Dracula, Prince of Many Faces

by Radu R Florescu

  Given the decline in Hunyadi's power and prestige following two major defeats, Vlad Dracula was able to make his first major move toward seizing the Wallachian throne. Supported by a force of Turkish cavalry and a contingent of troops lent to him by the neighboring Danubian pasha Mustafa Hassan, Dracula led a bold and successful coup, though it was bound to invite severe reprisals from the Hungarian side. The vice-governor of Transylvania, Nicolae of Ocna, immediately asked Vlad Dracula to come and justify his usurpation of power. He was also asked to give information on the whereabouts of John Hunyadi, who had simply “disappeared” after the battle of Kosovo, in the eyes of the uninformed Hungarian authorities. In a letter still extant in the Braov archives, Vlad Dracula responded that he could not attend the proposed meeting with the Transylvanian vice-governor, since this would only arouse suspicions from the Turks, who would immediately kill him. He also answered that he was unaware of Hunyadi's exact whereabouts but thought that he had perished in battle. Being cautious, however, he declared that should Hunyadi succeed in returning to Transylvania, he, Dracula, would seek to establish peaceful relations with the Transylvanian governor.

  Vlad Dracula realized that he could stay on the throne only so long as the Turks were in control of the situation. But after achieving victory at high cost at Kosovo, Sultan Murad II neglected to pursue the retreating Hungarian army. In fact, during three days and three nights Murad remained on the field of battle in order to bury the numerous Turkish dead. He lost valuable time by not advancing against his enemies at once.

  Vladislav II, who thus escaped capture, with the assistance of the prince of Moldavia, Petru II, his relative by marriage, who had ascended the throne in March, managed to remove Vlad Dracula from the throne. Vladislav II won over the remnants of the Hungarian army to his side, crossed the Danube River into Wallachia, engaged Vlad Dracula's army, and defeated it by Christmastime. Dracula was forced to flee southward and once again found refuge at Adrianople with his Turkish protectors. His first period of rule had lasted barely two months. His victorious opponent Vladislav II reoccupied the throne, but this time began to make overtures to the Turks, sensing that the balance of power was beginning to shift to their side.

  What happened to Dracula after that date? After some time spent at the court of Murad II, the “son of the dragon” fled to Moldavia, where Bogdan II, the father of the future Stephen the Great, Moldavia's most famous ruler, was prince. Since Dracul had taken as his wife a sister of Bogdan II, the reigning Moldavian prince was Dracula's uncle. The Moldavian-Wallachian connection had been cemented even closer by political fate, which had compelled Bogdan some years before to seek refuge at Dracul's court in Tîrgovite. In addition, Bogdan's wife, Princess Oltea, was of Wallachian origin, almost certainly related to the Draculas. These family ties themselves sufficiently account for the good reception Dracula received at the Moldavian court. Dracula lived at Suceava, the capital city, or in its vicinity from December 1449 until October 1451 in the company of his cousin Stephen, who was a few years younger than he. The two cousins were likely educated together by learned monks from neighboring monasteries and by chancellery scribes. Thus, Dracula was able to complete his interrupted Romanian education at a time when Moldavia was beginning to experience the initial impact of Renaissance culture coming from Italy by way of Poland and Hungary. These princes' sons also became close friends and may have taken a formal oath obligating them to assist one another in securing their respective thrones. In June 1450 the princes fought side by side under the banner of Prince Bogdan, defeating an invading Polish army at Crasna, and thus gained valuable military experience. These bonds formed during Dracula's period of Moldavian exile lasted throughout his lifetime, the only shadow (albeit a significant one) being Stephen's betrayal in the summer of 1462.

  Dracula's stay in Moldavia was suddenly terminated by the brutal assassination of Prince Bogdan II by Petru Aaron, his brother, the leader of yet another rival faction, in October 1451, not far from Suceava. In those circumstances, perhaps because of lack of alternatives, both Dracula and Stephen escaped to Transylvania via the famous Borgo Pass (the scene that provides the awesome gothic setting in the first few chapters of Stoker's novel), though this route put them at the mercy of none other than Hunyadi, the man who was at least morally responsible for the assassination of Dracula's father and brother.

  Because of two successive defeats at Varna and Kosovo, Hunyadi had, as noted, lost much of his prestige and power, and both the title of “viceroy of Hungary” and “governor of Transylvania” had been taken away from him in the name of Ladislas V Posthumus, ruler of Hungary (even though not yet crowned), and the powerful Hungarian diet, which had always distrusted him. But he still preserved the humbler title of “count of Bistria, Severin and Timioara” and retained his vast estates in Transylvania. Above all he was supreme military commander on the eastern front and had an important army of mercenaries under his command at his headquarters at Castle Hunedoara. For Vlad Dracula to seek refuge on territory thus still under the control of his family's enemy, “the White Knight,” was, to say the least, foolhardy.

  In entering Transylvania, the two sons of princes had for this reason carefully bypassed the fortified town of Bistria, where Hunyadi's mercenaries were in control and headed southward toward Braov, by way of Sighioara. Encouraged by an exchange of letters he had had with the city fathers preceding his brief rule in 1448 and by the support of a small number of exiled boyars there who were the enemies of Vladislav II, Vlad Dracula was planning to use that city as a base of operations for a campaign to regain his throne. Hunyadi, however, was equally determined to thwart any such effort. When the envoy of the former governor first reported Dracula's presence in Braov in February 1452, Hunyadi lost no time in writing a stern note to the mayor and the city council, asking that the authorities apprehend the Wallachian refugee and chase him out of the country. Hunyadi was still loyal to his protégé, Vladislav II. It is conceivable that Dracula, in response, may have fled to Moldavia once again for a period of time, since Bogdan's murderer had been replaced by a friendlier candidate. In all likelihood, however, Dracula stayed in the vicinity of Braov, kept in hiding on the estates of some friendly boyar. On September 24, 1452, he was still reported to be in the vicinity of that city, since Vladislav II sent an official letter of protest to the mayor of Braov. Finally, Dracula decided to flee to the neighboring city of Sibiu. The authorities there were apprised of his presence. The vice-governor, Nicolae of Ocna, followed Hunyadi's instructions and took immediate action: he hired an assassin, who planned an ambush in the village of Gioagiu. Somehow forewarned, as on so many occasions, Dracula managed to escape.

  At what point could Dracula afford to come out of hiding and what were the circumstances that led to his making peace with Hunyadi? The principal factor that brought the two men together was a cooling in the relationship between Hunyadi and his protégé Vladislav II. One reason for this was Hunyadi's unilateral seizure of the duchies of Fgra and Amla, traditional fiefs of the Wallachian prince. Amla was given to the citizens of Sibiu, while the fortress of Fgra and the surrounding territory was taken over by Hunyadi himself. This led to open hostilities with Vladislav II, who sought to regain control over land that he considered his own. Another factor was Vladislav II's aforementioned decision to improve his relationship with the Turks, a persistent desire of the boyar council. In January 1451 Vladislav had sent a delegation of boyars to congratulate the new sultan, Mehmed II, upon his accession to the throne — thus in a sense reverting to the traditional Wallachian policy of double allegiance to the king of Hungary and to the Turkish sultan, which had been followed by his enemy Dracul.

  On Hunyadi's side, advance knowledge from his envoys posted in Constantinople on Mehmed's preparations for the conquest of that city brought the Transylvanian commander-in-chief to the realization that he needed all the talent he could muster to challenge the unlimited territorial appetites of the new sultan. At the time, his own diplomats wer
e still negotiating with Constantine XI, the last Byzantine emperor, to determine last-minute contingencies to save the city. Upon reflection, Hunyadi became convinced that this young Wallachian warlord, whom fate had thrust upon his soil, had intimate knowledge of the workings of Mehmed's mind, and, having served five times in the Turkish army, knew their tactics and military organization. The presence of Vlad Dracula's brother in the Turkish camp might prove an additional asset. On Dracula's side there was the thornier moral problem of forgiving the double crime of 1447 — his father's and older brother's assassinations. If conscience he had, Dracula must have placed it in his slipper.

  This about-face on the part of both men was hardly unexpected in this age of self-serving politics. It is certain that personal ambition was uppermost in the minds of both the older crusader and the younger man when they first met in Hunyadi's lofty Gothic palace, still in existence, located on a mighty rock on the western suburb of the north-central Transylvanian city of Hunedoara. The meeting took place in the knight's room, where among a gallery of family portraits hung an imposing painting of the former viceroy and his wife, Erzsébet Szilágy. There is no record of the precise words exchanged between the two men, but obviously a deal was struck. Vlad Dracula was offered a military appointment in Hunyadi's army and a minor function at his court, with residence at Sibiu; the Saxon authorities there were instructed to tolerate his presence. Dracula could not have found a more experienced tutor in the tactics and strategy of eastern wars — Hunyadi was still internationally held to be among the foremost military commanders of the day.

  Hunyadi must have valued having Vlad Dracula in his service, for he gave him the maximum exposure. He took Dracula with him for the opening of the Hungarian diet at Györ and formally presented him to King Ladislas Posthumus, who had finally been declared of age by his guardian, the emperor, and anointed king of Hungary in 1453. Dracula, who was present at the coronation, swore allegiance to Ladislas Posthumus and was also present at the formal banquet and celebrations that followed, held at the royal palace in Buda. (In the course of this jubilant atmosphere Hunyadi also made his peace with the powerful relative of the former Emperor Sigismund, Count Ulrich Cilli, a devoted partisan of the new Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick III.) It was with the full consent of the Hungarian king and the Transylvanian diet that Dracula, at Hunyadi's suggestion, accepted responsibility for the defense of the Transylvanian frontier against Turkish attack. In essence, he was assigned very much the same role that his father Dracul had played from 1431 to 1436. His headquarters were to remain at Sibiu. It was in this German Saxon city that he learned of the fall of Constantinople to the Turks, an event that had been anticipated since Sultan Murad II's death by a stroke at the age of forty-seven on February 3, 1451, and his ambitious son's succession.

  The new heir was Murad's nineteen-year-old second son, Prince Mehmed, who had ruled during two earlier years (1444-1446), following his father's temporary resignation, but had made himself thoroughly unpopular through his high-handedness and debauched living. As soon as he assumed the throne for the second time, Mehmed confirmed the negative image earlier formed of him by putting to death his half-brother, only a child, but a potential rival. In fact, the child's own mother was busy honoring the new sultan, Mehmed, at the very moment when her son was being drowned in his bathtub.

  Mehmed's extravagant living, his ruthlessness and inordinate ambitions, coupled with the fact that his mother was a humble slave, had alienated him from his father, who was a gentleman in matters of international politics, always preferring peace to the uncertainties of war and retaliating only when attacked. Western diplomatic observers who rejoiced at the death of Murad II had underestimated the character and determination of the young sultan, who turned out to be a more formidable foe than his father. The first warning came from the Turkish grand vizier Halil Pasha, who believed in coexistence between the Turkish and Byzantine world (it was said by some that he had sold himself to the Byzantines for a high price). Halil had earlier cautioned the emperor Constantine about his unruly ward, drawing his attention to Mehmed's desire to conquer the Imperial City for reasons of prestige: “O you foolish Greeks!” he exclaimed. “My master Mohammed is not like his father, Sultan Murad. You are mistaken in your threats. Mohammed is not a child to be frightened. If you wish to call on the Hungarian [Hunyadi], do it! If you wish to recover your territories, you may try! I promise you, you will only lose the little you have left!”

  An incident that later took place in the imperial palace between Halil and the sultan left little further doubt as to the sultan's intentions. Roaming restlessly at night through the streets of Adrianople, the new sultan seemed haunted by the idea of conquest, but before embarking upon such an ambitious project as the siege of Constantinople, he wished to ascertain the thoughts of his subjects. One sleepless night in 1452, the sultan got up and sent his eunuch to summon Halil Pasha. The latter, knowing Mehmed's cupidity, took the precaution of taking a bowl of gold with him to this meeting. When he arrived he found the sultan fully dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed. The sultan, eyeing the gold, exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?” The grand vizier meekly replied, “It is customary when a noble is summoned to his master that he not appear with empty hands.” Mehmed then revealed his thoughts to Halil: “It is not gold that I need; I want but one thing, your help in seizing Constantinople!” The vizier bowed to the sultan's will, and the sultan shouted, “Relying on the support of Allah and his Prophet, we will take the city!”

  Against Mehmed stood the youthful emperor, Constantine XI Dragases, of the Paleologus dynasty. He had succeeded to the imperial purple following the death of his brother John VIII in January 1449. The last emperor struck an imposing figure: he was tall, with strong regular features, a man known for his valor, integrity, and personal courage rather than concerns for ceremony or ritual. He habitually was clothed in either the white garb of a penitent or else, to attract attention to his potential military role, he wore plated armor and a steel helmet. He had married twice, but, as was the case with his brothers, he was destined to die without heirs. On the whole, he had given up the idea of obtaining military help from the west; unlike his brother, he was not prepared to beg for such aid. As a realist he was fully aware of the desperate nature of the situation. He had conceived of a few hopeless initiatives such as marrying Sultan Murad's widow, the Serbian sultana Mara, but the lady preferred to remain in the relative safety of the Serbian monastery to which she had retired. The emperor had accepted the union of the Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches proclaimed at Florence in 1439, and joint services had been held at the church of St. Sophia. The populace, however, had shunned such events, refusing to concelebrate, and eventually the great cathedral built by Emperor Justinian was closed down. The only real hope of the Byzantines was pinned on John Hunyadi, who had sent a delegation to Constantinople as soon as he realized that the spoken intentions of Mehmed to capture the city were no idle threat. However, Hunyadi's ambassadors were withdrawn before the Turks began action to isolate the city. Ever practical, the Transylvanian warlord, now counseled by Vlad Dracula, decided that he must concentrate his diminished resources on defending his own borders, both in Transylvania, where Dracula was in command, and at his southern flank, which centered on the fortress of Belgrade, of far greater strategic significance than the imperial Byzantine city.

  It is easy to overdramatize the atmosphere of pessimism and gloom that permeated the beleaguered city once the intentions of the sultan were made clear. But such an atmosphere did prevail. It was compounded by a series of ill omens, many of which are mentioned in Chalcondyles' account of the siege that undermined the morale of a superstitious populace. A few days before the final assault on May 24, 1453, the dome of the cathedral of St. Sophia came alive with a red glow, which rose slowly up from the base to the top of the dome. The light reportedly stayed there, suspended, for some time, then mysteriously flickered out. Some thought that this light came from the Turkish campf
ires around the city, but this was not so, since these rays shone from the distant countryside far behind the Turkish camp. The optimists believed that they were the bonfires of the great Christian warrior John Hunyadi on his way to save the city. Sultan Mehmed II himself was frightened by the lights, though his seers consoled him with the thought that they were a sign from heaven that the true religion of Islam would finally prevail to enlighten the ancient city. There was also an eclipse of the sun. Prophets had long proclaimed that the city would never fall while the moon was glowing in the heavens! Another incident defied rational explanation. During a solemn procession led by the emperor through the city on the way to the cathedral of St. Sophia, to invoke God's blessings, the heavy ikon of the Blessed Virgin, said to have been painted by Saint Luke himself, slipped from the hands of its bearers and fell to the ground. For a while the bearers were unable to raise it up again. Only after fervent prayers was the task accomplished. As the procession continued, a violent storm accompanied by thunder and lightning broke out, followed by torrential rain, which caused widespread flooding. Then a thick fog settled over the city; no one had ever seen such dense fog in May. It seemed to many that God had brought in the fog in order to conceal His departure from the city. The historians at the time also remembered an ancient prophecy to the effect that the last emperor would have the same name as the first, Constantine, the original founder of the city, yet another sign of doom. Cynics responded with the words attributed by some to Grand Duke Lukas Notaras, who acted as a kind of prime minister and was grand admiral of the fleet: “I would rather see the turban of the Turk in Constantinople than the red hat of any Roman Catholic cardinal!” So great and so widespread was the hatred of the Latin “heretics” even at this hour of need.