The Shadow of Great Britain

133: Chapter 92: Arthur’s Farewell Gift 133: Chapter 92: Arthur’s Farewell Gift Looking south from the top floor attic of Arthur’s residence, just across the street lay the infamously renowned Hyde Park.

Prior to the 16th century, Hyde Park was ecclesiastical land granted by His Majesty the King to Westminster Abbey.

However, in the 16th century, under the pretext of his desire for a divorce, King Henry VIII declared the English Catholic break from the Orthodox Church, established the National Church of England, and proclaimed himself as the supreme religious leader of England.

Furthermore, all Catholic Monasteries within England were ordered to dissolve, which naturally meant that the lands of Westminster Abbey were appropriated by the Crown.

Once reclaimed by the Crown, Henry VIII transformed Hyde Park into a Royal Park and a Royal hunting ground.

During the rule of Charles I, who was beheaded by Cromwell, Charles I, in an effort to ingratiate himself with the citizens of London, ordered the Royal Garden to be opened to the public, a tradition that has continued to this day.

The area of Hyde Park is not small, covering more than 360 acres, and apart from various green plants, trees, and fountain sculptures, there are many interesting spots within the park.

For example, the northeast corner of Hyde Park, where Arthur and Disraeli met today, is the special area known as ‘Speaker’s Corner.’

At Speaker’s Corner, almost every afternoon, you can see people expressing a wide range of political views.

The topics discussed by the orators indeed encompass all walks of life.

Here, you can often see supporters of slavery and abolitionists spitting at each other, or medieval clergymen talking about ‘I have a dream,’ and just a few meters away, fans of Byron and Shelley, the atheists, shouting about sweeping God into the dustbin of history.

Of course, in such a place where opinions are fiercely exchanged, it is only natural that Mr.

Disraeli’s speech would fail to spark interest in others.

At the southern end of Hyde Park, there is an even more significant location.

That is the barracks of Hyde Park’s Cavalry, where the old unit of Police Superintendent Clemens once served, under the direct command of the Army headquarters’ Guard Cavalry regiment.

The history of the Guard Cavalry regiment goes back a long way, founded in 1658 during the restoration of Charles II in Bruges, its first official title being ‘His Majesty the King’s loyal Guard Cavalry.’ The political makeup of the regiment’s soldiers was also quite homogeneous, with all members being die-hard Royalists in exile.

After 1788, the regiment lowered its requirements for recruiting officers from societal ranks, no longer demanding that officers must be of Nobility, hence the teasing remark that ‘members of the Guard Cavalry are no longer a bunch of gentlemen, but a bunch of cheesemongers.’

Though the social composition of the regiment changed, the ideological traditions of the Guard Cavalry were well preserved; after reorganization, they still performed as exceptionally as their predecessors did in suppressing the Monmouth Rebellion in 1685, completing their repression of the 1810 Piccadilly riots in London with such efficiency that they earned the ‘glorious’ moniker of ‘Piccadilly Butcher.’

Arthur stood under the maple tree in Hyde Park, with bright and soft moonlight spilling down, illuminating the half-red maple leaf crushed under his black boots, and hanging from the branches above him was Clemens, with bulging eyes, pale skin, and a body gradually stiffening.

Clemens’s body, suspended from a thick hemp rope, swayed slightly with the wind.

In his pocket was an envelope stamped yet unsent, with a letter inside.

Arthur smoked, slowly exhaling a wisp of white mist; through the gaps between the smoke and the tree branches, he could faintly see the Marble Arch not far ahead.

He looked at the scene in front of him, feeling that everything seemed so familiar.

He recalled how not long ago he had hanged the Body Snatcher in the churchyard.

The Scotland Yard officers on duty in the Bayswater district tonight had surrounded the area, isolating the crime scene from the exterior world as per Arthur’s instructions.

Officer Field glanced at Arthur, who was leisurely smoking, and seemed hesitant to speak.

For some reason, he was somewhat intimidated by his supervisor, who was of a similar age to himself, although other officers from Scotland Yard who were acquainted with Police Superintendent Arthur Hastings spoke highly of his amiable nature.

Most importantly, he brought benefits to everyone; all frontline patrol officers at Scotland Yard had obtained a twenty-five percent salary raise thanks to Superintendent Hastings’s efforts.

Yet Field always felt that beneath his radiant and upright stature lurked a dark underworld unimaginable to most.

He held back for a while but eventually couldn’t help asking, “Superintendent Hastings, aren’t you going to examine the body?”

Arthur glanced at him and smiled, shaking his head, “I’m off duty, and although I don’t mind working overtime for the public’s benefit, Hyde Park isn’t my jurisdiction.”

Upon hearing this, Field pondered for a moment, feeling there was some deeper meaning in those words.

He tried again, probing, “But don’t you plan on taking a look at the letter found in Superintendent Clemens’ pocket?

Everyone is quite curious about that letter.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, “What do you think it is?”

“Me?” Field was taken aback, “A suicide note?

Or perhaps, a document proving a will to divide assets?”

Arthur nodded slightly, “I disagree with you, I guess it’s a resignation letter.”

“A resignation letter?” Field thought for a moment, “Do you mean, you think Superintendent Clemens committed suicide because he couldn’t bear the pressure of dereliction of duty?”

Arthur shook his head at this, “Whether he killed himself out of guilt is irrelevant, what matters is that everyone hopes he did.

Remember, Charles, when everyone hopes one can survive, it doesn’t guarantee they will.

But if everyone wishes for someone’s death, then that person will surely die.”

These words from Arthur bewildered Field, “Why is that?”

Arthur paused, seemingly unable to answer the question himself.

But after a moment of silence, he still gave an explanation he deemed appropriate, “Because humans are social beings.”

Officer Field nodded thoughtfully upon hearing this, but then quickly asked, “So should we notify the media?

Or should we suppress this matter?”

Arthur tapped out the tobacco ash from his pipe, and gently snuffed out the embers on the ground with the tip of his foot, “It’s not for us to decide.

How to handle this will depend on the decision of higher-ups like Superintendent Rowan or someone even higher in rank.”

When Field heard this, he looked towards Speakers’ Corner nearby, well-known as the area with the freest speech in all of Great Britain.

But in contrast with Arthur’s words, it appeared like an ironic backdrop to the unfolding drama.

With a wry smile, he asked, “But aren’t we advocating for freedom of the press?

The censorship of publications was just lifted not long ago, wouldn’t this be against public expectations of a government department?”

Arthur patted Field on the shoulder, smiling, “Charles, I’m glad you think that way.

But you also have to understand that wherever there is light, there will be shadows.

Freedom of speech and press freedom exist only when the government feels secure about itself.

So you see, the Duke of Wellington’s Cabinet is not stable right now.

We are police officers from Scotland Yard, and the primary objective of Scotland Yard is to protect the safety of the public’s life and property.

To achieve that, the first thing we must do is ensure the stability of social order.

I shouldn’t be telling you these things, but I think highly of you, and that’s why I’m sharing things I probably shouldn’t share with you.

Do you know General Cordington?

Take some time to look through his resume; it might help your future development.

Charles, you’re young, and some truths harmful to social stability shouldn’t be made public.

Unless those truths are so abundant they affect the happiness and interests of the majority, some matters are better handled internally.”

Field found this strangely familiar.

He pondered for a while, then suddenly realized, “I almost forgot where you came from.

You graduated from the University of London, are you a follower of Jeremy Bentham?

I remember passing by Westminster last time and heard his supporters loudly promoting utilitarianism.”

Field expected Arthur to nod in agreement, but instead saw him slightly shake his head.

Field noticed a faint red glow in his eyes.

“Mr.

Bentham’s ideals are lofty, but as someone as humble as I am, I can only partially absorb them.

As a Scotland Yard police officer, you first have to consider how to survive in this environment for the long haul.

I can’t propose grand ideals and visions like Mr.

Bentham; I can only do my utmost to become the shadows on them.

People like Mr.

Bentham are responsible for telling humanity how to move forward; they guide people in searching for light.

Insignificant individuals like me are tasked with constantly reminding people not to forget what lies behind the light.

If anyone dares to move the light away, creatures like me will be released.”

As he spoke, Arthur couldn’t help but look up at Clemens’ face, which had become ghastly and fierce in death.

Moonlight cast upon Arthur’s profile; on the side of light, one saw his calm face, and in the darkness, the red glow in his pupils and the slowly rising corner of his mouth.

Arthur removed his hat, cradling one hand across his chest, and bowed slightly toward the body of Superintendent Clemens.

Behind him was the smiling specter of Agares drifting through.

“Superintendent Clemens, I’m sorry I couldn’t see you off personally.”