Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  The Wallachian sighed as he remembered that he had no home. Yes, Wallachia was within Christian power, but with another man on the throne. An undeserving man. A man who was, in fact, more a puppet than a ruler. Turmoil boiled inside of Vincent's veins as he desperately searched for an identity to clutch onto, someone or something to connect himself to, something that would replace the gap within and give him a reason to continue forward.

  He tried to find anything inside of him that could help stabilize the growing rage he felt for Hungary and the fact that at every corner she continued to distrust him. But the only thing that kept fueling his desire to rule under a Christian banner one day was the increasing ire he felt, as though the world were playing a massive and unwanted joke on him. No matter what he did, whether it was give advice to the ruler of Hungary or join their ranks as captain, he was still branded as an Ottoman and was refused to be trusted.

  Everywhere he turned, there was nothing but betrayers, and he branded traitor as well. A part of him knew that his teachings in Edirne would always be with him, that he would continue to use the skills he learned there, and that it had spared his life on more than one occasion. It even felt like justice that he would use what he learned under Ottoman reign against them. But even Vincent knew that Hungary could not be trusted, and there was apparently nothing he could do that would convince them otherwise.

  Vincent awoke from his thoughts at the sound of the main gate rising to let the men in. Trailing in the back, he waited, and glanced up at the enormous defense towers.

  "I've had enough betrayal for one life, my ruler," Vincent growled bitterly, and proceeded to walk past the drawbridge, "Prepare to answer my questions now, especially the ones concerning your set-up trap."

  The regent slouched in his seat in the main dining hall as he heard his royal advisor rant on and on. The days seemed to grow longer than normal, as if God himself was slowly trying to suck the life out of him. His eyes glazed over as he expertly tuned Rodriguez out; that man had a way of talking a royal's ear off in ten minutes, to the point where the regent would rather strip down to his undergarments, wear the belt of his sheathed sword around his head, wear his socks for gauntlets, douse the throne room in oil, and threaten to set it all aflame as he danced around like a mad man. The idea was certainly more entertaining that sitting in a chair, albeit lovely decorated and cushioned with soft padding, and hearing an advisor drone on and on.

  "Leroy, when are you going to get to your point? I have other meetings to attend to about the war on the frontier," the regent groaned as he attempted to sit back up.

  Rodriguez turned around from pacing to the other side of the room, suddenly snapping out of his perfect and ideal world to reality and realized how foolish he must have looked, "I apologize, my Lord. Of course. It seems as though our soldiers along the border are keeping the Ottomans out. Wallachia is holding as well, though how long that will last…Lord Vincentislav II states that he needs more soldiers placed in Wallachia if they are to survive…"

  The regent's frown deepened as his hand reflexively tightened on his armrest, "I sense you are trying to slow-walk me to an important realization. Care to jump to it?"

  Rodriguez cleared his throat softly and smiled awkwardly, "Highness…would you consider perhaps another alternative, since we do not have many reinforcements?"

  "Such as?" the regent tipped his head forward and opened the palm of his hand, awaiting an example that would fit in his grasp.

  "For example…perhaps a…hired…army…?" Rodriguez dragged.

  "You mean mercenaries?" the regent felt himself rise from his seat, "Hired hands to execute and destroy?"

  "I–"

  "Soulless men with eyes only for heavy amounts of coin, whose lifestyles are ones of burning and pillaging and no atonement at the end of their long journey, festering with duplicity that it reeks of evil, malice, and wrong-doing?"

  Rodriguez visibly swallowed and nervously tugged at the sleeves of his clothing, "Whether or not you believe it, see it, or consent to its existence, my Lord, we do not have enough able bodies. The Ottomans are too strong. If we cannot find a way to defend our country, then we must start pulling civilians into our army."

  The regent chuckled this time, "Fear not, my advisor. You look so nervous, as if you will soon stare Death in the face."

  Rodriguez nervously answered with a chuckle, "Well, when your looking into the face of thousands of Ottomans, one can only wonder if that be his death."

  "I have proven my military competence. Do you not remember Semendria, or Iron Gates? As a boy, do you not remember hearing of the undaunted Johan Huniad, fearless leader of Hungary? Called forth to be Regent-governor after the untimely death of Władysław III of Varna? King of Hungary?" the regent's eyes sparkled proudly at the memories that now flooded back into his mind.

  "Yes, my Lord, how could I forget?" Rodriguez said with great lackluster as he absent-mindedly shuffled to the nearest seat in the room, preparing for a full-blown fairy tale story of his superior racing circles around baffled pashas and marching home victoriously against incredible odds.

  "Oh, would you indulge an old man?" the regent instantly felt his advisor's somber aura.

  "My Lord, it isn't that I don't partake in feeling joy every time I hear the tales of you. I only feel concern because it is the very battle of Varna that you nearly did not escape, from which you then became our ruler. Very luckily, I might add," Rodriguez rubbed his temples in a circular motion to ease his growing headache.

  "Varna was years ago, Leroy. Need I remind you that we could have won –should have won– had the king more sense than a dead pigeon," the regent's voice sharpened, "No one was to attack the Janissaries until I gave the order."

  Rodriguez felt himself raise both of his hands, exposing he had no weapons against the man in front of him, "My Lord, I completely agree. It is because of certain…commands in the past that we suffer now. Our…choices…will reflect back on us when the consequences of them unearth."

  "Indeed, which is why we must be all the more careful than to blithely discuss the accommodations of a mercenary army," the regent shook his head disapprovingly, "I fear no one, not even Bogdan would help us now."

  "Yes, I heard as well. Moldavia is in civil war," Rodriguez stated mournfully, Not that they would help us anyway, after we heard of their secret dealings with the Ottomans. Is there any country that can resist ruling under the support of the Ottomans? "We truly are alone in this fight…"

  "Not quite. We have Bogdan's nephew to thank for our good fortune," the regent grinned as he stood up from his seat.

  Rodriguez felt his teeth grind against his jaw, "That…boy…ensures nothing, my Lord, if not insinuating trouble."

  The regent laughed, "Come now, you don't mean to say that Vincent has some sort of quarrel against Hungary? All we did was assist in killing his father and in allowing him to be dragged to Edirne for years of imprisonment."

  The Royal Vizier's frown deepened, "Do I hear guilt in your voice, Sir?"

  He straightened his royal garments, "Not. At. All. What you see here is an eager man who will take whatever and whoever he can if it might help fight the war against Islam. My friend, did you not just make my case after spewing all of those fancy words of there being no army left to fight?"

  "I didn't mean to resort to allowing Ottomans into the ranks, my Lord," Rodriguez stood up as well and walked to the edge of the steps.

  "We must and shall accept him. He is our eyes and ears out on the battlefield. Not only does he speak Turkish fluently, he knows their techniques, their battle strategies, and their weaknesses. Someone with that kind of knowledge cannot be turned away," the regent walked down to the edge of the steps and stared back at his advisor, a hand resting on the stubble of his chin.

  Rodriguez stewed in his mind for a moment, considering stating something further. Just when he was about to speak his mind, both men turned to the window and listened quietly.

  "…Did you hear th
at?" the advisor asked dubiously.

  "It…it sounded like…cheering…" the regent stated in disbelief, as if he heard instead a whistle in the wind.

  But suddenly fanfare played loudly on trumpets, welcoming home soldiers. The loud public display of the short announcing tune caused the regent to fly to the window and cast his gaze downward to the bridge. A grin split his lips as he watched his men make passage across and into the citadel safely. A peaceful quiet consumed his body as he recognized his son leading the army on top of his horse, bloodied and beaten, but not broken. Pride wracked his body as he gripped the side stone wall and turned back around slowly.

  "They have returned!" Rodriguez stated with shocked doubt.

  "Then I shall prepare for the debriefing. Ladislaus has much to report to me," the regent masked his joy expertly, swished his cape up, and began to march back to his room.

  Rodriguez smiled, knowing he was secretly happy at the arrival of his son. The advisor smiled as he sighed and exited the room to leave his ruler alone in his preparations. Closing the massive double doors, he nodded to both guards on either side and shrugged his cloak back on. A loud noise caught his attention as shouts from down the hall seemed to emanate from the walls. Curious, both Rodriguez and the guards looked at each other and began to make their way across.

  Fists punching one another followed as more and more men shouted until the clack and clank of armor hitting ground rang through Rodriguez's ears. His heart began to beat at an alarming rate as he soon considered the idea of an assassin breaking into the castle. Reaching for his knife, he motioned for the guards to remain behind him. Pushing off with his left foot, he whirled around the corner and straight into the breastplate of a soldier. Rodriguez felt his head crack forward against the metal as he then reeled back in pain. Rubbing his forehead, his eyes slowly came into focus as he narrowed them at the man.

  "You," Rodriguez stated accusingly, "You weren't supposed to return."

  Vincent smiled politely, slightly bowing as a mocking gesture, "And, as you will come to know me, I defy all odds."

  The advisor straightened his posture to match Vincent's and glanced around the intruder. A row of incapacitated guards lay on the ground, twisted and mangled-looking with broken bones and toppled over on one another mixed with broken glass, windows, crates, and armor. Sighing and shaking his head in slight sorrow and disappointment, Rodriguez felt his armed hand twitch.

  "My, you caused quite a scene there," the advisor stated with weight, noticing that the soldier was unarmed, "Punishment is in order."

  "I could tell you that they tried to strike me first, but you would not believe me," Vincent squared his shoulders, refusing to back away, "I only seek an audience with the Regent. I have a right to hear him answer for what he's done."

  Rodriguez exploded into fits of laughter, clutching his side for support, "The Regent answers to no one. He has received the Divine Right from the previous ruler. His powers come from God himself. You are merely a pawn."

  "Pawns, if placed properly, can defeat even kings," Vincent inched closer, daring the first strike out of Rodriguez.

  "If you wish to get to my king, pawn, then you shall have to get through me first," The advisor said with deadly finality as he blocked the hallway and motioned for the guards to place themselves on either side of him.

  Rolling his eyes disrespectfully, Vincent scoffed, "Alright then. Hardly a fair fight."

  "HEATHEN!" Rodriguez shouted as he stepped forward and jabbed his knife into the closest kink in Vincent's armor.

  "This won't be necessary," a loud voice echoed from around the corner. The regent stepped from the shadows and into the hallway, his lavishly decorated cape dragging gracefully behind him.

  Both guards instantly stood aside to let the man through. He walked slowly, methodically, as he approached the two fighting men who were now frozen in mid-act at his demand. As the old man stopped right in front of them, Rodriguez retracted his knife and Vincent released his hand from Rodriguez's cloak. The ruler's face seemed wistful, teeming with wisdom and knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension. In one look, both saw the stupidity and juvenile way they had acted. The advisor stepped to the side with his dignity slightly exposed and wounded.

  "Leroy, you know better than to lower yourself to violence," the regent softly chided; he then turned to the battered Wallachian, "And Sir Vincent, I thought your silver tongue could talk its way out of this unnecessary fight."

  Vincent folded his arms across his chest indignantly, "Discourse is appropriate until the point civility gives way to insults, and then a ready fist must serve as a gentleman's closing statement." *

  The regent grinned at that comment, "Indeed, you're quite correct."

  "Then curse me for guarding our one ruler," Rodriguez stated harshly as he fit his knife in his belt, "I thought my Lord would be pleased that I did not simply allow this cretin to pass uninspected. Peruse the hallway, Sir, and you shall see the carnage he created on the way here."

  "I have seen enough to know that this man deserves some answers. After all, there is a certain give-and-take dance with your ally in which you must partake to keep everything balanced," the regent softly countered and motioned for Vincent to follow him.

  Rodriguez began to trail behind when his ruler stopped him abruptly, "Leroy, since you are so eager to protect your ruler, might I suggest reporting to Pip to see if there are any troubles within the castle?"

  The advisor's eyes widened in shock, but he bit down a salty insult that was ready at his lips, "If it pleases, right away, my Lord." With a bitterly strained bow, he turned on his heels vengefully and left the hallway.

  "Ladislaus!" William screamed as she stood up from the castle bench and made a mad dash for him.

  "Whoa, William! Don't tackle m–"

  She threw herself onto him at full speed, almost knocking him over as his towering body swayed, desperately trying to regain balance. Tears were in her eyes as she lifted her head up and let out a choked laugh.

  "Sorry. We're both so happy you came back! We prayed and prayed for your safety! It paid off!" She shouted in glee and turned to face her advancing older sister.

  Richard smiled, slowly preserving the pause and storing it into her memory forever, "William was worried most of all."

  Ladislaus bowed his head, "You're a lovely image to contrast all of this fighting and death around us. You both look well…I…I missed you too."

  "We were so worried that you would get injured, especially since father sent that Wallachian to fight with you," William blurted out, though regretting the moment she said it.

  The air seemed to cool ten degrees at the mention of that man, and Ladislaus's body instantly went rigid. Richard could sense his angst and sensitivity to the topic, but what surprised her to every extent was when his glare intensified as it locked with her eyes. He let go of William and walked his way over to Richard, his dominating body language screaming pent up anger to her. She instinctively tried to look disarming, but he already had reached for her arm.

  "Richard," Ladislaus's voice sounded like a fork scratching along a metal plate, "Come with me; I have much to discuss with you and your apparent befriending choices."

  She stood, torn between ripping her arm out of his grasp and shouting at him there. But she reasoned that a more private setting would benefit her cause. There, she could convince him quietly, in private, rather than making a scene in public. Politely, she nodded and followed his lead into the nearest room, but not without sending her younger sister a menacing scowl.

  Hastily opening the large wooden door, it grinded against its hinges in protest. Both entered and Ladislaus reluctantly released her arm. Richard instantly walked away from him and further into the long room. It took her a moment to realize that they were in the larder. Spices, salt, sweets, and meat were stored in neat packs folded tightly and stacked along in shelves across the large room. The stench was a little more than Richard had hoped for, but she brushed off her disgus
t as easily as shrugging a shoulder.

  Ladislaus peeked outside the door once more and then shut it just as quickly. He paused with his back turned to her, took in a deep breath, and prayed that he would not lose his temper for what he was about to discuss with her. But no matter his feelings on the situation, it had to be addressed. He turned around, trying to conceal his bubbling rage inside and took a step forward to her.

  The regent entered back into his private room. Vincent, following silently, noticed the massive table in the middle with scrolls of paper overlapping one another; no doubt battle plans amended this way and that; tailored to the continuously incoming messages. The regent grunted as he pushed them aside, placing both hands tiredly on the table and allowing his shoulders to droop as they were only supported by locked arms. Vincent sensed the seasoned warriors weariness and decided to try and seem as pleasant as possible. One quick remark and he could be sent back to the dungeons solely based on the man's temper at that moment. Vincent strayed behind the Regent out of politeness, only seeing his backside, and noting the lack of swelling character and boastful confidence the regent had once carried with him. Concern coated The Wallachian's face for a brief moment, but the expression melted away just as quickly as the regent turned around to face him.

  "You come into my castle with one thing on your mind: answers," the regent stated softly, to Vincent's amazement.

  "You're…you're not even slightly angered…" Vincent felt his face frown as he shifted to rest on one foot.

  The regent inhaled deeply, "In my line of work, one cannot present anger as a means of communication to an already angered person. It would not alleviate, but rather exacerbate the tension, nor would it solve any of the problems that needed to be fixed. You must reason with the person, you must compromise, and you must learn the motions of giving and taking as I said earlier."

  Vincent felt his anger towards the man all but diminish, "I…I am surprised you…rule that way…not many people I have met would compare in the slightest to how you reason, my Lord."