shadow of britain

Chapter 814 A monk can escape but cannot escape from the temple

The café on the north side of Lambeth Bridge has an inconspicuous facade; only upon closer inspection does one discover a sign that reads "The Ephesian Whisper."

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting long shadows of the guests inside.

Of all the guests, the one sitting by the window looked the most conspicuous.

He wore a deep purple robe over a woolen cloak, the hem of which was embroidered with fine gold lines. Through the robe, one could vaguely see that he wore snow-white underpants and soft leather ankle boots with trim. Although this outfit would seem out of place in London, when paired with his neatly trimmed beard and the lapis lazuli ring he was playing with on his finger, one couldn't help but feel that the outfit was actually quite harmonious.

Arthur arrived five minutes early.

He took off his hat and walked into the café, his gaze sweeping around the room before settling firmly on the person by the window.

“Your Excellency is indeed punctual.” Arthur smiled and removed his hat in greeting. “How should I address you? Should I follow the conventions of the British diplomatic system and address you as ‘Your Excellency’? Or should I follow the Ottoman custom and address you as ‘Rehidbai’?”

The man smiled and gestured for Arthur to sit down quickly: "In Istanbul, they call me Reshid Bey. But in London, after hearing you call me so often, I almost think I'm Reshid Pasha now."

Just hearing the honorifics "Bei" and "Pasha" reveals most of the person's identity.

The word "bai" can also be translated as "bai," and it originates from Turkic languages. Originally, it was a respectful title used by the Turks to address their leaders. In the early Ottoman army, "bai" was used to address officers of the centurion rank. Later, "bai" was widely used as a respectful title for male nobles, local leaders, and mid-level civil officials in the empire.

If we were to draw an analogy to English, Bea's status would be roughly equivalent to that of a knight.

As for Pasha, it was an honorary title unique to the Ottoman Empire. This title was only awarded to high-ranking officials of the empire who were of great importance to the Ottoman Empire. The granting of each Pasha title had to be approved by the Sultan and often came with a substantive post.

If we had to draw a comparison, Osman Pasha's position was roughly equivalent to a combination of a British minister and a Privy Council advisor.

Of course, even though everyone is a Pasha, there are still differences between Pashas.

Ottoman Pasha are generally divided into three levels.

The lowest rank of the One-Tailed Pasha was mainly awarded to local governors and frontier commanders.

The title of Nibi Pasha is primarily awarded to provincial governors and deputy commanders-in-chief of the army and navy.

The highest-ranking three-tailed pasha was reserved for the highest-ranking officials of the Ottoman Empire, such as the Grand Vizier and the Marshal of the Army and Navy.

Ottoman officials who were granted the title of Pasha not only received a sword, badge, edict, and special belt personally bestowed by the Sultan, but also had the right to establish their own independent guard and enjoy the privilege of being accompanied by a ceremonial guard with music when traveling.

Of course, although the Pasha held such a high position, this had nothing to do with the Ottoman official standing before Arthur.

Although Mustafa Reshid held the important position of Ottoman ambassador to London, he was still relatively inexperienced and had not yet been granted the title of Pasha by the Sultan. Even if he weren't a Pasha, any minor official familiar with Ottoman politics in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs could easily predict that Reshid would have a very successful career.

Why are you able to speak with such certainty?
the reason is simple.

The Treaty of Qukhitaia, signed between Egypt and the Ottoman Empire in 1833, was brokered by Reshid after arduous negotiations with the Egyptian governor, Muhammad Ali. Following the signing of this treaty, the desert warlord Ali even developed a fondness for Reshid's talent, offering him a high-ranking position in the Egyptian diplomatic system in hopes of recruiting him. However, Reshid ultimately declined Ali's invitation.

However, the following year, Reshid was appointed Ottoman Minister to France by Ottoman Sultan Mahmud II, tasked with the mission of reclaiming Algeria from France on behalf of the Ottoman Empire. Although Reshid ultimately failed to persuade the French at the negotiating table, the Sultan not only did not blame him, but also transferred Reshid to the position of Minister to Britain this year.

In today's world, regardless of the country, if a diplomat has served as both ambassador to France and ambassador to Britain, then barring an untimely death, he is almost certain to become Foreign Minister. It wouldn't be surprising if he eventually became the Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire.

From this perspective, even if Arthur called Reshid Pasha, Reshid wouldn't be unworthy of the title.

“Alright.” Arthur smiled and sat down, taking the hot cocoa from the waiter. “Since you’ve already come to the door, if I call you Pasha first, it might bring you some good luck in your promotion.”

Reshid chuckled and shook his head. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I still prefer you to call me Reshid Bey. It sounds more real than 'Your Excellency' and safer than 'Pasha.' Or, if you feel that's too distant, just call me by my name, Mustafa."

“Mustafa…” Arthur joked, “I always felt that you could hear that name on almost every street in Istanbul.”

“That’s right.” Reshid nodded with a smile. “Mustafas in Istanbul are like John and Charles in London. But don’t worry, I’m probably the most fluent French and English Mustafa in Istanbul, so there shouldn’t be any problems chatting with me.”

Raytheon then changed the subject, his smile fading slightly: "Of course, the reason I invited you here for coffee today is certainly not just for pleasantries. Besides pleasantries, I have something very personal I'd like to say in person. I want to express my gratitude on behalf of many of my Muslim brothers, especially the Circassians of the Caucasus, to you and Sir David Urquhart."

Arthur frowned slightly, not out of surprise, but because he hadn't heard anyone bring up that past in a long time.

Moreover, he himself is not very willing to bring this up, because the Caucasus incident can almost be considered his dark history.

David Urquhart might have liked the title of liberator of the Caucasus, but Arthur didn't care for it at all and even wanted to find a trash can to throw it away.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Arthur said “modestly.” “The person who truly deserves our thanks is Sir David Urquhart. He was the one who fought alongside the Circassians against the Russians in the Caucasus. He was a thorough humanitarian, the kind who wouldn’t tolerate the slightest injustice.”

“Of course, Sir David and I are old friends. The first thing I did after arriving in London was to visit him.” Arthur didn’t want to dwell on the matter any longer, so before Raytheon could start praising him, he quickly changed the subject: “That’s good. Are you getting used to life in London? After all, there are quite a few differences between the two countries in terms of climate, food, and lifestyle.”

Upon hearing this, Reshid asked curiously, "Have you been to Istanbul?"

Arthur gently stirred the hot cocoa in his cup and began slowly, “I’ve never been to Istanbul, but how should I put it, I’ve probably heard so much about it that I feel like I’ve been there several times. I remember someone telling me that Istanbul has more bathhouses than mosques. Normally, you go to a bathhouse once a week. Most of the bathhouse attendants are Albanian. They first scrub your back with a coarse burlap sack, and then rinse you with alternating hot and cold water. After that, you wrap yourself in a towel, drink a cup of bitter mint tea, and light a hookah or something…”

At this point, Arthur couldn't help but ask, "By the way, I heard that Istanbul hookahs come in fruit flavors, is that true?"

Upon hearing this, Reisher raised an eyebrow, smiled, and gently placed the coffee cup back on the saucer. "Of course we do, and we have more than one fruit flavor. Rose, pomegranate, dried apricot, cherry, and some have even tried mixing raisins and orange peel together to create what they call 'Byzantine Sunset.' Although I've always felt that flavor is more like a poorly salvaged result from a failed fermentation of candied grapes..."

At this point, Reshid paused suddenly, as if he had some concerns, and did not continue.

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, saying, "You don't need to worry about that. I have no problem with the name 'Byzantine Sunset.' Although there are many Greek sympathizers in England, I am clearly not one of them. After all, as you know, Sir David Urquhart and I..."

At this point, Arthur was caught off guard, having said something he shouldn't have.

As expected, Reisher immediately launched into a conversation upon hearing the name David Urquhart: "I almost forgot, you and Sir David Urquhart are friends, so it's unlikely you'd side with Greece. To be honest, I'm actually quite interested in emerging science and technology. Since arriving in London, I've visited almost every factory I could. When I visited Sir David Urquhart's home before, we happened to discuss this topic, and Sir David mentioned that you're an expert in science and technology?"

Upon hearing this, Arthur immediately sensed something was wrong. He quickly waved his hand and said, "I wouldn't dare call myself an expert. I've just seen a few novelties in different places and know a few scientific terms. I just happen to be able to fool a few uninformed newspaper reporters."

He said this with a smile and in a soft tone, but Reshid took it as mere modesty.

"But in Sir David's opinion, your achievements in electromagnetism are second to none. Gauss of Göttingen, Faraday of the Royal Society, and Mr. Wheatstone all highly praised your contributions to natural philosophy."

Arthur was unwilling to admit these things. He hadn't even replied to the letter Gauss had sent him last year, and he didn't want to cause any more trouble at this time.

"That's just normal flattery among friends, you don't need to take it too seriously."

To everyone's surprise, Reishid's attitude was unusually firm: "Even so, you do know how those telegraph lines were laid and how the electromagnetic signals travel, right? After all, the telegraph lines in Belgium were operated by your company, the English Electromagnetic Telegraph Company."

"No, that was just... wait... what did you say?"

Arthur wanted to laugh it off and brush the topic aside, since once the title of "expert" was firmly established, trouble would follow.

However, when he heard the name "Electromagnetic Telegraph Company of England" slip from Reshid's lips, his initial resistance softened considerably.

“Oh? You’re interested in this?” Arthur’s tone even carried a hint of intimacy between old friends. “Mustafa, I didn’t expect you to be interested in my little company. To be honest, we did put up a telegraph line in Belgium, from Antwerp to Brussels. Although the construction is progressing slowly, everything is on track.”

“Really? Congratulations.” Reishid seemed genuinely delighted, leaning forward slightly. “I knew it. Although Londoners were skeptical of the telegraph system, those who truly understood its value naturally recognized how useful it was. And this time, it was clearly the Belgians who recognized its worth first.”

“Indeed.” Arthur nodded slightly and said casually, “That’s why we think that the telegraph has a better future in the military and political fields than in the commercial field. Military communications, port operations, and even communication between ambassadors abroad... as long as the lines can be connected, many troublesome things will be solved.”

Upon hearing this, Reshid's eyes revealed a hint of appreciation: "Speaking of which, Arthur, I have a quirk: once I come across something that interests me, I always like to go and see it for myself."

He raised his hand and gently tapped the rim of his glass: "I wonder if your company is open for tours? I won't bring too many people, maybe one or two secretaries at most, and we won't cause any trouble. We just hope to see for ourselves how that telegraph line, which even the Belgians praise, works."

Arthur didn't answer immediately. Instead, he put down his cup, smiled, and glanced at the other man sideways: "Are you sure it's just out of interest?"

However, before Raytheon could answer, he continued, "But, considering you're a friend of Sir David Urquhart, well, since you've asked me personally, I certainly can't refuse. I'll arrange something another day, and you can choose a time, and I'll personally take you there. I'll be your guide then."

Upon hearing this, Reshid was overjoyed and said, "If that's the case, then that would be absolutely wonderful."

However, before he could finish speaking, he heard an untimely noise coming from the doorway.

It was the sound of hurried footsteps.

The next moment, a rosy little face peeked in.

"Jazz!" A familiar voice, tinged with anxiety, called out; it was Becky.

She had clearly run all the way here; her cheeks were slightly flushed from the wind and her hurried pace. As soon as she entered, she disregarded the store's rules and strode towards Arthur.

Reshid leaned back slightly, a hint of confusion in his eyes, giving the uninvited young girl some space.

"Huh?" Arthur turned around in surprise to look at his maid, Becky. "What are you doing here? Did something happen at home?"

“A stranger came to the house. He said… Miss Flora Hastings sent him.” Becky took a slight breath and continued in a low voice, “Since you weren’t here, he asked me to give you a message. He said Miss Hastings wants you to come home as soon as possible, no matter where you are. She has something important to discuss with you in person…”

(End of this chapter)