Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners)

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  Are men this easily distracted … and gullible? Yes. Vlad answered his own question.

  He pushed her away and looked into her eyes. “Are you proposing that I get rid of Manuel and then you will marry me and crown me emperor?”

  “That is precisely what I am proposing. That way we both get what we want. You will become ruler and I will have a handsome young man in my bed.” She tried to further convince him with a seductive smile but Vlad knew she was lying.

  Helena was cunning, working the only angle she had in this situation — her sensuality. She is simply trying to save her own skin. As soon as she is free from me, she will run to her husband and he will order that my head be removed for treason.

  Helena sensed that Vlad was not convinced so she continued, “Unless, of course, you don’t think you can kill the emperor.”

  “I know I can. That was the plan all along, my dear.” Vlad pulled her to him and took another deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma from her neck. He kissed her naked shoulder. Slowly working his way up her neck ... her cheek, until his lips were on hers.

  Helena’s chest heaved with excitement.

  Vlad ran his hands gently over her breasts. Now it was she who moaned with pleasure. Picking her up he carried her to the bed.

  Once he was more than satisfied, they lay next to each other.

  “Why are you so cold, my lover?” Helena asked.

  “Because I’m a demon. Perhaps even the devil himself.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, as if he were mad.

  “You are wrong. I’m not like you. I have to kill to survive. I often use it to my advantage. You, however, are human. I expect more from you. Humans should be better than me and my kind. I have no choice but to kill. You had a choice. Killing Isabella was beyond the greatest of sins.”

  Helena studied him, trying to make sense of the gibberish he was speaking. He took her jaw firmly in his hand and pushed her face to the side. This left her neck fully exposed. His fangs sank into her soft skin with ease. Vlad was her judge and executioner.

  The next morning Vlad woke in the soldiers' barracks. His men were moving about getting ready for the day. He sat up slowly and put his head in his hands. His head throbbed. Dammit, too much blood. It had been a very long time since he had felt this terrible.

  Sergiu handed him his special hot brew. “Rough night, eh?”

  Vlad shook his head to try and clear it. “Aye, or a really good one. I’m not entirely sure which.” He eagerly took his favorite drink from Sergiu. “Women are trouble. They are seductive and manipulative. If they are ruthless on top of all that, one had best be wary.”

  Sergiu laughed. “Thankfully not all of them are like Helena. Nevertheless, I find them to be complicated and intimidating. I have told you many times, life is much easier if you leave them alone.”

  “And I had, for quite some time. Now I am paying the price.” Vlad sighed. “We were so close, Serg. I suppose it is time for us to move on.”

  “I imagine so. I was concerned all along that this scheme was too perfect to last. Everything was falling into place seamlessly. It was bound to come unraveled.”

  “Master!” Abdullah ran toward them. “We had best be on our way. The emperor is calling for your head. He is accusing you of the murder and rape of his wife and daughter.”

  “What! That’s outrageous. I didn’t rape anyone, or kill his daughter for that matter.”

  “The emperor must protect his wife’s image, as she was found naked in her bed this morning. The people cannot be allowed to believe their empress willingly slept with her murderer. Come! Everyone will be looking for you.” Sergiu moved quickly around the room placing his precious books in a trunk.

  Vlad stood with a frustrated groan and announced, “We move out now, before we have to slaughter all the emperor's men.”

  Costel let out a disappointed snort. “It would be a fun fight, though.”

  With a glare from Vlad, Costel shut his mouth and threw some clothes into a large leather bag.

  “And we’re off,” Cosmin said. Under his breath he added, “Because our master has managed to anger the ruler ... yet again.”

  Chapter 39 Middle East 1416 A.D

  Vlad and his army of vampires had to lay low for a time, returning to their nomadic roots. They lived in luxurious tents with every comfort they wanted and then some. They moved about the land, never staying in one place for long.

  Ironically, Vlad united the sultan and the emperor in a common cause — hunting him down. Sultan Mehmed had been on the lookout for Vlad ever since his unacceptable display of disrespect. The sultan suspected that Vlad was the one who had foiled his public executions as well. So Mehmed offered to help Emperor Manuel find Vlad. The reward for Vlad’s head was one-hundred gold pieces. This was eventually raised to one thousand gold pieces. Vlad’s picture hung on every street in every major city in the region. He quite enjoyed being the most wanted man in the world. Yet this meant that he had to become a ghost, which was what he did.

  Even in her death Helena got what she wanted. Her son, John VIII, became the next Emperor. As it turned out, her sons would be the last to rule over Eastern Rome. John’s younger brother Constantine XI was the last emperor. Constantine had been the suckling babe when his mother died at Vlad’s hand. Sergiu claimed that it was appropriate that Constantine XI was the last to rule. The Eastern Roman Empire was founded by Constantine the Great and after one thousand one hundred and twenty-nine years the empire finally fell under the rule of yet another Constantine. Sergiu enjoyed this irony.

  Sergiu remembered the time when the Eastern Roman Empire had been magnificent. He was forever telling them stories of Constantinople during its pinnacle. He could name all the emperors by heart. However, his favorite tales were the extraordinary ones of the powerful empresses who ruled the empire, each without a husband at her side; the virtuous Empress Theodora and the cruel Empress Irene, to name a few. Vlad thought Sergiu had an eternal infatuation, or even an insatiable love for the beautiful Theodora, whom Sergiu had actually met. Yes, Sergiu was ancient. Older than dirt itself, or at least this was what they often said in jest.

  Sergiu’s favorite literature was Princess Anna’s copious historical accounts. Being the daughter of Emperor Alexius I, she often wrote about her father’s numerous crusades against the infidel — primarily the Seljuk Turks. If only Vlad had a silver stavrata for every time Sergiu would read to them from Anna’s many works. The younger men who had not heard the tales a million times over would listen to Sergiu with great interest, while Vlad and Abdullah would entertain themselves by silently mimicking Sergiu as he read. They knew many of the lines by heart and this was an entertaining way to pass the time. Cosmin and Costel would act out the scenes as Sergiu read or told stories. The twins would pretend to be overly dramatic lovers or they would fence with wooden sticks. This would usually end in a rather serious wrestling match in which each brother would try to best the other. The match would often end with a broken bone or two. This was their unsophisticated form of theater. What could Vlad say? They had to do something to pass the endless time on their hands.

  As the years continued to tick away, so did the novelty of Vlad’s alleged crimes — only half of which he had actually committed. Eventually, he could show his face in public again. By 1453 Vlad was more than ready to get on with his search for a noble wife.

  As it would turn out, this was a year that would always be remembered. The formerly impenetrable walls of the Queen of Cities were finally breached by Sultan Mehmed II’s cannons — cannons the likes of which the world had never seen before. It was said that Constantine XI bravely stood his ground, never abandoning the city and fighting the endless flood of Ottoman Janissaries to his very end and the end of an iconic Christian capital.

  Sergiu had been relieved when Vlad declared that it was not their fight. Some of Vlad’s men desperately wanted to join the battle but it was of no concern to Vlad. He was not overly fond of either side, so leavin
g the humans to their own troubles was best.

  Vlad continued to grow his army. He had taken a number of the emperor's top fighters with him when they left Constantinople. His quest to find a princess of marrying age proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated. The Hungarian princesses had already been wed. Bulgaria’s only princess had but recently been born. She had a long line of older brothers to await the throne ahead of her. Not to mention, Vlad was not interested in waiting around for sixteen years for her to grow.

  It was not until the year 1455 that Vlad learned of a suitable princess. Posed as a minor nobleman, he made his way into the Moldavian court. The newly crowned prince of the region, Voivode Stefan III, welcomed Vlad to his land. Vlad had grown quite fond of Stefan, which was odd, as he usually did not get on well with men in power. Yet for some unforeseen reason he found Stefan to be affable. He had even begun to consider him a friend. This was also rare, as Vlad had no human friends.

  Prince Stefan was the one to inform them that the Voivode of Wallachia, despite having a wife and numerous concubines, had only produced one heir. Her name was Neacsa. This news grabbed Vlad’s attention.

  “And how old is this princess, Neacsa?” Vlad asked.

  “Perhaps going on eighteen. I believe she is to wed an Albanian prince this summer. Her father is my uncle, Voivode Vladislav II of the Draculesti family,” Stefan answered.

  “Well he has a great name. Then again, half the population in this region goes by some form of Vlad, whether it be Vladislav, Vladnic, Vladismir, not to be confused with Vladimir.”

  Stefan laughed.

  “Draculesti, as in the dragon family,” Sergiu interpreted.

  “Yes, he calls himself Prince Dracul — the Dragon Prince.”

  Vlad gave a knowing look to Sergiu, who nodded in complete understanding. They had been together for so long that they often did not need to speak to communicate. They both knew they were headed home, back to Targoviste, as soon as possible.

  As they packed for the short trip from Moldova to Wallachia, Sergiu said, “This feels as if it is the right time to finally return.”

  Vlad smiled. “We have come full circle, my old friend.”

  “It is ironic. All that traveling and adventure only to end up back where we started so many years ago.”

  “What has it been? About a hundred years?”

  “Give or take.”

  Much had changed. Vlad’s former smithy shop was no longer there. What stood in its place were new buildings. Well, new to them. Most of the humans around here would think of them as old. New, old, it was all relative. A smelly butcher shop now stood where the original tiny smithy building had once been.

  Cosmin and Costel were overjoyed at being home. They spent the entire first day touring around their childhood neighborhood. They talked excitedly about each important place from their youth; the field where they used to play, which was now a row of homes. They showed Vlad the place where Cosmin stole his first kiss, where their grandparent’s house used to be and the like.

  The only buildings that were recognizable were the large stone structures, such as the grand orthodox church and the government compounds. These buildings had been well maintained and expanded as needed over the years. It was indescribably odd to be back. So much had changed, yet the city felt the same — it was home.

  Vlad’s Janissaries numbered just over fifty. This made it the second largest known vampire army in the world, only slightly short of that of the High Court of Elders. Vlad was a force to be reckoned with — largely unstoppable.

  Fifty well-armed fighters bombarding the city was a bit more of an entrance than Vlad wanted to make. He took only Sergiu, Abdullah and the twins to meet the Prince of Wallachia. If princess Neacsa was to marry that summer they had to move fast, as spring was on its way. Vlad introduced himself to Voivode Vladislav II that very evening.

  With the ever-present threat from the all-powerful Ottomans, leaders in this region welcomed any young soldiers who were ready to fight. It also helped to mention that Prince Stefan of Moldova had sent them to Wallachia to see if they could be of assistance. Vladislav clearly and rightfully trusted his nephew, as Stefan meant him no harm.

  The next day Vlad brought more of his men in for a training session. The point of this was to demonstrate some of their abilities to the voivode and his army, which was pathetic. Many of the soldiers were too old and he would have been lucky to have three hundred men in all. Of course, Vladislav was impressed with the newcomers’ strength and speed, which they greatly reduced in order to appear as human as possible.

  After a long day with the soldiers Prince Dracul invited Vlad and Sergiu to dine with him. The prince was an older man with a grey beard and a kind face. He now wore his simple gold crown, as this was a time for more formal evening attire.

  “Your Majesty, if I may? Your army is in need of much work,” Vlad ventured.

  “Is that so, young man?” His expression made it clear that he thought Vlad was entirely too young to offer any sound advice.

  “Please, Sire, do not be fooled by his youthful appearance. He is a very skilled fighter with more experience than you can imagine,” Sergiu interjected.

  Prince Dracul gestured for Vlad to continue.

  “If you would allow me to, Sire, I could make your army great. The first order of business would be to replace about half of them with young, more able-bodied men. Then they need to be trained daily to build muscle and stamina. It appears that they mostly sit about, at this point. My men are some of the best because we train daily with every type of weapon available. Some of your men do not even know how to hold their swords properly. Such techniques I am able to teach them. Allow me to work with your army for one month. I will show you such improvements that you may decide to make me your ... ” Vlad almost said son-in-law but caught himself, “your chief commanding officer.”

  Prince Dracul studied him for a moment. “You are well spoken. I can tell you have had an excellent education.”

  “Yes, of course. Are not all nobles well educated?” Vlad replied.

  “Well most nobles anyway. You can lead a man to war but you cannot make him fight.” The old voivode laughed, though Vlad did not see the humor.

  Prince Dracul cleared his throat before continuing, “You are also well trained in the art of combat. Such a combination can be difficult to find in one man. I do not doubt that you know what you are talking about.” Then he frowned. “I have not been able to bring myself to replace some of the older men. They are loyal and they fought beside me at one time. So I keep them on. I do not like the thought of letting them go. How will they support their families without the soldiers pay?”

  It would be dreadful to have to get rid of my most favored men. Vlad was grateful that he did not have this problem. As vampires, his men did not grow too old to fight. “Rulers must make difficult decisions. You must think of your people first. If Wallachia were attacked your current army could not defend this land and protect your subjects.”

  Prince Dracul looked grave as he turned to Sergiu. “You are quite right. Vlad is wise beyond his years.”

  Sergiu smiled. “You have no idea. You should give him a chance. He will transform your army.”

  “So be it. After one month's time I will assess the progress of my army.”

  Chapter 40 Wallachia 1455 A.D

  Prince Dracul's commander in chief did not like it that Vlad was given permission to temporarily take command of the Wallachian army — if one could call it an army. The very next day Vlad discharged half the soldiers; if they were too old or too fat, they were told to find other employment. Abdullah began a rigorous training routine with the hundred and fifty or so soldiers who remained. Meanwhile, Vlad set about advertising for new recruits. Only the youngest and strongest would be selected to replace the old and worthless soldiers.

  When Abdullah returned from a long distance run with the remaining army, the men were winded and heaving terribly. Some looked as if the
y might collapse entirely. Yet still others took even longer to return, as they could not keep up. Abdullah, who was breathing normally said, “We have our work cut out for us here, Master.”

  “Aye, this is worse than I thought,” Vlad said.

  That night Vlad announced that they were to receive extra portions of meat. Sergiu seemed to think that this would help to build young men’s strength. Vlad did not question this as his companion was always right about such matters. Vlad knew nothing of human nutrients and Sergiu had read every medical book he could get his hands on.

  The soldiers cheered at this news. Then Vlad announced that their portions of wines, ales and meads would be reduced. This brought about a round of loud protests.

  “Who are you to show up here from God knows where with your goddamned Ottoman henchman?” one man hollered. “You can’t expect to walk in here and change everything we have done for years. You cannot take away our drink. We will not stand for it.”

  The men looked to Vlad to see what he would do.

  Vlad’s eyes narrowed at the insolent man, he placed one hand on the dirk that was always at his side. In less than the blink of an eye, he had thrown the long knife deep into the man’s chest. It took all Vlad’s effort to control his temper. With clenched fists, he swiftly leapt onto the table in front of him as the protester’s body fell to the floor.

  “To test me — to see what kind of a leader I am — is one thing. I had expected that; but to insult Abdullah is another matter entirely. Abdullah is my seraskier.” Vlad used the Turkish word for commander-in-chief in order to provoke the men. He was taunting them, as he wanted to push them to their limits. This matter had to be settled at once. “Does anyone else here have a problem with Abdullah?”

  No one dared to breathe. They stared at Vlad with wide eyes. “Good. Now if any of you do not like my rules then by all means — go.” Vlad swung his arm gesturing toward the door. “I will have only men who are willing to work hard to defend Wallachia in this army. If you prefer the old days where you got to sit about all day drinking and collect your pay each week for nothing, then you need to leave at once. Those days of leisure are over. I will build a real army, one that will actually be capable of defending this great land. I have no room for lazy drunkards amongst my ranks. Does anyone wish to leave?”