“Well, I will continue to do my best to edify the lot of you.”
“I hope that is the case, my dear friend.” Vlad gave Sergiu a firm pat on the shoulder in an attempt to calm him.
Once the soliders were fast asleep, Vlad and his vampire companions gathered the modest treasure they had gained from their time with the sultan and prepared to take flight. This was more gold than Cosmin and Costel had ever hoped to have during their human lifetime.
Sergiu and the twins headed out of the barracks, while Vlad remained. He shook Abdullah awake.
He had been snoring loudly and woke with a start. “What, what is it!”
“Shh, follow me. There is something I have to show you,” Vlad whispered.
“Now?”
“Yes, now, and don’t wake the others.”
Abdullah reluctantly and noisily followed Vlad out of the barracks. Vlad led him to a quiet part of town.
“What is the meaning of this?” Abdullah’s voice was full of irrigation.
“You will see soon enough, my friend.”
Costel and Cosmin stepped out from behind a vacant building. They secured each of Abdullah’s arms and Vlad bit into his own wrist, flinching at the pain that shot up his arm. Abdullah’s height required them to force him to his knees so Vlad could pull the hair on the back of his head and force the blood down his throat. This all happened quickly. Abdullah barely had time to get out a word of protest. A couple of heartbeats later he fell face down in the sand. They rolled his large form over onto a piece of leather that had been secured between two sturdy poles. This formed a stretcher which Cosmin and Costel could use to carry the unconscious Abdullah.
“Now, if you are satisfied, let us get out of here before they find we are missing,” Sergiu said. Over his shoulder was a bag containing Abdullah’s most prized possessions. He had just returned from collecting it from the barracks.
“I will miss the Janissaries and I will miss feeding on Muslim slaves. They are clean, no spirits fouling their blood,” Costel said.
They took flight. Cosmin looked back toward Bursa. The others followed his lead, taking in the city one last time.
“Not to fear, my young friend. We will find our own Janissaries. Ones who will follow me... and not grow old and die on us.”
Costel smiled.
Chapter 33 Rhodes 1355 A.D
Vlad and his companions flew south. He had hoped to make it to Alexandria before Abdullah woke but shortly after they reached the waters of the Mediterranean, Abdullah stirred.
“Shall we find out if a vampire this new can fly?” Cosmin asked and then proceeded to laugh wholeheartedly with his brother.
“Don’t you dare,” Sergiu chastised.
“Oh, come now. We are only funnin’ you, Serg.”
“There.” Vlad pointed. “That large island will do. We will need to get Abdullah out of the sun.”
“That would be the island of Rhodes,” Sergiu announced.
“How does he know so much?” Costel asked.
“If you live to be as old as Sergiu, you too will know a thing or two,” Vlad said.
They landed on the beautiful green island. It was a nice change from the dryness of Anatolia. Abdullah’s transition went well enough. He was primarily concerned about being stolen away and taken to the land of the infidel. This disturbed him more than being turned into a cannibalistic killer. He took it all rather well, although he did miss his comrades in arms — they were his only family. In fact, they all missed their Osmanli companions.
They, like the great Osman himself, became nomads. They lived remotely in large tents that Vlad paid locals in Rhodes to make. They did not stay in any one place too long. This was not a bad life for vampires, as they did not have to pretend to be human. They could be themselves. As soon as Abdullah was comfortable with flying and could somewhat control himself around humans, Vlad had the tents and their few belongings shipped to Alexandria. They took flight that night.
After a time in Alexandria, they slowly made their way west, traveling south of the Mediterranean Sea. The weather was hot and the sun was unbearable. Days were spent undercover, usually inside the large tents. They trained with every known weapon. Of course, Sergiu preferred his books to training. He read endlessly, studying Arab medicines and sciences. He read histories and philosophies. Sergiu would often tell Vlad, Abdullah and the twins stories of mighty leaders of the past. Such tales were greatly enjoyed by all.
Nights were often spent in local taverns looking for suitable men to add to Vlad’s army. He became quite skilled at finding men on the fringe of society, men he knew would become loyal subjects. All Vlad had to do was offer them a small amount of wealth and an even smaller amount of power. This was more than they could have hoped for as humans. Occasionally, one of the new recruits would prove to be too bloodthirsty. If he was unable to stop killing then he was beheaded before he drew attention to Vlad and his men.
Vlad’s faith in Cosmin and Costel was not misplaced. They served him well, following every order. They became powerful fighters and helped to train the new vampires. Vlad’s growing army of outcasts was working out better than he could have imagined. Since he was always the one to turn them, they would often refer to him as their master. As Vlad had hoped, they were fiercely loyal. He began to refer to these soldiers as his Janissaries — his very own vampire army.
The problem was keeping them busy enough that they did not grow bored. Bored vampire soldiers were very dangerous. Sergiu designed a strict regimen for them, based on the Osmanli archetype. This consisted of alternating between schooling — which many of them disliked — and learning to fight, which most enjoyed immensely. This left them with very little free time, which meant less time to find trouble.
They settled in Fez for the longest period of time. It was the end of the road — quite literally. By the time they were wearing out their welcome in Fez, Vlad’s army numbered fifteen; which was not bad for a vampire army. But they had to keep moving in order to not draw too much attention. They made their way east, visiting new towns and cities along the way. It was time for the next phase of Vlad’s plan. While he was growing in power, he still needed a name for himself. To become royalty he needed to marry into an imperial family.
By the time they arrived at the new Osmanli capital, in what was now referred to as the Ottoman Empire, Vlad had twenty-seven men under his command and the year was 1415. Sultan Orhan’s son Murad had moved the capital during his reign, from Bursa up into Europe. Murad’s grandson, Mehmed, now resided in the old city of Adrianople and the name had been changed to Edirne. All of this should have been a clue that much had changed since they left Sultan Orhan all those years ago.
Abdullah was looking forward to returning home. Perhaps Abdullah expected to find the same young Janissaries they had left behind almost sixty years prior. Either way, they were all looking forward to a warm welcome, like the one they had received under the rule of Orhan. Surely this new sultan would see the benefit of Vlad’s group of young and superior fighters.
Simply getting an audience with the sultan proved to be difficult. After a couple of days Vlad was ready to move on. He did not see the value in delaying in Edirne but Sergiu was convinced that there was more to learn from the all-powerful Osmanlis, who had continued to rise in strength and numbers, more so than other empires. Their army was the most loyal and the most feared in all the land. It was rumored that the enemy would flee at the sound of the Osmanli war band, resulting in the easy acquisition of the now vast lands of the empire. The leaders of Europe were forever watching to see what the sultan would do next, as he continued to expand Westward.
Finally, Sergiu, Abdullah and Vlad were given permission to meet with the sultan in his palace. He then kept them waiting for almost two hours. Again Vlad wanted to leave but Sergiu persuaded him to stay. Their weapons were confiscated at the front entrance to the palace. They were instructed on how to behave in Sultan Mehmed’s presence, which made Vlad want to hurl. Thi
s time it was Abdullah who kept Vlad from marching out. With a child’s awe, Abdullah wanted to meet the new sultan more than anything.
Chapter 34 Ottoman Empire 1415 A.D
When Mehmed was finally ready to see them, two armed Janissaries led Vlad, Abdullah and Sergiu into a large room where the sultan sat on his throne. On his right was his Grand Vizier and on his left a young man who must have been the sultan’s son and heir, Murad II. One of the guards gave a forceful shove to the back of Vlad’s head to remind him to keep his head down until the sultan said otherwise. It took every bit of Vlad’s self-control not to break the guard’s nose. Sergiu and Abdullah prostrated themselves at Mehmed’s feet placing their foreheads to the floor as instructed.
Vlad shook his head. Do it for Abdullah. He followed their lead more slowly. After what seemed like a long time Sultan Mehmed bade them rise, giving them permission to gaze upon him.
“What is it that you want from me?” Mehmed’s impatience was clear.
For Vlad, this confirmed that they should not have come.
“We want nothing, Your Majesty; except to serve you. You see, our great grandfathers served the mighty Sultan Orhan himself, may blessings be upon him,” Sergiu said.
“What do you have to offer me?”
“We have twenty-eight well-trained soldiers ready to serve your empire.” Sergiu bowed his head to the sultan.
For the first time Mehmed smiled. Then he issued a derisive laugh. “I have no need of simple mercenaries. Their loyalty can never be trusted. I rely entirely on my Janissaries whom we have trained since they were small boys. They are my ‘sons,’ knowing only my schooling and my laws. They are boundlessly devoted to me. Your band of rabble is of no use to me.”
With that, the sultan raised his hand to dismiss them. Vlad could see Abdullah’s shoulders sag at Mehmed’s insult. This was enough to make Vlad want to sink his teeth into the sultan’s neck and drain him of life. Vlad could not wait to get out of there.
Sergiu and Abdullah backed away slowly from the sultan but Vlad spun on his heel and headed for the door. The two Janissaries drew their scimitars and pointed them at Vlad’s chest.
“No one turns their back on the sultan,” one of the Janissaries declared.
“That’s odd, because I believe I just did.” Vlad moved around the guards’ swords. With the palm of his hand he shoved one of them into the wall. Vlad tried to be gentle but he could hear the sound of bones cracking as the guard’s fragile human body gave way to the unyielding stone wall. He shoved his shoulder into the second guard and sent him flying into the adjacent wall. He too was not dead but taken out of the fight.
Vlad turned to Mehmed. “You have made a grave mistake. You do not want me as your enemy.”
The three of them disappeared, as the sultan yelled for more guards.
That night they sat around a campfire far outside the city. Abdullah’s massive shoulders remained slumped.
“Cheer up, old friend.” Vlad spoke in Turkish or Arabic, or some combination thereof. It was almost their own personal language. “We are your comrades in arms. These,” Vlad gestured to his men, “are your brethren. Forget about the sultans of old.”
Abdullah gave a weak smile. “I don’t understand. Sultan Orhan was a great leader. What has happened to my people?”
“That was a long time ago, Abdullah. The modern sultans have become pompous, with an obscene sense of entitlement,” Sergiu paused. “Yet our visit was not a complete waste. We did learn that the devsirme, or child soldiers, are indeed how the empire has managed to create the most loyal and possibly the fiercest army to ever roam the earth.” Sergiu was forever looking on the bright side.
“Tomorrow we travel to Constantinople,” Vlad announced. “I warned the sultan that it would be unwise to cross me. We will offer our valuable services to Mehmed’s mortal enemy. Constantinople will be a good place to avoid the sultan’s men, who are most likely already looking for us. He will not take our meeting today lightly.” What better place to find a princess to marry than in the capital of the Roman Empire? Hopefully we will be received better by the emperor than the sultan, Vlad thought.
“Come on, it is time for your Latin lesson,” Sergiu said.
This brought about moans from some of the men.
As Vlad’s men moved through Edirne on their way south, they came upon a crowd in the street in front of the palace.
“What is going on?” Vlad asked a local on-looker.
“Impalings,” a man offered.
“Who?”
“Two of the sultan’s top palace guards.”
Vlad knew straightaway which guards were to be put to death.
“Why?” Sergiu asked.
“They failed the sultan yesterday. That is the price one must pay for failing the Shadow of God on Earth.”
“The Shadow of God, my arse.” Vlad let out a grunt of disgust. “You must be jesting.” Then he turned to Costel, “Fetch my bow and quiver.”
“What are you going to do?” Sergiu’s forehead was lined with concern.
“If Mehmed does not want them in his army, then I will try them in mine.”
Vlad beckoned for Abdullah to follow. They moved swiftly through the crowd to get closer to the public execution site.
Sergiu went to work preparing the men. “Be ready to move out on my command. We will most likely be pursued by hundreds of the sultan’s troops.”
Vlad and Abdullah waited with their hoods up, hiding their faces. The condemned palace guards were escorted into the courtyard by four sentries. With his hand, Vlad gestured for Abdullah to take out the two sentries on the right. Vlad shot one arrow followed by the other in a blink of an eye. Abdullah did the same. Each arrow found its mark in its intended guard and the prisoners were left standing alone with cloth bags over their heads.
Leaping with ease onto the low dividing wall to the courtyard, Vlad yelled, “The sultan is nothing but a goddamned nomad.”
There was chaos all around. Abdullah threw one of the hooded men over his shoulder and Vlad seized the other. Guards ran toward them from all directions, as they disappeared in a flash.
Vlad and Abdullah paused under cover of a grove of olive trees outside of town. By the time the rest of Vlad’s men tracked them down, the two guards lay in the deep transformative sleep with Vlad’s blood dripping from their mouths. Their broken bones were already healing.
As the army of vampires entered the ancient city of Constantinople they numbered thirty.
Chapter 35 Constantinople 1415 A.D
It did not take long for Vlad and his men to find their way into the court of Emperor Manuel II of the Roman Empire. The emperor was impressed with their remarkable fighting ability and readily accepted Vlad’s offer to fight with him against the ever-present threat from the Ottomans. Unlike the sultan, Manuel was not picky. Any help he could get was welcome. His continual cries for aid from his fellow Christians in the West, usually fell on deaf ears. Thirty trained fighters were much needed in his small army. Constantinople had once been a mighty empire. In the centuries past, they could easily ward off threats from the Seljuk Turks and the like. However, times had changed; the Ottomans had grown to be far more powerful than the Seljuks had ever been. The ever-shrinking Roman Empire was now surrounded by lands the sultan controlled. Emperor Manuel desperately needed Vlad’s help.
Constantinople was an ideal place to usurp the throne, as there had been many to do so in the past. Granted, former usurpers were usually family members of the emperors. They succeeded by taking control of the army. If Vlad were to marry into the family then taking control of the army would be easy. The people would not hesitate to follow a strong leader in these desperate times. Such a change in power would be nothing new to them. This was unlike the Ottomans who had been led solely by the sons of Osman and only a man in his direct line of descendants was viewed as a legitimate ruler.
Vlad’s relatively few — yet highly effective — soldiers quickly earned him a place a
t the emperor's table, along with the emperor's most trusted advisors and the commanders of his army. Over the next year Vlad and Sergiu studied the situation in the palace. Emperor Manuel’s most favored child was Isabella. She was his firstborn. It was said that Manuel had fallen in love with Isabella’s mother. Yet before their daughter was born he was forced to marry another. Manuel’s parents would not allow him to marry his love. As heir to the throne it was his duty to marry for political reasons. So he and Helena wed in order to soothe relations with Helena’s royal family in Serbia. These were the facts — what remained was the emotional turmoil this chain of events put in place.
Some viewed Isabella as nothing more than an illegitimate child, though no one would dare say that to the emperor. Yet most viewed her as the grandest of all princesses in the kingdom. This made her Vlad’s target.
At the Pascal Feast in the spring of 1416 Vlad and Sergiu sat at the emperor's long table. In the middle of the table sat Emperor Manuel; to his right sat Helena and to his left sat Isabella. Manuel all but ignored Helena and chatted away merrily with his daughter. Vlad ears were focused on their conversation.
“Oh, Father, why must these gatherings be so boring?” Isabella complained.
This was Vlad’s cue. He shot Sergiu a devious smile and swiftly left his seat only to appear behind the emperor and his daughter. “Pardon me, Your Majesty. I hate to interrupt you and your lovely daughter but we simply cannot stand for a bored princess. May I offer to lead the young lady in a dance?”
The emperor glanced at his daughter who nodded slightly, accepting the invitation.
“Very well.” Manuel frowned. He stood and took Isabella’s hand.
Vlad slid her chair back so she could easily stand.
Manuel placed her hand in Vlad’s.
Vlad issued a slight bow to the emperor for entrusting his daughter to him. Let the games begin, he thought. It had been a while since he had had to charm a woman. Hopefully he was not too rusty.
Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners) Page 13
