Stephen and I grew up in the same court, and on many occasions, because our Aunt Eupraxia was married to Vlad Dracul, Dracula would join us for schooling. I was the youngest; Stephen was two years older than Dracula. There were many times those two treated me as if I were a baby, but their demeaning me only encouraged my inner strength and forced me to grow up wise beyond my years. People in the court were always pointing at me and saying things like, “poor child, so old for his age” or “poor little thing, always trying to live up to the expectations of those two older boys.”
There passed a long period when Dracula was not able to come to our home. His father had made some sort of pact with the Turks, as I was later informed. As an insurance policy for Vlad Dracul’s word, Dracula and his younger brother, Radu, had been sent to the palace of Sultan Mohammed II of Turkey.
That happened in the summer of 1444. I remember it vividly, because it was the year I turned ten, which meant I would be able to join Stephen and Dracula at the family table for meals. Age ten was our initial step into manhood. The stigma of being a baby who had to take his meals in the nursery would be lifted from me; I would be able to socialize with my cousins, not only as their equal, but as the man I felt I was.
However, Dracula never arrived—not that summer, nor the next, nor the next. In fact, Dracula was not returned to his homeland until 1448, and he was changed. He had taken on a look and mannerism that Stephen and I could not fathom. Dracula was a young man of eighteen, yet sometimes he appeared, when he thought Stephen and I were not watching, like an old and hardened man who had seen more than his share of the world’s cruelties. Stephen and I worried about these drastic changes, and when we were alone we discussed, at great lengths, the metamorphosis of our dear cousin.
In addition to whatever atrocities Dracula had endured while residing at the Turkish court as a guest—actually, a political prisoner if I were to say the true meaning of why he was there—he had also had to deal with the death of his father. Vlad Dracul was murdered by Mircea, one of the traitorous boyars, in November 1447. To make matters even worse, his father’s body was never found. We three cousins were mystified about this. Stephen and I prayed for the burial plot to be found, if for nothing more than to settle Dracula’s state of mind. We noticed how this lack of knowledge ate away at his soul, and the darkness in his eyes deepened with each passing day.
During Dracula’s stay, from September 1448 to December 1451, we studied together, rode together, eyed and chased girls of the surrounding villages together, and practised the art of fighting.
Dracula developed quite the reputation with the young maidens; however, it was not one that had them flocking willingly into his arms. Mothers would lock their daughters inside, and fathers would keep axes by their doors. Dracula would laugh and state that these girls were nothing to him—just playthings to pass away some meaningless time. And any who had fallen to his wiles were never quite the same again—some even succumbed to insanity.
I clearly remember an event that happened during the summer of 1451. Our tutor had decided to give me, Stephen, and Dracula an afternoon off from our studies. Possibly it was because of our unexpectedly good behaviour as we had been studying hard as of late, but I think it was due to the fact that our tutor had some other planned entertainment for his own afternoon. Not one of us was about to question his gracious intentions, though. We headed for the meadow at the farthest point of our estate.
It had been a scorching day, but we knew that the pond near that particular meadow would offer our feverish bodies a refreshing haven. It was nestled inside a grove of ancient trees and was fed by an underground mountain stream.
We stripped and swam, lay naked in the sun, swam some more, and then fell asleep on the green carpet beside the pond. Stephen and I were shaken awake by Dracula, who was suggesting that we seal our brotherhood in blood. I thought at the time it was rather peculiar but, along with Stephen, agreed that it would be a fun thing to do.
Dracula passed us his knife and told us what to do. Stephen and I sliced tiny cuts on our index fingers. Dracula did likewise. As we reached forward to mix our blood in the traditional manner of blood brothers, fingertip to fingertip, Dracula grabbed hold of our wrists and stopped us. Then he took Stephen’s hand, raised it to his mouth, and sucked the blood from the open wound. He repeated this action with me.
I experienced a peculiar sensation as Dracula drank the blood from my opened flesh. I felt, for a moment that there was an aura of evil surrounding him. He motioned for us to do the same to each other, and we did. Dracula informed us that we were now true blood brothers and that nothing or no one would ever be able to break our blood bond. This event, as I learned later, was the first substantial step that sealed our souls together, forever in darkness.
In October of that year, our lives were ripped apart once again by the assassination of Stephen’s father, my dearest uncle, Bogdan II. Dracula became deranged. His eyes assumed the crazed look of a man possessed. He took to taking long rides over the fields. He would ravage the land, scarring with his blade whatever crossed his path. A few of the maidens who were unaware of his atrocities and attempted to accommodate his sexual desires met with untimely and grizzly deaths. Dracula was out of control!
One morning in late December, as the three of us were enjoying a hearty breakfast, Dracula announced his desire to leave. He told Stephen and me that enough was enough—first his father had been brutally murdered and then his precious uncle, who had given him shelter since his return from Turkey. Both deaths were without reason. He informed us that he was going to get to the bottom of their murders, no matter how deadly the game became. He would flush out the culprits and avenge the deaths of his father and his uncle if it was the last thing he ever did.
Dracula had never spoken much of the events or the things he had been subjected to in the Turkish courts; however, he informed us that now the time had come to use the knowledge he had obtained from the Sultan Mohammed II to benefit his own people.
His intention, as well, was to return the rightful heir to the throne of Wallachia, namely himself. He described to Stephen and me how corrupt the rich boyars were and how he planned to put them all to shame for their treachery, for they, Dracula believed, were the ones responsible for the deaths of our loved ones.
Stephen and I both cautioned him to be careful and to turn his back to neither friend nor foe. Stephen told me of his fears when we were alone. He could not help worrying about Dracula. “He has changed so, little cousin,” he would say. “The demons have possessed him; I am afraid this is one time that even we cannot reach him.”
I, still being young, just listened and watched, and prayed. I prayed that time would heal my cousin and that God would save him before it was too late. That, of course, was during the time that I could still pray to the God in the heavens.
Within the week, Dracula departed.
~
Max found me in a deep slumber when he brought my breakfast to the den in the morning. The book lay open on my lap. Max shook my shoulder. There was a worried tone in his voice as he called out my name.
“Miss Virginia, wake up,” Max ordered gently. “Are you okay?”
Was that concern I detected in his voice? My eyes fluttered open. I was wringing wet. I had been dreaming of the three young men who had grown up together. I had been dreaming of Lilly, the walking nightmare, but it had not been her face I had seen beneath the flowing cape—it had been mine!
“Thank you, Max. I am fine; just a restless sleep, I guess,” I murmured as I gathered myself and the book and walked out of the study. I clutched the history of the formidable family close to my bosom. I was hungry for more, yet I was terrified of what else I might find written on the upcoming pages!
Max stepped aside to allow me to lead the way. He followed closely with my breakfast tray as I went up the long stairway that led to my room on the second floor.
Seal of Blood
Chapter Nine
For the
next while, I filled my waking hours with reading. The count’s father had kept such an accurate account of the happenings that at times I almost experienced pangs of sorrow and pity for the plight that had befallen such a proud royal family. His writings humanized them for me; I was getting the sense that they were victims of a fate totally out of their control. The story continued.
~
Stephen and I waited patiently for a letter from Dracula. It was not forthcoming. However, we did hear news of his escapades, and the reports we received were that Dracula had become a bloodthirsty, diabolical monster. He was wreaking such havoc on the people that even the few friends he had left began to wonder about their safety. It was rumoured from town to town that Dracula no longer feasted on the food of the land; instead, he drank the blood of his victims—at times even before their breaths had fully expired from their bodies!
Stephen was even more uneasy than I. He, as the eldest, naturally held added authority, especially since his father’s death. He wrote several letters to Dracula, pleading to the sanity that he knew, or felt, had once been there. It was a futile attempt. Dracula did not reply, and the horror stories grew more appalling as they spread throughout the land.
Dracula became known through all the regions as the embodiment of evil. No boyar in the land could roam at will, for fear he might cross the path of this bloodthirsty demon. We heard stories that when the older members of that distinguished society of boyars were so unfortunate as to happen upon Dracula, they were impaled on high poles around the dinner table of Dracula and his followers. Impaling was Dracula’s favourite method of eliminating whomever he thought to be his enemy. It was also said that Dracula drank their blood as it dripped into waiting goblets.
Others met torture, such as the severing of noses, ears, sexual organs, and limbs. Some were blinded with burning sticks, strangled, boiled alive, or skinned while breath still rustled in their lungs. There were even more gruesome things, which I feel I cannot mention here, for they would turn the stomach of even the most seasoned warriors. The younger boyars, along with their families, were enslaved and put to work rebuilding Dracula’s castle. Some of the more fortunate boyars escaped from the country and did not return until the reign of Dracula’s brother, Radu the Handsome. Some of these same men, it was rumoured, plotted with Radu to overthrow his deranged brother.
Yet even with all this devastation, time after time, the majority of the people of the land seemed to bow to Dracula’s rule. It was rumoured that Dracula had amazing dialectical talents, so accomplished that he could twist the minds of men he thought to be his enemies to confess guilt for events they had taken no part in. He was also able to persuade the lowly people to believe in his illustrious cause—by convincing them it was their cause, as well.
We heard the news that Dracula had taken a wife and that he was quite smitten with her. It was said that she was the daughter of a boyar who had all too willingly exchanged his daughter for his own freedom. But it was also said that she was deeply devoted to her husband. I hoped that her devotion might calm the demons in my cousin.
In 1462, Stephen decided to join with the Turks in an invasion against Dracula. I did not follow him into battle—I could not comprehend why Stephen would turn on our beloved cousin. Finally, one night, Stephen explained to me that, first and foremost, his duty was to protect his country. That responsibility had to take precedence above all else, even above his personal oath of allegiance to his cousin. In Stephen’s opinion, Dracula was going too far with his revenge.
Even though Stephen had spoken with anger, I knew there was true pain buried in his heart when he wielded his sword against the cousin he loved so dearly. And I always felt there was something else Stephen had failed to tell me at the time. It was something I would not have knowledge of until much later, when the tides turned against us.
Near the end of June 1462, Dracula was defeated by Mohammed II of Turkey, the same man whom Dracula and Radu’s father had sent them to as an insurance policy in 1444. Now Mohammed was appointing Radu to be in charge of destroying his brother, Dracula.
If truth be told, there had never been any love lost between those two. Radu had always been jealous of their father’s preference for Dracula, and he was also bitter that Dracula had not been able to protect him from the Turk’s lust for young men while they had been political prisoners. There were times that I wondered if the same lust had been inflicted upon Dracula.
I also questioned, many times, where Dracula had garnered the knowledge of such revolting torture methods. It was rumoured the Turks were masters of such. I remembered that Dracula had never been the same after his incarceration in Turkey.
The few Romanian boyars who had remained loyal to Dracula quickly abandoned their leader when they realized that the Turkish army was stronger than their own. Many of them even took up arms with Radu, because he promised that their lands and families would be safe under his rule and that the Turks would leave them in peace.
Despite all the treason around him, Dracula still managed to gain two victories in July and September, but by November of 1462, Radu was recognized as the prince of the land by the Boyar Council and King Matthias of Hungary. I had tired of waiting for the axe to fall upon my beloved cousin, and I had not yet found it in my heart to agree with or to join Stephen’s alliance with the Turks. I gathered a small force of men and raced to join Dracula.
I knew I was too late to save him from losing his throne, but I felt he might be in need of a true friend—a friend who would watch his back and not stab it. Stephen was home for a short time, and I could tell by the hurt look in his eyes as we bade goodbye that he wished he was riding by my side to the aid of our beloved cousin. His alliance with the Turks was not going exactly as he had thought it would go. The Turks were never to be totally trusted. Stephen told me that eventually history would repeat itself and the boyar’s contentment would be short-lived.
I also bade my goodbyes to Mara, my betrothed, for I had grown up and fallen deeply in love with a most beautiful maiden.
“Atilla, I beg you,” she cried, tears pouring from her eyes, “don’t do this thing; stay here with me. Dracula is lost; he deserves what is happening to him! He is an atrocious man.”
I gathered Mara into my arms. “Hush, hush—do not speak so, my love. I go to him as a friend, as a cousin, as a blood brother. I know he cannot be saved—he must relinquish his throne. I go to bring him home, to give him sanctuary when this whole mess is over. As for him deserving this fate, I cannot say that you know enough of who he truly is to say such a thing. Fate has not always been kind to him.”
Mara’s sobs subsided. She raised her tear-streaked face to me. “Kiss me, Atilla, love of my life. Let me taste your love just this once, for I fear you shall not return to me.”
“I shall return to you, beloved Mara,” I whispered before I closed my lips over her trembling ones and then partook of her delicate fruits. The next morning I arose early. I left my love in a rumpled bed and set out to join my cousin.
~
Dracula welcomed me with open arms. I could tell the fortunes of war were wearing heavily on his spirit. He filled me in on the situation, including the fact that he had taken a wife. I told him we had heard such news and asked if he were happy. Dracula smiled, a rarity for him, and then told me his wife was becoming the heart of his soul. He was tiring of war and wished to spend more time with her. We wept silent tears as we gazed into each other’s eyes. Then we turned together to await our destiny in the valley of the Arges River, where the Turkish army, along with Radu and the boyars, were fast approaching.
Dracula’s enemies were many—not only outside of his ranks, but within them, as well. He had created that state of affairs, though, with his tyrannical behaviour. Unfortunately, an unknown soldier—possibly a relative; we never discovered who—sent a message to Dracula’s wife at Castle Dracula. It was a death message, stating that Dracula had been sent to hell and would not be returning home to her arms. She could no
t bear the thought of losing her beloved husband or the thought of what might be her fate if the Turks captured her, so she threw herself from the high tower window. The river, Riul Doamnei (Princess River), became her tomb. Her body was never found.
Dracula had returned to the castle ahead of me. I had stayed back with a small group of men to try and hold off the Turks. Upon my arrival to the castle, I was informed of the sorrowful news about Dracula’s wife. I gazed upon a defeated man. Love for a woman can soften the hardest heart in the chest of any man. As I looked upon my cousin, there was no doubt in my mind of Dracula’s love for his wife. He ranted and raved as never before. He was a broken man. And as Dracula’s grief increased, so did the pounding on the castle walls as they began to crumble under the assault of the Turks on Dracula’s private realm.
I knew our time was running out. It would not be long before the walls fell entirely. I had no desire to be locked in some Turkish prison and subjected to tortures that would leave me broken of mind, spirit, and body. I finally convinced my cousin it was necessary for us to flee. Dracula and I escaped, during the night, through secret passages that had been tunnelled through the mountains. What we came upon there, when we exited from the mountain, sealed our destiny. Entering a clearing, we were confronted with a circle of wagons and a group of Gypsy women who were preparing their meal over an open fire. Although we had no appreciable use for Gypsy nomads, our bellies were sorely hungry, so we walked toward the savoury smells.
Night's Gift: Book One of the Night's Vampire Trilogy Page 9
