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

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  A few men stood and headed for the door. “Good. Anyone else? This is your only chance to get out.”

  Some of the men looked nervous but no one else left.

  “Now get some rest. Your training starts at dawn.” Under his breath so only vampires could hear, Vlad told Abdullah, “Kill them. Make it look as if it were an accident.”

  “Gladly, Master.” Abdullah gracefully followed the men who had recently left the room. He had taken the man’s insult about being an Ottoman henchman to heart and was angered by the others who chose to desert the army.

  Any young men willing to join the Wallachian army had to prove themselves. They had to be able to run long distances without stopping. Those who could not were sent home. Next Vlad designed a series of tests like those his father organized for the annual Ludus tournaments. Only the men who could throw a cannon shot or a spear the farthest were sworn in as new Wallachian soldiers. This created an army that was physically more capable, though they all needed much training in weapons and warfare.

  Vlad became absorbed in his new occupation and hardly thought about his original goal.

  Sergiu had to remind him. “What about Princess Neacsa? When will you inquire about her?”

  Vlad looked up from a training schedule he had been poring over. “Yes, of course. Tomorrow Prince Dracul will see his new army. Once he sees what I have accomplished, then I can turn my attention to his daughter. It is best not to appear overly interested in her anyway.”

  “Well played. You know — if I did not know better — I would say you are really enjoying yourself. You are a natural at leading armies. It almost appears that you would rather work with the army than pursue the princess.”

  Sergiu’s sarcastic tone was not lost on Vlad. “Yes, well pretending to be a silly love-struck young man again is not an appealing thought. This is easy, simple ... clear. Women are anything but.”

  This brought about a good laugh from Sergiu. “I have taught you well.”

  Chapter 41 Wallachia 1455 A.D

  The voivode was thrilled with his new army. Over three hundred young and able men stood in perfect unison with their swords resting against their right shoulders. They stared forward unflinching. There were no fat bellies hanging over the belts of uniforms and no more grey hair.

  “Their training is going well, Your Majesty,” Vlad said. “Their strength and stamina increase every day with my training regimen. They will soon be the most excellent bowmen and swordsmen around. That is, if they remain under my tutelage.”

  Prince Dracul nodded and moved to walk amongst his men — inspecting them. He stopped to stare at some of the finer-looking men for a bit too long.

  Sergiu glanced at Vlad with wide eyes. They were both thinking the same thing; the prince may have an eye for men.

  “That might explain why he has only produced one heir,” Vlad whispered so that only Sergiu would hear.

  Sergiu chuckled. “Aye and you had best be warned, as every time he refers to you he calls you Vlad the Handsome.”

  “Oh no.”

  Sergiu laughed more loudly this time and had to stop himself when nearby men turned toward him to see what could possibly be funny in this serious situation.

  When the voivode returned from his “inspection” of the men, he placed his hand on the old commander in chief’s shoulder. “I dread to inform you, old friend, that you are relieved of your duties. Vlad the Handsome will be the head of my army from this day forth.”

  The old man slumped under this news and exited the training field without a fight or even a word of protest. After all, there was no way he could argue that the army had been better under his command.

  Sergiu had not been jesting, as Vlad had hoped; the voivode did indeed call him “the Handsome.” Vlad glared at Sergiu who laughed in return. Vlad hoped that that moniker would not take hold.

  After much praise from Prince Dracul, Vlad said, “Thank you, Sire. You have chosen the best man for the job. I will not fail you.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  “The next step in building your army is to increase your numbers. Three hundred humans — I mean men, is not enough. We need more.”

  “I fully agree. However, there is no money for more troops, as I must pay Sultan Mehmed his annual tribute.”

  “Why do you pay your enemy?”

  “I have no choice, my dear boy. We are but a small country, we will never have the manpower or wealth to be able to take on the infinite resources of the Ottoman Empire.”

  “Not paying the tribute, and using the money to build your army is a good start,” Vlad protested. Anger was rising inside at the cowardly ruler who wasted his time trying to make the countries around him happy. Prince Dracul paid the annual tribute to keep peace on his southern border and continually told Hungarian leaders what they wanted to hear. Dracul worked to convince them that he was not on the Ottomans' side. All of this told Vlad that the voivode was a weak ruler who would not stand up for Wallachia.

  “You still have much to learn about politics, young man. I have no choice but to pay the sultan,” the voivode said.

  “With all due respect, Sire, there is always a choice.”

  “I will not allow the Ottomans to destroy this land over a simple issue of tax. Keeping the Ottomans pacified is the wise thing to do, especially when they ask so little of us. We are allowed to keep our faith and govern ourselves as long as we pay an affordable amount of gold coins each year. He also requires young boys to train for his army. I have plenty of people who offer their sons up to the sultan. Under him they acquire a good education and can rise through the ranks in the sultan’s army. A boy who is skilled and proves his worth could become the Grand Vizier. There is much opportunity for these young men in the Ottoman army — opportunities I cannot offer them. Leave the politics to me and you focus on training my men.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Vlad said through gritted teeth. Not only was Vladislav providing the enemy with men for an army but he was also helping to fund that army. This was the most idiotic thing Vlad had ever heard.

  At a feast that night Prince Dracul announced to everyone that Vlad was his new Commander in Chief, thus making it official.

  With a nudge from Sergiu, Vlad reluctantly broached the subject of the princess. “I was told you have a daughter, Neacsa; she never joins us for the evening meals. Why is it that we never see her?”

  Prince Dracul sighed. “She is a difficult one. She refuses to leave her bedchambers since I announced that she was to marry the prince of Albania. She takes all her meals in her room. She never wanted to marry. When she was younger I did not mind putting off marriage. She seemed too young anyway. But now I worry that she is too old. What young prince would want to marry an old princess? So I told her that marriage could not be postponed any longer. She has refused to speak to me ever since. I don’t really blame her — the Albanian prince is a barmy little fellow. But I have no other options. There have been no other suitors to come forward. I worry for the future of the Wallachian throne.”

  Vlad could clearly see the story of this man’s life. Every day he was faced with nothing but poor options. He believed that all he could ever do was choose the lesser of the evils that lay before him. Vlad actually felt for him. What a wretched existence. As a vampire Vlad’s life was limitless and yet the prince's was nothing but limited. This was to Vlad’s advantage, as all he had to do was offer him a better option. “Well, why don’t you allow her to meet me? Perhaps I could change her mind about marriage.”

  “You would be willing to marry my daughter?”

  Vlad nodded yes, keeping his face serious. He tried to appear as if it was a sacrifice he would be willing to make. He did not want to seem overly zealous.

  “Ah, you say that now but wait until you meet her. She is ... challenging to say the least. I don’t know what to do with her.”

  Vlad’s eyebrows raised with intrigue.

  After a thoughtful pause the voivode added, “Neve
rtheless, it would not hurt to give it a try. Perhaps she will take a liking to you.”

  Dracul looked at Vlad with a stare that made Vlad uncomfortable. It was a look that Vlad had received from many women but never a man.

  “If anyone can convince her to marry it would be you,” Prince Dracul said.

  “It is settled then.” Vlad excused himself as he stood to leave. The voivode’s interest in him was concerning.

  Chapter 42 Wallachia 1455 A.D

  The very next morning Vlad was summoned to the Great Hall to meet Princess Neacsa. Vlad stood to the right of Prince Dracul when from outside the large doors they heard a woman’s voice, “Put me down! I will walk from here.”

  A rather small young lady came through the door. She kept her head down and walked straight toward her father’s modest throne. The throne was a large wooden chair with a tall back that almost reached the ceiling. It had an intricately carved personal roof protruding forward — a roof only for the leader. Vlad quite liked the simple, yet elegant throne.

  Neacsa bowed slightly, “Father.” She took a seat on his left.

  Her head remained down and turned away. This could have been taken as a sign of obedience but Vlad knew better. Her head was turned from them in defiance. He liked her, not because she was overly pretty but because she was spirited; winning her over would not be easy. This would make it fun — a challenge.

  “Please, my dear, look at me. I have good news for you.” Dracul spoke softly.

  “The only good news you could give me is to inform me that I do not have to marry,” she quickly replied.

  The voivode turned his gaze to Vlad. “You see what I must put up with.” She still had not looked at either of them, so her father continued, “My news is even better, as I have found a strong and handsome suitor for you. If you agree, you will not have to marry the Albanian prince. Wouldn’t that be nice, dear?”

  “You know that I do not wish to marry anyone. Marrying a man who does not even know me and who does not love me is a prison sentence. You might as well throw me in the dungeon now. As my husband tires of me, he will spend more and more time with his endless supply of concubines. I don’t want any part of it.”

  “My darling, we have been through this before; love is something that develops over time. You will grow to love your husband and he you. I grew to love your mother very much, as you well remember. Please, become familiar with Vlad; you might decide you want to marry him. Most women would be elated to have such a fine suitor. I would marry him in a heartbeat ... that is, if I were you.”

  Neacsa shook her head, remaining unconvinced, so her father continued, “As the Princess of Wallachia it is your duty to provide heirs for the throne. If I had been blessed with any other children, I would not put this burden on you. But you are my only hope for the continuation of the Draculesti family line.”

  Her stubbornly square shoulders sagged a bit under her father’s patient words. Guilt was clearly the best way to get through to her.

  Vlad decided that it was time for him to speak, “My Lady Neacsa.”

  Her body shivered at the sound of his voice.

  But he continued, “If it is the idea of concubines that concerns you then I will gladly give up the right to have them.”

  Neacsa finally raised her head to look at him for the first time. “You would do that —” Her voice had been full of amazement but when she looked into Vlad’s eyes she stopped talking. Her lips parted and she slowly stood. Her stare was intense, piercing even. It was as if she could see inside Vlad. She did not see a handsome face, as so many other women had. She could easily see beyond that, as if she could see who he truly was — a killer.

  Her skin was pale, her face covered in freckles, with large full lips and even larger teeth. Her eyes were the color of a rich dark honey and full of light — no, a fire. Then fear sneaked into her expression as she continued to study Vlad. She turned her wide eyes to her father, silently pleading with him. When she did not receive a response from him, she glanced around as if she were a wild animal who had been backed into a corner.

  “What is it, dear?” Prince Dracul asked with concern.

  Neacsa quickly decided on a course of action. She gave a slight bow to Vlad. “Please, sir, would you allow me to speak with my father ... alone?”

  “As you wish, My Lady.” Vlad bowed deeply before leaving. He shut the Great Hall doors behind him and rested his back against them. He was beyond curious about this mysterious woman and her strange reaction to him. He could easily hear their conversation.

  “Father, that is him — the one from my vision. He has haunted me for many years. You must send him away at once! He will be the death of us.”

  “Please, my dear, not this nonsense again. He is a strapping young man. One of the best warriors I have ever seen. He will make a fine voivode someday. Granted he needs to be trained in proper politics but he will be a great leader and a good husband. Your children will be smart like you and strong like him. They will be able to rule Wallachia for many generations to come.”

  Not “proper politics” but rather, “passive politics” is what he wants to teach me. Vlad thought. Not a chance in hell. I will not be a weak ruler like this old man.

  “Surely you can see it, Father. He is charming you and will use me in order to be crowned prince. Once we are of no further use to him, he will rid himself of us.”

  “You are correct, in that he is a determined young man who wishes to become a leader of nations. This makes him the right person to take my place but he would not hurt us, my dear.”

  “How can you possibly be so sure? You barely know him.”

  “I have known him for much longer than you and yet you are quick to condemn him.”

  “Did I not foresee mother’s death long before she died? I saw it coming and you know this. I can see his future and ours. Why won’t you believe me?”

  Prince Dracul was silent for a long time. Clearly a part of him believed that there was some truth in his daughter’s intuitions. “Is this dream the same as the one about your mother?”

  “They are not dreams, Father. They come to me in broad daylight and yes, this vision is the same as the one I used to have about mother — just as vivid. Only there is one difference; this one changes. That mysterious suitor who only moments ago left the Great Hall, kills you in every vision. Yet, in only some of my visions he kills me as well. Other times he lets me live.”

  This resulted in another long thoughtful silence from the voivode. When he spoke his voice was soft. “Now, let me tell you what I know about this young man. He is what Wallachia needs. He will secure the future of his country. Either way, my wonderful daughter, I see no better option. Let us pray that your visions are misleading this time. Vlad is undoubtedly the best choice for you and for this throne. The little prince of Albania would be a weak ruler. I do not want the Danesti family to take the throne again. Vlad is strong enough to protect you and the throne. I know that he will make Wallachia great. He is more than anyone could hope for in an heir. We must do what is best for our country.”

  “Even if I managed to have children, there is no guarantee that they would become voivode. The throne you sit upon is not a stable one. Not with the Hungarians and Ottomans always interfering; not to mention the treacherous boyars. Each of these is a threat to your rule. They could have us killed at any time and instate whomever they deem more fit as voivode. There are forces well beyond your control that are always meddling with a secure monarchy in Wallachia.”

  Neacsa seemed to know a lot about local politics. Vlad felt as if he should be writing this down. Who in the hell are the boyars? he thought.

  “Yes and Vlad will be capable of dealing with these threats. We cannot give up. If you do not have a child then there will be no one left from the Draculesti family line and the boyars will be forced to instate a member of the Danesti family as the next voivode. We must try to carry on the Dracul family name. Don’t you see he is our best chance? God has
sent us a gift. Honestly, dear, I can’t believe you don’t understand this.”

  “Then you have sentenced us to death.”

  “My mind is made up. You will marry Vlad this summer.”

  Vlad heard Neacsa’s light footsteps as she made her way toward the Great Hall doors. Under her breath she added quietly so her father would not hear. “You are a fool, Father.”

  Chapter 43 Wallachia 1455 A.D

  Vlad disappeared, speeding past two guards and around the corner. They had given up waiting for the princess, as they were playing chess to pass the time. They barely took note of the breeze that passed over them as Vlad ran by.

  Sergiu gave a slight jump as Vlad appeared behind him.

  “We have a small problem,” Vlad said.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, perhaps a big problem. It is the princess, she is a ... I have no idea what she is. She appears to have lucid visions of the future. She predicted her mother’s death and now she knows that I am here to usurp the throne.”

  “A witch,” Sergiu said under his breath.

  Vlad could almost see the thoughts swirling around in that large brain of his. “There is no such thing as a witch, Sergiu. If there were, don’t you think we would have seen or at least heard of one in all our years?”

  “Seen — no, heard of — yes. One hears tales of witches all the time. Most are children’s fairy stories. Nonetheless, the tales are common. We do not see them because they remain hidden, to avoid burning at the stake. They are not entirely unlike us in that manner. Perhaps some of them do not know they are witches. The latter is what I am assuming is the case with your little princess.”