“That is absurd. She is not a witch.”
“Then how else would you explain it?”
For this Vlad had no answer but he still did not believe in witches. He did not want to believe in them. What would that mean? What other powers could Neacsa possess? This was disconcerting. “Aside from this minor hitch, it appears that Vladislav is determined to have me marry his daughter, even though she adamantly refuses.”
“Well, that is not ideal.”
“I would say not. An unhappy bride sounds like a nightmare.” Vlad was not sure what he had expected to find in Wallachia but it was not this.
Sergiu remained in deep thought and nodded in agreement.
The rest of the spring flew by. Vlad and his men continued to work with Prince Dracul’s human army. Some days were spent with Vladislav and his chamberlain. They felt that they needed to educate Vlad on how to properly run a kingdom. Most of it was a bad joke. They continually rambled on about how to make everyone happy, Hungary, the Ottomans, the boyars.
“You must play all sides. At the very least pretend to be everyone’s ally,” Prince Dracul would lecture.
Vlad quickly grew tired of this bollock and try to argue with them. They would counter, claiming that Vlad was too young to fully understand and that by the time he took the throne, when he was much older, he would be wiser and better able to understand how best to rule. This was comical as Vlad was old enough be the voivode’s great grandfather many times over.
This time spent with Dracul and his top advisor was not a complete waste. Vlad did learn about the important influences that affected this region. He learned how Hungary continually wanted a Catholic ruler here and that they were forever trying to convert the Orthodox people of Wallachia. They also wanted a ruler who was loyal to them and defiant to the Ottomans.
To Wallachia’s detriment, it was located between two superpowers. It was constantly torn in two by Hungary — backed by the wealthy pope in Rome — and the ever-growing Ottoman Empire, which was now controlled by the most ambitious of the sultans ever to rule. Mehmed the Conqueror was quickly earning his moniker. These two powers constantly played tug-of-war with the Wallachian throne. They each wanted a voivode who would be loyal and yet neither wanted to have a direct border with the other. Essentially, Wallachia was all that stood between the East and the West — between Muslims and Catholics — the sultan and the pope.
As if this were not enough there were the boyars and the Transylvanian Saxons. These were two local groups who also had a vested interest in who was on the throne. It was during these lessons when Sergiu and Vlad would pay the most attention. They had much to learn of the way things worked right here at home. The world politics of the Eastern and Western conflicts, such as the endless crusades, were known by all. Or rather, they were known by anyone who was educated. But the smaller happenings within Wallachia were only important to the people of this region.
The boyars were a group of nobles who felt that it was their right and duty to appoint the voivodes of Wallachia. They determined who was in power. They had a long history of overthrowing rulers whenever they saw fit. This could be because they were offered a pretty price from say Hungary or the Saxons, perhaps even the sultan himself. The boyars would also instate new rulers for political reasons; for example, if a ruler was viewed as too weak or too powerful. If a ruler did not step down when the boyars decreed, he was beheaded.
The boyars chose the voivodes from one of two competing royal families, the Danesti and the Draculesti family lines.
On the other hand, the Saxons were wealthy merchants from Transylvania. They relied on selling their goods in Wallachia. They had a vested interest in a voivode who would allow free trade and little to no tax paid to Wallachia. They would intervene as needed to ensure that such a ruler in this region was sympathetic to their need to make cartloads of money off the Wallachian people.
“In order to help ensure the peace and keep my head, I do not collect any tax from the Saxons on goods sold on my land. This has worked out well, as they fully support me. They are one less problem to contend with this way,” Vladislav said.
Vlad forced a smile. Neacsa was right — her father was a fool. He needed that tax money to grow his pathetically small army.
“However, I have found a way to deal with the boyars,” Prince Dracul continued. “As soon as you marry my daughter, I will name you voivode as well. We will rule in tandem. This way if the boyars decide to kill one of us the other has already been crowned. There will be no need for the boyars to instate a new ruler, as Wallachia will already have one. Think of it as a form of security for my line.”
Perhaps he was not a complete fool, as this was an excellent solution to the problem. Not to mention it fit perfectly with Vlad’s plan. When Vlad decided to fully take over the throne, he would already have been crowned prince. “That is the best idea I have ever heard, Your Majesty.” Vlad’s smile was genuine this time. He frowned as his thoughts strayed to Neacsa. She is another matter entirely. What on earth will I do with her?
Chapter 44 Wallachia 1456 A.D
Vlad and Neacsa were married in June of 1456. Many of the young noble ladies and even some of the servants were envious of Neacsa’s marriage. She did not feel this way. She had remained hidden in her chambers throughout the entire engagement. At the wedding ceremony she kept her head down or looked away from her father and Vlad at all times. Her full lips remained downturned; she never wavered. After the wedding she retreated quickly to her room. She sent a maid to inform Vlad that she had “fallen ill” and could not receive him. This was suitable to Vlad. While he was intrigued by her, he had no interest in sleeping with her. She may very well have been the most curious of all women. Life was easier if he left her alone and so this was what he did.
The day after the wedding, Prince Dracul crowned Vlad the second prince of Wallachia. It was announced that Vlad would rule by his side as an equal from that day forward. The boyars had all eagerly attended the royal wedding and Vlad’s coronation. Vlad had made it his business to know who this boyar class was. Many looked displeased and spoke bitterly with one another about Dracul’s attempt to maneuver around their power over the throne.
Over the next couple of months Vlad played the role of dual ruler. Prince Dracul insisted that he be called Vlad III. Dracul would muse that it was as if Vlad was his own son, as Vlad had been named after him.
Vlad never saw his wife. In fact, no one but her chambermaids ever saw her. She continued to take her meals in her room.
Sergiu thought that this was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “Do you know the definition of irony?”
“Of course I know what it means,” Vlad replied.
“It means ... you.”
“Me? What in the world are you talking about?”
Sergiu laughed. “Irony is the fact that you spent a good portion of your life seducing married women — all the way up to the Empress, no less and now that you are finally wed you do not sleep with your own wife.”
“Very amusing, Serg.”
Sergiu laughed so hard it brought tears to his eyes. Vlad couldn’t help smiling.
It was in September of 1456, when Vlad deemed that the time was right to take the throne for himself. It appeared that people in the castle viewed him as a legitimate ruler. He had complete control of the army. There was nothing standing in his way except for Dracul and possibly Neacsa.
When the night came, Vlad entered Neacsa’s chambers through her fourth-story window. He stood silently leaning against an entryway to her large room. He watched her and her two servants as they chatted away merrily about nothing of significance. All three ladies sat on the princess’s large bed. Suddenly one of them shivered and slowly turned toward Vlad. It was as if she had sensed his presence. She jumped when she saw him and another of the maids screamed and quickly stood.
“What is the matter?” Vlad asked. “Doesn’t a man have the right to visit his wife’s chambers?” Vlad stepped forwar
d and one of the maids wrapped her arms protectively around Neacsa.
“Leave us.” His voice was dark.
“What are you going to do?” one of the maids asked.
“You are rather brazen ... for a servant. Get out, before I have my guards remove you.”
Neacsa wrapped an arm around each of her maids and whispered for them to leave. “I do not want anything to happen to the two of you, so do as he says.” She kissed each of their cheeks.
The maids reluctantly left. Neacsa remained seated on her bed. She pulled a plush fur throw up to her neck to hide her body.
“Don’t worry. I’m not here for that. If I had wanted that I would have visited here much sooner. Though perhaps you should try it. You might find you like it,” Vlad gave her a wicked smile.
“Men are swine. They could never please me as my servants do. Women know what other women want.”
“That explains a great deal. What is it they say about the apple not falling far from the tree? You, like your father, fancy the same sex.”
Neacsa scowled. “At least do me the honor of sparing me the small talk. Have you decided to kill me?”
“I hope not. You see, I rather like you —”
“You don’t even know me,” she snapped.
Vlad smiled. She is indeed feisty. “I have been around women enough to know that you are different. You are unnaturally insightful and there is a fire inside that burns strong. You will grow to become a very intelligent woman. It would be a shame to waste that. I came here to ask you one question. That is it — only one tiny little question. I want you to answer it carefully and honestly. Do you think you can do that?”
Neacsa looked worried but nodded her agreement.
“Good. All I want to know is, what do you want?”
Her large honey-colored eyes widened. “What do I want?” she stated each word slowly.
“Yes, if you had the perfect life, what would it look like?” Of all the possible questions, Vlad could tell that this was not what she expected.
“I ... I don’t know. No one has ever asked me that before.”
“I know. Take your time, it is an important question.”
This she did — her brow furrowed as she pondered what the perfect life would be like. Her defensiveness wavered. “The perfect life would be to live alone with my maids, away from all this, perhaps on a farm or in a convent. We would grow our own food and live in complete peace. There would be no men telling us what to do. We would be far away from all the death and war caused by men. No politics, no threats, only ... love and joy.”
This was the answer Vlad was looking for. If she had said that she wanted power and wealth or to rule a great nation then she would be dead. Lucky for her she had answered correctly. “I could offer you such a life, one of freedom from human rules and obligations. You would have the ability to survive on your own and not have to depend on anyone. You could do as you please.”
“So you have decided not to kill me. What is the price for this ‘perfect life?’”
“You see, I knew you were intelligent. Yes, this life I’m offering you does come at a cost. You must leave Wallachia forever. But I will equip you with the strength and power to easily make it on your own.”
“May I take my servants?”
“Servants, possessions, some money — though you won’t need it. Whatever you want.”
“Except for my father. He will not be coming with me, will he?”
“I’m afraid it is too late for your father, my dear.” Abdullah was draining the old voivode of life as they spoke.
There was a sadness in her eyes but she did not cry. She had known this day was coming. She had seen it long ago. Her father had been as good as dead since the day he declared that she had to marry Vlad.
“I want it — this life you are offering me.” Neacsa’s voice was soft and solemn. Like her father she was resigned to her fate.
“Are you certain?”
She nodded.
Vlad appeared next to her bed.
She jumped at his sudden movement.
“All you have to do is drink.” He placed one hand on her upper chest and firmly lowered her torso into the pillows. He bit deep into his free wrist and held it over her head.
Neacsa’s tiny freckled nose wrinkled. “I have to drink your blood?”
“If you want your perfect life then, yes, you must drink.”
Her lips parted and she let Vlad’s blood drip into her mouth. Her face scrunched at the horrible taste. She tried to sit and spit it out but he held her down. Soon the fire that was Neacsa was out. Vlad’s part was done. He left to see how Abdullah had fared.
Sergiu would be there when Neacsa woke. New vampires were his specialty. He would see to it that she fed from an old slave or the like. Then he would help her with the transition and make the arrangements for her to leave as soon as she was ready.
Sergiu reported that the first couple of days of Neacsa’s transition were challenging; the difficulty mostly manifested in the form of her deep hatred of Vlad. She did not attend her father’s funeral service. Vlad announced that she had come down with a terrible sickness and could not leave her chambers. Within one month she was ready to head into exile. She had decided to turn her maids in order not to risk killing them. They gladly drank her blood in order to accompany her. Vlad doubted that there had ever been maids more loyal than hers.
Sergiu recounted that at times she appeared thrilled about the prospects of her new life. This was most likely due to Sergiu’s silver tongue, convincing her of all the possibilities. He was wonderful about cleaning up Vlad’s messes. This was something that Vlad did not take for granted. He knew full well that he would have been utterly lost without Sergiu by his side.
Vlad thought it best for Neacsa to give a speech before she left. This would make things appear normal. The speech was added as part of the negotiations of her leaving. She addressed the boyars and the people of Targoviste with a heartfelt speech about her decision to become a nun and how it would be difficult to leave her people but that God had called her to His service. It went without saying that she must obey God above all else. She stated that while Vlad would miss her he also supported her decision and promised to visit when he could. It was sweet. The people loved it. They cheered for their princess as she and her faithful servants were escorted out of town in a royal carriage.
That was it. Vlad was left with the Wallachian throne to himself. After all those years he had finally achieved his dream. He was now Voivode Vlad III of the Draculesti family. Prince Dracula — of the Dragon.
Chapter 45 Wallachia 1456 A.D
As Vlad had already learned, the Wallachian crown came with many problems, each of which had to be dealt with in turn. The first order of business was the boyar class. Within a month of being the sole ruler it became apparent that the boyars were not convinced that Vlad was a legitimate ruler. They were rightfully suspicious of the relatively sudden death of Prince Dracul. Most of all, they were displeased because Dracul had taken their right to name the next ruler away from them. The boyars wanted to appoint the successor to the throne. Since they had not done so with Vlad, they viewed him as an illegitimate usurper of the throne. There were murmurs of replacing him with Dan, a man born of the noble line of the Danesti family.
“We must deal with these boyars. A group of nobles who feel that it is their right to put whomever they choose on the throne are dangerous,” Vlad mused. “They have learned to turn a substantial profit by being ruthless and playing politics. They are nothing more than paid assassins and traitors to the throne.”
“They appear to be the most immediate threat to your rule.” Sergiu agreed. “I wonder how many rulers of Wallachia they have murdered? The Ottomans can be pacified with their annual tribute of gold coins and boys for the sultan's army. The Saxon merchants in Transylvania will hopefully be pacified with a low sales tax for now. But the boyars — they are a different story.”
Vlad nodded. “We
will deal with each of these threats in order of importance. The boyars will be easy enough to handle, unlike the Ottomans. We will start by inviting the boyars to a feast at my government compound in Targoviste. Tell the Janissaries that if it does not go well then they will be the ones feasting.” Vlad had long since adopted the term Janissaries to refer to his elite corps of soldiers. In his kingdom Janissaries meant Vlad’s loyal vampire warriors.
“I will inform them that they must hold off on feeding until this gathering,” Abdulla said.
“We will make an example of these nobles. This is what happens if one dares to cross me.”
Now that Vlad had become ruler, he was not about to let anything get in the way of his throne. He had worked hard for this for many years. It had been a long time coming, which led Vlad to develop a sense of entitlement. I deserve this. Wallachia is mine.
“There are more diplomatic means of solving problems. Must we kill them all?” Sergiu questioned.
“Aye but killing is the surest and easiest means. Especially for vampires, who must kill to survive. This way I eliminate a threat and feed my bloodthirsty men.”
Sergiu frowned. “Aye, it must be done.”
Vlad put on a feast suited for kings. The Great Hall was packed with fifty members of the noble boyars, which included most of their immediate family members. They were all too happy to grow even more fat on Vlad’s endless supply of the best wines and meats. He sat at the head of a long table. As always Sergiu sat to the right of Vlad. They ate nothing and drank wine as they listened to the nobles’ private conversations. It soon became apparent that a good number of the boyars thought Vlad was a joke of a prince who would not last six months on the throne.
Of Princes and Dragons: Book 2 (Lords and Commoners) Page 17