The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood

by Shane KP O'Neill

  “I am sure my reputation precedes me.”

  “You were known for impaling your enemies?”

  “Yes, among other things. This is why I have come to you. People must know why I did the things I did.”

  “I read you impaled twenty-two thousand men in a single day.”

  “It is true. They were enemy soldiers. I needed to send the Turks a message. I sent the message, and had fewer mouths to feed.”

  The young man looked aghast. “It is no wonder you were considered brutal.”

  Dracula smiled at the brazenness in his tone. “The end justifies the means, Niccolo.”

  “I see you truly believe that.”

  “Yes,” the vampire nodded. “And I shall show you why.”

  “It is the reason men shout the word republic.”

  “They are fools; all of them.”

  “Then let us see if you can convince me.”

  “I shall. This is the message you must write down. I did it for a greater purpose.”

  “What can justify such a mass slaughter?”

  “Mehmed was looking to crush my country. When his army marched over the horizon that is what they saw. They fled in terror.”

  “I am not surprised.”

  “It saved my country. For a time, at least.”

  “The story I read said you died in battle, in a hail of arrows.”

  “That is not quite the truth.”

  “Well, I see you are not dead.”

  “No, you see me as I am.”

  “But then, I know you are not human either.”

  “Is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

  “At first, yes, but here you are. Perhaps I am mad. I could be imagining this whole episode. Indeed, this entire night might be a fantasy of sorts. A trick of the mind. I foolishly took a little wine before my visit to Signor de’ Medici.”

  “You know that is not so. Those three men are dead in that alley. You were there, and you saw what happened to them.”

  His eyes wandered back to the memory of it. “Yes, I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Then let us not waste any more time with it.”

  “Tell me then, what are you?”

  “I do not know that you could grasp what I am.”

  “If only out of respect, you should tell me. After everything I have seen and for what you ask of me, I do have a right to know.”

  Dracula nodded. “Then I shall tell you.”

  “You say it as though there is a condition attached?”

  “There is. So you had best understand the gravity of it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “That you never speak of our meeting to anyone.”

  “Why would I? I would only be thought of as mad, if I did.”

  “I want you to be clear on this point. You have an idea of what I am. You have seen what I can do.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then if you ever speak of me to another, I shall kill everything you hold dear. Never give mention of my name, or of anything you have seen this night.”

  Machiavelli felt a cold shiver run the length of his spine. He knew Dracula meant it. “I swear I shall never speak of this, or of you.”

  “Good, then we can begin.”

  “So what are you?”

  “I am a creature of Darkness.”

  “You mean the night?”

  “No, much worse. As I lay dying at Snagov, Lucifer claimed me as his own.”

  The hairs stood up on the back of Machiavelli’s neck. He did not know what to say, so he just listened.

  “He drank of my blood, and then he forced me to drink of his.”

  Dracula stopped for his young companion to try and contemplate what that meant. He paced about the room with his hands behind his back.

  “Then what happened?”

  “I died.”

  “But you are here.”

  “I suffered mortal death.”

  “Mortal death?”

  “Yes, my life as you would know it, ended. The limits of the human form were gone from me forever.”

  “But you still look human.”

  “Only in appearance. For how else could I live in the world of men?”

  Machiavelli saw the logic in it.

  “All else changed. With Lucifer’s blood in my veins, I became immortal. It gave me the strength of more than twenty men. I have senses more alert than any beast or animal. I can fly faster and longer than almost any bird. That, Niccolo, is what I am.”

  “I saw you drink the blood of those men. Why did you do that?”

  “For everything there is a price, even my immortality.”

  “You must drink the blood of men in return for what Lucifer gave you?”

  “Yes, for that, and to survive.”

  “That would suggest that mankind is a food source for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “By why not the blood of animals?”

  “It is of no use to me. It only serves to keep a thirst at bay for a short time. For me to remain strong, I must consume human blood.”

  Machiavelli felt a lump build in his throat. “Do you want to drink of my blood?”

  “My thirst is satisfied, but it has a nice aroma. Another night, perhaps.”

  His words put fear into the younger man. Machiavelli trembled so much, he had to sit.

  Dracula chuckled at the look on his face. “I am jesting with you, Niccolo. You are safe.”

  Machiavelli wiped the cold sweat from the back of his neck and loosened his collar.

  “That is, as long as you remain true to your word.”

  Machiavelli ignored the threat. “Thank you for sharing this with me, though it is hard to believe.”

  “But you do believe it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then we should begin. Pick up your quill.”

  Machiavelli sat down behind his small desk. Dipping his quill in the inkwell, he waited for Dracula to begin.

  “These pamphlets you give mention of, they say my actions were brutal?”

  “Yes, I believe that was what they conveyed.”

  “What else did they say?”

  “They say you were a cruel and wicked man.”

  Dracula thought about that for a moment. “I say they are wrong. I believe my actions were just, and executed with good cause.”

  “What weight can you add to that argument?”

  “When I gained control of my country for the second time, I had a coronation. The archbishop made me swear three vows.”

  “What were they?”

  “The first was to swear allegiance to the Church, and defend the faith.”

  “That is obligatory for all rulers.”

  “Yes, and I kept that vow. I gave my life in defence of it.”

  The young man nodded. Dracula was as famous for his courage in battle as he was for the atrocities he had committed.

  “The second was to rule my people justly and fairly, and without prejudice.”

  “I understand you killed many people because of their low class.”

  “You mean the beggars and thieves? Yes, they were a blight on the country.”

  “Were they not your people? The same as the rich and wealthy?”

  “There is one thing you do not understand, Niccolo.”

  “Then help me.”

  “The health of the country takes precedence over all other things.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “It is more important than the man who rules. It is more important than the people. Very few men in that position ever see that fact.”

  “I would say the people make the state. Without them, there is no such thing.”

  “No, you are wrong. The prince, or ruler, makes the state. It is the way he governs that matters the most.”

  “So you deemed it necessary to kill criminals and beggars?”

  “Yes, absolutely. By making every crime punishable by death, I removed all crime from my country.”

  “Is
that not too extreme?”

  “No, it was a necessity. In doing that, I made the economy strong. That made my country strong. The people made an honest living. Instead of stealing and begging and draining the country of its resources, they worked for what they had.”

  “So you say such an act is all well and good as long as the end benefits the state as a whole?”

  “Yes, that is it. Any action is justified for the greater good.”

  “And that is the justification you give?”

  “Yes, Niccolo. That is how I ruled my country.”

  He wrote it all down. After a short time, he looked up from the parchment. “What was the third vow?”

  “I swore to defend the borders against the threat of the Infidel, of course.”

  “I take it that was not so easily done?”

  “That is correct. Wallachia always suffered, due to its location. It lies surrounded by countries looking to invade it. Either that or pass through it to invade another.”

  “So how did you set about achieving that?”

  “With great difficulty. First of all, I had to stabilise my power.”

  “By killing off your enemies?”

  “Yes, I did that too. It is much tougher for a new prince than a hereditary one.”

  “But you were your father’s heir.”

  “That is true, but I did not inherit his throne. I had to take it on the field of battle from the men who killed him.”

  “So you were a new prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you believe it is harder in that situation?”

  “A prince who inherits the throne needs only maintain the institutions already in place.”

  “Because the people are accustomed to it?”

  “Yes, precisely. On the other hand, a new prince has to stabilise his power. Then he has to put in place a structure that would endure.”

  “And that is what you did?”

  “Yes, I killed my enemies both in my own country and in Transylvania to the north. Then I made the country strong. I brought back wealth to the people and built a strong army.”

  “Yet they did not love you?”

  “No, they did not love me. Then, I never imagined they would. They feared me, though, and they respected me as much.”

  “It is not the same. Every ruler wants to be loved by his people.”

  “Not I. Fear and respect were enough for me.”

  Machiavelli continued to write while Dracula spoke.

  “Fear keeps people alert. I drove out the weak and the lazy. In their place, I made the people work hard for what they had. I made them respect the laws of the land. This made them stronger, and it made Wallachia stronger as a result.”

  “So to achieve this, a prince has to be beyond reproach?”

  “Yes, he answers only to God.”

  “And it is acceptable for him to commit acts of evil for the greater good?”

  “If you want to call them evil, then yes.”

  “Are they not evil, then?”

  “I do not think so, but other men may differ in what they believe. This is why you must write this. You must build a valid argument.”

  “You agree, then, that these actions are wrong, if for personal gain?”

  “Yes, I concur with that. It is for the greater good, not for the gain of one man. I did amass wealth, but I did it in an honest fashion. I did not tax the people to the brink of poverty, and I did not punish anyone who did not deserve it.”

  “Good. Then why did you impale so many people? Surely it is better to make your justice swift and effective?”

  “It set an example, and that is why I used it. What man or woman would ever infringe against the state after witnessing that?”

  He wrote it down, although he did not agree entirely. “That leaves your basic argument as…?”

  “The ends justify the means. I was not a cruel man. I agree that I was brutal at times, but it was all for the preservation of my country. I was a product of my time, the age in which I lived.”

  “My inkwell has run dry.”

  “It does not matter. I have said enough.”

  “I have written it all down.”

  “Good. Make a thesis from it, but never give mention of my name.”

  “I shall not mention you. I already gave you my word on that.”

  “Think of a suitable title for it, but nothing that hints at your source.”

  “I have already decided upon one.”

  Dracula quickly scanned his mind. He smiled when he saw his host’s idea. “Yes, I like that. The Prince is a perfect title. Do your best, Niccolo, for the day I read it. I shall read it.”

  “I shall make a strong argument. Have no fear.”

  “There is one other thing. The woman you call Piera.”

  “Yes?”

  “Forget her. You have an exciting career ahead of you. Put her out of your mind. She can bring you only heartache, and it shall affect your work.”

  Dracula stopped him before he could argue. “I mean it, Niccolo. Never cast your eyes upon her again. I shall be watching you.”

  When Dracula had left, Machiavelli spread some fresh parchment on the desk. He dipped his quill into the last of the ink and wrote about the demon that had come to his house.

  TUSCANY. THE HOME OF RODRIGO BORGIA

  AND VANNOZZA DEI CATTANEI IN FLORENCE.

  JULY, 1489.

  Dracula went in search of Piera the following evening. By the time he awoke at sunset, she had long since left her home. He used her scent to track her. Her trail took him to one of the more plush residences in the city.

  He knew right away to whom it belonged. Rodrigo Borgia rarely had the time to leave Rome. As the most powerful member of the Roman Curia, the politics of the Church kept him there. His mistress, Vannozza dei Cattanei, was not so restricted. She liked to come here with their four children.

  She had needed to get away from Rome. Florence gave her some respite from the vicious gossips there. Borgia had developed a passion for a newly-wed girl of fifteen. Her name was Giulia Farnese. She had just married Orsino Orsini, who was the son of a cousin of Borgia’s. With him being four times her age, it made for quite a scandal.

  It was rare for these rumours to not have substance. She took the children away at once. He sent a messenger after her, but she ignored his letter and the demands in it. This only served to fuel his rage. He doted on them with a greater passion than he did his mistresses. His eldest sons, he was grooming for great things.

  Dracula found his way to a balcony high in the house. It took him to a window outside the room where Piera was playing. He looked through it and watched her. She played the harp with such grace, it proved a great release for him to hear it.

  The young Borgias sat huddled on the floor. They also found her music captivating. He studied them for a time. These were the children of the mighty Rodrigo Borgia. He wondered how similar they might be to his own.

  His gaze fell on the eldest, Giovanni. The young Borgia had not taken his eyes from Piera once in all the time she had been there. His interest was with her, and not the music she played. Piera had noticed this, too, but did her best to ignore it. His mother paid her well for her services and she did not want to lose this income.

  Cesare looked to the window and saw him there. He got up and ran over. Dracula rose to the rooftop at once and found a quiet spot up high. With a grin on his face, he settled down out of view.

  “What are you doing, Cesare?” his mother asked him. “Sit down at once while Piera is playing for you.”

  “I saw a face at the window, Mama.”

  “What nonsense! I shall hear none of it!”

  He ignored her and pushed open the doors to the balcony. She got up when he stepped out onto it. “I saw him, a man, standing right here.”

  She joined him there. “How could anyone be out here?”

  He shrugged at her question. “I do not know, Mama, but I saw him.”

  She pe
ered over the edge. “Look,” she said. “There is no way to get here but through the music room. Come back inside at once.”

  Cesare stood in the same spot where Dracula had stood, when she went inside. He looked up in the direction of the eaves, right at Dracula’s hiding place. Dracula gazed down into his eyes from the darkness, knowing the boy could not see him. Cesare had turned thirteen years of age now. Even so, Dracula could sense something very sinister in him. He liked what he saw of the boy and thought this might be one he could use in the future.

  “I do not know where you have gone, but I know you are there,” Cesare whispered. “You may hide, but I know you can see me, and hear me.”

  “Close the doors, Cesare,” his sister, Lucrezia, urged him. “You are letting in the draught.”

  He closed them and sat down again. A servant pulled the drapes across.

  “Shall I finish for the night, signora?” Piera asked. “It is quite late, and I sense a chill in the air.”

  “Yes, Piera. It is time my children retired to their beds. Thank you for coming. You played very well, as always.”

  She paid Piera for her night’s work. Giovanni stood up to walk out with her. His mother shot him a sharp glance. “Fredo can show her out.”

  Piera stepped out into the night. There was a chill in the air, which she had not imagined. A fair wind blew through the narrow streets. It carried some odours from the river that she did not find pleasant. She pulled her shawl tight around her, and began the lonely walk home.

  She wondered if she might see her young admirer tonight. Every night for two weeks, he had lurked on street corners. It had unnerved her at first, but as she saw him more frequently it offered her some comfort on her journey.

  The young man made her feel safe. She thought of him as her guardian angel. These quiet streets presented many dangers for a lone woman at night. Until she had noticed his presence, she dreaded walking at this late an hour.

  She walked for a while. A couple of times she looked around to see if he was there. Tonight, there was no sign of him, and she began to worry. Has something happened to him? He is always there. She pressed on. Every little sound she heard made her jumpy.

  A man crossed the street behind her. She turned and gasped, fearing that he would accost her. He shot her a quick glance and continued on his way. “Stupid damn woman,” she heard him mutter.