“He shall never know. You are the only witness to what has passed. I am certain you shall say nothing.”
Machiavelli met his gaze for a moment. He understood the veiled threat. “No, I would never speak of it. It is something I would sooner forget.”
He turned away and continued to look down the quiet street.
Dracula broke the silence with a question. “What are you doing here so late? I imagined you would have retreated to the safety of your bed. Even more so after the shock you have had.”
“I am not one to retire early.”
“You are waiting for someone?”
He did not want Dracula to know his reason for standing there. The question put him on the defensive. “Of course not.”
Dracula knew he was lying. “You might be a very smart young man,” he said, “but you are not a very good liar.”
Machiavelli frowned, but did not answer.
“A woman?” he pressed, reading the other man’s mind. “It is little wonder you are so coy.”
Machiavelli took exception to the comment. Without a word, he walked away.
“Where are you going?” Dracula asked after him.
He was about to answer when a woman turned the corner. She glanced over at the two of them. Dracula sensed the young man’s heart sink. He had not wanted her to see him.
She pulled her shawl down over her forehead. There he is again. My guardian angel, of sorts. It crossed her mind to give him a smile, but then she thought better of it. To give the much younger man a false notion might not be a good idea. Any hint of emotion from her would surely lead him to think she liked him. She did not especially, even though he helped her feel safe.
Every night, she spotted him on her way home. At first, it had made her nervous, but he never did anything to her. He just waited and followed her home from a distance. Perhaps someone has hired him to see me home safely each night? That is how she explained his continued presence. Perhaps the rich people I play music for employed him to do it.
Dracula was smitten the moment he first caught sight of her. She had a face of such rare beauty. When she saw him there, she hurried on her way.
He walked a few paces after her, and then joined his new friend in following her progress far down the street. “Who is she?”
Machiavelli did not want to divulge anything about her, but he knew he had little choice. “Her name is Piera.”
Dracula whispered the name quietly to himself. “Why is she out at so late an hour?”
“Every evening, she plays the harp for some rich nobles.”
He said it with real disdain.
“You do not approve?”
“It is her means to live, but they have little regard for her.”
“Surely they must, or they would not retain her services.”
Machiavelli left the corner to walk after her.
“You do this every night?”
“Yes. When I know she is safe, then I go home and sleep.”
“You are in love, Niccolo.”
He stopped a moment and looked at Dracula. “You assume much, signor.”
“It is wasted on her, believe me. You are perhaps half her age.”
He took real offence at the advice, and his face showed it. “What do you know of me? What do you know of her?”
His raised voice caught her ear in the quiet street. She glanced over her shoulder, and then kept walking.
“You know it is true. Why else would you hide in the shadows?”
“What do you want? Have you come here to torment me?”
“I shall tell you soon enough.”
“Then would you leave me in peace until Piera is home, and safe?”
“As you wish.”
Dracula vanished in the blink of an eye. Machiavelli spun around full circle, but saw no sign of him. It made him feel even more nervous. He walked on, keeping to the shadows. When Piera reached her home, she stopped. He did so, too.
She turned to look at him. For the first time, she offered him a hint of a smile. He has seen me home safely again. When he stepped from the shadows, she raised her arm in a half wave.
It lifted his heart at once. She had never acknowledged him before now. He stood there for a time after she went inside, dreaming his usual dream of what a life with her might be like. When he finally turned away, Dracula was at his side once more.
“Come, we have much to discuss.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Many thoughts raced through the young man’s head. Who is this man? What does he want with me? I have nothing that could interest him. Dracula thought only of the woman, Piera.
“It is here,” he said. “This is where I live.”
Dracula looked up at the old town house. It showed this family once had money and influence. The house looked old now and run-down. “Does anyone live with you?” he asked.
Machiavelli shot him a quick glance. “Why, what does it matter?”
“I merely wanted to know.”
“You want to know if we are alone so you can kill me?”
“If I wanted to kill you, you would be long dead.”
“My mother still lives here. The servants are all gone, but for two.”
“I only want to be sure we are not disturbed.”
“We shall not be. They are all sleeping at this hour.”
Dracula followed him through the house. It expelled a dank odour and needed a good airing. “This house has seen better days.”
“Of course. My family was not always so afflicted. Come.”
He led his guest down a flight of steps to the basement. Dracula waited while he unlocked the door and admitted him inside. His host lit two oil lamps in the corners of the room. Then he closed the door so that they had total privacy. “Perhaps you might tell me the purpose of all this?”
“You are a writer, yes?”
“I dabble from time to time.”
Dracula looked at the array of parchment littered all about the room. “I would wager you do more than that.”
“I have many ideas, yes. It is better to write them down so as not to forget them. Some are mere whims that are easily lost.”
“Yes, indeed. It is many ideas that you have.”
“They do not bring me much fortune.”
“No, I can see that.”
“Men are so ignorant.”
“Yes, quite. They fear change, Niccolo. You shall come to realise this in time.”
“If I live long enough. This episode, on this night, makes me wonder.”
“I am sure you should live a long life. You need only keep your wits about you. Do not stay out in the streets so late.”
“You know why I do that.”
“Yes, but let us not talk of it for the now.”
“Your being here has something to do with my writing?”
“Yes! It has everything to do with that.”
“I am intrigued.”
“I want you to write of me.”
“And what would you have me write?”
“Write of my life and my ideas.”
“A biography?”
“Not quite. More my ideas and my character than the things I have done.”
“To serve what end?”
“So it is not lost. Times are changing, and new ideas are coming to replace the old. I want people to understand why men such as I do the things we do.”
“What might I gain from this venture?”
“You can pass it off as your own work. Any profit that may arise from it, you can have for yourself. I only want it written down.”
“But why me? I am sure you can find a host of others.”
“Florence is the centre of the universe, Niccolo. I need it written here. I see no one better equipped than you to do that.”
He thought about it for a few moments. His visitor had certainly aroused his curiosity. “I do not even know who you are,” he said. “The name Vlad Romanos means nothing to me.”
“I was o
nce the voivode of all Wallachia. My true name is Vlad Dracula.”
Chapter 10
TUSCANY. THE HOME OF NICCOLO
MACHIAVELLI IN FLORENCE.
JULY, 1489. LATE THAT SAME NIGHT.
Vlad Dracula? I know of that name.”
“Romanos was the name of my bodyguard. It suited my purpose to use it.”
Machiavelli recalled a pamphlet he had read. It spoke of a cruel and wicked ruler in one of the Romanias. “I have read something of you.”
“I am sure my reputation precedes me.”
“You were known for impaling your enemies?”
“Yes, among other things. This is why I have come to you. People must know why I did the things I did.”
“I read you impaled twenty-two thousand men in a single day.”
“It is true. They were enemy soldiers. I needed to send the Turks a message. I sent the message, and had fewer mouths to feed.”
The young man looked aghast. “It is no wonder you were considered brutal.”
Dracula smiled at the brazenness in his tone. “The end justifies the means, Niccolo.”
“I see you truly believe that.”
“Yes,” the vampire nodded. “And I shall show you why.”
“It is the reason men shout the word republic.”
“They are fools; all of them.”
“Then let us see if you can convince me.”
“I shall. This is the message you must write down. I did it for a greater purpose.”
“What can justify such a mass slaughter?”
“Mehmed was looking to crush my country. When his army marched over the horizon that is what they saw. They fled in terror.”
“I am not surprised.”
“It saved my country. For a time, at least.”
“The story I read said you died in battle, in a hail of arrows.”
“That is not quite the truth.”
“Well, I see you are not dead.”
“No, you see me as I am.”
“But then, I know you are not human either.”
“Is that so hard for you to comprehend?”
“At first, yes, but here you are. Perhaps I am mad. I could be imagining this whole episode. Indeed, this entire night might be a fantasy of sorts. A trick of the mind. I foolishly took a little wine before my visit to Signor de’ Medici.”
“You know that is not so. Those three men are dead in that alley. You were there, and you saw what happened to them.”
His eyes wandered back to the memory of it. “Yes, I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Then let us not waste any more time with it.”
“Tell me then, what are you?”
“I do not know that you could grasp what I am.”
“If only out of respect, you should tell me. After everything I have seen and for what you ask of me, I do have a right to know.”
Dracula nodded. “Then I shall tell you.”
“You say it as though there is a condition attached?”
“There is. So you had best understand the gravity of it.”
“Then what is it?”
“That you never speak of our meeting to anyone.”
“Why would I? I would only be thought of as mad, if I did.”
“I want you to be clear on this point. You have an idea of what I am. You have seen what I can do.”
“Yes.”
“Then if you ever speak of me to another, I shall kill everything you hold dear. Never give mention of my name, or of anything you have seen this night.”
Machiavelli felt a cold shiver run the length of his spine. He knew Dracula meant it. “I swear I shall never speak of this, or of you.”
“Good, then we can begin.”
“So what are you?”
“I am a creature of Darkness.”
“You mean the night?”
“No, much worse. As I lay dying at Snagov, Lucifer claimed me as his own.”
The hairs stood up on the back of Machiavelli’s neck. He did not know what to say, so he just listened.
“He drank of my blood, and then he forced me to drink of his.”
Dracula stopped for his young companion to try and contemplate what that meant. He paced about the room with his hands behind his back.
“Then what happened?”
“I died.”
“But you are here.”
“I suffered mortal death.”
“Mortal death?”
“Yes, my life as you would know it, ended. The limits of the human form were gone from me forever.”
“But you still look human.”
“Only in appearance. For how else could I live in the world of men?”
Machiavelli saw the logic in it.
“All else changed. With Lucifer’s blood in my veins, I became immortal. It gave me the strength of more than twenty men. I have senses more alert than any beast or animal. I can fly faster and longer than almost any bird. That, Niccolo, is what I am.”
“I saw you drink the blood of those men. Why did you do that?”
“For everything there is a price, even my immortality.”
“You must drink the blood of men in return for what Lucifer gave you?”
“Yes, for that, and to survive.”
“That would suggest that mankind is a food source for you?”
“Yes.”
“By why not the blood of animals?”
“It is of no use to me. It only serves to keep a thirst at bay for a short time. For me to remain strong, I must consume human blood.”
Machiavelli felt a lump build in his throat. “Do you want to drink of my blood?”
“My thirst is satisfied, but it has a nice aroma. Another night, perhaps.”
His words put fear into the younger man. Machiavelli trembled so much, he had to sit.
Dracula chuckled at the look on his face. “I am jesting with you, Niccolo. You are safe.”
Machiavelli wiped the cold sweat from the back of his neck and loosened his collar.
“That is, as long as you remain true to your word.”
Machiavelli ignored the threat. “Thank you for sharing this with me, though it is hard to believe.”
“But you do believe it?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then we should begin. Pick up your quill.”
Machiavelli sat down behind his small desk. Dipping his quill in the inkwell, he waited for Dracula to begin.
“These pamphlets you give mention of, they say my actions were brutal?”
“Yes, I believe that was what they conveyed.”
“What else did they say?”
“They say you were a cruel and wicked man.”
Dracula thought about that for a moment. “I say they are wrong. I believe my actions were just, and executed with good cause.”
“What weight can you add to that argument?”
“When I gained control of my country for the second time, I had a coronation. The archbishop made me swear three vows.”
“What were they?”
“The first was to swear allegiance to the Church, and defend the faith.”
“That is obligatory for all rulers.”
“Yes, and I kept that vow. I gave my life in defence of it.”
The young man nodded. Dracula was as famous for his courage in battle as he was for the atrocities he had committed.
“The second was to rule my people justly and fairly, and without prejudice.”
“I understand you killed many people because of their low class.”
“You mean the beggars and thieves? Yes, they were a blight on the country.”
“Were they not your people? The same as the rich and wealthy?”
“There is one thing you do not understand, Niccolo.”
“Then help me.”
“The health of the country takes precedence over all other things.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“It is more important than the man who rules.
It is more important than the people. Very few men in that position ever see that fact.”
“I would say the people make the state. Without them, there is no such thing.”
“No, you are wrong. The prince, or ruler, makes the state. It is the way he governs that matters the most.”
“So you deemed it necessary to kill criminals and beggars?”
“Yes, absolutely. By making every crime punishable by death, I removed all crime from my country.”
“Is that not too extreme?”
“No, it was a necessity. In doing that, I made the economy strong. That made my country strong. The people made an honest living. Instead of stealing and begging and draining the country of its resources, they worked for what they had.”
“So you say such an act is all well and good as long as the end benefits the state as a whole?”
“Yes, that is it. Any action is justified for the greater good.”
“And that is the justification you give?”
“Yes, Niccolo. That is how I ruled my country.”
He wrote it all down. After a short time, he looked up from the parchment. “What was the third vow?”
“I swore to defend the borders against the threat of the Infidel, of course.”
“I take it that was not so easily done?”
“That is correct. Wallachia always suffered, due to its location. It lies surrounded by countries looking to invade it. Either that or pass through it to invade another.”
“So how did you set about achieving that?”
“With great difficulty. First of all, I had to stabilise my power.”
“By killing off your enemies?”
“Yes, I did that too. It is much tougher for a new prince than a hereditary one.”
“But you were your father’s heir.”
“That is true, but I did not inherit his throne. I had to take it on the field of battle from the men who killed him.”
“So you were a new prince?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you believe it is harder in that situation?”
“A prince who inherits the throne needs only maintain the institutions already in place.”
“Because the people are accustomed to it?”
“Yes, precisely. On the other hand, a new prince has to stabilise his power. Then he has to put in place a structure that would endure.”
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 150
