“I still heard every word.”
“What did he say?”
“He spoke of a plot by you to destroy the Church. In doing so, he said you hoped to turn man against God once more.”
“Did the pope believe him?”
“Not at first, but the man made him listen.”
“What more did he say?”
“He spoke of a demon of the night called Dracula. This demon, he said, was your instrument to bring about this end.”
Lucifer put a hand over his mouth as he listened.
“He mentioned there was a way this demon could be destroyed, but that the Vatican had to play an important role in this.”
“And what was it?”
“He was too clever to say it aloud, but I am sure it was written on something he handed to the pope.”
“You are sure of this?”
“Yes.”
“How did the pope react to it?”
“He seemed stunned, and asked Andrei what he wanted him to do.”
“What was that?”
“Andrei said his body had to be buried in a vault in the Vatican and guarded. The secret would remain there with him.”
“And is he buried there?”
“Yes.”
Lucifer gritted his teeth in anger. “Andrei was a clever one,” he said, cursing his name. “He knows it is one of the few places I cannot go.”
“The pope has never spoken of it.”
“Have you seen anything written?”
“No, he has kept the secret well.”
“Then I want someone in that vault. I need his body removed from there.”
“Alexander’s successor perhaps?”
Lucifer looked at him. “Yes, his secret can die with him.”
WALLACHIA. DRACULA’S CASTLE IN
THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS.
JUNE, 1503.
Wake up!” Lucifer shouted.
Dracula stirred in his casket and slowly opened his eyes. The sun had not yet gone down, and he had still been in a deep sleep.
Lucifer hit the side of the casket with his fist. “Awaken, I said!”
Dracula looked up and saw him there. “It is not yet sunset.”
“I do not care! I need to speak with you!”
“It is how you made me.”
“We have much to discuss.”
Dracula could tell by the expression on Lucifer’s face that he should not keep his master waiting. He sat up, though he remained inside the casket. Close by, his wife still slept. “What is so urgent to bring you here?”
“The one you met in the forest three years past. I see him in your memory.”
He cast his mind back to Andrei. “The old gypsy?”
“Yes, that is he.”
“He said he was my brother.”
“It is the truth. His name is Andrei.”
“You know of him? Why did you never tell me?”
“I did not feel the need, not till this day.”
“I faced him unprepared. I should not have had to.”
“And he cast you out?”
“Yes,” Dracula said, looking him directly in the eye.
“That does not surprise me. I, too, have faced him in years past.”
“When was this?”
“The same day you found the Fier Negru in the ruins at Tirgoviste.”
“When my father died?”
“Yes, his father too.”
“What happened?”
“We saw him. There is a window I can exploit if he does not protect himself.”
“And that is what happened then?”
“Yes, there was a great battle.”
“Between you and he?”
“Partly.”
“He resisted you?”
“Yes, he did. His power is mighty. He draws it directly from the Christ.”
“And the Christ is more powerful than you?”
“For the now he is, yes. But that shall all change, in good time.”
“And what of the battle?”
Lucifer thought back. “It was a good one, but a defeat for our side.”
“Between whom?”
“Many of my legions and the Archangels.”
Dracula paused to digest the new information. It grieved him that Lucifer had never seen fit to tell him of his half-brother. If there were one who could rival or even better him, then he thought it right for his master to tell him about it. “Do you know where Andrei is in the present?”
“He is dead for the now, but he remains a problem to our side.”
“He said to me he would be reborn.”
“Yes, his energy still lives. It shall pass to another mortal, and then to another. That is, unless we can destroy him.”
“If you failed before, how can we hope to do this?”
“We need him to err once more. He is but a mortal after all.”
“Is that likely?”
“There is always a chance, every time he is born into the world.”
“Why does he concern you for the now if he is not among the living?”
“Andrei saw the pope before his death.”
“What does that matter? Surely you have his soul. He is wretched enough.”
“He is buried in a vault in the Vatican.”
“I am none the wiser.”
“He is a wise one, and knew the depths of the Vatican is the one place I cannot go. None of us can go there.”
“So leave him there.”
“His body can provide a key to destroy you. I am not sure what exactly that is, but his body is there to keep it from our clutches.”
For the first time Dracula understood. “And he knew that?”
“Yes, he knew it.”
“What do you plan to do over it?”
“Only two men know the secret of this.”
“One is the pope. Who is the other?”
“The man who I shall have succeed him.”
“So you intend to kill Alexander?”
“No, you shall.”
“And that is why you are here?”
“Yes, the pope must die.”
“Why do you need me? Surely you can see to that without my aid? You have killed humans before.”
“I told you long ago of the rules of the universe. There are boundaries even I cannot cross. He is one that cannot die by my hand; not directly.”
“But as you have said, I cannot enter the inner sanctum of the Vatican either.”
“He is leaving there soon. Away from the Vatican, he is an easy target.”
“And what would his death achieve?”
“It means his secret dies with him.”
“And what of his successor?”
“His successor shall have access to the body of Andrei. I need his body out of that vault.”
“If it is destroyed, it means they cannot kill me?”
“Yes, I imagine so. So you have as large a stake in this as I.”
“And when he has removed the body? What then?”
“I shall go for him.”
“Have you considered the other option?”
“What might that be?”
“When I ruled, I used to look at every possible outcome. What do you do if this man cannot remove the body from the vault?”
“He would be the pope. Of course he can remove it.”
“What if he does not?”
“Then when he dies, no one should know the body lies there. If, in time, it is discovered, nobody would know who it is or why the body is in the vault.”
“And that ensures my safety?”
“Naturally. It gives you the freedom to finish your task.”
“What of Alexander? What would you have me do with him?”
“Add a touch of subtlety. Let him go the same way as each of his own victims.”
“You want me to poison him?”
“Yes, it would be a fitting end. And then his soul comes to me.”
ROME PROVINCE. THE VILLA OF CA
RDINAL
ADRIANO CORNETO OUTSIDE ROME.
AUGUST 11, 1503.
In August, 1503, France and Spain went to war again. As before, they fought over the Kingdom of Naples. Cesare Borgia had signed a treaty with Louis XII, which bound him to come to the aid of France.
The death of Francesco Troche made his situation a delicate one. Troche had long been the pope’s secretary and confidante. He fled Rome on a ship bound for Corsica. En route, an assassin threw him overboard and drowned him.
His flight was a mystery to all. There were strong rumours that hinted Cesare was talking to Gonzalo de Cordoba in secret. This could only mean he intended to join the side of Spain. Many believed Troche was on his way to inform Louis of this treachery. To that end, they said Cesare had him murdered.
“I shall have to go to Napoli,” he said to his father.
Alexander did not care for the treaty between his son and the French. “To Hell with Louis. We have enough concerns without joining in his conflict.”
“Louis is sure to have heard the rumours.”
“What? Of you and de Cordoba?”
“Yes.”
“It is merely an attempt by Florence to discredit you with the French.”
“That might be so, but it leaves me with no choice. I have to go.”
“I say you should wait.”
“If I do not go, he might march on Rome.”
“He would not dare.”
“I know he would. It is best that I go.”
“Why not wait awhile?”
“For what? The situation is far too delicate.”
“Let us see who gains the upper hand.”
“We cannot wait for that.”
“I have already sent letters to both.”
“You do this without informing me? What did you say in them?”
“I offered Louis our aid if he gave you Sicily. I promised the same to Spain in exchange for Siena, Pisa, and Bologna.”
“Neither would agree to those demands. Napoli is never worth that.”
“Then we should wait and offer terms to whoever wins through.”
“Then you best hope it is Spain. If we deny our aid to Louis, he shall come to Rome in the event he is victorious.”
Alexander sighed, knowing Cesare was right. If Louis marched on Rome, they stood to lose everything. This year alone, he had acquired the vast estates of Orsini and Colonna, amongst others, and did not want to lose them. “Very well. Then we side with Louis.”
Cesare nodded that it was the right decision. “Might you announce it?”
“Yes,” his father agreed. “I shall do it in the Consistory.”
“Very well, I should prepare my forces.”
“Let us take a small trip before you go.”
“I do not have the time.”
“The fever spreading through Rome is growing worse. It would be good for me to take my leave for a week.”
“Where do you intend to go?”
“I want to pay a visit to Adriano Corneto. Let us see if he might finance your venture to Napoli.”
“You know he shall not.”
“He can be persuaded.”
“If we were to poison him, perhaps.”
“It is what we do, my dear boy. Come with me. I do not want to go alone.”
Cesare sighed out loud. “Very well, I shall accompany you. And then to Napoli.”
“We can make good our trip, one way or another.”
“Yes, if Corneto does not help, we should confiscate his estates.”
Corneto greeted them more than a week later, though he did so with a degree of suspicion. The Borgias never did anything without a motive, and he wondered what brought them to his estate. It could not be for any good reason from his perspective.
Dracula arrived in Rome the same evening. He learned of the Borgias’ plans and went with Ilona to the villa. There, they waited in the vineyards to make their move.
They listened to the chatter from within the house. The men had not discussed any business as yet. Cesare remained cool, his only intention now to kill Corneto. The cardinal sensed that might be the case. With the reputation of the Borgias, he could not rule it out.
“What do you plan to do?” Ilona asked her husband.
“I may not have to do a thing. They might do my work for me.”
“Why not go in there and kill them all?”
“No, I have to be more subtle with this. We should wait.”
They fell silent when they saw Corneto emerge from the house. The fat figure of the pope stepped out close behind him.
“So you are joining the side of France?” Corneto asked him.
“Yes, I see you have heard.”
“Indeed, there are few secrets in Rome.”
“Are you looking to lend us financial aid?”
“So that is what brought you here?”
“Yes, it is always good to add to our number of friends.”
“Is that what we are, friends?”
“If you dip into your pockets, I would view you as such, yes.”
“You have never sought to be my friend before.”
Alexander grinned with his black teeth. “The need has never arisen till this day.”
Corneto sighed. “It ails me that it is the only reason you come here.”
“Do not be so sensitive, Adriano. It is a tough world in which we live. What chance is there for any of us if we do not have friends?”
“And that is the truth.”
“One must act as the situation warrants it. The war in Napoli can affect us all.”
“Napoli is a long way from Rome.”
Alexander raised his hand and touched the cardinal on the wrist. “I would not so readily agree. Rome is the prize for the entire world, and all want a piece of it. But it is we who have the power here.”
“And what is in this for me?”
“As a friend, I can give you a higher status in Rome. You could line your pockets all you want. Status gives you power, and power gives you wealth.”
Corneto thought about it. The offer had real appeal for him. He knew he would be a fool to ignore it. “You are alluding to the Roman Curia?”
“Yes, that is what I said.”
“And what would this new status cost from my purse?”
“You want a figure?” the pope said, rubbing his chin, though he did not delay with an answer. “Let us say twenty-five thousand ducats to begin. And then another twenty-five thousand to follow.”
“We should discuss it over dinner.”
While the two men talked, Cesare set to work inside the house. He watched the servants come in and out of the dining room. They knew him by reputation, and none wanted to be the object of his scrutiny. As he tried to catch their gaze, they all kept their heads low.
He picked up a flask of wine from the table. After holding it to his nose, he took a swig. He waited until he was alone again in the room. Then he took a vial from a pocket and poured the colourless liquid into it.
One of the male servants walked back into the room. He carried three plates, which he set down on the table. Cesare watched him with a careful eye. The man knew it, and kept his head low, just as the others had done.
“I would like to talk to you,” Cesare said to him.
The servant did not look up. “I have much to do, My Lord. My master might give me the whip should I delay.”
“Then make the time, lest you might feel the point of my sword.”
“I cannot, My Lord,” the servant said, nervous.
“I can make it worth your while.”
The servant stopped and looked around to see if anyone else was coming. “What do you mean?”
“Are you happy here?”
“Cardinal Corneto is a good man. He treats me well enough.”
“That is not what I asked. Are you happy here?”
“I could be worse off, My Lord. At least here the air is clean, unlike in Rome where the fever rages.”
“How would you like to have your own home? Out here in the country, where the air is always clean.”
“That is but a dream for one like me.”
“I can make that dream come true.”
“Forgive me, My Lord. But how could you? Why would you?”
“I can do it. Of course, I would expect something in return.”
“What would that be?”
A maid walked into the room, and the men fell silent. They watched her lay some fruit on the table. When she left, they resumed their conversation.
Cesare knew he already had the man in his pocket. “It is not much that I ask.”
“Then tell me, My Lord.”
“And for it I would give you a thousand ducats.”
That was a sum of money the man could not resist. It was more than he might see in his entire lifetime. “Then I beseech you to say what it is you want from me.”
Cesare stepped forward. “This flask,” he said. “I want you to ensure that only Cardinal Corneto drinks from it.”
The man looked at it. “It is poisoned?”
“Why not have a taste and find out?”
The man eyed the flask as though it contained the plague. “Do you have the payment on your person?”
Cesare touched a pocket on his coat. “I have it here.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Then may I see it, My Lord?”
Cesare produced a heavy pouch.
“That is a thousand ducats?”
Cesare nodded. “Fifty coins. Each is worth twenty ducats.”
The man did not know if that made a thousand. He wiped his mouth with a hand. “And it is mine?”
“If you do what I ask.”
“Very well,” he said. “I shall do it.”
He reached for the pouch, but Cesare pulled it away. “When it is done,” he advised. “Then you shall have your payment.”
The man took the flask from him. Cesare left him there and walked outside to breathe in the fresh air. It was so cool up here in the hills, unlike Rome, where he found the heat stifling at times. This was proving a welcome respite from that. He saw his father with Corneto as the men approached, on their way back inside.
“Ah, Cesare. You have come to sample a little of the cool night air?”
“Yes, Father,” he said. He turned to Corneto. “I can see why you like it here.”
“It is always a good change from Rome.”
“It makes me wonder why you would ever go back there.”
The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood Page 30