The Dracula Chronicles: For Whom The Bell Tolls

by Shane KP O'Neill

  Dracul nodded that he understood.

  “You shall continue to pay your annual duty of ten thousand ducats.”

  “Yes, I concur with that. Is there more?”

  “You are to send five hundred boys each year to join the Janissary Corps. It does not please me that you have reneged on this in the past.”

  This last point did not sit well with Dracul. The men in the room sensed it at once. His father may have kept to this aspect of their treaty, but he had not.

  “Those are the conditions we have agreed,” Karadza assured him, meeting his gaze. “They are not open to negotiation. Your sons shall remain in our custody to ensure you comply with these terms.”

  Dracul did not answer until prompted by Murad. “Well? What is it to be?”

  “I shall comply,” Dracul agreed, “To all of your terms. But if any bad fate befalls my sons I shall return and run my sword through each one of you.”

  A brief silence followed. To break the tension Murad broke into a strong laugh. “Such courage you display, Vladislav. I can only admire your resolve. To seal this treaty, I require you to swear an oath both on your Bible and on the Koran.”

  Dracul did this though he kept his gaze fixed firmly on Karadza.

  The general, too, admired Dracul’s courage. “To keep good your promise you shall need this.” He threw the Fier Negru, in its scabbard, to the Wallachian.

  Dracul caught it in his right hand and strapped it around his waist. He felt complete again with his trusted sword about his person. Dracul then bowed to Murad and turned to leave.

  Karadza bowed too out of respect. “I hope we have the chance to fight at each other’s side one day,” he said, before Dracul turned away.

  His rival offered one last hateful stare. “It is not likely.”

  WALLACHIA. THE ROYAL PALACE OF VLAD DRACUL AT TIRGOVISTE.

  OCTOBER, 1443.

  Dracul marched into his homeland with seven thousand Turks at his side. He enjoyed an emotional reunion with Mircea and together they marched on his capital. They fought a handful of minor skirmishes, but other than that they faced little or no resistance on their way.

  Basarab trembled at the news he was coming. He sent messengers to all the cities that supported his tenure. But Dracul moved fast and there was no time for any support to arrive. He had no choice but to flee and he escaped north over the border to Brasov.

  Night had already closed in when Dracul marched into his capital. Thousands of his men had gone on ahead to make sure the way was clear. Despite the late hour, the people lined the streets and cheered him all the way to his palace.

  Dracul did not rest for three whole days. He took every necessary measure to secure the capital. On his order Rodrigul dispatched messengers to the boyars right across the country. He wanted them to be in no doubt that he had assumed control once again and that he expected their support. The letters he sent out also summoned many of them.

  He also sent out five hundred men to bring Maia home safely. She had been staying on the estate of Vintila Florescu on the border with Moldavia. Florescu and some of his men travelled back with her. He too had received a summons from his voivode.

  Maia did not speak to her husband on her return or for the three days that followed. When she learned her sons had not returned she did not even want to see him.

  In that first week back on his throne reports flooded in to Dracul from every quarter. He sat at his desk immersed in documents when Rodrigul and Dancu came in to join him. Dancu was aware of much of the content in the letters and had penned a few of them himself.

  “It is good of you to join me, gentlemen,” he said, raising a smile though remaining seated. “I know the hour is late.”

  “I am always at your disposal,” Dancu reminded him. “And Alin, well, we have long known he is your shadow. It is good to have you home, my Lord.”

  His comment raised a chuckle from the other two. He eyed the documents on the desk. “I see you have my letters.”

  “Yes, Ion. It seems the Sultan did not tell me all when last I met with him. I understand better his need to have me back on the throne.”

  “Yes, Alin advised me of what was said. He neglected to speak of his problems at home.”

  “It would appear so,” Dracul agreed, rummaging through the letters to find the one relevant to their discussion. “Here it is. He has a number of revolts to contend with in Anatolia as well as a renewed war with the Greeks in Morea.”

  “I daresay he has his hands full with that, my Lord.”

  “And Hunyadi has taken full advantage of it. The two factions in Hungary warring over the throne have joined together once more.”

  “Yes, my Lord. And Ladislas then made Hunyadi capitaneus exertios generalis.”

  “Yes, it is in one of your letters to me; General of the entire Hungarian Army. The man continues to rise up to even newer heights. I have to credit him for that.”

  “But Hunyadi and the King have taken a great gamble,” Dancu added. “If you study the figures I have arranged for you, my Lord, you would see my meaning.”

  Again Dracul rooted for the correct document and studied it once he had found it.

  “Cast your eye over that, my Lord, and tell me what you see.”

  A smile developed as Dracul read the document. “They left Buda in July with thirty-five thousand men, of which only three thousand came from the noble banderias. I assume you were referring to that?”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Dancu said, raising a smile also. “It demonstrates that the nobility in Hungary is not behind the crusade.”

  “So all is not as well there as they would have us think?”

  “That is exactly my thought on it, my Lord. So should he fail in the crusade, then this could be the end of Hunyadi as a military force. For siding with the Polish Ladislas, and not the young Ladislas, who is the rightful heir, he has made many enemies at home.”

  “With that in mind, and the Sultan’s own conflicts at home, it makes my position here much stronger than I first realised.”

  “I would have to agree, but for how long can you remain out of all this? Hunyadi has already defeated three armies and captured Nis. He shall call on you for your support the moment he knows you are back.”

  “He has already sent a letter,” Dracul said, holding it up. “I would like to discuss it on the morrow with the other boyars. Have many arrived in the city, Alin? I have locked myself away in this room for far too long.”

  “Many have made the journey, my Lord. Of the ones that matter, at least.”

  “That is good.” He turned to Dancu. “Ion, would you entertain them for me? I would like a word with Alin alone.”

  “Certainly, my Lord,” Dancu said, rising to leave. “Do not hesitate to call on me if I am needed.”

  Rodrigul sat quietly, his heart racing a little. Dracul had not consulted with him often over the last year. He knew it had everything to do with the situation concerning the boys. Therefore, it felt good that his voivode chose to confide in him again.

  Dracul turned to him once they were alone. “Hunyadi is calling for my help, Alin. What am I to do?”

  “What can you do?” he replied. “Your hands are tied.”

  “I had hoped for a more helpful response than that.”

  “If you assist Hunyadi, then Vlad and Radu could be lost to you forever. If you refuse to help Hunyadi, then he is sure to plot your downfall.”

  Dracul sighed out loud. “Then what is the solution?”

  The captain placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The most honest answer I can give you,” he said, “is this. You have to choose what is most important to you. Your sons or your throne.”

  “The throne is for them too.”

  “With all respect, my Lord,” he said, his tone solemn. “If they are dead, it would be of little concern to them.”

  Dracul did not like what he said, but mulled over the words. “You speak with the voice of true reason. My sons must come first. I can
worry about Hunyadi at a later date. It is not high on my list to appease him.”

  “Without the boys, this all counts for nothing.”

  “If I do not have them, then I amount to nothing, as would all I have done before this day. Come, I must leave this room and get some air.”

  As they were walking through the building, Dracul spotted Maia crossing a corridor up ahead. “I shall think on this and speak with you later,” he said to Rodrigul, before running after her.

  In the time since she had been back at the palace, she had not spoken to him. She showed neither joy at his safe return, nor any interest that he was home with her again. When he tried to go to her in her bedchamber, he found the door bolted shut. Theirs had always been a happy household, full of love and laughter. Now it felt cold and empty. It was a bitter blow after everything that had passed.

  Night was drawing in and it was at the door of her room that he caught up with her. He put an arm across her path to deny her entry to it.

  “What do you want?” she asked him, her tone bitter and her eyes distant and cold.

  “Why do you not speak to me, Maia?”

  “My name is Cneajna.”

  “It is Maia to me.”

  “If it pleases you,” she almost hissed at him. “Your name no longer means anything to me.”

  “Why are you so hostile to me?” he asked. “Do you love another?”

  She glared at the very idea. “How dare you even think that, let alone say it!”

  “This is not who you are,” he said, moving his body to cover the entrance. “This is not the woman I love and married and made my sons with.”

  “That woman is dead. The day you took her sons away, she ceased to be.”

  “This is such nonsense, Maia,” he argued. “Stop it at once.”

  “Do not order me about, sir. You no longer have any authority over me.”

  He tugged at his hair in frustration. “You are my wife,” he reminded her. “I expect you to act as such.”

  She stood her ground and made him a vow in the coldest tone she could muster. “Until my sons are home with me and safe, this door shall remain closed to you. I am sure there are a host of wenches you can amuse yourself with in the city. But for the now, get out of my way.”

  The rebuke cut him deep. He stood there and watched the door slam shut in his face, memories of happier times and his need for them tugging at his wounded heart. It was only when he heard the bolt on the other side of the door that he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Dracul met with his senior officers and boyars the next day. He wanted to discuss with them Hunyadi’s fresh demands. The passing of a night had not helped him find a way through the problem. In truth, he had thought only of Maia. The issue of Hunyadi, he had pushed to the back of his mind.

  He faced the greatest crisis of his career, and his life. The love and support of his wife meant everything to him. He knew though, that until he secured the release of his sons, she would be lost to him. If only for that reason, he did not want to aid Hunyadi in any way.

  “Do any of you have any viable ideas?” he asked his men, after explaining the contents of the letter in full.

  No one spoke at first. Each man knew the options open to Dracul and what it could cost him if he chose either. Every last one of them was very fond of young Vlad. None of them wanted to see any harm come to him.

  Florescu was the first to speak up. “There may be one way around the problem.”

  Dracul sighed and looked his way. “I would be glad to know of it, Vintila.”

  “Why not send a small force to be led by Mircea?”

  “How would that help?” Rodrigul asked, not grasping the concept of his idea. “Mircea is not yet sixteen years old.”

  “Well, if we send Mircea, a Draculesti would be there to fight at Hunyadi’s side.”

  “But he wants much more than that.”

  “Even if it is Mircea he cannot dispute such a gesture.”

  Rodrigul looked to the group as if to dismiss the idea. “Hunyadi does as he pleases. Let no man here forget that fact. And he does not care for Mircea. He proved that much only a year ago.”

  Florescu was not one to give up so easily. He ignored the advice against what he was proposing and tried to expand on it. “On the other hand, it would appease the Turks. The Voivode is not taking up arms against the Sultan. It is the only course of action that offers a solution.”

  He gave Dracul a short glance and could see that he was warming to the idea.

  Dracul’s captain still did not want to hear any of it. “What about the risk to Mircea?” he argued. “Have you thought of that?”

  The boyar moved fast to shoot him down. “Hunyadi would not dare allow any harm to come to him.”

  “And how could he guarantee that? It shall be enough for him to watch his own back; never mind anyone else’s.”

  “He needs Wallachia on his side,” Florescu said, to press home his point. “If anything were to happen to Mircea, he knows he would lose any support he has. Mircea would be well protected.”

  “And some comfort that would be, if anything did happen to him. It only takes a stray arrow. Then, we may have no heir.”

  Dracul placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Your concern for Mircea is duly noted, Alin.”

  “We cannot risk his safety. What would we do if we were to lose him?”

  “No one worries about that more than I,” Dracul said. “But it is a good plan. Does anyone else have a point to argue before I agree to it?”

  Rodrigul sighed hard when no one in the room supported his argument. “You are happy to agree with this foolish idea? Then shame on you all.”

  Dracul did not want to agree to the plan, but he knew he had no choice. It was the only valid option open to him. But however he felt inside, he could not show it to the others. If he decided to follow this course, then he had to show them that he believed it to be the right one. He nodded to the group. “Good, then that is what we shall do.”

  It excited Mircea when his father broke the news to him. He was to lead a unit of five hundred cavalry. His mother, on the other hand, was not so pleased. If her husband sent her only other son into battle, it would prove to be the fatal blow to her heart. She would never again have any respect for him.

  “Do not be angry at Papa,” Mircea said to her. He wiped away a tear from her eye. “There is little more he can do. His hands are tied.”

  “He could send another in your place.”

  “No, Mama, if only it were that easy. The one he sends has to be a Draculesti. Hungary would view it as a serious offence if he did not.”

  “I care nothing for Hungary,” she said. “I care only for you.”

  “They would murder us all in our beds. It would give Hunyadi the excuse he needs to attack us. This way also gives the Turkish scum no cause to harm my brothers.”

  “If you say that about Hunyadi, then how can you feel safe at his side in battle? You know you cannot trust him.”

  “When I am there, he shall not allow any harm to come to me.”

  “You do not know that for certain. If he chose to harm you, who would know?”

  He touched his palm against her cheek when he saw her tears. “Do not worry, Mama. I can take care of myself.”

  “You are barely a man, if I can even call you that.”

  “I am my father’s heir, Mama. It is my duty to protect my family. That is the reason I shall go.”

  “Then you stay safe,” she begged him. “I could not bear to lose you too.”

  They hugged each other hard before she re-iterated her fears. “If I were to lose you too, I would die.”

  “I shall be fine, Mama,” he assured her. “I swear it. Look after Papa for me.”

  Mircea rode out of Tirgoviste at the head of his five hundred men. It was the proudest moment of his life. The peasants of the city cheered him and saw him on his way. His heart swelled with his father’s cape on his back and medallion hanging
from his neck. At last, his father looked on him the way he had always wanted.

  He joined up with Hunyadi in his camp at Nis. His troops added to a force comprised of men from many nations, all the way from the German states to Serbia. They moved on and took Sofia; an act that saw them liberate much of Bulgaria.

  Mircea made his name at the walls of Petretz. There, he became the first man from the Romanias to use cannon in open warfare. He battered the city walls and then bravely led the assault on the city. His courage shone through when he was among the first to ride through the breach his cannon had created.

  He and his men fought like savages. They cut their way through the Turks garrisoned inside the city with ease. Those Turks who survived the initial battle, Mircea ordered his men to throw over the city walls. They met their deaths in the water-filled moats below. Mircea listened to their cries without a hint of remorse. He had come of age at last, and was saddened only by the fact his father was not there to see it.

  Winter set in and it stunted the progress of the crusaders through the Balkan Mountains. Murad busied himself still with the conflicts at home. Because of that, he was eager to agree to terms.

  He agreed to a truce with Ladislas that favoured the coalition. In it, he returned many of the strongholds he held to the control of Hungary and Serbia. He also agreed to the release of all hostages held in his territory. The terms secured a five-year armistice for the sultan.

  Hunyadi took the bulk of his army to Belgrade for Christmas. Mircea returned home to Tirgoviste a hero. Reports of his gallantry had reached his proud father long before he arrived at the city gates.

  “You really are a fine warrior,” he told his boy. “I know I never need worry about the throne after I am gone.”

  “I shall always strive to make you proud of me, Papa.”

  “You do not have to try too hard, my son. I am already proud of you. You are a true Draculesti.”

  Mircea beamed with delight. This was the greatest compliment that any man could pay him. For it to come from his father gave it even more meaning. Maia showed equal delight at his return home. Dracul watched them hug each other hard and thought back to the days when they were a loving family.