The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood - Volume 2

by Shane KP O'Neill

  Their rampage lasted eight whole days. They murdered four thousand Romans in that time. The soldiers seized many of the Vatican’s finest treasures. What they could not take with them they covered with pro-Lutheran graffiti.

  The Germans held a trial for Pucci on one of their drunken nights. They decided to put him to death. But he managed to escape with the help of Cardinal Pompeo Colonna and fled as well to the Castel Sant’ Angelo.

  The Lutherans in Germany condemned the outrage. The emperor did the same. But it had all worked to his advantage. It left Clement in a desperate situation. He opened negotiations with Charles once again.

  The Pope wanted the papal treasures retrieved and for the Medicis to be restored to the throne in Florence. Charles agreed to these demands. However, he had the stronger hand and drove home his advantage. His terms made the Pope a virtual prisoner at Sant’ Angelo. The power in Europe now lay firmly with him.

  Castile. The royal palace of Emperor Charles V in Madrid.

  Mid June 1527.

  Charles glanced up when Dracula entered the room. The look on his friend’s face told him all he needed to know. “You are leaving?”

  “Yes. We go tonight.”

  “Is it to England?”

  “Yes. I want to see if I can help remedy the situation there.”

  “Well, if anyone can it will be you.”

  “I can try. I do not think Henry is as accommodating as you are.”

  “We can only pray that he is. You have been a great help to me, Vlad.”

  “It has been my pleasure to serve you. I will continue to do so.”

  “It is a comfort to know you will still have the interests of Spain at heart.”

  “Always, Charles. You know that.”

  “I thank you for all you have done.”

  Dracula bowed.

  “Europe is in such a state though. I fear I will never sort my way through the mire. Not without you here to guide me. You find a solution to every problem.”

  “You are the Emperor. You will manage it.”

  “Luther’s doctrines are spreading like a disease.”

  “People will forget him soon enough.”

  “I doubt you are right there, my friend. It has spread to the countries all around the German states. Many of the princes there have converted to the new religion too. The omens are not good.”

  “Then it is crucial I stop England from going the same way.”

  “And I have this aftermath of Rome to deal with too.”

  “The sack of Rome will prove a good thing for you.”

  “It has shamed me. Those men march under my banner. Heathens that they are.”

  “The League of Cognac is broken. They will all want peace with you after this.”

  “And the Pope? He may excommunicate me.”

  “I think not. He has no power for the now. He will agree to any terms you decide. So make good use of your advantage.”

  Charles screwed his mouth. “Perhaps. We shall see.”

  “You really do have a strong position of power over Rome. Force the Pope to deny Henry. If he says no to him then Henry cannot divorce your aunt.”

  Charles gritted his teeth, as he thought of the English monarch. “I will do that. Someone has to bring that cur to heel.”

  “And do not worry for her. Ilona will watch over her always. I shall see to it.”

  That brought a smile to his face. He looked at Ilona and held out his hand. She stepped up beside him and took it in hers. “I will take care of her,” she smiled. “That I vow to you.”

  “Thank you, Ilona. You too are a good friend to me.”

  “I am your humble servant.”

  “Well,” he sighed. “I will miss you both. Keep well. Remember my home is always yours.”

  The sack of Rome infuriated Francois. He sent an army at once to raise the siege there. After saving Rome he planned to march on to Naples. Once again Pescara took command of the Imperial forces. He inflicted another heavy defeat on the French king.

  This forced him to retreat. As Dracula had forecast the League of Cognac was broken. The smaller states in Italy all threw in the towel. They each signed separate treaties with Charles.

  Francois’ mother sought out Margaret of Austria to thrash out an agreement. Charles’ aunt and former regent met with her and discussed terms. They agreed a treaty. Both kings signed it at Barcelona in Spain and at Cambrai in France.

  In 1529 Francois renounced his claims over Burgundy. Charles did the same with Milan and Naples. The Pope also signed the treaty. The next year he crowned Charles as Holy Roman Emperor. The ceremony took place in the cathedral at Bologna. Charles now had control over Europe. Better still for Dracula, Charles now had the upper hand over the Vatican.

  The six vampires moved to England. There they purchased two estates. The larger of them was in the Yorkshire dales. Dracula and Ilona enjoyed the seclusion it offered. Here the weather was cool and misty much of the time. The second was just to the south of London. It would serve as their main base while in England.

  They loved London. The vast maze of streets offered them many delights. They fed well. For almost two months they studied Greenwich Palace. It was the home of the English king when in the capital.

  Radu sensed their arrival at once. His meeting with Uriel on the river that night had transformed him. It increased his strength and abilities tenfold. One of the gifts Uriel granted him was the ability to hide from the others. They might sense him close, but would have trouble finding him.

  He had only remained in London to stay close to Catherine. Even though he never went back to her he watched over her always. But for now he felt it best that he leave the city. He did not feel quite ready to take on his brother. Venice was lovely in the summer. He would go and take care of his business interests there.

  Dracula studied the movements of the king as best he could. He listened to him talk and sometimes read his dreams while he slept. Ilona did the same with Catherine, who became Henry’s wife in 1509.

  Varkal and Anya scrutinised the servants and anyone else who dwelled within the palace. They watched the frequent banquets he held there. Mihnea and Ruxandra spent their time learning as much about the royal couple as they could from the peasants.

  Dracula learned a lot. He realised Henry would not be easily approached. The king was arrogant and not very trusting of anyone. Winning his confidence would prove a major task.

  Greenwich Palace, London. November 1518.

  “Come to bed,” Henry urged his wife.

  Catherine sat at a dressing table in a white night gown. Glancing at him in the mirror she continued brushing her hair.

  She ignored his attentions. A quiet sigh escaped her lips. She looked at her own reflection, studying the deepening lines around her eyes. They betrayed her true age of thirty-two years.

  In moments like this she thought of Radu. The last time she saw him he had brushed her hair. That seemed like an age ago. Yet every day he remained in her thoughts and in her heart. She had only ever loved him.

  He never returned to her after that night. Just as before it made her wonder if it had all been a dream. But she was sure that was not the case. The way he had touched her heart felt all too real.

  Where did he go? Why did he never return? She realised she would never know the answers to those questions. It was not likely that she would see him again. But still she hoped.

  In 1505 she did indeed move to London. At Durham House Henry Tudor allowed her to keep her own court. But she found it hard. She had very little money. Henry and her father both refused her any income. It left her in the same predicament as before. She could not pay her servants.

  She protested this to Henry at the end of the year. He told her to give up Durham House and join his court. She did not. A mysterious benefactor solved her problems for a short time. That person left her a handsome sum. Maria found it sitting there on a table one morning. There was no note with it, just the money. Catherine always thou
ght it was Radu. But she would never know.

  In April 1506 the young Henry denounced his betrothal to her. He did this on the advice of his father. The Pope had by now granted the dispensation for them to marry. However, her dowry remained unpaid. Because of this Henry Tudor searched for a better match for his son.

  That summer Catherine fell ill again. It seemed her illness of two years ago had returned. In truth the stress of her situation just proved too much. It took her many months to recover. When she did Henry Tudor found out his son had been spending time with her. The two had grown quite close.

  This alarmed him a great deal. He sent Catherine and her household to live in Fulham Palace. There, he said, the country air would aid her good health.

  The stand off between England and Spain went on. Ferdinand would not pay the dowry. Henry extended the deadline many times, but nothing changed.

  Catherine did not receive any money from her father either. It left her no choice but to pawn all her jewellery over time. By 1509 she had nothing left and wanted to return home to Spain.

  Henry Tudor died in April and his son took the throne. At once the Privy Council urged him to marry Catherine. Henry visited her and proposed. She imagined Radu’s face when he said those words. But it was not Radu. With her situation so desperate she had no choice. She accepted his proposal. They were married in June in the church of the palace Friary at Greenwich.

  She thought back over all this, as she brushed her hair. Henry nagged at her again to come to bed. Sometimes she thought it was all he wanted her for. She just looked in the mirror and brushed. In the last few days she had felt unwell again. She had almost reached full term on this her sixth pregnancy.

  The previous five had produced only one surviving child. That was a daughter they had named Mary. Catherine turned and looked at her husband. She did not want to sleep with him. It might harm the baby in her womb. After such dreaded misfortune with her others she did not want to take the risk. He cared little for her fears and she knew it. But if she lost this one too she would incur his wrath yet again. She was not sure that she had the strength to endure it any more.

  She lowered her head. Where are you Radu? Why can you not save me from this life of torment?

  Rumours had reached her of yet another of her husband’s indiscretions. It did not endear him to her. Despite her secret longing for Radu she had slept with no man other than her husband. So his lack of fidelity cut her deep.

  This time he had bedded a peasant woman named Elizabeth Blount. She knew that if the servants were speaking of it then it had to be true. He rarely covered his tracks well. His regular hunting jaunts away from the palace usually involved a sexual liaison with one woman or another. Reluctantly, she lay on the bed beside him. When he tried to kiss her she turned her head away.

  Her action irritated him. “What is wrong?” he asked, trying to keep his calm.

  She closed her eyes as he rubbed his hand over her swollen belly. It moved up to her breast, trying to arouse her soft nipple.

  “The baby is ready to come any day,” she answered. “And I do not know if it such a good thing to make love.”

  Her Spanish accent remained strong. But her English was very concise and clear. It could leave him in no doubt that she did not want him tonight.

  “But I am the King and I want you.”

  She gave him a burning stare. How could he speak to her with such little regard? He realised at once what he had said. “And you are my wife.”

  “It is strange that you should want me,” she said, turning her head away again.

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” he growled angrily.

  “I am fat and pregnant. And of such little use. I cannot imagine you would have an interest in me.”

  “That is not what you meant,” he said, wise to her ruse to cover over her remark.

  She turned around and faced him eye to eye. “Well, what can you expect?” she half shouted. “Your philandering is no secret within these walls.”

  Henry grunted a retort. He knew he should have exercised more care.

  “Why do you hurt me and insult me so?” she asked. “I do not deserve this.”

  “You are my wife and the bearer of my children,” was all he could say.

  “I am glad to know my place then,” she hissed.

  “I am your King. I expect you to respect me as such. Even in our bedchamber!”

  “So is it every woman’s duty to sleep with her King?”

  He growled under his breath. His argument was thin.

  “You are also my husband,” she reminded him. “And you made a vow of fidelity to me on our wedding day. Yet your promises to me before God are of such little value to you.”

  “Be quiet, woman,” he ordered her.

  Henry lifted her gown up over her bump. Her words just bounced off him. He stroked it gently with both hands, kissing her skin and smiling. “In a few days we will have a son,” he said. “It will make you the most revered woman in the history of this land.”

  She finally gave in to his advances. He had his way despite her obvious displeasure. She wept long after he had fallen asleep.

  The fields near Greenwich Palace a few days later. November 10, 1518.

  “Sire! It is time!”

  The king and his men turned to see a rider galloping hard towards them. They numbered twenty in all and always accompanied him when he left the palace. A few of them broke off from the group. They braced themselves to meet the rider while the others surrounded Henry.

  Henry had heard whispers. They hinted that his namesake, Henry Stafford, was intent on seizing his throne. Stafford was also the Duke of Buckingham. He came from a family that had given its allegiance to Richard III. Richard had fought a long and bloody war with Henry’s father. Despite this they had their lands and titles restored to them in 1485.

  He dismissed it as idle chatter. Stafford was the most honoured noble in all the land. The king had bestowed on him the titles of Constable of England and the King’s Lieutenant. He knew the oncoming rider was from the palace. His men acted with caution all the same.

  “Let him through!” Henry ordered. “What is it?” he enquired of the messenger.

  The man looked out of breath, but still blurted out his message. “It is time, Highness. The Queen is about to give birth.”

  A jolt of excitement passed through Henry. This was the moment. The Queen was finally going to give him a son. “To the palace!” he shouted, spurring his mount into a gallop. It prompted the others to follow suit.

  It was crucial that Henry had a male heir. The political climate in England made it so. His father imposed this obligation to him on his deathbed. It was the only way the Tudors could rule in peace in the future. They gained the throne only after a bitter dynastic war that lasted thirty years. Theirs, the House of Lancaster, had triumphed over the House of York. It was vital that there was no repeat of this. To this end the political wisdom stated that a woman could not rule the nation.

  The last such occasion was in 1125. The daughter of Henry I, Matilda, came to the throne. It caused a great divide in the country, which resulted in war. The Tudors had won the second such war. England could not endure another. There was a deep fear that it might if a woman assumed the throne again. Many feared that through marriage, a foreign king could seize power.

  Henry rode at speed into the courtyard behind the palace. He did not even dismount correctly. To the dismay of his men he jumped from his horse and ran inside. It did not take him long to reach his bedchamber. His wife had just given birth. He found the room filled with midwives, maids, clergy and other courtiers.

  At first he did not care how many people were in the room. He was far too excited. His trusted Wolsey stood over the bed. “Where is my son?” he asked.

  He caught his wife’s eye. She lay on the bed, exhausted from the labour.

  Wolsey turned to face him. Henry’s heart sank when he saw the grim expression on his face. He turned to the physician i
n attendance. “Where is my son!”

  The man stood up nervously. It was he who broke the news to the king. “Your Majesty, the child is very poorly.”

  For a moment Henry could not breathe. The veins in his neck bulged, as the rage inside him came to the surface. He tugged at his collar to loosen it. “Get out!” he screamed at everyone in the room. “I want you out of here! Out!”

  A few of them rushed out of the room. Others lingered, shocked and stunned at the outburst. Some were just too terrified to move. When the room did not empty Henry grew even angrier. He pushed over furniture and threw other items about. More of them left. Those that did not he manhandled until they were gone.

  Wolsey was the last to go. As he walked past Henry the king grabbed his wrist. “You can stay, Thomas. Please.”

  The cardinal sighed hard, as he looked at his monarch. He felt Henry’s pain as though it were his own.

  Henry dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. He threw his arms around Wolsey’s legs and sobbed. “Why am I so cursed, Thomas?” he cried. “Why?”

  The child, a daughter, died within days.

  The following year Elizabeth Blount bore Henry a son. He incurred the wrath of his queen. Yet he was delighted. He knew now that he could have a son. The problem, therefore, had to lie with his wife.

  She failed to conceive again after losing their last child. On various occasions she fell ill, as she had done many times before. It plagued her over and over. With it her husband lost all interest in her. By 1524 he no longer shared her bed. He slept with many of her maids and ladies-in-waiting. These included Mary Boleyn. When she fell pregnant Henry tossed her aside. Wolsey married her off to get her out of the way.

  Rumours of these events filtered through to Castile. It gave Dracula a window of opportunity. Only then did he realise that the emperor had to win the war in Italy. It was why he decided he had to make that happen. This was even before Charles came to him with a plea for help.