The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay

by Shane KP O'Neill

  “Then I must assume he escaped the field, Commander. I daresay he is a ruined man even if he did get away with his life intact.”

  “Never underestimate an enemy such as him. He did not achieve such an exalted status by allowing a few setbacks to get in his way. We shall see him again. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “It is with regret then that I did not kill him.”

  Hassan waved off his apology. “I am sure your chance shall come again, especially so if you win back your throne. So, is it to Wallachia you go from here?”

  “Yes, the time is nigh. Basarab’s army, what is left of it, is in tatters.”

  “You do realise one thing I hope?”

  “What is that, my Lord?”

  “In doing what you did today, it has allowed more of his men to escape the field. Had we attacked them together, few would have got away, if any at all.”

  He knew it was so. “It is more for me to kill when he fights to keep the throne.”

  “At least your losses were few. That is one blessing.”

  “I have yet to lose many men in battle.”

  “Then long may it last. Without a strong army, you have no power.”

  “I appreciate that, Commander. My men are everything to me. I have never known such kinship. It warms my heart how these men risk all to protect and preserve me. I would do the same for each and every one of them.”

  “Such an attitude shall always hold you in good stead. If you treat them like your brothers, they shall never fail you.”

  “I shall remember that always.”

  “I give you leave of your duties to me. Go forth and take what is yours and good luck. May Allah be with you.”

  Dracula saluted him and left. His army marched north for the Danube. It was the last obstacle before reaching Wallachian soil.

  HUNYADI and Skanderbeg headed north for the safety of Belgrade. George Branković remained strong there and was sure to give them shelter. To Hunyadi’s great surprise, Basarab did not flee to safety.

  He remained deep in Serbian territory. There, he busily rallied the remnants of his side’s scattered troops. The Turks let them off the hook by not giving chase. Had they pursued the fleeing army, they could have wiped them out to a man. Instead, they spent the next three days burying their dead. They had endured heavy losses at Kosovo Polje and they wanted the necessary time to honour them. It left Hassan reluctant to pursue any further military action.

  Branković did not receive either man well when they arrived at his door. Hunyadi’s army, on its march south, had looted his principality. He imprisoned them in his fortress at Smederevo. Skanderbeg found himself a hostage again, as he had been previously with the Turks.

  DRACULA crossed the Danube into Wallachia. He met with no resistance on the road to Bucharest. There was no one there to fight him. The boyars in Bucharest, including Vintila Florescu, received word of his impending advance on the city.

  “Have you heard the news?” he asked Craiovescu. “The son of Dracul is a day’s ride away with a large army.”

  “Yes, I have heard it said.”

  “We must leave. If he catches us, we are dead men.”

  “I agree. If Basarab is happy to leave his territory unprotected, I shall not give my life to save it.”

  “Nor I. Not after what I heard he did to Basarab’s family at Oltenita. I do not fancy a stake driven through me. He is brutal, the worst kind of animal.”

  “He is a wounded animal then. What he has done is no worse than what you did to his mother and brother. We each have to face our nemesis and I foresee he shall be yours. You want to hope he never catches up with you.”

  Florescu gave his ally a sharp look. He did not care for the reminder about what he had done to them. “Then I am leaving for Brasov within the hour. I shall wait there and see what Basarab does. Is there any word yet of Hunyadi?”

  “You are as well informed as I. He is most probably dead. His army was badly crushed by all accounts.”

  “I hear the son of Dracul was the cause of this. Has it been substantiated?”

  Craiovescu shrugged. “Not that I am aware. For him to be marching here from the south would indicate he was there. I know no more than that.”

  “I shall meet with you up north then. Let us hope Basarab can sort out this mess.”

  Before night fell, the boyars had deserted the city.

  Dracula made faster progress than they realised. Not long after the last of them had fled he was within a mile of the new capital. He expected to meet with serious resistance there. For that reason, he decided it better to wait for the dawn before marching in. There could be all manner of traps set for him.

  That night was another he spent without sleep. He was only hours away from securing the throne that was his father’s. His heart raced at the prospect. Yet as the fantasies raced through his mind at what would happen when he marched on Bucharest, he remembered the hours before he had attacked Hunyadi. He had imagined then too what he would do to his most hated enemy, but nothing had come of it. Hunyadi had escaped his clutches. He decided to walk alone for a time, away from the bulk of his army.

  “I am close, Papa,” he whispered to the cold October breeze. He wondered if his father was looking down on him. If so, then he was determined to do him proud. “I shall avenge you and Mama, and my brother. That I vow.”

  As first light approached, he prepared his cavalry to march on the city. He briefed his men and warned them to remain vigilant. No one could tell what awaited them there. He did not even send his scouts, reluctant to risk them.

  Dracula led the way. As always he wanted to set the best example to his men.

  Kazic called to him. “This may not be the best time for you to be at the front, my Lord.”

  “Why would you say that? I always lead from the front.”

  “It would take one shot from a good archer to bring you down. Let another lead the way.”

  Dracula acknowledged the suggestion, but did not adhere to it.

  Kazic pursued it with him. “My Lord, your courage is not an issue here. You have nothing to prove in that regard. Let another take your place at the front.”

  “Very well,” he agreed, with a sigh. “As you wish.”

  Kazic waved to one of his officers to take the lead. On the outskirts, the city looked deserted. This worried him and he feared a trap. He ordered his men to separate into six units and approach the city at different points.

  They entered the city soon after. A few peasants went about their business, but they saw no sign of any soldiers. Dracula’s men conducted a thorough search of the main buildings. They saw no sign of any man loyal to Basarab. The boyars had abandoned the city to him.

  Kazic walked with Dracula into the palace that stood central in the capital. The officials, who remained, greeted them.

  “You are Vlad Dracula?” the leading official asked him.

  He nodded, though he had no need for an introduction.

  “Welcome to the city, my Lord. We have been expecting you.”

  “Where are the boyars?”

  “They have fled the city, my Lord. News of your impending arrival put the fear of God into them.”

  “Were Florescu or Craiovescu here?”

  “Yes, my Lord. As recently as a day ago.”

  “Is there anyone belonging to them in the city?”

  “Not that I know of, my Lord. Craiovescu has a cousin perhaps. That is all.”

  “I want him arrested,” he said to Kazic. “See that it is done.”

  Dracula walked up to the throne, which dominated the room. He knew his father had sat there on occasion when he conducted business here in the city.

  The official could read his thoughts. “Go to it, my Lord. It is yours.”

  Dracula smiled and did so. He turned to face those in the room and sat down. “From this day on, you call me Liege. On your knees,” he commanded them. “It is time to pay homage to your new Voivode.”

  TRANSYLVANIA.
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br />   THE ESTATE OF MIHAIL BASARAB IN BRASOV.

  NOVEMBER, 1448.

  Dracula’s actions in seizing the throne had a profound effect on the region. Tensions already ran high in Transylvania to the north. John Hunyadi had disappeared in Serbia and still no word had arrived as to what had become of him. It remained under the control of Hungary, but he had ruled it for some time, as governor. Rumours abounded that he had perished in battle. In light of that, the boyars discussed plans to challenge Hungary’s autonomy in the Romanias. Without Hunyadi at the helm, Hungary would struggle to contain any manner of an uprising in the state.

  For now the vice-governor, Nicolae of Ocna, ruled in his absence. He knew of the bitter feud between Hunyadi and the Draculestis. And now the young Dracula had seized the throne in Wallachia. This did not bode well for anyone holding a position of power in Transylvania. Were he to consolidate his power there, it seemed certain he would come north in his quest for revenge. They had to prevent this at all costs.

  Nicolae made the journey at once to Brasov. He needed to meet with Mihail Basarab. Mihail returned home to his estates after defeating Vlad Dracul a year before. He left the reins of power with his brother as ambitions of ruling Wallachia held little interest for him. This was despite being in a position a year ago to do so. He had achieved fame as the man who had defeated Vlad Dracul, and he was content with that.

  Mihail knew it was rare for his visitor to leave Hunedoara. To see him here, there had to be trouble afoot. “What brings you to me?” he asked the vice-governor.

  “We need to discuss Vlad Dracula.”

  “What of him? He is merely a young upstart that should amount to nothing.”

  “Do you not know what has happened? He has seized your brother’s throne!”

  “I am not ignorant of the world around me. What of it? It is not my concern.”

  “Forgive me, but I beg to differ. Vladislav is your brother.”

  “Yes, and he is big enough to sort out his own affairs.”

  “And that is it?”

  “He chose to absent his throne in his quest for glory, so it is his misfortune if another sits upon it.”

  “And you would stand by and do nothing?”

  “I advised him Wallachia would bring him nothing but strife. No man in his right mind would want that burden on his shoulders. I would not wish that poisoned chalice on anyone. He chose to proceed with it, so it is his problem.”

  His attitude shocked Nicolae. He never expected to hear this. Still, he had to pursue the matter. He had come a long way for this meeting. Whilst Hunyadi was away, Mihail remained the most powerful boyar in the state. “You still have a responsibility,” he reminded him.

  Mihail looked at him and then sat back down. He took a sip of his wine and placed his cup on the table beside his seat. “And what might that be?”

  “John could well be lost to us. That would mean you are the most powerful boyar in the land. In the best interests of Transylvania, we need to remove Dracula from power before he is strong enough to resist any such action. A serious threat hangs over us all while he has the reins of power.”

  “In your interests, perhaps, it would be better to see him gone. I am sure Transylvania can endure it.”

  “It affects the whole country.”

  “I hate to throw water on your fire,” he said, more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “But this has little or nothing to do with me.”

  “It is everything to do with you.”

  “It suits your master, or Hungary, much more to see him gone. Let them deal with it. This is not my fight.”

  “John is dead! He has not returned from Serbia.”

  “Who is to say if he is dead or alive? I have heard no proof of that. He may have found himself a nice Serbian wench.”

  Nicolae slanted his eyes at Mihail’s lack of concern. “For him to not return we have to fear the worst. For the now, we have to assume he is dead.”

  “I shall do no such thing. I have heard nothing to suggest it. He should surface soon enough. You can be sure of that. My feeling is that he is probably in hiding. He has his tail between his legs after yet another fiasco with the Turks.”

  “You do not show him much respect.”

  “I owe him nothing and shall not apologise for what I think. I would say he owes me, after I helped him remove Dracul.”

  “It would be interesting if he were here in this room. What would you say then?”

  “If he were here I would tell him to his face. What is it you want? You are beginning to irritate me.”

  “Very well, my gracious host. Consider this scenario then, if you will.”

  Mihail sighed. “If I must. Go on.”

  “Dracula goes on to consolidate his power. He wins the support of the boyars and builds a strong army.”

  “You have a good imagination. I grant you that.”

  Nicolae ignored his disregard for what he had to say. “He knows his throne is safe. So then he begins to think of those who murdered his family.”

  He saw the change on Mihail’s face at once.

  “Murad is his ally. So he has no fear of anyone crossing his borders when he sends his army north. His first stop is Brasov. He knows it is home to the man who killed his father.”

  “You have made your point.”

  “Dracula on the throne concerns us all.”

  “Yes, as you have so eloquently made me aware.”

  “Your brother may not be able to oust him. For that reason we must draw up a contingency plan, in the event that he cannot take back the throne.”

  “You might want to try diplomacy first.”

  “It would be a waste of time to negotiate with Dracula. And to do so would tell him that we recognise his sovereignty.”

  “It is the shrewder way to deal with things. At least until the dust settles.”

  “He does not care for it. Revenge is all that is on his mind. He has fire in his blood. I know he shall not rest until we all lie cold in our graves.”

  “Write to him. Ask him to come to Brasov and justify his actions.”

  “Send him a letter? You think that would lure him here? I doubt he feels a need to justify anything that he has done to us.”

  “It is a good way to begin. He is not ready to fight us yet and he knows it. I am sure he would like to keep us sweet until such time as he is ready. We can arrange for his assassination when he comes.”

  Nicolae nodded that he would write the letter. He needed to have Mihail on his side now more than ever. “Very well, Mihail. That is what I shall do. But what if that fails?”

  “It shall not be difficult to raise an army against him.”

  “Indeed not. I have written to many boyars here and in Hungary to voice my concerns. They are sure to be as unhappy about the situation as we are.”

  “If the need arises, I shall see to it. I shall raise an army and then kill him myself.”

  WALLACHIA.

  THE PIATA IN THE CENTRE OF BUCHAREST.

  NOVEMBER, 1448.

  Dracula acted fast in wielding his authority in Bucharest. He recruited a hundred good men from the city. His father taught him the people would not react well to foreigners governing them. They formed a security force of sorts. The Turkish soldiers he used solely to maintain order.

  They made many arrests from the quiet streets of the city. Dracula had the prisoners tortured at length. It did not take them long to give up the information he sought. Once they had served their purpose he had them executed. Very soon he formed a clear picture of those still in the city loyal to Basarab.

  Dracula thought back to the day he assumed control. He had asked the city’s head official about relatives of the boyars still in Bucharest. The man had named a solitary cousin of Craiovescu.

  The two weeks of arrests and torture produced dozens of such people. He executed the official along with the relatives of the boyars. The man could not be trusted. But Yallin Florescu, as the son of Vintila, was the jewel in the crow
n. He was ill at the time of Dracula’s coup and unable to flee the city. His father had left without him and abandoned him to his fate.

  It was a grim November afternoon when his men led Yallin out into the piata in the city. A huge crowd had gathered there. With the use of criers on every corner the new voivode had ordered every able person to be present.

  He limped out, barefoot and chained to three other men. The crowd looked on at his bruised and battered face. Each man had his manacles removed. They then had their hands tied behind their backs.

  Yallin looked out at the crowd. He had few friends there. It had been his task, under Basarab’s rule, to collect taxes within the city. He also enforced penalties against those who did not pay on time.

  Dracula ordered the three other men to kneel. He walked up behind them and drew the Fier Negru from its scabbard. One of his men stood to the front and opening a scroll, he addressed the crowd.

  The man spoke loud and clear. “For their support of the murderer, Vladislav Basarab.” He took a brief pause and went on. “And for implicating themselves in his crimes, these men are condemned to die.”

  Dracula decided to allow them a swift death. This was to compound the misery of Yallin Florescu. He would not have the same good fortune.

  The young voivode touched the Fier Negru against the neck of the first of the three. He raised it high above his head and brought it down in one swift motion. It removed the head with such venom that it bounced up off the ground. The blood sprayed him full in the face and hit the other two men awaiting execution. Soon their headless corpses lay on the ground beside the first.

  The people watched in silence. The soldiers formed a solid line all around the piata to ensure no one stepped away. Dracula took a cloth from his belt and wiped the blood from his face and hands. He addressed the crowd himself, though he looked more at what he was doing than at them. “This is the fate that awaits any one among you prepared to support the murderer, Vladislav Basarab. He or his boyars. I have issued death warrants for them all. To anyone found guilty of an act of treason against me, you shall suffer the same as this man.”