Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  "Everyone, except the regent-governor's court, leave now," the regent shouted, understanding a threatening situation, and immediately heard the shuffling of frantic feet to flee the scene.

  Richard, glancing at Matthias and William, became nervous for their safety. Even if it was only one man, clearly restrained, she didn't like the idea of danger around her younger siblings. Ladislaus was already on his feet, and stood protectively next to his father.

  "My Lord, we have encountered an enemy lurking about," the lead guard bowed, though swiftly to keep an eye on the detained. The other guards followed, but Pip only managed to bow his head to keep his balance.

  "And what is this?" their leader asked, still sitting on his throne. A harsh, monarchical voice accompanied the words.

  "This is-" Pip began to say.

  "Lord Vincentislaus III Ramos, son of Lord Vincent II Dracul," the hunched over and restrained man stated, his voice deep and ominous. Matted hair covered much of his face, and his hunched over body did not help to reveal what he looked like either.

  The regent's eyes widened and his frown deepened. "What business do you have here? I thought you had died back in Wallachia when I conquered and chased you out."

  The man hesitated, which gave Richard more time to examine the new intruder. He was a man of tall stature, like Ladislaus, but he had raven black hair shoulder length, dark hazel eyes, oddly pale skin, and sunken cheeks, denoting malnourishment. His clothing was tattered to a sliced cotton shirt that was once presumably white, a tainted, deep red cape with gold tassels and a rope that draped over his collar bone, a belt and sword that hung loosely around bony hips, and ill-fitted black pants already experiencing the signs of mud-encrusted fabric. He looked absolutely filthy, and absolutely vengeful. The only thing that stopped Richard from making her presence noticed were his concentrating, dark, mysterious, and cold eyes. They seemed to chill her where she stood, though she stood her ground, unflinching at the sight.

  "Well? Are you going to answer me or shall I throw you in the dungeon?" the regent grew impatient. Richard saw a slight nod from Ladislaus.

  "My business, as like any other man in this fight, is to slay the Ottomans," the man muttered, continuing to struggle against an armed Pip.

  Ladislaus burst into laughter, clutching his stomach and wheezing for breath. The action caused his father to jump slightly in his seat, though he quickly covered it up by coughing his annoyance. Ladislaus ceased the action and managed to control it with a chuckle.

  "Father, you can't believe this man," he began, "He is one of the Ottomans. This could be their best trick yet, letting in one of their own and murdering you once he gains your trust."

  "Are you finished, son?" the regent turned his head slowly and shot him a warning look.

  "…Yes," Ladislaus seethed and closed his jaw tightly.

  The governor then turned back around to his prisoner. "I don't think I'll be murdered right now; the situation is just two men talking. Now, Lord Vincentislaus III, son of Lord Vincent II, what could possibly make me believe that you are on our side?"

  Ladislaus smiled, realizing that his father had agreed with him from the beginning. Richard watched quietly, as did William and Matthias.

  "Indeed. What could possibly make me want to fight for Christianity? Set aside the fact that my father sold my brother and I to the Ottomans as insurance that he would not lose power. Set aside the fact that I attempted to escape Edirne thirty times, was imprisoned and often whipped and beaten because of verbal abuse towards my trainers and stubborn behavior. Set aside that I was born in Transylvania and was not born a Turk," Vincent stated, letting an edge carry his voice, "The one thing I should want you to remember from this explanation is that I was initiated into something I think you've heard of over the years."

  "And what, good prisoner, would that be?" the Lord sighed, already thinking of executing Vincent.

  "Societas Draconistrarum," Vincent murmured so low Richard could barely hear.

  The regent's head snapped up from his arm rest and he immediately stood. His eyes narrowed almost to slits. "You are part of the Order of the Dragon?"

  Vincent grinned, "Only since I was initiated at five years of age."

  There was a pause where Richard then glanced over at Lord Rodriguez. The advisor seemed utterly perturbed that his conversation had been truncated to oblivion. With his moment lost and now forgotten, there was no hope in later cornering the Lord into his thoughts. There had to be a way to expel the Ottomans from threatening Hungary, and the more that Vincent's conversation lengthened, the more he couldn't see its reasoning. There had to be another way than allying with this cretin.

  "What's the Order of the Dragon?"

  Richard jumped slightly but looked down at Matthias. "The Order of the Dragon was a monarchical chivalric order for selected nobility, created in Hungary. It was founded in 1408 by Sigismund, King of Hungary. The Order required its initiates to defend the Cross and fight the enemies of Christianity, in particular the Ottoman Turks," Richard's eyes widened. This man had pledged to fight Christendom, and yet he had been detained as a prisoner in his own enemy's home. What horrors had he burdened? What unspeakable sins had he witnessed?

  Vincent seemed to notice hushed whispers and glanced at the far right of the room. Richard ceased talking when their eyes met. The depths of his eyes upon her almost sent chills down her spine. But then, Richard's jaw tightened and her frown deepened to disdain. She wasn't about to let this prisoner sway her emotions. He recognized this expression, all too well, and grinned in response. Richard scoffed at the malign grin…no, leer.

  Pip jerked the prisoner forward, reminding Vincent of where he was. A low grumble escaped Vincent's lips as he murmured something inaudible. His dark eyes focused back on the Lord who was now rubbing the stubble of his beard. Vincent, sensing he needed more encouragement, began to speak once more.

  "It has been my only desire since I was eleven to crush the Ottomans the first chance I had. I will take whatever position you place me in, gladly. I will wield my sword for Christianity's right to exist, I will order my men to stand behind me and follow. I will even sacrifice my own life, willingly, by your hand than rule a land under Ottoman law. But, what will kill is your intent," Vincent stated in a low voice, as if trying to seduce the regent-governor with Vincent's dedication and experience.

  "Your Lordship," Lord Rodriguez spoke up, "If I may…"

  The man sighed, but nodded.

  "This man was still in Ottoman territory, learning their languages and logic, learning their reasoning and deceptive life. He was taught the Qur'an!" Rodriguez practically shouted, but then motioned the cross upon himself, whispering his apology. A bible was already clutched in between his arm and torso like a lifejacket in a maelstrom.

  "My Lord, if I may," Vincent started the same way as Rodriguez. The Lord nodded. "If you use me not as a soldier in the fight to keep Christianity alive and breathing, then at least use me for tactical advantage precisely in the way that your advisor has specified."

  "What do you mean?" the regent began his descent down the stairs of his throne. Ladislaus nervously looked at him, but any objection the son had was silenced quickly with a raise of the Lord's hand.

  Vincent straightened in his lowered posture, revealing that he was taller than even Ladislaus. A grin threatened Vincent's face, but the prisoner was able to control it. "I mean use me for my vast knowledge of the mindset and inner workings of the Ottoman Empire as well as my hatred of the new sultan Mehmet II. I could be a tool in your plan to finally defeat the Ottomans that threaten your borders."

  Rodriguez and Ladislaus both inhaled to speak when the regent held up two hands with a warning look.

  "I believe…I've heard your piece. And it was well prepared," their leader then turned to Pip and the remaining four guards, still stationed loyally at the sides, "Now send him off to the dungeons, will you? We are done here."

  Vincent's legs shot out from underneath him at thos
e words. He fought and struggled to break free, growling and grunting, thrashing and ripping his arms out of Pip's. The other four guards rushed the floor and took a hold of Vincent, pinning his body to the cold stone floor. Vincent suppressed a roar of anger from erupting within his chest as he struggled once more and then gave up, letting the crushing weight of the guards deflate his lungs. One guard broke an ax off of the wall and headed toward him. The offense of struggling against a ruler's orders was death, and certainly within the Lord's presence, especially if one was once an enemy and now claims to be an ally. How he willed himself to die right then and there. But it wasn't death he found in those last moments; it wasn't an ax coming down on his neck. It was a voice of a young woman that penetrated and stalled Death from taking him; an angelic voice.

  "Father, stop this for one moment," Richard demanded more than pled, "You cannot kill this man."

  The regent turned to her with a stern look, clearly magnifying her gross act of misconduct in intervening. "And why can I not, for the sake of continuing this little farce?"

  She glanced at Ladislaus's furious expression and at Lord Rodriguez's aloof expression. She then turned her gaze down to rest on a broken man with a broken spirit. He looked so pitiful to her, so mangled and mutilated from the years of his torture. She could see it on him, in scars, and in him through his eyes. They had the look of betrayal set in them, engraved in them; and he would have his vengeance.

  "All this man has seen is his life wasted, his talent and knowledge wasted, his ideals crushed underneath him, and his family used by the very people they sought to annihilate. Your father's best friend created the Order of the Dragon, my Lord. And to this day, it looks as though Vincent has kept true and loyal to Christianity."

  "Yes, it looks that way," the advisor muttered.

  "Lord Rodriguez, you said so yourself earlier that men for our army are hard to come by. There are fewer and fewer ready for battle, and we cannot waste any more bodies since more men are dying than are being replaced. You said this," Richard reminded him.

  Rodriguez frowned, disturbed that she had both been listening and was using his words against him, "Yes, I did say that."

  "Then would you call it reasonable to reconsider the sentence? " she turned to her father, "Would you call it reasonable to use this," Richard glanced at Vincent's tattered and beaten body, "this gift…as a means to conquer the Ottomans once and for all? They would never see this strategy coming. I'm sure they never realized how strongly built the King of Hungary made the Order of the Dragon, and how imprinted its initiates are, such as Sir Vincent here."

  The regent sighed once more and brought his hand to his chin, in deep thought. Ladislaus, William, Matthias, Rodriguez, Pip, and Richard waited with baited breath for the verdict. Richard had done all she could to save this fallen soul, though she feared it didn't suffice. Then, to her hope and to Vincent's, a brighter expression lit the Lord's face as he turned to Vincent and dropped his hand.

  "Take him to the dungeons," he repeated, and saw Vincent's eyes close as they began to accept defeat, "But…do not kill him. I will think on this predicament for tonight," the regent turned away and listened to a new argument Lord Rodriguez began to whisper.

  Richard felt her mouth curl into a smile at those words. She had defeated, Ladislaus, Lord Rodriguez, and her father. Mentally patting herself on the back, she noticed Vincent look at her quizzically with a grin plastered to his face. His smile seemed to hide within it all of his maliciousness and mischievous intentions. Part of Richard wished to know, and part of her loathed to understand what it was that clicked in that deviant mind of his. Had she even done the right thing in saving this man?

  Pip grunted as he hoisted Vincent up to his feet and then started to drag him out of the room. The guard gave one confused and angered glance Richard's way but abruptly turned to hold Vincent upright. The guards, without any objection the whole time, closed the heavy doors behind them and exited. Suddenly, the room felt empty, lifeless, as if Vincent's presence had sucked the life out of the energy of the room and its inhabitants. Richard stared at the door for one more moment, and then began herding her younger siblings back to the castle stairs and to their rooms, ignoring Ladislaus's looks of disapproval. She knew she would hear his words, whether or not she wished for them. However, eventually, he would have to realize that she was a growing young woman with a capability to crush opponents in battles not of the flesh, but of words, debate, and rhetoric.

  Richard and William both woke up the next morning groggily. Each rubbed their eyes and stumbled out of their separate beds half-awake, their hair a tangled mess of curls. Fortunately, Walter was already at the door with a tray of breakfast waiting. Richard did the honors of opening the door to her servant, and upon the action, he could almost not stifle a laugh at their appearance.

  "Is that really necessary?" Richard frowned, in no mood to joke at what she looked like.

  "No, my Lady," Walter cleared his throat, and a serious face returned all too quickly. He walked in and set the tray of food down on one of the many tables peppered throughout the vast room. The girls returned to their beds with the trays in their hands and plopped down onto fluffed pillows.

  "Walter, how was last night?" Richard began to eat her morning vegetables.

  He sat down in one of the chairs next to Richard's bed and cocked his head slightly to one side. "Well, considering the fact that I worked the whole day in the kitchen, helped prepare almost every single meal that ended up on the center table, and then watched the party crash with still a sweet desert awaiting…I'd say that Karma finally caught up with me."

  William giggled and chewed on another piece of bread, "What about the clean up? Richard made us leave early," she shot her older sister an angry glance.

  "I had to. It was already way past evening and we had to head off for our bed chambers. It was bad enough that you had to watch-" Richard stopped herself, but not fast enough.

  Walter raised his chin up and smiled, "I see. So then, these questions would have no doubt led to the prisoner…"

  Richard made a face, "Undoubtedly. How could I have rest knowing that someone in this Kingdom from the Order was beheaded by our own father, practically son of the Order's creator? I had to defend his right to live."

  "Of course," Walter continued to smile politely, though something in it made Richard frown.

  "And what of Pip?" William interrupted, "Does no one care for a man who was following the law loyally? Are we all going to simply care for the prisoners who convert to Christianity?"

  Walter let his eyebrows raise considerably at her sharp tone. "Beg pardon?"

  "William," Richard stood up to brush her hair out, "Our prisoner never had to convert to Christianity; he was already a Christian. The man was never an Ottoman. He's a part of the Order of the Dragon, but clearly you don't understand what that fully means."

  "Then would you mind clearing it up?" she asked, finishing off her bread.

  "Their mission is to destroy the Ottomans, down to the very last man. And I doubt, since they took him away from his family, that he would consider going back," Richard stated, but with little conviction. Even hearing herself defend the roguish man didn't seem to hold much weight on its own. No, she needed proof.

  Walter cleared his throat, "If I may…"

  "You may always speak, Walter," Richard hid a smile.

  "Though Sir Vincent might seem trustworthy and devoted to the Order, I believe there is something you should know for further reference."

  Both girls stopped their actions and turned fully around to see their servant. His tone suggested that what was about to come could be a tidal wave of knowledge.

  "Sir Vincent's father…" Walter stopped and reconsidered his opening words, "In 1442, an army in league with Hungary drove out Sir Vincent III's father, Lord Vincent II, from Wallachia. The only reason why Lord Vincent II gained Ottoman support was because of this raid, and because of Lord Vincent II's hatred of Lord John Hunyadi, your
father. The Ottomans entrusted Lord Vincent II of their support to him, but they also forced Lord Vincent II to give to their Sultan his sons, Sir Vincent III and Sir Radu, as insurance that he would stay loyal to the Ottomans."

  "So that is the full story," William gasped, making her way to Richard's bed.

  Richard took in a deep breath and scooted over to give her sister room, "So then, to Sir Vincent, our prisoner, Hungary is the reason why he was taken hostage. Hungary is the reason for all of his family's pain and suffering. Hungary is the reason why he is who he is now."

  "Precisely," Walter nodded, "That is why I wish for you two to stay as far away from him as possible. Do not let him know of your presence, do you understand?"

  Richard's heart skipped a beat as she glanced at William. She shook her head violently as her younger sister cleared her throat to speak: it was too late.

  "Walter, I think that will be a little difficult now since Richard is the reason why Sir Vincent is alive," William paused, realizing that she had betrayed her sister.

  "William—" Richard started.

  "What?" he whispered, his darkening eyes on her within an instant.

  "I…I may have convinced my father to reconsider Sir Vincent's death sentence…" the elder sister stared at the ground.

  "Richard," Walter's voice was so deep it resembled a growl, "Do you know who that man is?"

  "Do you?" Richard asked, lifting up her head.

  Walter swallowed, his jaw tightening. "Yes."

  "Care to be more specific?" her voice mirrored sarcastic curiosity. She didn't appreciate her servant's tone with her nor did she enjoy the fact that he seemed about to verbally attack her judgment.