of the Tower of London: "Ah!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

In the streets not far away, the old duke on horseback and wearing a cloak was watching here. Behind him, there were countless guards.

The Marquis of Anglesey, who was with him, saw this scene and just took a deep breath: "Scotland Yard suffered heavy losses tonight. Unfortunately, they just lost a general."

The Duke of Wellington, who witnessed the cause and effect, was silent. He looked at the wounded rolling on the ground and the shops on the street that had long been unrecognizable. On the other side of the Thames, there was a raging fire.

The Duke suddenly said, "I often tell you that the most painful thing in the world is to lose a war. But do you know what the second most painful thing in the world is?"

The Marquis of Anglesey and Viscount Harding looked at each other, and none of them knew the answer.

The old Duke pulled the reins, turned his horse's head and said, "The second most painful thing in the world is to win a battle."

The generals saw the Duke of Wellington turning his horse's head and said in surprise, "Sir, are you... going to retreat?"

The Duke of Wellington rode on his horse and waved his hand with his back to the generals, "Not retreating, but as Officer Hastings said, I plan to go in another direction. He proved his loyalty to this country with his life, and he deserves the honor of adopting the reasonable suggestions of loyal people."

The generals couldn't help looking at each other when they heard this. They hesitated for a while, but when they saw the Duke's figure gradually going away, they finally roared and followed.

"The cavalry should give up the pursuit and help the police officers drive away the mob!"

The gunmen ambushing in the hotel room could not help but be stunned when they saw this scene. They scratched their heads and finally could only spit and cursed in a low voice: "Damn it! He actually escaped."

In the alley next to the hotel, a gospel fell to the ground with a bang.

John Newman looked at the crying police officers surrounding Arthur in front of him and the wounded and corpses on the ground, and his body could not help but tremble. Every word seemed to have exhausted his life's strength. This was the gospel he was going to preach.

"Who has believed our report? To whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?

He grew up before the Lord like a tender shoot, like a root out of dry ground. He had no form or majesty; when we saw him, there was no beauty that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He was despised, as one from whom men hide their faces, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; but we esteemed him as a punishment from God, smitten by God.

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

We all like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed and suffered, yet he did not open his mouth. Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. mouth.

He was taken away by oppression and judgment, and as for his generation, who considered that he was stricken, cut off from the land of the living, for the transgression of my people?

They made him a grave with the wicked, with the rich, though he had done no violence, and no deceit was in his mouth.

Yet the LORD was pleased to crush him, to put him in pain. The LORD makes him a sin offering. He will see his offspring and prolong his days. The pleasure of the LORD will prosper in his hands.

He will see the travail of his soul and be satisfied. By the knowledge of his righteous servant many will be justified, and he will bear their iniquities.

Therefore I will give him a portion with the great, and a division with the strong. Because he poured out his soul to death, he was numbered with the transgressors. He bore the sin of many, but he interceded for the transgressors.

Holy! Holy! The LORD of hosts!

Holy! Holy! The Savior, the Great Prophet, the Messiah! "

And beside a carriage on the corner of the street, Tennyson, who had just witnessed this shocking scene, couldn't help but burst into tears. It wasn't until this moment that he understood the meaning of what Arthur once said to him.

——I would rather you not become a great poet. All the poems about heaven have been written by priests, so poets can only describe hell.

And now, here and now, is his hell.

Turbulent emotions filled Tennyson's brain. The inspiration he had been seeking for more than a year but had no response received a warm resonance at this moment.

Tennyson only felt countless repressed emotions accumulating in his chest, as if he could be gutted at any time and taken to the most painful hell.

"Many worlds, many things to do,

Catching the wind in this life is destined,

How do I know it’s not other worlds that need you?

Because you are strong as you are innocent.

The fame I foresaw was yours is gone,

Your head misses the crown of earthly flowers,

But I do not curse nature, nor do I curse death,

Because nothing deviates from the laws of nature.

We are just passing by, that small road of human life

Overgrown with creeping grass, or eventually thorns,

In endless years,

What kind of reputation can be left to human behavior?

It depends on God.

Oh, the empty phantom of fading fame,

The moment completely fades and the soul is ecstatic,

It strives to gather great strength,

Only with this power can it be possible to forge the name of humanity. "

Vomiting out a mouthful of blood, Tennyson still had tears in the corners of his eyes. He looked at Arthur who had quietly closed his eyes. At this time, he just wanted to stop talking and take another look at his friend, but he couldn't help but He could no longer refuse famous articles.

"In the eyes of those persistent viewers,

The face of the deceased sometimes shows,

A kind that was difficult to detect before,

Family similarity:

Likewise, my dear, now your brows are cold,

I also recognize clearly who you are,

I understand that you are like those wise men who have passed away,

And they are of the same lineage as the ancient masters.

But there is something beyond my sight,

And I can't speak clearly about the place I can see clearly.

I won’t talk about it either, because I understand,

Death wants to use you to make his darkness beautiful. "

Dickens leaned weakly against the carriage. His legs were weak and he could not even stand. His brain was in chaos, and the tears almost suffocated him.

"Being ungrateful to your first benefactor in early life, the creator of life's luck, should be punished. Never break four things in your life: trust, relationship, promise and heart. Because when they are broken, nothing will happen. Any sound, but it was incredibly painful. Now, I see trust, relationships, and promises reunited, but my heart is broken.

There are indeed dark shadows on the earth, but in comparison, the light should be stronger. People should be kind, but not so stupid that others can fool them. When encountering something, they should analyze and discuss it in detail with the person they trust most. Arthur, you are right, life is a story, and now, how I hope you can continue to write this story. "

Dickens fell to the ground weakly, his whole body was weak, and the hat he had treasured for a long time fell into the puddle, soaked with water and covered with mud.

Louis standing beside him was silent. The noble Bonaparte just turned his head and glanced at Alexandre Dumas beside him.

He saw Alexandre Dumas inserting his pistol into the holster, with no expression on his face. There were only memories in his eyes. He heard Alexandre Dumas' hoarse voice.

"In politics, there are no people, only thoughts, no emotions, only interests. Therefore, even if you kill someone in politics, you cannot say that you have killed a person. It is just clearing an obstacle. Arthur, you are right. , and even practice it yourself.”

Louis felt a little tight in his chest and wanted to say something but felt like he didn't want to say anything.

So, he could only throw this question to his friend, and he asked Alexandre Dumas: "Alexander, you... no, do we still want to seek revenge on him?"

Alexandre Dumas glanced at Louis: "Revenge is meaningless. Because what I saw was neither a standard hero nor a standard reactionary. The most important thing is that he has made self-liquidation for his wrongdoings. Although he is not a republican, even if his stance is different, I still admire his behavior very much because I see a real man.”

Louis took a deep breath when he heard this. He lit the fire and took a sip. Along with the smoke, his voice and arms rose.

Louis raised his hand and saluted: "Sir, although I have been ordered to retire from active service. But I still want to report back to you. I am very happy to see that you have perfectly implemented the tactical manual and the "Police Instructions."

…

At the French Legation in Westminster, Talleyrand continued his game.

Suddenly, the door to the entertainment room was pushed open.

The military attache pressed his hand on his chest and leaned forward to report back: "Mr. Talleyrand, we have just learned that the riot in the Tower of London has been quelled. But... your card friend, Sergeant Arthur Hastings, was shot in the chest. Maybe……"

Lady Jersey, who was sitting opposite Talleyrand, covered her mouth after hearing this. She looked a little uneasy and a little scared. She couldn't help but ask Talleyrand: "That young police officer Hastings, he ... Mr. Talleyrand, is this not a crime?"

Talleyrand said calmly: "No, it is worse than a crime."

"Worse?"

Talleyrand gently gathered the cards in his hand and said, "Yes, this is not a crime, but a mistake, an irreversible mistake."

…

It's still raining in London, but compared to the initial storm, the rain has gradually calmed down.

And on the spire of the Tower of London, where no one can see, Agares is standing here.

Within the scope of his scarlet vision, he could see dots of light rising from the crowd below, and among these lights, six stars were especially the brightest.

They gradually rise and float until they hang high on the canvas-like dome, forming a mysterious hexagram spire.

"A national leader who has been on the battlefield for a long time, an apostle with the character of a saint, a poet who has achieved famous works throughout the ages, a successor to Shakespeare, a French literary giant who dominates Europe, and a destined emperor... …”

Agares raised his head and stared at the dazzling six-pointed star. His words sounded a little angry, but also a little jealous: "People cannot be resurrected after death. This is an irreversible law of nature. However, I have to say, Agares Se, you are very lucky because you got so much.”

Against the backdrop of the pale full moon, his wings suddenly stretched out, and countless ravens with scarlet eyes flew out from behind him, placing the six-pointed star hanging high in the sky in the palm of Agares's hand. .

Agares overlooked the earth and stared at the carriage carrying Arthur's body going away: "But the only question now is, why do I even have to do this for you?"