Spasskaya Tower

Listen for a moment. Above the murmur of Red Square, above the scuff of shoes on the dark paving stones, a deep bronze note rolls out across the open space. Then another. The sound comes from high in the red brick tower in front of you, where a great clock face stares out over the square. This is the Spasskaya Tower, the Saviour Tower, and for centuries its bells have marked the hours of Moscow.

Start with the colour. The lower body of the tower is warm red brick, laid in heavy, square courses. Higher up, the shape changes. The brick gives way to white stone details, pointed arches, small turrets and carved ornaments. At the very top, a green tented spire rises to a sharp point. And on that point sits a glowing red star. The whole tower stands around seventy metres tall, the tallest along this side of the Kremlin wall.

The story begins in 1491. Moscow was then ruled by Ivan the Third, the grand prince who gathered the Russian lands around this city. He wanted the old Kremlin walls rebuilt in stronger brick, and he invited Italian engineers to do it. The architect of this tower was Pietro Antonio Solari, a builder from Milan. If the battlements along the wall remind you of castles in northern Italy, that is no accident. Their notched, swallow-tail shape came here with Italian hands.

Here is a detail most visitors walk straight past. Solari left his mark on the tower itself. White stone plaques set into the walls carry inscriptions in Latin and in Old Russian. They record that the tower was built by order of Ivan, and they name the Milanese master who built it. Look for them near the gate. Few medieval builders in Russia signed their work so openly in stone.

At first, the tower had a different name. It was called the Frolovskaya Tower, after a nearby church dedicated to Saints Frol and Lavr. The name changed in 1658. Tsar Alexei, father of Peter the Great, ordered it renamed after the icon of Christ the Saviour that hung above the gate. Spas means Saviour in Russian. So the name you hear today comes from a religious image, not from a ruler or a battle.

That icon has its own surprising history. In the Soviet years, religious images were removed or hidden across the country. The icon above this gate was covered over, and for decades many people assumed it was simply gone. Then, in 2010, restorers opened the covering and found the painted image still underneath. It was cleaned and restored, and it now looks down once again on the gateway below.

Now look at the upper half of the tower again. Solari's original tower was much lower and plainer. In the 1620s, a clockmaker from Britain named Christopher Galloway worked here with a Russian builder, Bazhen Ogurtsov. Together they added the tall, decorated top. Its pointed arches and spiky pinnacles borrow from Gothic style, the style of Europe's medieval cathedrals. This was one of the first towers in the Kremlin to receive such an ornate crown, and the others later followed its example.

The clock is the heart of the tower. Clocks have hung here for centuries, replaced and rebuilt many times. The present mechanism dates from the middle of the nineteenth century, made by the Butenop brothers, clockmakers working in Moscow. Each face is several metres across, and there is one on each of the four sides. Russians call these the Kremlin chimes. Their sound is so familiar that it is broadcast across the country on New Year's Eve, as the final seconds of the year run out.

The melody of the chimes has changed with the country. Under the tsars, the bells played hymns and marches. After the revolution, they were reset to play the Internationale, the socialist anthem. Today they play the melody of the national anthem. In a way, you can follow Russian history just by listening to what this tower has played over the past two centuries.

Then there is the star. For a long time, a gilded double-headed eagle, the symbol of the Russian Empire, stood on top of the spire. In the 1930s the Soviet government replaced it. The first star was metal set with semi-precious stones. In 1937 it was replaced with the ruby glass star you see today, lit from inside so it glows day and night. At dusk, watch it slowly brighten against the darkening sky.

The gate below has always been more than a doorway. For centuries, this was the main ceremonial entrance to the Kremlin. Tsars rode through it, and processions passed under the icon. By old custom, men took off their hats as they walked through, out of respect for the Saviour above. Legend has it that Napoleon refused in 1812, and that a gust of wind knocked his hat off anyway. It is a popular tale, not a documented fact, but Muscovites still enjoy telling it.

Today the gate is used mainly for official vehicles, and visitors to the Kremlin usually enter through other towers on the far side. That makes this a tower to watch rather than to walk through. Stand back a little on the square. From here you can see the whole line of the wall, the tower rising at the corner, and the coloured domes of Saint Basil's Cathedral just beside it. The two buildings together form one of the most photographed views in the city.

Before you move on, wait for the next quarter hour. Watch the hands creep toward the mark on the great black face. Then listen. The chimes will ring out again, the same sound heard by merchants, soldiers and families in this square for generations. Look up at the red brick, at the white stone, at the glowing star. And as you walk away across the paving stones, listen for the bells behind you, still keeping Moscow's time.