The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood - Volume 2

by Shane KP O'Neill

  Varkal knew he would have to act soon. It was crucial that de Leyva took part in the coming battle. Dracula needed him to attack Florange from the rear. That would allow the main bulk of the army to contend with Francois.

  He made his way into the house. His ears told him as many as twenty people were inside. All but two had gone to bed. De Leyva remained awake and sat quietly with a friend sipping wine. Varkal had wanted to see him alone. However, time was pressing on and he could leave it no longer.

  De Leyva stood up the moment he saw him. “Who are you?”

  His friend stood up also. “How did you get in here?”

  He smiled to put them at ease. It did not have the desired effect. “Relax, gentlemen,” he said. “I am a friend.”

  Both men drew their swords. “A friend does not lurk in the shadows.”

  Varkal eyed their weapons. “Put them away. They would be of no use to you were I not who I say I am.”

  De Leyva’s companion was a noble from Milan known as Conti. He stepped between his leader and the intruder. “I beg to differ,” he said. “I could gut you before you draw your next breath.”

  Varkal moved forward. He drew his sword in the blink of an eye. Conti saw it, but could not react in time. Varkal knocked his sword to the floor with a deft flick of his wrist. “Sit down,” he warned. “Before I choose to not be a friend.”

  Conti looked to de Leyva, who nodded for him to do so. De Leyva sheathed his sword and sat also. He held out his hands. “Very well. You come as a friend.”

  Varkal nodded. “Yes. That is so.”

  “Then why come at so late an hour? And enter my home uninvited?”

  “The nature of my business dictates it.”

  “That would suggest to me that you have no good intention.”

  “I am not here to harm you. If that is what you are thinking.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I come on behalf of the Emperor.”

  De Leyva raised an eyebrow. “Do you indeed?”

  Varkal sheathed his own sword. “Yes. We have important business to discuss.”

  “Perhaps I should leave you both,” Conti said.

  “Do you trust him?” Varkal asked de Leyva.

  “Of course. If I did not he would not be here.”

  “Then he can stay.”

  “So what news do you bring from the Emperor? Is he going to save the city?”

  “That depends on you.”

  “What do you mean?” Conti asked. “The people here are close to starving.”

  Varkal looked down at him. “You do not look so hungry to me. Perhaps you should donate a meal or two to one more in need of it.”

  De Leyva ignored the minor squabble. “Explain what you meant by that.”

  “You are going to have to fight your way out.”

  De Leyva stifled a laugh. “If I could do that I would have long ago. It is not good to be at the head of a hungry army.”

  “You are going to lead them out of here.”

  “Is that what you came here to tell me? You want me to do the impossible?”

  “If it were beyond you I would not be here.”

  “And we are meant to fight the French alone?”

  “No. Pescara will lead an attack against Francois in the next few hours.”

  “Pescara?”

  “Yes.”

  “He has sat there for a month and done nothing. Why would he suddenly decide to alter the status quo?”

  “Because the Emperor demands it.”

  “So there is an attack tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “But there is a thick fog for miles around,” Conti argued.

  “He is right,” de Leyva said. “You cannot hope to fight a war in the fog.”

  “You can and you will. The fog is our best weapon against the French. It gives us the element of surprise.”

  “Our men will end up killing each other.”

  Varkal shook his head. “No. Our men are all to wear white vests.”

  “And you think that will be enough?” Conti said.

  “Yes. The plan will work. Francois will fall before dawn.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I am sure. Tonight is the night.”

  Conti raised his hand in caution. “Wait a moment,” he said to his friend. “How do we know he is not a French spy?”

  Varkal gritted his teeth. He wished now he had allowed Conti to leave the room.

  De Leyva looked at him. “Yes. How do I know this is not a trap?”

  Varkal shrugged. “You do not. The choice is yours. You can remain here and starve. Or you can break out and join in the attack.”

  “How am I meant to mobilise my men at this late hour?”

  “That is your job. You are the General.”

  De Leyva did not look happy at the prospect.

  “If they want to live they will fight. Tell them that. They must know as well as anyone that if they remain here as they are then they will die.”

  “But if you did work for Francois,” Conti said. “What better way to take the city than to talk us into an attack?”

  “That is for de Leyva to decide. I have come here only to advise of the attack.”

  “Very well,” de Leyva said. “How will I know when?”

  “The signal is three cannon shots,” Varkal told him.

  “And what is required of me?”

  “We need you to break through Florange’s line. You are to join with del Vasto at the Castle Mirabello.”

  “Florange is at the Torre del Gallo still?”

  “Yes. There will be an attack from the other side. When the garrison falls you are to push on with your men and join the main battle.”

  “But Francois has such a strong position on the plain.”

  “In the fog he loses any advantage he may have had.”

  “How long do I have to prepare?”

  “Not long,” Varkal said. “You need to be ready soon. When you hear the three shots that is your cue to attack.”

  Lombardy. The Imperial camp outside Pavia.

  The hour after midnight. February 25, 1525.

  The Imperial forces moved out of the camp at the Casa dei Levrieri. They made great haste. However, they took care to exercise quiet. The enemy could not know of their plan. They made for the Porta Pescarina as Dracula had advised. Many dozens of the men dragged the cannon slowly along behind the infantry.

  It took nearly two hours to move the cannon there. Already the Spanish Guastadores had set to work. They attacked the wall with hammers. The task of breaching it rested with them. At the same time the cannon that remained in the camp fired off one volley after another. They needed Florange to believe their artillery remained across the river, but further back than before.

  The Spanish struggled to smash a hole large enough for the whole army to pass through. For that reason it could not march into the Mirabello Park. This worried the Imperial generals.

  “Come on,” de Bourbon said to them. “It is no good for us to wait around here.”

  Dracula gave him a stern look. “What else is there to do?”

  “Let us march along the road to Lardirago.”

  “It is a good idea,” Pescara said. “We might be seen if we wait around too long.”

  “And the men will get cold and stiff,” de Lannoy pointed out.

  “Not to mention agitated,” de Bourbon added.

  Dracula nodded. “Very well. Lead the way.”

  De Bourbon led the retreat along the road towards Lardirago. It left only del Vasto with his unit at the Porta Pescarina.

  Two French scouts rode inside the northern wall on a routine check.

  One of them halted his mount. His comrade followed suit and rode up alongside him. “What is wrong?” he asked.

  “Did you hear that?”

  His friend looked confused. “Hear what? I heard nothing.”

  “Then listen.” He put a finger to his lips to quieten him.r />
  The two men then listened together. After a minute or so the second man shrugged. “I hear nothing. You are imagining things.”

  “I know what I heard. Listen again.”

  He did so. Then he heard it. He shot his friend a worried glance.

  “See?” his friend grinned. “I told you.”

  “It is the sound of marching.”

  “It must be the Imperials. We should inform someone right away.”

  After another two hours the men still toiled at the wall. The omens did not look good. The wall would not give way sufficiently enough. One of the men turned to del Vasto. “Sir, we will never break it in this fashion.”

  Del Vasto thought about it for a moment. He wished now that his uncle was here. His options were few. They had to breach the wall. “Then smash it down. Do what you must.”

  “Are you sure, sir? It might alert the enemy.”

  “What other choice is there? We have to break through.”

  The man gave the order to his Guastadores. They attacked the wall with renewed vigour. The sounds of their hammers echoed all around. They did not care at the noise they made. The wall had to come down soon or all was lost.

  The banging alerted the French sentries. They sent word to Francois at once. Earlier his generals had dismissed a report that two of the scouts had heard a large body of men marching nearby. He had the alarm raised. His generals issued orders to mobilise the army.

  Tiercelin sent riders to notify the Swiss camped around the monastery just south of the Torre del Gallo. He was d’Alencon’s chief lieutenant. Amid the growing din he feared a full assault was under way. In truth only del Vasto had entered the Park.

  He moved his forces to join with Florange. A group of officers joined him at the Torre del Gallo.

  “What is going on?” Florange shouted. “Someone tell me!”

  His men looked at him blankly. “We are not sure, General,” one of them said. “Marshal Tiercelin sent us to you.”

  “He must have good reason. What did he say?”

  “He says a full assault has been launched against the King.”

  “Then we must act fast! Turn the cannon around.”

  “But where do we point them? We can see nothing with the fog.”

  “Use your head man. Point them at the enemy!”

  “We do not know where the enemy is, General,” he said, frustrated.

  “You have been in this Park long enough to know its layout. If there is an attack against our King then point the cannon in that direction.”

  The officer relayed the order to his men.

  Florange walked outside into the fog. “Prepare my horse!” he shouted. “Why am I surrounded by such imbeciles!”

  Some of the men complained about the visibility. “We cannot see a thing, sir,” one of them said.

  With Florange out of earshot the officer issued a new order. “Tell the men to light fires wherever they can. We need to be able to see what we are doing.”

  Florange donned his armour and mounted his horse. With a large group of his light cavalry he rode off into the fog. The men lit fires all around the Torre del Gallo. When they saw them, other French soldiers lit more around the Park. It only made matters worse. The smoke mixed with the dense fog. Soon they could see almost nothing at all.

  Del Vasto entered the Park with his army. Under his command he had three thousand Italians and Spanish arquebusiers. They marched south for the Castle Mirabello. He took up a position about a half a mile from it. His men cut through the weak defences en route and showed no mercy. He thought it better to occupy this position. The orders Dracula gave him he ignored completely.

  He knew Francois had abandoned the castle. That meant there had to still be soldiers in or around it. He thought it unwise to engage them before the main army had entered the Park. For that reason he used the cover of the trees and the fog to remain hidden for the time being.

  The soldiers in the Imperial camp fired the three cannon shots. It was the signal for de Leyva. He had spent the last two hours preparing his men. They waited for the signal to break out. When it came they did so with great gusto. He led his men forward. His goal was to join with del Vasto at the castle.

  However the road from the Porta Pescarina to Pavia was a swamp and it greatly hindered their progress. De Leyva had to turn west towards the monastery. There he knew the ground to be much firmer. The road he abandoned was a raised dyke. The people of Pavia built it to contain the floodwaters on the eastern side that made the area a swamp as far as the Torre del Gallo.

  Reports filtered through to del Vasto from his scouts. They advised that de Leyva had not yet broken through. He decided therefore to advance on the castle.

  His men found it poorly guarded and they took it with ease. Everyone they encountered they cut down. Many of those they killed were not even soldiers. But it did not matter to them. They had a lust for blood that needed satisfying.

  At the same time de Lannoy entered the breach with his light cavalry. His men dragged the cannon inside behind them.

  The artillery at the Imperial camp continued to fire. The stone roundshot rained down from a greater height than usual. The heavy balls peppered the lines of Swiss soldiers. They smashed bones into dust. Bodies lay at the base of the fog, decapitated and broken.

  Florange dealt with this threat. He moved his cannon north and out of the direct line of fire. It appeared a skirmish had broken out there. He saw the added bonus of bringing his cannon to defend that spot. Scores of his men fell as they carried out the task. Some of the cannon were lost when his forces were pushed back, but they managed to move what remained.

  His light cavalry had spotted the equivalent force under de Lannoy. They attacked them at once. Florange moved his infantry forward ahead of the cannon. The battle then began in earnest.

  The new change in formation left del Vasto vulnerable to the French cannon and light cavalry. However, they did not see him in the fog. Instead Florange and Tiercelin fully engaged de Lannoy. This let del Vasto go unchecked. The respite allowed his men to slaughter the last of the French in and around the castle.

  Tiercelin rode up to Florange amid the mayhem unfolding around them. “They are pouring in through a breach in the northern wall, General.”

  Florange looked concerned. “Do you know how many?”

  “There are thousands of them. They have cannon too.”

  Florange grimaced at the news. “This is not good. They must be preparing to launch a full assault against the King. It seems you were right.”

  Tiercelin felt a rush of pride at the acknowledgement. Such things were rare from men like Florange. “What do you want to do, General?”

  “We will meet them at the breach. I want a full attack against our enemy there.”

  Florange’s troops heard the low rumble of the cannon wheels on rubble. They broke rank and charged blindly through the dense fog. This was before the Swiss troops had received the order from their general. Florange followed his men into the fray.

  Had he wheeled to the left he would have stumbled upon del Vasto. He heard the cries of the French soldiers meeting a brutal end in the castle. But with the fog it was hard to determine where any sound was coming from.

  Support arrived from d’Alencon and Bonnivet. It swelled the French numbers in this area of the Park. They ran forward behind Tiercelin’s cavalry. The sudden rush of troops on two sides threw de Lannoy’s cavalry into disarray.

  Florange used the firmer ground to bring four culverins to the flank. On his signal his men fired the first volleys at the Imperial positions. The bright flashes lit up the whole area. Only then did they fully realise the extent of the numbers pouring in through the breach.

  The barrage ripped de Lannoy’s forces down the middle. They broke off in two directions. Some took cover in the trees along the eastern wall. The larger remainder headed westward to the trees just to the north of the castle. They made good their escape in the heavy fog. Their cannon they had to
leave behind. The Swiss troops swarmed all around the sixteen guns. They shouted in triumph at their minor victory.

  Those of de Lannoy’s cavalry that did not move aside felt the full force of Florange’s artillery. It cut them to pieces. Many of them lay wounded and at the mercy of the Swiss. There was none. The Swiss Landsknecht executed them in the same brutal manner that del Vasto’s men had used in and around the castle.

  This served no good purpose for the Swiss troops. Their mad dash left them isolated. They soon began to wander around. Lost in the fog they did not know where to go or what to do.

  Varkal joined his father and brother. At once he could sense Dracula’s annoyance. The battle was not going the way he wanted. Some had not carried out his orders as he had stipulated. The result saw the army taking heavier losses.

  He scanned his father’s mind quickly. It would give him a firm knowledge of the situation at hand. Dracula had wanted del Vasto to cut through the woods and form a flank against Francois directly. Del Vasto had not done so. Instead he marched on the castle.

  The young commander had no appreciation of the significance of his orders. The castle was and would be of little importance to the coming battle. That was one of the reasons Francois had left it empty. In the heat of the moment he decided his own ideas were best. He wanted to wait for de Leyva to join him. Then he would form a flank against Francois. In doing this he allowed the French king the time he needed to get organised.

  “Who is that?” Pescara asked Dracula when he saw Varkal ride up.

  “He is with me.”

  Pescara nodded. “We shall have to move soon.”

  “Yes I know. I want to receive a report from our scouts. Then we will move on Francois.”

  Pescara left his side. His sons rode up closer. Both of them could feel the emotions running through their father. The sounds of battle still invigorated him.

  Dracula relished its symphony. The high notes of steel upon steel. The low roar of the cannon across the battlefield. Mingled with this was the choir of death. The dying screams of horse and man blended into one. He breathed in hard. The stench of blood filled his lungs. Only now for the first time could he truly appreciate it.

  Varkal saw the fire in his eyes. It excited him. He grew eager to join the fray. “The three of us together on the field,” he grinned.