Eagle’s Glory

Early autumn has always been the most popular season. It is lukewarm and the temperature is suitable, and nature can properly show people its beautiful scenery at this time.

The Imperial Village on the outskirts of St. Petersburg is also ushering in its most picturesque days at the moment.

Under the mild and pleasant sunlight, the elaborately built palaces and sculptures show the majesty of the imperial family, while the surrounding lush green trees also leave their elegant reflections in the pond.

However, compared to those days in the past, the atmosphere in the imperial village at this time was much more tense, and the beautiful scenery was also somewhat overshadowed by the lack of audience.

Although the imperial government has not officially announced it, there has never been a secret in this court - all courtiers and Guard officers already know that the Russian Empire is about to go to war with Turkey, and everything in this court is already revolving around the upcoming war. The coming war was turned.

Ambitious generals and young officers are busy breaking joints everywhere so that they can squeeze into the troops that are scheduled to enter the Balkans, make achievements in the future, and make their future prospects brighter - some overly enthusiastic young People are even planning the triumphal ceremony after the march to Constantinople.

Because of this, most people naturally have no intention to appreciate the picturesque beauty of Huangcun.

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin. The poet who has received the most attention and praise from all walks of life in the Empire is now coming to the Catherine Palace, where His Majesty the Tsar lives, to meet His Majesty Tsar Nicholas I.

Under the guidance of the attendants, Pushkin came to the splendid reception room of His Majesty the Tsar. At this time, His Majesty was sitting behind his desk, calmly watching the young poet who was only three years younger than himself.

"Alexander-Sergeyevich, do you have any poems to share with us today?" He nodded slightly to show his kindness.

Perhaps because he valued the reputation of the poet, the tsar was quite polite to Pushkin, not only being pleasant when he met him, but also tolerating the disrespectful remarks that came out of his mouth from time to time to the imperial family and the government.

But in his heart, how much respect he has for this poet, only the old man knows. His Majesty the Tsar is a gloomy person, and his emotions are indifferent. With polite indifference.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry, I haven't written a poem recently." Pushkin lowered his head slightly ashamed, "because the recent restless enthusiasm has made me restless, I find it difficult to concentrate on sitting Writing poetry at the table, you can’t even stop and enjoy the beauty of the imperial village.”

"Oh? What makes our best poet so restless?" His Majesty smiled slightly. "Is it some lovely lady here?"

"No... Your Majesty." Pushkin shook his head quickly, "It's a feeling more fiery than love, that's love for the motherland."

When he first saw the young tsar, he was a little overwhelmed, but as he spent more and more days in the imperial village, the opportunities to meet His Majesty also increased day by day, and by now, he has long been used to it. Standing in front of His Majesty and talking freely, I no longer feel embarrassed.

However, even so, His Majesty the Tsar is the Tsar after all, and the most authoritative person in the empire. He never regards His Majesty as a friend in his heart, and always maintains a proper sense of distance when communicating.

"Love for the motherland? That's great." His Majesty the Tsar raised his eyebrows, "Then how do you want to express this love?"

"There is no more appropriate way to express it than to be born and die for it." Pushkin replied.

Then, after hesitating for a moment, he made up his mind and said, "I have heard some rumors recently that people are saying that the Empire is about to go to war with the Turks."

Although he has reservations about his words, Pushkin knows that this is an ironclad fact.

Not long ago, he learned about this rumor from his friend Boris Volkonsky. After this period of fermentation, it has almost become an open secret within the palace. He has also learned from several people. I heard this rumor—that is to say, this war against the Turks is destined to break out.

"The court is always full of gossips." The tsar's expression didn't change, but his eyes became more severe, "Alexander, I think that with your usual person, you should not feel any kind of gossip. Interest is right, the decision of the imperial government should not be judged by those outsiders, or even make irresponsible remarks.”

Pushkin knew that his mention of this made His Majesty unhappy.

However, he did not intend to back down from this, but continued to speak.

"Your Majesty, you are right, I am a poet, not an official, and I should not make irresponsible remarks about the government. But please understand that I am also a nobleman of the Russian Empire, and I cannot need me in my homeland. Stand by while you work."

"Sounds like you want to be involved?" asked the Tsar.

This rhetorical question also means that he admits that the war with the Turks is indeed about to break out.

"Yes, Your Majesty. In 1812, I was only thirteen years old, and I was not qualified to participate in that holy war and serve the country; but in 1827 I was twenty-eight years old, and I used enough physique and spirit. Dedicated to the motherland." Pushkin raised his head and looked at His Majesty seated with sincere eyes, "With my most sincere feelings, I implore you not to refuse my request and let me act with the army."

The tsar did not answer immediately, and looked at Pushkin, as if to estimate how much his resolve was.

"As far as I know you have no military experience." After a while, the Tsar finally spoke again. "Even if you act with the army, you won't bring much help to the imperial army, and it's quite dangerous to yourself, isn't it?"

What the Tsar said was the truth. Although Pushkin received a complete elite education like other Russian nobles since he was a child, he was exiled by the late Emperor Alexander I at a young age, thrown to Ukraine to serve, and later recalled to his hometown to live idle. He did not become an Imperial officer like the rest of his peers.

"Yes, I do have no experience in the army, but I have a passion and I am willing to take risks for the motherland..." Pushkin replied succinctly, "Being an officer may require skills, but being a soldier only needs to learn to carry a gun. And just listen to the password, I can still do it... Your Majesty! I implore you to fulfill my wish, even as a soldier, and give me the opportunity to participate in this expedition."

Pushkin said, waving his hand, his expression and body were full of passion, obviously he had been immersed in his own spiritual world.

This enthusiasm also slightly infected the czar who was accustomed to indifference.

He sighed softly. "Okay, let the best poet in our country be a big soldier, no one will do this kind of business..."

After hearing this sentence, Pushkin thought that His Majesty had rejected his request, so he hurriedly wanted to continue his generous speech, and then the Tsar raised a finger to stop his words.

"However, your warm blood is very touching. If I refuse harder, I'm afraid I will lose the magnanimity that the emperor should have..." His Majesty the Tsar lowered his eyes slightly, as if he was thinking about something, "Then Well, I'll satisfy you, you can use your expertise and serve as clerical work in a regiment."

After he finished speaking, he tapped the table lightly with his finger, and the solid walnut desk immediately made a soft "dong" sound. "However, we have a word in advance - Alexander Sergeyevich, all this is your own request, if you behave dereliction of duty and break your promise at that time, then I will not forgive you..."

The sudden joy made Pushkin's heart beat wildly, and he managed to restrain himself, so that he did not lose his temper in front of His Majesty.

For him, His Majesty's approval means that his wish has been fulfilled, and that he can get rid of the flashy and dull atmosphere of the Imperial Village, go to a strange and exotic land, express his nature, and find inspiration that has not come for a long time.

And if he is lucky, he can even meet Napoleon's son and see what kind of man this young man is trying to shake the world at such a young age.

This must be a very interesting experience for poets who like fantasy.

"Thank you for your magnanimity, Your Majesty... I will always be grateful to you." He immediately bowed to the Tsar and said gratefully, "Please rest assured, I will do my best to fulfill what you and the motherland have given me. task."

"Well, let's see how you behave at that time." His Majesty the Tsar returned to his usual indifference, but nodded lightly.

Then, he seemed to have thought of something, and his eyes turned to Pushkin again, "By the way, you are so active in the war, are you interested in Duke Reichstedt?"

For a moment, Pushkin's original joy was diluted a lot by this sharp sight, and he suddenly became nervous.

How to respond? he thought.

He knew that he was not good at lying, and if he lied forcibly, His Majesty could easily see it, and it would lower his evaluation.

So, after hesitating for a moment, he decided to tell the truth—

"I'm really interested in him, after all, I can't even write poetry at his age, but he can make waves on the European stage... Abandoning stereotypes and moral evaluations, I think he is really an interesting character, if If there is a chance to meet, I'd be happy to have a drink with him."

After saying this, he immediately changed the conversation, "Of course, this interest will never exceed my love for Russian mothers... In order to defend Russia, even Napoleon himself would dare to raise my sword, let alone his son. Now, you don't have to worry about what I will do to the country.

Speaking of which, he calmly spread his hands, "Furthermore, I have neither state secrets nor a large amount of wealth, and I have nothing to do except my passion and love for the motherland. It was sold to someone else."

The last sentence made the Tsar quite satisfied - indeed, even if Pushkin wanted to betray the country, what would he have to sell?

"Poets are poets, and their ideas are always so strange..." he muttered softly.

After thinking about it, maybe his motives are not pure, but it can still satisfy him.

So, the tsar turned to Pushkin again. "Well, since you've said this, I really can't bear to refuse... Alexander Sergeyevich, I allow you to become a member of the expedition, and you can go."

After he finished speaking, his gaze returned to his desk.

Of course Pushkin knew what he was interested in, so he didn't say a word, he immediately saluted to bid farewell to His Majesty the Tsar, and then turned to leave.

For him, the purpose has been achieved.

After leaving the Yekaterin Palace, Pushkin came to the woods and sat on a bench by the pond, quietly admiring the surrounding scenery and calming himself down.

At this moment, he found that someone was approaching him, and then sat directly beside him.

"Alexander-Sergeyevich..." The visitor greeted him with a smile, "You look very happy?"

Pushkin looked up and found that it was his friend Boris Volkonsky who came.

"Boris-Pyotrnovich, you're here just in time!" he immediately shouted cheerfully, sharing his joy with one of his few friends in the Imperial Village, "I just met Your Majesty, and then I asked him to go with the army, although he was a little dissatisfied, he finally agreed..."

"Really? Congratulations, my friend." Boris Volkonsky smiled and nodded. "Then let me tell you by the way, I will also be an officer in the expeditionary force, and with luck we might even be in the same unit."

"It would be great if that was the case." Pushkin looked at his friend sincerely, "Boris, I wish you success and success in your career."

"I also wish you the best of luck and write a magnificent and immortal poem for our great expedition..." Boris Volkonsky also laughed and replied.

Then, he suddenly winked at Pushkin, then lowered his voice, "If you need it, I can accommodate you so that you can see the poor Duke Reichstedt, but you have a wish ."

Pushkin knew that this guy was not just talking about it casually. After all, he was from a famous family, and his elders had a lot of connections in the army. If he helped, he should be able to leave the team easily and in a short time to meet that interesting young man.

Yea...all set.

Pushkin raised his head leisurely, looked at the blue and white sky, breathed the fresh and pleasant air in the forest of the imperial village, and sighed deeply.

"Hopefully it doesn't disappoint me in the end."