The Dracula Chronicles: For Whom The Bell Tolls

by Shane KP O'Neill

  “Then let them,” Maia pleaded. “It is but a word.”

  “I would advise you to listen to your mother, my Lord,” Dancu spoke up. “If he can defeat the army of Ishak Bey with such ease then we could not hold him.”

  Mircea eyed two of the guards walking in through the main doors. “Get out!” he screamed at them. He then turned to his mother. “It is more than a word, Mama. I am the son of Vlad Dracul. No matter the consequences I cannot run away. For my honour and to honour the name of my father, I must stay.”

  “Ion, say something to him,” she implored Dancu. “I beg you, please.”

  “Mama, do not talk that way.”

  “I have to agree, my Lord. If you resist him then he would kill us all. We cannot risk your safety. There is no way of knowing what has become of your father and brothers as yet. You may be the last in the Draculesti bloodline.”

  Mircea glared at him. “Do not say that!”

  “There is no cause to be angry with Ion, my son,” his mother said, trying to calm him. “He speaks only the truth. This you shall realise as you grow older. He has advised your father for many years so it is good to listen to what he says. I cannot imagine he would ever give you poor counsel.”

  Dancu pressed the issue while Mircea took a moment to think. “I can assure you if the roles were reversed then Hunyadi would accept this offer had you given it to him. You can leave with your army intact. The time shall come when we can take back the throne. That would not be possible were you not alive to do it.”

  Maia nodded when her son looked at her and touched her palm to the side of his face. “It is the right course to follow, my son. You can return with your father at your side.”

  Deflated at what he knew he had to do, he gave Dancu a nod without speaking further. Then he brushed past them and out into the courtyard. Later he sat at the table where he had called for a feast and ate alone. In the morning he rode out through the eastern gates with his mother at his side and his army of ten thousand. The throne he left vacant for the vultures who would take it from him.

  ANATOLIA. THE ROYAL PALACE OF SULTAN MURAD II AT ADRIANOPLE.

  SEPTEMBER, 1443.

  Rodrigul spied Dracul sitting alone in a corner of the vast gardens. He walked over and sat down beside him. “Are you well, my Lord?”

  Dracul sat with his arms around his shins and his chin resting on his knees. “No, Alin,” he said, his voice solemn. “I need to see my sons. It has been a year and I know not even where they are.”

  “This should not last too much longer,” his friend assured him. “The men have heard whispers.”

  “Of what? They say the same with every day that passes.”

  “The rumours are that our release could come soon.”

  “Yes, that is what they are; rumours.”

  “I have a good feeling this time.”

  His voivode looked away again. “I shall believe it when it happens.”

  Dracul had not seen his sons from the time they had left him in his meeting with Murad. Within a week the sultan had the boys moved far away to the fortress at Egrigoz. The town sat in western Anatolia in the Kutahya district of the province of Karaman. It was a walled fortress on the southeastern slope of Mount Kocia.

  The news of this was as good as a spear in Dracul’s heart. He loved his sons as much as a man could. His every thought centred on how he might get them back. That and what his wife would be thinking and feeling. He knew she would never forgive him. She had argued long and hard against him taking the boys with him. But he had not listened. As always, he thought he knew best.

  After moving the boys, Murad then had Dracul and a half a dozen of Dracul’s men brought to this place. They had remained here, unarmed and in virtual isolation, for the whole of the year. The others he ordered split into smaller groups and moved elsewhere.

  “You need to get up and walk around, my Lord,” Rodrigul said to him. “How can the men keep up their spirits if they see you idling away like this?”

  Dracul looked at him without getting up. “Look around you, Alin. There are guards everywhere. They outnumber us fifty to one. I have no idea where the rest of my men are. They could well be dead, and my sons.”

  Rodrigul sighed hard and loud. He felt terrible guilt over the fates of Vlad and Radu. For it was he who had first suggested they accompany Dracul on his trip to Anatolia. “I am sorry for the boys, my Lord. Sorrier than you can ever know. I know it is my fault and that you hold me to account.”

  There was truth in his words. At times, when he was close to despair he did blame his good friend, though he had never said it. In that moment, he felt a sudden sense of regret, seeing how tortured his friend was.

  He stood up finally and put a hand on Rodrigul’s shoulder. “My good friend, you are not to blame. Maia argued hard with me to leave the boys at home and I chose to ignore her. In truth, I can blame no other than myself.”

  Rodrigul lowered his head, tears welling in his eyes. He had been around them all of their lives and he missed them too. His wife had not given him children and so, in his heart, he had adopted Dracul’s boys.

  Dracul was about to speak again, but kept silent when two of the guards approached. They had shown no interest in Dracul until his captain had sat down. “Come, Alin. Let us take a walk. They try to listen in on our every word.”

  They walked for a couple of minutes with Dracul looking about the gardens, keen to avoid any further contact with the guards. It gave Rodrigul a short respite to compose himself again.

  “Why do you think they keep us here in isolation?” he asked. “I swear it shall drive me to madness in time.”

  “They are trying to break our resolve, perhaps even have us turn on each other.”

  “Why would they even care to do any such thing? We pose them no threat.”

  “So that when the time is right, and they offer us a cherry, we should bite.”

  Dracul smiled and looked at his friend. “Alin, I do believe you are right.”

  “The trick, my Lord, is to not let them succeed.”

  “Indeed that is so. Still, it is difficult to lift one’s spirits on times. A whole year they have held us here with no word of what is happening beyond these walls that keep us fettered.”

  “Perhaps it is better to not know what is happening out there.”

  “No, not when you are absent from your throne. I do not imagine it took long for Hunyadi to know they had detained us. God only knows what that might have prompted him to do.”

  “You think he may have made a move on the throne?”

  “I know I would have if I were in his position. He must have concerns that Wallachia can no longer shield him while I am gone.”

  “But the Sultan would have told you surely if the throne were under threat?”

  “What if he is the threat, Alin? What if he has seized it for his empire? Who could know? Certainly not I. Even if the throne is safe, my position is going to be a delicate one when they allow me to leave, if they allow me to leave.”

  “Hunyadi is sure to doubt you would ever take up arms against the Turks while they have your boys.”

  “That is the truth of the matter. If I were to do so, then my boys would die.”

  “I know, my Lord. But that is the reason I know they are safe. The Sultan would never harm them while he can use them as leverage against you.”

  “And if Hunyadi is thinking this, as I am certain he is, then he would not want me on the throne. It would serve his purpose for me to be dead.”

  “Then, I hope you are wrong, my Lord.”

  Dracul stopped and turned to face his friend. “It is safe to assume that I am not. I know the moment I return home, I shall be in a fight for my life.”

  IN truth, Hunyadi had not thought of Dracul in some time. He was busy at home with events moving on fast. To his delight, Pope Eugenius IV had issued a new proclamation. The pope then sent Giuliano Cardinal Cesarini as his envoy to organise a coalition against the Turks. He, Hun
yadi and Branković, under the supreme command of King Ladislas III of Poland and Hungary, would lead it. They intended to drive the Turks, and Islam, out of Europe once and for all.

  MURAD knew of the force rising up against him in the West. But he did not know the numbers involved. He feared, for the first time, the effect of Dracul’s absence from his throne. The coalition could use Wallachia as a platform to launch any manner of attack against him. He decided then to summon his military commanders to Adrianople in September, 1443, to discuss the new threat.

  “Do you think there is a threat from Mircea Dracula?” he asked Bey Karadza, his most trusted general. “He still wanders around the countryside with his ten thousand men I am advised. I am told he could swell that number considerably.”

  “It is hard to determine what he might do, Sire. He might not assist Hunyadi at all, in light of losing the throne. By the same token Hunyadi might have a change of heart were he to have Mircea Dracula on his side.”

  “I am inclined to agree with you. It feels like a good time to see Vlad Dracul back on the throne. At least then we have an element of control with his boys in my custody.”

  Karadza nodded. “We had hoped Hunyadi might rest on his laurels after his last victory. It is one thing to defend your home territory, but another to go on the offensive.”

  Murad laughed at him. “Rest on his laurels? I think not. That man is hungry for glory and he has a deep hatred for all that we are. I am sure he shall fight us with or without the help of Mircea Dracula.”

  “We cannot be sure how Mircea would act either way, Sire. He might even be waiting for Hunyadi to go to war with us so that he can regain the throne. I believe our main concern at this juncture is the Wallachian throne. We must wrest control of it away from Hunyadi.”

  “Do you all concur with this idea?” Murad asked the other men in the room.

  They all nodded.

  Murad turned to his most senior general again. “But Mircea has no experience in matters of war. I do not think he would have the wherewithal to succeed either in a fight for his throne or against us.”

  “He has the support of a lot of good men, Sire, but it does not mean he would be the one leading them. I think we have the means right here to deal with it.”

  “What do you mean? Dracul?”

  “Yes, Sire. I believe he is the immediate solution to this problem.”

  “So, what do you propose?”

  The general looked to the others for moral support before speaking. “We should free Dracul and his men, but keep his sons.”

  “Go on. I am listening.”

  “We should do this and send him home with one or two of our regiments. He would then unite this force with his ten thousand and seize the throne. It weakens Hunyadi’s position against us.”

  Murad saw at once the sense in the idea. “Yes, I am sure he would succeed.”

  “He would know he has won back his throne only because of the help we have given him. We need the man at the helm in Wallachia on our side.”

  “But we cannot trust Dracul. He is no longer a friend and might not be on our side once he has back his throne.”

  “Before we allow him to leave, we must impose severe restrictions on him so that he does not assist our enemy. I am sure he would comply. He loves his children and would not risk them.”

  Murad looked to his other advisors again, none of whom had spoken. “You have added nothing to this discussion. Do you agree with our esteemed general?”

  Umit spoke up for the group. “Bey Karadza speaks for us all, Sire.”

  He accepted the nods from the other men as confirmation of this. “Very well, bring Dracul before me. We have no time to delay.”

  “There is one other benefit that could arise from following this course, Sire.”

  “Then say it.”

  “There is a good chance that if Dracul refuses to give aid to Hunyadi, as we must insist, then it should cause a serious rift between them. It could then lead to a later altercation that weakens both sides.”

  Murad saw the sense in his logic. He nodded that he agreed with it.

  “If this came to pass, we could plough through them both with relative ease.”

  Murad could not hide a broad smile. If he could control both Wallachia and Transylvania, then Hungary would struggle to repel an invasion. For him, the conquest of Hungary would be the jewel in the crown. For hundreds of years his people had wanted Constantinople, but for him Rome was the ultimate prize. If he conquered Hungary then nothing could prevent his armies sweeping through central Europe and down onto that which he coveted. No one could stand in the way of the spread of Islam to every corner.

  Dracul was still with Rodrigul when the guards approached him. He mulled over the thought his friend might have been right in what he had said. This was his first meeting with the sultan in a year and could only be a good thing.

  Of course he knew nothing of outside events and so was surprised to see what looked like a War Council in conference with the sultan. He met the gaze of every one of the commanders in turn. Some of them admired him, but others sneered. He knew them all, either by name or reputation and noted those who insulted him.

  “Welcome, Vladislav,” Murad greeted him.

  Dracul did not like to be addressed without his title, but said nothing. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Sire?”

  Murad extended his arm towards the others in the room. “My esteemed advisors are of the opinion that we should release you.”

  If it surprised Dracul, he did not show it. “Then no doubt it serves their purpose, Sire, to reach such a decision.”

  The sultan could not help but laugh. “You are as wily as a fox. Does it not surprise you then that I prefer to have you as a friend than as an enemy?”

  Dracul bowed without breaking Murad’s gaze. “A forced friendship is not a friendship, Sire.”

  Karadza eyed Dracul. “Your liberty is not something to scoff at.”

  “What of my sons? I am not a free man while they remain captive.”

  “Your past exploits dictate what happens to them,” Murad said. “As shall your future ones.”

  “I understand they are to remain?” Dracul said, an icy edge to his tone.

  “You would be correct to assume so,” Karadza cut in. “It is one of the conditions of your release.”

  “And the other conditions?”

  “We can address those a little later,” Murad said. “You first need to be made familiar with current events. Much has happened in your absence. Bey Karadza can tell you of it.”

  Dracul looked to the general, his heart racing at what news awaited his ear. He did not speak, trying his utmost to keep his composure and his dignity, or what was left of it.

  Karadza tried to choose his words with care. He knew the information he had to impart would be hard for Dracul to take. And the general was not one who liked to pour salt into a wound, even to an opponent.

  “When you came here a year ago,” he began, and then stopped. “When you came here a year ago, Hunyadi marched on your capital. He defeated an army we had sent to protect it and then drove your son out.”

  Dracul’s eyes slanted with anger. Yet he knew this was not the time to show it. “And no one thought to tell me of this, a year ago?”

  “It did not serve our purpose to do so at that time.”

  “But it suits you in the here and now? And what of my son and my wife? Were they harmed?”

  “We understand that both are well. Hunyadi did not attack them; he gave them the option to leave. And using his head, and not his heart, your son left with your army intact.”

  Dracul’s relief was evident for all to see. It pleased Karadza to see it, for he knew now that once Dracul had the throne back, they could control it. With his sons in their care, he would do whatever they told him. There was no question of it.

  “So why do you tell me such news on this day?” Dracul asked him. “What is it you want from me?”

  “Hunyad
i is mobilising his forces as we speak. As he controls your throne and your country, he can use it to launch a crusade against us along the Danube frontier.”

  “And what has this to do with me?”

  “We want to put you back on your throne. Doing so would help scupper his plans. We contend that as we are to be allies again, you would not aid him in his crusade.”

  “And you would keep my sons to ensure I do not aid him?”

  “Naturally, yes. We know you are a strong family man. It is with regret I say that to you, but we need to ensure your loyalty. If that is what it takes, then so be it.”

  “What use is a throne to a man if his legacy is taken from him?”

  “No one knows what the future holds,” Karadza reminded him. “Events move fast and circumstances change with it. You know that as well as any of us here. But for the now, we have to be certain you would not aid him. He shall come to you, of that we have no doubts.”

  “And so the divide between he and I shall become greater? How convenient that is for you. Perhaps he might go to war with me and not you.”

  Murad was growing tired of Dracul’s argument. “The choice is yours, Vladislav. Our esteemed General is happy to give two regiments over to you to help you take back your throne. That is more than six thousand men. If that is not to your liking, you are welcome to remain here as my guest another year.”

  Dracul knew he had no room to manoeuvre. This was the best he could hope for and a lot more than he dreamed possible only an hour before. “I accept the General’s offer,” he assured them.

  His words procured a smile from the sultan. “It is a smart man that you are, Vladislav. Then it is done. You shall have back your throne with our help.”

  Dracul bowed to him to show his full compliance. “There were other conditions attached to this offer, I understand?”

  Murad turned serious again in an instant. “You are never to pursue or act in favour of any future actions against this throne,” he said, his tone hard and stern. “There can be no repeat of your past dissentions. You need to be very clear on this point.”