The Shadow of Great Britain

Capítulo 1490: Chapter 243: Big News in Moscow

This was the second time Herzen had heard this phrase recently, perhaps because of the shared nature among police officers. The advice given to Herzen by this fat police officer was identical to Arthur’s.

But why would this fat police officer help him like Sir Arthur?

Herzen’s confusion didn’t last long.

The fat police officer picked up his briefcase and stood up: “Don’t be surprised, I myself was a student at Moscow University twelve years ago.”

After that, an official entered the room. The fat man, as the superior officer, gave a few instructions and then left, not forgetting to kindly nod at Herzen on his way out, while pressing his fingers to his lips, hinting that he should say nothing.

And after this, the only thing that Herzen could feel was a malice as cold as the winter wind.

“Only by confessing can you receive lenient treatment. Whether you are released without charge or sent to Bobruisk, or to the Caucasus—it depends on you.” This was the threat from Police Chief Zienski.

“Before the officials appointed by the Tsar, it is a sin not to tell the truth. Concealing the truth is also detrimental to you. You must know that God is omnipresent and omniscient.” This was the interrogation statement given by the Duke of Moscow, Dmitry Golitsyn, after he made him swear before the cross.

“Sticking to saying nothing will be of no benefit to you, it will only increase your guilt. Let me tell you the truth, your friends, led by Ogarev, have already confessed. By the way, His Majesty the Tsar is planning to personally visit Moscow. Considering your father’s face, if you admit your mistake now, I will consider putting your name at the top of the list for a chance to redeem yourself.” This was what the Constitutional Soldier Commander Volkov, who had sent several of Herzen’s classmates to serve in the Caucasus, said.

But for Herzen, these interrogations were not the most difficult to endure.

In the interrogation committee, even when asleep, the ears were filled with reports of interrogation, informing, and house searches. Behind the whispers lay the Moscow police’s secret plots, the groaning and sighing of prisoners, the clang of the constitutional soldiers’ spurs and the striking sound of the Ural Cossacks’ sabers…

The night’s air in Moscow carried a rusty chill, with the oil lamp on the desk in the detention room casting twisted shadows on the walls.

Herzen wrapped the coarse woolen blanket tighter around him, staring blankly at the brazier in the room. His ears were filled with the sound of spurs hitting the stone slabs from the end of the corridor, the quiet yet noisy environment entwined with his heavy thoughts, making it impossible for him to sleep.

Creak, Officer Ralph, responsible for watching over Herzen, pushed open the door, bringing with him the scent of cedar.

He, taking advantage of the sergeants patrolling the hallway not paying attention, hunched his back and squeezed into the cell, the wall dust from his sheepskin coat falling onto the bread crumbs.

Ralph took off his frost-covered tricorn hat, revealing a nose reddened by the cold, looking like a plucked goose head from the market.

This guard, who always covered half of his face with a scarf, familiarly placed the tin kettle on the coal basin, with the copper key ring jingling at his waist.

His action of squatting down to poke the coal fire always reminded Herzen of the fishermen by the Moscow River—those silent figures waiting for trout to bite in front of ice holes.

Herzen turned over, sat up, and stretched lazily: “Here for the fire again?”

“Don’t mind me. This damn weather is really cold, isn’t it?” Ralph muttered, “It’s been a month since Maslenitsa ended, but look at Moscow, where is there a trace of spring?”

“Who’s on duty tonight? Shubinsky?”

Ralph waved his hand, as red as ginger: “Don’t worry, none of the big shots are around, otherwise how would I dare come here to chat with you in bed?”

“Chat in bed?” Herzen couldn’t help but laugh, “Where did you learn such a refined term? Anyone who didn’t know might think you were a Roman noble.”

The tin kettle in the coal fire bowl began to whistle, and Ralph took a rough pottery cup from his coat pocket and poured some cheap tea mixed with pine needles: “A Roman noble? I don’t want to be any noble, at least not these days.”

Herzen was quite surprised and praised: “I didn’t expect you to be such an ambitious person.”

Ralph sipped the hot tea in small gulps, his voice sounding like frosted glass scraping over a slate: “Ambition? Hmm… I don’t dare have any ambition these days. Oh, right, I almost forgot, you don’t know the news from the Kremlin, do you? This morning, outside the Red Wall was quite a show.”

“Did something happen?”

Ralph fished out a piece of sugar covered in dust from his trouser pocket, handed it to Herzen on a chipped saucer: “This morning, when the Tsar’s sleigh rolled over Red Square, ice shards splattered under the Golden Gate. Duke Golitsyn’s red beard was covered in frost, but he dared not lift a hand to wipe it— the Emperor was watching him, like a Siberian wolf eyeing a limping moose.”

Ralph stretched his frozen fingers toward the coal basin, the white vapor he exhaled mixed with the smell of cheap tobacco: “Our chief, Lord Zienski, stood in the snow in front of the palace gates like an icicle, his gold buttons frozen onto his wool coat, and his beard hung with icicles, looking just like a straw effigy at a Shrovetide festival. He stood like this under the Red Wall for several hours until the Emperor summoned them all inside. They thought they were finally forgiven, but once inside the palace, they found the Emperor sitting on the golden throne, his expression like a green young garlic.”

Ralph, mimicking his superiors’ condescending manner, and imagining the Tsar’s tone, imitated: “‘His Majesty the Tsar said, my officials! Their heads are filled with the grease from Moscow’s sewers! At this, the scribes shook their parchment in fright, and the ministers’ wigs slipped to the back of their necks! Truly, it’s like a canary pecking through a silk pillow, and the master’s dignity plummeting into the dung pit.”

Upon hearing Ralph’s quip, Herzen stifled a laugh and retorted: “It’s only been half a day, and you’ve become quite the literary scholar. But don’t get too happy too soon; once they’ve been reprimanded by the Emperor, they’ll take their anger out on the people below them.”

“What you said,” Ralph dismissively replied, “as if they usually give us a smile? This time, every one of Moscow’s authorities has made a fool of themselves. Fifth Rank officials might even feel quite proud because those below the Fifth Rank don’t even have the privilege to go to the Kremlin to be scolded.”

Outside, the sound of the night watchman’s clappers echoed, and Ralph suddenly lowered his voice, his oily face coming closer: “The Emperor scolded Moscow from top to bottom, and each lord hung their heads like little chicks. But the British man invited into the palace was enjoying himself, I heard that he was there enjoying oatmeal like it was the Emperor’s gifted mead. After scolding everyone, the Emperor seemed to feel it wasn’t dignified, turned around and joked with him about how Englishmen feed oats to horses. And guess what the foreign devil replied?”

Herzen, who had already guessed the identity of the British man, asked: “What did he say in return?”

Ralph intentionally imitated English with a strange Russian accent: “Thanks to His Majesty, even London’s horses are now learning to use silver spoons!”

A loud bang from the door closing suddenly erupted at the end of the corridor.

Ralph shrank his neck, instinctively grabbed his baton, his long boots leaving wet prints on the tiled floor.

Once the noise settled, he spat and continued: “I say, these lords in gold-threaded clothes should have had a taste of the northwest wind long ago. Last winter, when they cut the firewood budget for the police station, did anyone end up as an ice sculpture?”

Herzen also cursed along: “Isn’t that the truth? The Bureau of Land Management is the same.”

The morning bell pierced through the frost on the iron window, and turning his head, Ralph rose and stomped his feet, shaking the snow from his boots with a schadenfreude smile: “The best is yet to come. His Majesty kicked out all the freeloaders, leaving that foreign monk to watch their embarrassment! Now, from Tver Street to Arbat Street, every tavern is saying: our Governor is probably going off to Yakutsk to manage bear cubs!”

Hearing this, Herzen both wanted to laugh and feared laughing too loudly and attracting the Constitutional Soldiers, so he waited for a while before asking: “If they’re all being sent away, what about my case?”

Ralph poked at the coal fire with tongs: “I say, your case will likely be delayed. Haven’t you noticed? There’s a fire alarm every other night these days, it’s like Moscow is cursed this year, fires everywhere, every night lively and loud. Last night, when the Emperor went to the theater, he almost got taken to meet God by a fire, haven’t you noticed tonight we don’t even have a duty officer? Every one of them rushed off to investigate that case, where will they have the time to bother with you now?”