“Indeed you have already proven to be quite a different ruler than your predecessor. You are much more of a dragon than he was. The name Dracula suits you,” Sergiu said.
The pillaging ended and Vlad’s chamberlain was secured in the palace in Sibiu. Vlad and his men took flight that night for Targoviste. They had been gone long enough that the lack of a day or two for traveling could be easily explained. There was no need to slowly ride horses back. Vlad was more than ready to return home. While he had been away, he’d felt a constant worry about the state of affairs at home.
About half their trip was over when Vlad spotted the ruins of a castle. He dived down to get a better look. The castle had been located high on a mountainside. There were many steps leading down to the narrow river bottom.
“This was once the castle Poienari,” Sergiu declared, as they landed in the ruins.
Only the walls remained, the ceilings had long since fallen in. He surveyed the steep valley. The castle was safely nestled at the end of a box canyon. No human army could reach it from the north. It could only be accessed from the narrow opening facing south. “Sergiu, you are forever telling us the story of Alexander the Great and the uncanny battle of Issus; where the few were able to hold off the many.”
Sergiu had been studying the terrain as well and was thinking the same thing. “This appears to be the ideal place to hold off a hundred thousand Ottoman troops.”
“Precisely. The first task for my new slaves taken from Sibiu will be to construct a fortress on this spot. It will be difficult for the sultan to get his large artillery up the narrow valley and my Janissaries will be able to keep the Ottomans from reaching this place. They will not be able to surround us with their sheer numbers or get to the women and children hidden away in the new palace. Poienari will be a haven for my court.”
“An excellent plan,” Sergiu agreed. “It appears that you may have been destined to lead.”
“Only because of your teachings, my dear friend.”
Chapter 48 Wallachia 1456 A.D
Upon Vlad’s return there were more problems which required his immediate attention. He was informed that the people of Wallachia were upset because he had been in office for months now and had done nothing about the crime and indigent populations of the country. With a history of unstable government and the frequent changes in leaders, the country had fallen into a state of perpetual lawlessness. People who were incapable of working were starving in the streets and theft was a common occurrence. Being surrounded by two powerful empires, namely Hungary and the Ottomans, this tiny yet strategic piece of land was in constant turmoil. This game of tug-of-war left the commoners in shambles. They were in a constant state of unrest and uncertainty about the future. This gave way to much crime and suffering. At least this was how it was explained to Vlad.
“I will not spend precious tax money on housing prisoners or welfare to the indigent. This money is needed to reinforce my compounds and build my armies,” Vlad declared.
“But, Sire, the people are demanding that, as their new leader, you address these problems,” the new chamberlain pleaded.
“Never fear, my chamberlain, the troubles of the people will be dealt with in the quickest and easiest fashion.” Another feast. “Let them hate me as long as they fear me.”
In one month’s time, in order to ensure Vlad’s men would be hungry again, another feast was held at the government compound. This time it was under the guise of feeding the poor and indigent in Targoviste. Before the feast Vlad went looking for Sergiu; he had gone missing and no one seemed to know his whereabouts. Sergiu had become quiet and distant this past month.
Vlad found Abdullah in the hall. “Have you seen Serg? I have been looking everywhere and I am beginning to worry.”
“Yes, I’ve seen him and I have been looking for you. Sergiu Pasha asked me to give this to you.” Abdullah handed Vlad a rolled piece of papyrus.
It read ...
My Dearest Friend Teller,
I am truly sorry but I cannot be a part of your feast tonight. Your actions up until now have been necessary. It is common for leaders to make examples out of their enemies. Even extremely brutal tactics are readily used by many a ruler. Rulers must make difficult decisions for the good of the masses. But what you are doing tonight is not needed. These people are not traitors or a threat to you. They are simply in your way. I fear you may be going too far — perhaps past the point of being able to return. There is good in you. I see it at times. Please do not completely lose yourself in Vlad the Impaler. Remember your humble roots. Deep down, Teller is in there somewhere. Like the Osmanlis, I’m afraid if you continue down this path of cruelty you will lose sight of who you truly are and what you truly want.
Your trusted friend, Serg.
Vlad’s first reaction was to argue with Sergiu. He wanted to defend his position that tonight’s feast was indeed necessary. Yet there was a part of Vlad that thought Sergiu might be right. Vlad could always count on Sergiu to tell him the truth, whether he wanted to hear it or not.
Abdullah had left Vlad alone in the hallway. He must have read Vlad’s reaction to the letter and decided that it was safest for him to retreat. That was wise because Vlad’s frustration gave way to rage. He crushed the papyrus and punched the wall with a left and then a right fist. The stone gave way, sending cracks racing up the wall. Two holes remained where Vlad’s fists had been. Sliding down the wall, he sat on the cold floor. His bleeding knuckles rested in his lap. He could no longer see what was right. It was as if he had gone blind. “I will try not to lose myself, Serg,” he whispered.
Nevertheless, the feast carried on as planned. Vlad fed the poor beggars of Targoviste a royal meal. It was their last supper. This was the least he could do.
After the feast Sergiu did not return. Vlad feared that he might be gone for good. He did not know what he would do without Sergiu. He required Sergiu’s wisdom and counsel — his friendship. Sergiu was the Grand Vizier. The fragile hold Vlad had on Wallachia would crumble away without Sergiu’s guidance. There were times when panic would overtake Vlad. He could hardly breathe without his companion at his side. It was as if his chest was being pulled apart.
Five days after the feast of the indigent population, Vlad was hard at work reviewing tax papers the chamberlain had given him to sign. Vlad preferred to work at a large desk in his bedchambers. A swoosh of air brushed over him and he looked up to find Sergiu. Vlad wanted to throw his arms around him but refrained. Instead he leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Truce?” Sergiu asked.
“I count on you to always tell me the truth, Sergiu.”
Sergiu gave a weak smile. “I thought that was my job. Some sultans would have killed their Grand Viziers for writing such a letter.”
“Yes, well I am not the sultan, now am I?”
“Thankfully, you are not.”
Chapter 49 Wallachia 1456 A.D
The criminal population was dealt with the following month — feeding time. Vlad issued a decree to his Janissaries. From that day forward they were to feed on the criminal populations of Wallachia. Any man accused of a crime was fair game. The only requirement was to not let people see that they were vampires. The first order of business was to empty the prisons by drinking from the occupants and then impaling the bodies in the front courtyard — as usual. Vlad sent small groups of Janissaries throughout Wallachia to track down criminals. The message was clear; Vlad would not pay for prisons and lawbreakers would be executed immediately. This sent bands of riffraff fleeing into surrounded countries, closely pursued by Vlad’s men.
Six months into his reign, the chamberlain declared, “The people are singing your praises in the streets, Master.”
“Is that so?” Vlad asked with genuine surprise.
“Indeed Sire, they say you have brought justice and peace to the land. Crime does not exist anymore and the people feel safe for the first time in many years. They are calling you ‘the Law Giver’.”
>
Vlad looked at Sergiu holding his arms outward with the palms up. “Well, what do you have to say about that, old friend?”
“I’ll be damned.”
“Pleasant unintended consequences, I suppose,” Vlad added.
“Having the support of your people cannot hurt, My Lord. There was never any love lost for the boyars, who kept this country in a state of disarray with their whimsical and self-serving coups. And ridding the land of criminals has made you very popular with your subjects.”
“We will see if they still support you when they hear the Ottoman War Bands marching this way.” Sergiu said this quietly and in Turkish so the chamberlain would not have been able to make sense of it. Loudly he added, “So much for having your people hate you.”
“Yes, Sire. It appears that most love you and the rest fear you.”
“Perfect.” Vlad shot Sergiu a mocking smirk.
Sergiu laughed.
With things secured on the home front, as secure as possible anyway, Vlad could focus his time and money on preparing for the Ottomans. This became an obsession. All he thought about was drinking Sultan Mehmed’s blood and reclaiming Constantinople. By the year’s end the renovations to the Poienari Castle were complete. It was the most elegant of palaces, expanded and decorated lavishly. It was truly fit for an emperor. A tall lookout tower had been built which hung over the cliff. Far below was the river Arges. At times, to get away from it all, Vlad would spend hours alone looking out over the majestic mountains from that tower. It was calm and peaceful, unlike ruling Wallachia.
The compounds in Targoviste were more practical. The walls were enlarged around the government buildings in order to withstand the blasts of the powerful Ottoman cannons. This was done by covering the walls with tons of loose rubble. Cannon shot would be absorbed into the rubble, rendering the sultan’s cannons useless or at least greatly slowing their destructive power.
Next Vlad turned his sights to Bucharest. This small town was located close to the strategic border crossing at Giurgiu. Giurgiu was situated on the Danube River and was controlled by the Ottomans. This large river was the only thing between Vlad and Mehmed. Vlad started construction of a government compound in Bucharest. This move placed his men closer to the enemy — an early warning system of sorts. They would be sure to see the Ottomans coming.
Most days were spent training new soldiers. The best of these would be turned into Janissaries but most were left as humans.
It was in the midst of this that Vlad received word from the High Court of the Elders.
This was disconcerting on a number of levels. Will they interfere with my plans to reclaim Constantinople? What if Vallachia is with them? What if she is with him? Vlad ground his teeth together at this thought. Interestingly, Vlad had not thought about her as much as he once had. Over this past year something had changed. Perhaps he had simply been too busy. Are my ambitions to overthrow Mehmed replacing my goal of winning her back? No. I must become Emperor of the Roman Empire in order to get her back. Then I will finally be worthy of her. She would not be content as a princess of Wallachia. She deserves to be an empress. Together we can make the Roman Empire magnificent once again. We will reclaim the lands that rightfully belong to us. Vlad pictured the two of them ruling side-by-side from the mighty thrones of the Topkapi Palace.
Sergiu interrupted Vlad’s daydream. “How shall we respond to their request to visit?”
“Well, at least I finally have their attention.”
“Yes,” Sergiu said. “Now that your armies are large and we have come out of hiding, we have gained the interest of our kind. Not to mention, you have now made a name for yourself. They were bound to hear of us. I was curious to see who would learn of us first, the Court or Ramdasha. It appears the Court has better or perhaps more eyes reporting back to them than their enemy Ramdasha.”
“Either way, we will not keep them waiting. We have nothing to hide. No humans suspect that we are vampires. Let them come. I will receive them at the Poienari Castle. I want them to see what splendor I have accomplished.” Vlad stood to leave for a meeting with Prince Stefan of Moldova. The prince was now a trusted comrade; in fact, he was one of the few humans Vlad fully trusted. They were united in the fight against Mehmed. Since Vlad had married into Stefan’s family, Stefan referred to Vlad as his cousin.
“Is that it? Teller, this is what we have been working toward all these years. The Lady Vallachia will most likely be coming to you. This was your goal all along. The end prize.”
“I’m not ready. I am not powerful enough for her.” Vlad headed for the door.
“Teller, please wait —”
“Stop calling me that!” Vlad was not dim. Sergiu only called him Teller when he wanted to remind Vlad of where he came from, of being human. This was something Vlad had all but forgotten or wanted to forget. As a human, Teller was nobody; now he was royalty, Voivode Vlad III, a ruler of lands.
“I must ask a favor of you ... a small one,” Sergiu said.
Vlad stopped.
“Thank you. Answer me one question; are you ‘not powerful enough for her’ or for you?”
Vlad narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have time for your riddles Sergiu.” What did he mean by that anyway?
Sergiu let out a frustrated moan and Vlad was off to meet with his “cousin.”
Chapter 50 Wallachia 1457 A.D
After the dreadful meeting with Vallachia and the Court, Vlad sat on the grand terrace overlooking the mountains and the Arges river far below. He had gone numb, his eyes were open but unseeing.
He heard footsteps behind him but still did not move. Perhaps he would never move. He could simply become a statue — forever. Sergiu took a seat beside him. He had wisely given Vlad plenty of time to calm down after Lady Vallachia’s visit.
“Well, that was disastrous.”
Vlad nodded in agreement.
“Would you mind explaining what happened to you back there?”
“I’m not sure. It was her touch. It made me lose control. When she took my hand I saw ... children, our children. I suppose it was the family we would have had if we had remained mortal. And the sensation ... the shock.” He did not have the words.
Sergiu studied Vlad with concern. “That confirms it — you have gone completely mad.”
Yet the children had appeared vivid in Vlad’s mind, a boy and a girl about eight or nine years of age. They resembled him with olive skin and dark hair but they had Val’s large bright blue eyes. They were children who would never come to be. Vlad shook his head to get rid of the image of the beautiful children — his children. There was a sorrow that threatened to consume him, so he forced his thoughts elsewhere. “Not to mention, I was fuming from the onset.” Vlad clenched his jaw and fists. “I would greatly enjoy ripping that oversized guard of hers to shreds.”
“And why do you think that is?” Sergiu gave him a knowing look.
“I have no idea. But you seem to have an opinion on the matter.”
“Perhaps it is because Riddick reminds you of yourself? And he is close to her.”
“Or perhaps you are the one going mad,” Vlad spat.
“Very well, fair enough. What are you going to do now?” Sergiu was wisely changing the subject.
“I have ruined my only chance to be with her. She will never forgive me and she has her men. She does not need me.” Vlad paused for a moment, not wanting to say this out loud. “The greatest problem is that I’m not worthy of her. You saw her, she is pure and virtuous, nothing like me.”
Sergiu eye’s brightened with a sudden insight. “That explains your behavior in the Great Hall. You were trying to make her out to be impure, like you, by insulting her —”
Vlad narrowed his eyes at Sergiu.
“Never mind, I should have kept that thought to myself. Please forgive me.”
Vlad stood. He’d had enough of Sergiu’s philosophical analysis. Rage boiled and churned from within. If it had been anyone else daring to speak to h
im in such a manner, they would be dead.
“What are you going to do?” Sergiu spoke to Vlad’s back.
“Carry on with the only thing that matters — reclaiming the Roman Empire and defeating the Ottomans.” Vlad heard Sergiu’s disapproving sigh as he exited.
The first order of business was to have a servant send for Ilona. Over this past year she had become Vlad’s Kadin — or first lady. She was the concubine who pleased him the most. He had grown to highly covet his concubines. He finally had women who were meant only for him. They were young and unwed when they became his concubines. They were diligently guarded by eunuchs. Vlad did not have to share them with anyone. All twenty of them were solely his.
Ilona, like most of the others, was elated when he called on her. A couple of them did not seem to enjoy his cold touch, so he rarely called on them. Now he needed Ilona. She would be the perfect distraction from his troubles. She resembled Vallachia in some ways. Perhaps this was another reason he favored her most. Ilona was the blue-eyed beauty from Sibiu. She was quite tall and lean, with long wavy blond hair.
Vlad made love to Ilona for the entire night. He had dozed off when a soft knock came at his door. He reached for a blanket to cover Ilona’s naked body. She was fast asleep.
“What is it?” Vlad said as he stood to dress.
Abdullah entered and looked away modestly when he saw Ilona in bed. “Sorry to bother you, Master but we have a problem; it appears some monks have gone missing. Pasha suspects that Cosmin and Costel may have had something to do with it.” Abdullah often referred to Sergiu as Pasha. Many of Vlad’s Janissaries also called him by this respectful title. He was a mentor to them all.
Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners) Page 19
