Chapter 20: The Taste of Betrayal
Arthur followed Police Officer Dennis, their footsteps echoing through the streets of Greenwich, amidst the clamor and crowds.
As time passed, Arthur noticed fewer pedestrians and narrower streets.
The sky above was obscured by low, cramped sheds. The damp cobblestones were stained with sewage and excrement, flowing downhill behind Arthur, eventually emptying into the already overburdened Thames.
The world was quiet, so quiet that Arthur could even hear the foghorns on the Thames.
The world was also noisy, so noisy that Arthur felt a surge of blood, his vision blurred, unable to discern the truth of the world, making him want to punch Dennis beside him.
He stopped at the entrance of a narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
“Arthur, why… why aren’t you going?”
Police Officer Dennis tried to appear calm, but the sweat on his forehead betrayed him.
Arthur pulled out his newly purchased pipe from his pocket and put it in his mouth, but didn’t light it.
He didn’t say a word, just looked at Dennis, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of anger, sadness, and mostly a deep, painful indifference.
Dennis dared not meet his gaze, he simply stood there, head bowed, hunched over.
He looked nothing like an upright officer, but rather a criminal caught red-handed.
The weather was gloomy, but it wasn’t raining.
Still, something dripped down Dennis’ chin onto the ground.
Clean water droplets dripped down his jaw into the puddle of dirty water on the cobblestones, stained by the filth of the world, making it impossible to tell their original color.
Police Officer Dennis gasped, as if someone had stabbed his lungs with a knife.
“I don’t want to make excuses, I don’t deserve to make excuses. Yes, it’s true, I’m a coward, that’s my nature. I’m not like Tony and Tom, and I’ll never catch up to you.”
Dennis took a deep breath, “Arthur, punch me twice. It’ll make you feel better, and it’ll make me feel better. Come on! Punch me twice!”
The Red Devil perched on Arthur’s ear, chuckling, making Arthur restless.
“Arthur, what are you waiting for? This bastard betrayed you, flay his skin and hang it on the roof of Scotland Yard. Only then will others fear you, only then will they understand the price of betraying you.”
Arthur remained silent for a while, then pulled out a box of matches from his pocket and held it in front of Dennis.
Dennis’ eyes were watery, he looked up at Arthur in surprise.
Arthur still didn’t speak, he just pointed at his pipe in his mouth.
Dennis understood, he took the matchbox tremblingly, then tried to light it with trembling hands, again and again.
His hands were clumsy, and it took him five tries to finally get a flame.
Soon, a thin wisp of smoke rose in the alley.
Arthur took a deep drag.
The tobacco was still bitter, astringent, and harsh on the throat, but he was starting to get used to the taste.
He finally began to understand why people enjoyed this unique indulgence.
Arthur exhaled a smoke ring, looked at the roof of the sheds almost touching his face on both sides of the narrow alley, and sighed sincerely.
“Smoking feels good…”
He looked at Dennis’ familiar yet strange face and said, “Your child, almost a year old, right?”
Dennis was startled, then nodded slightly.
Arthur bent down and pressed him against the wall of the alley, his sudden force even knocked his hat off.
Dennis stared blankly at the grim-faced Arthur, just as he thought he was going to get a beating, Arthur’s voice rang in his ear.
“You’re the worst colleague.”
Dennis closed his eyes and smiled, nodding, a sense of relief washing over him, “That’s right.”
“But that doesn’t stop you from being a great father.”
In an instant, Dennis’ heart was torn.
Arthur bent down and picked up the hat that had fallen to the ground, putting it back on his head, the brim covering his face, making it impossible to see his expression.
“Go back, go back and take care of your family, I’ll take care of the rest of the way myself. The road ahead is quite dangerous, not suitable for a man like you with a family.”
Arthur put his hands in his pockets, his back stretched long and lonely in the alley.
“Arthur!!!”
Dennis’ voice pierced through the alley, “Don’t go, he’s waiting for you.”
Arthur’s footsteps paused, but soon, the sound of footsteps echoed through the alley again.
“If you must go, take this!”
Dennis roared with all his might, he took off the officer’s knife from his waist and threw it to the ground.
“Take it! At least you deserve to use it more than I do!”
Arthur stopped, he looked back at the officer’s knife lying on the ground.
This time, Arthur didn’t refuse.
He bent down and picked up the officer’s knife, his fingertips tapping lightly on the guard.
With a clang, the blade unsheathed.
The blade was white and shiny, clearly well-maintained, just like the one he used to have.
It was so clean that it could be used as a mirror, reflecting both Arthur and Dennis’ faces, and also reflecting the complexities of human life and the fickleness of the world.
Arthur took the officer’s knife, turned around, and walked towards the deepest part of the alley.
Police Officer Dennis watched his back, his body sliding slowly down the dirty wall.
The few short sentences just now had drained all his energy, his legs were weak, and even his lips couldn’t stop trembling.
He sat in the sewage, gasping for breath, muttering to himself, “God! Dennis, what have you done?”
…
At the end of the alley, another man was leaning against the wall.
His brim was lowered just like Arthur’s, his simple casual clothes couldn’t hide his strong, rugged muscles, nor the faint scar on his neck.
He leaned back, constantly tapping his head lightly against the wall.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
All the Greenwich patrol officers knew that it was best to stay away from him at this time, as it was a sign of his impatience.
And all the soldiers who had served in the 15th Royal Dragoons also understood what it meant.
Only their opinions differed from the patrol officers, because the soldiers believed it was a sign that he was about to kill.
Willocks didn’t carry an officer’s knife today, he was wearing a treasured saber at his waist.
The round head of the hilt was engraved with his identity – Sergeant Major Willocks Roberts, 3rd Company, 15th Royal Dragoons.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 21