by Dan Davis
“What now?” Eva asked.
Walt scoffed. “Obvious, ain’t it? What we always said. Get close to our dear Prince Vlad and…” Walt drew his thumb across his neck. “And then we make off to some other likely kingdom and there attempt to make this immortal army.”
“There is no likely kingdom left,” I said. “And even if there were, we must first do as you suggest with the prince. It can be done, of course, but how shall we then escape this damned country? We will have ten thousand Wallachians after us.”
Rob had a suggestion. “We wait until he journeys to the lowlands, close to the Danube. We do him there, in the south, then we can reach the river by nightfall.”
“And then what? Sail to the Black Sea? And then?”
Rob shrugged.
“Anyway,” I said, “he never leaves the safety of the north. This is where his power is located and he stays clear of his enemies within the country.”
“We need allies,” Eva said. “Or at least one powerful boyar who will protect us after the deed is done and help us escape, perhaps into Transylvania.”
“Dracula has his own possessions in Transylvania,” Stephen said.
“Yes, who could we possibly trust enough there who could shelter us?” I asked.
Eva pursed her lips. “We shall have to make further enquiries while avoiding suspicion.”
“Everyone here is suspicious of everyone else,” Rob said. “It is a nest of snakes. I would not wish to trust any of them.”
“What of the Germans?” Stephen said. “The Saxons have their towns all over and they almost all hate and fear Vlad. Perhaps they might be trusted? They are more civilised than these Wallachians after all.”
“The Saxons here are merchants and craftsmen,” I said, “how much can they be trusted?”
“We do not have very many choices.”
“Very well, Stephen, perhaps you should develop your contacts with the Saxons. Eva, see what you can discover about any boyars who might be willing to see our prince meet his end. But be subtle, for the love of God.”
“We know what we are doing.”
“I hope you do. A wrong move here may mean we have to fight our way through hundreds of miles of forests and hills. Get to work.”
We stayed with Dracula’s court wherever it went, and it rarely strayed far from the northern mountains. His family was from those parts and the bonds of decades and centuries of familial ties meant the people of the region were the most loyal of all his subjects. And the mountains would offer safety from assaults from any direction. He never strayed far from his Transylvanian possessions either.
Poenari Castle was his key fortress, located in the mountains on the Wallachian side of the border and the most defensible of all his fortresses. It was also a little way north of Curtea de Arges, the ecclesiastical capital of Wallachia which also held extensive political power and influence over the people. Dracula worked hard to make it so that the security and prosperity of the Wallachian church was increasingly tied to him personally.
The fortress at Poenari was at least a hundred years old, probably much older, but it had fallen to ruin when Dracula declared that he would bring it back into use. It was perched high on a steep rock precipice and its position alone made it almost impregnable. Dracula ordered it rebuilt grander and more modern than it had ever been.
In fact, he brought in highly skilled and very expensive engineers to do it. They started to construct five towers which were positioned so that when completed they would be able to provide crossfire on any section that might be assailed. The grand central tower was being built with stone reinforced by brick which was supposed to ensure it would withstand shots even from massive cannons. It was a long, slender fortress and when completed it would only need a hundred soldiers to defend it, as well as all the necessary servants. It was clear that Dracula meant to have a place that no one, whether king or sultan, boyars or Hungarians, and perhaps whether William or me, would be able to roust him out of.
By starting to rebuild this fortress, Dracula was in breach of his agreements with both the Hungarians and the Turks who prohibited him to construct any defensive works, lest he be seen as planning mischief.
“Does this building of fortresses and fortified monasteries mean you will be going to war again soon, my lord?” I asked him at a feast in the hall at Târgoviște. Many of the Wallachians muttered their disapproval at my impertinence. “But, my lords, I am a crusader and I wish only to know where best to fulfil my oaths.”
Some cursed me openly.
“You are a mercenary and will go where there is payment to be had,” one fat lord said, to much approval.
“Quite right,” I said. “And will there be war here?”
“There will always be war here,” another said.
Dracula would not answer me and he would not comment at all.
In fact, he avoided me and over the winter declined to offer me a formal post at his court or give me a task to complete. It was possible he believed I intended to assassinate him and yet he did not banish me and my company and he did not have me arrested. Instead, he sent word that he would have work for me and my men in spring and that I was to have patience. It would be work that we would be richly rewarded for, so he said. And I told my company that we would bide our time and receive a grand payday when the weather turned.
It was not just Poenari Castle that he began building. Down on the plains near the Danube, he began construction of new fortresses that he could garrison with his own men. It would mean extending his power into the lowlands and they would also provide much-needed revenues. One of the first that he founded was a fortress called Bucharest, at a place which was almost exactly where I had killed his father.
He also fortified a monastery called Snagov and built a line of minor forts right along the plain and the river.
And then in early spring he invited me to dine with him in his new hall in the almost-completed Poenari. There were over a thousand steps to climb on the path up to the first gate, and the men gleefully told me there were a thousand more up to the top of the central tower.
It was a small gathering of his closest men, the strongest and most capable soldiers loyal to him.
Even though the summons had said to encamp my company in the valley below, I had been allowed only a single valet to attend me into the fortress itself. Of course I chose Walt but even together we would have a hard fight if Dracula meant me harm.
“Do not go,” Eva had urged. “Do not take the risk.”
“There is no way forward without risk,” I had replied. “I have been patient for months waiting to see what he would do next. Well, let us see.”
“You seem on edge, Richard,” Dracula said during the meal. These were his first words to me since I had arrived, the first to my face in months, and they drew laughter from his men.
“I am filled with longing, my lord.”
He furrowed his brow. “Longing?”
“Longing to know why you asked me to join you, my lord. I can only assume that you have some task for me and my men and I am overjoyed at the prospect of action after so long a winter, doing little but training with the sword and in wrestling and other martial pursuits.”
Vlad’s long moustache twitched under his long nose. “Come up from down there, sir. Come here and sit at my side.”
I moved to do just that and Walt came with me until Dracula waved him away. Walt’s face clouded in warning but what could we do? He trudged back to his place below the salt and sat watching us from the corner of his eye, tense and ready to leap into action.
Dracula peered at me as I took the stool at his right hand, cold amusement on his face. “Do you know, Richard, that Wallachia has had twelve princes on the throne in the last forty years? That makes one prince for every three or four years. How long do you think I will last? Tell me, I wish you to answer.”
“I shall pray that you last a lifetime, my lord.”
He laughed, briefly. “You are a clev
erer man than you seem, Richard. There is more to you than meets the eye, is there not? Tell me now, who do you think might become voivode if I am killed?”
I shrugged, as if I had not given the matter much thought. “I suppose there is your younger brother, Radu, who has elected to stay with the Turks.”
Dracula’s eyes looked through me. “My beloved brother, yes. Such a delightful boy, so obedient and lovely to look upon. The Turks love him dearly, though I do not think he will find much favour with our boyars. They are a rough people, do you not think? Of course you do. Have you heard any talk of my father’s other sons?”
I had, of course, but I pretended ignorance. “Others, my lord? I had no idea.”
He smiled. “My father left a string of bastards behind him wherever he went. Some of them are still alive but they know enough to keep quiet, for now. If I am killed, they shall be brought out of their holes and one promoted over another by this boyar or that one. Such endless intrigue. We are a people at war with ourselves when our enemy is united behind the Sultan. How can we hope to win the war for Christendom when we cannot win this war over ourselves?”
It was an old point, made many times before but I sensed this time he had something specific in mind that he was alluding to. “My lord?”
He waved away my confusion.
“Certainly, you know that my greatest rival is the boyar Albu? Have you heard that his men call him Albu the Great? He pretends his name comes from his grand achievements but in truth it is because of his gross corpulence? Admittedly, he is powerful, but what has he achieved in his life that men would think him great, other than attempt to unseat me during my first few months on the throne? I shall tell you, he has maintained his private army and has ceaselessly agitated for my removal. What do you think I should do about this largest of my subjects, Richard?”
“Take your men to his fortress, besiege it, capture it, capture him, and cut off his head.”
Dracula wagged a finger at me. “Good advice, Richard. You always have such good advice. But what if you could take him on the road, when he is travelling between one fortress and another, in order to build his conspiracy against me, what then?”
“You know he is moving?”
“My men captured one of his messengers. He did not give up his secrets easily but give them up he did. So, Richard, do you advise that I move against Albu the Great?”
Another test for me. Did he wish to test my cunning or did he believe that I was engaged in this conspiracy against him? I wanted Dracula to leave his castles so that I could potentially kill him myself and flee, so I knew I should certainly advise him to pursue this Lord Albu in person.
But if I said as much explicitly, it would reveal me for a fool or as a possible assassin.
“I have known lords to give their men false messages,” I said, “in the hopes that they will be captured. Perhaps Albu the Fat has done this very thing as means to draw you out of your fortresses and into the open. Your ambush on him might become an ambush on you, my lord.”
He grinned. “I am relieved that you are so wise, Richard. Yes indeed, we suspected a ruse but then we captured a messenger, quite by chance, from the boyar who Albu is meeting. This messenger did not even know why he had been told to repeat the name of a place near to Pârscov. But he was confirming the meeting place. And so we know where, and we know when, and it is good that you and your men are here because we must leave at first light if we are to spring the ambush in time.” He leaned in closer. “You will help me to secure my throne, will you not, Richard?”
Dracula was leaving the safety of his fortress with a small number of men and travelling into hostile territory.
I knew I might never have a better opportunity to kill him.
“I will join you gladly, my lord.”
***
We rode out, fewer than three hundred fighting men and our servants. Each servant, from groom to valet, and squire to page, was able to ride hard and keep discipline. The Prince of Wallachia disguised himself beneath clothing provided by his men and no man was to kneel or bow to him at any time, on pain of death, lest we give him away to someone observing from afar.
Killing Dracula was on my mind. I might have been able to kill him while he slept but just as likely was being caught in the act, either before or after. Perhaps my company could manage to kill all of Dracula’s men, especially if we took them by surprise.
But still I wished to question him. How did he become an immortal, what was his task in Wallachia, and most importantly of all, what were William’s plans?
There was time enough yet for a better opportunity to emerge and so I continued to wait and to play the part of an obedient mercenary.
We came in time to the place of ambush and disported ourselves amongst the trees and rocks in preparation for the party to come by. We waited one afternoon all the way until dark, and then an entire day where the only excitement was a partly-sprung ambush on a shepherd and his sons. They were detained, lest they give our position away. I expected Dracula would have them killed but instead he treated them as honoured guests, poured them wine from his own skin and asked them about their lives. It took the shepherd some time to answer fully, and he looked terrified for much of it but by the end him and his sons were smiling with their prince.
“Friends of yours, my lord?” I asked, partly in jest when he passed by my position near sundown. I sat leaning back against an oak. “The shepherds?”
“They are now,” he said, seating himself on the fallen tree trunk across from me and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“You mean to befriend every man in the kingdom one by one?” I said, making it clear that I was speaking lightly and meant no criticism.
He almost smiled. “You think it a ploy? To pretend to enjoy the company of the peasant so that he will speak well of me to his fellows? I can see why a man as cunning as you would think that but no, that is not it. I do truly love my people. Not the boyars, though many are my good and dear friends, but the people who make this land. It is all but barbarous, this land of my blood, and would be so if not for the toil of the peasant who sculpts beauty and function from the wilderness by his labour. When I see my people going about their daily business, I am filled with joy and good cheer, for it is they who work the soil and they who make the land what it is. It is they who I mean to save from destruction.”
“An interesting notion, my lord. Was this how your father felt, also?”
Dracula tilted his head, remembering. “In part, perhaps. It was never stated so clearly, not in my hearing, but he had a love for his people that caused him to make the choices he made, as poor as they were. But no, he did not instil this feeling in me. It was only after being kept away from my people for so long that I learned what it meant to be Wallachian. Every year, every month, every day, and every hour I was held by the Turks, I missed my homeland more. And all the while I was there, I believed it was freedom that I longed for. My homeland meant freedom and freedom is what every imprisoned man desires above all. But when I was free, I realised it was not freedom from bondage that I longed for, it was home itself. It was this, what we have before us now.” He took the glove from one hand and dug his bare fingers down into the mulch between his feet, pulling out a handful of black, damp earth. “This, Richard. All of this. The sunlight blocked by dark green trees, filtering through to the pine needles underfoot, and this dark soil and the fast rivers cutting through the hills above and the wide, winding waters of the lowlands. And above all, my people. It is the people who make the land, the people who give it voice and soul and its heart. Not the boyars, even the loyal amongst them, and not the soldiers, though I love them also. No, it is the shepherds and the woodsmen and hunters and the peasants who make Wallachia and it is them who must be saved. They must be saved from the Turks, from the Hungarians, from the Catholics, and from the boyars who would see them fall to one or all of the aforementioned enemies.” He wiped his hands on his woollen hose and put his glove
back on. “Do you understand now, Richard?”
“I think I am beginning to,” I said.
Was it true, I wondered, what he said about his land and his people, or was it meant to deceive me? And if it was true, did it not sound a little like the mad ramblings that William had spouted so many years ago, in Sherwood or was it my imagination?
And what did it say about me that I found his paternalistic affection for his people to be endearing, even a touch inspiring?
I could not risk asking my companions these questions, not when there were so many of Dracula’s men around us. But I did not have to spend long alone with my thoughts.
It was the next morning when the ambush was sprung.
Albu the Great and his men rode hard and fast through the narrow defile, certainly aware of the danger such a path presented. But we were well prepared for their rapid passage. They were cut off at the front by a barricade and we moved to block the rear. A mere handful of Albu’s followers escaped capture. Dracula’s men, positioned amongst the trees and rocks of the slopes both sides of the track shot their arrows and guns down into the horsemen until those that survived surrendered.
“There you are, sir!” Dracula called out as he rode down to where Albu stood, bleeding from a wound to his head. “Albu the Gluttonous. How in the world did the bolts and shot miss your great girth, my lord? You must be blessed by God, dear Albu. Truly, you are blessed.”
Amongst the fifty survivors was Albu and his entire family. Afraid to leave them unprotected, he had risked moving them to a better fortress only for his entire clan to be captured by us.
They were escorted to a close-cropped meadow near to a fortress called Bucov. Our prisoners were sullen and frightened, and it distressed me that Albu’s children and nieces and nephews were as mistreated as their parents. And I was not the only one who felt that way.
“He ain’t going to kill the little ones, is he?” Rob asked me during the journey.
