by Dan Davis
I slid from my horse and strode forward through the freezing water, which was almost up to my knees, and the ground beneath sucked at my feet. The three of them had stopped on the edge of a dry patch of land and so they were above me as I came forward, right at them, lifting my feet high as I advanced.
At the last moment, I rushed to the right, spraying icy water everywhere and stabbed up into the groin of the man there, sliding my sword point deep into his thigh as he swung his axe at my head. I continued on, caught his hand and took the haft of his weapon as I slid my blade out.
Vlad Dracul roared like a bull and thrust his sword at my neck. I batted it aside and pushed him as hard as I could, throwing him away from me. The last man caught me on the shoulder with his mace but I swatted him down and finished him on the ground.
The voivode got to his knees and launched himself at me, attempting to grapple and pull me down. I swung the axe at his arm, crushing the bone and half-severing his right hand. He cursed me and drew a dagger with his left, still trying to kill me.
I twisted it from his grasp and held him on his knees before me, pulling his helm from his head to ensure I had the right man.
“You,” he snarled, speaking French. “Hunyadi’s English dog.”
“My Lord Prince. You fought with spirit. I will tell Christendom that you died well.”
“Ah,” he said, suddenly, looking up at the sky. There were tears in his eyes. “My sons. Forgive me.”
“You should know that the men of Târgoviște burned Mircea alive after you abandoned him.”
He snarled and tried to stand but I held him. “All I have done, I did for my sons. That monster has them, my youngest two. Vlad and Radu. He has corrupted them, by now, I fear but I had to try.”
I paused. “What monster? Murad?”
Vlad scoffed, looking at the emerging stars once more.
“You mean Zaganos Pasha?”
He snapped his eyes back to mine. “You know of this monster.” It was not a question.
“I shall kill him,” I said. “Know that, as you die, the man who has your sons will one day die by my hand.”
“But then we share an enemy,” Vlad said, quickly. “I did as I was bid by the Turk in order to save my sons. Free my sons and I shall be free to fight the Turk once more.”
“You have been a slave to the Turks too often to ever be trusted,” I said, shaking my head. “You will not live.”
His face clouded again. “Then protect my sons from the monster, sir. With my last breath, I ask it humbly, from one Christian to another.” I hesitated and he continued. “With my death, Murad will seek to place Vlad on my throne. Or Radu, if Vlad is too obstinate. Help them to fight the Turks.”
“If the Turks free them, they will be Turkish slaves already in their hearts and they will die, also.”
Vlad smiled. “Not my sons. Not the sons of Dracul.”
“Any man who fights the Turks will be my ally. That is all I promise.”
“Grant me a single favour, then, from one knight to another. Give my sword to my son. My oldest living son, Vlad. And this.” Reaching up to his neck with his one remaining hand, he pulled up a circular metal insignia on a thin silver chain. He held it out to me. “My sword and this. Vlad is to wear it always.”
“If I can,” I said, taking it from him.
He sighed. “God strike you down if you break your word. I am ready. Make the blow clean.”
“You are strong, my lord, and you have killed many men in war. Your blood is strong and I shall take your strength into myself. Know, as you die, that I shall use your strength to kill the Turks and drive them from your lands.”
He frowned in confusion as I lifted him up, slit his throat and drank the hot blood gushing from his neck. He fought me, with all the will left in him, but his will soon leeched from his body and I drank until my belly was full and his heart slowed into nothing. I dropped him at my feet.
Filled with the power of his blood, I arched my back and let out a roar at the moon.
I turned to find the old Wallachian named Serban a few paces behind me, shaking in what I took to be shock, fear or simple awe. I thought I was going to have to chase him down and kill him before he spoke to his fellows about what he had seen.
Instead, he dropped to his knees in the freezing water. The moon shone down on his wrinkled face.
“My lord, I see that you are vampir,” he said, shaking. “I would serve you.”
I walked forward, filled with a blood rage, and considered taking him also. But I had had my fill.
“You may serve me. Your first act will be to remove the head of Vlad Dracul. I shall bring it to Janos Hunyadi. And then we shall go to war.”
3. The Battle of Kosovo
1448
Hunyadi was so flushed with the quick success against Vlad Dracul, that he let it go to his head, somewhat. He announced that he was now the ruler of Wallachia.
It did not go down well with the Wallachian boyars who had risen up to depose one lord only to find a far more powerful one was now above them. And Hunyadi’s own lords and friends urged him to reconsider, on account of him having more than enough to occupy his attention as Regent of Hungary.
“Can’t help it, can they,” Walt observed one night in Târgoviște, when the arguments were still raging. “Never enough for these great lords. Give them a regency and they want a crown. Give them a kingdom and they want another, and then one more.”
“Perhaps he should take them all,” Stephen said. “Is that not what our great problem is, sirs?” We looked at him, waiting for him to go on. He always did. “The Sultans, for a hundred years, have sought only conquest. They take us, piece by piece, year after year. No matter if they lose a battle, they keep coming. The sons and grandsons of Turks who were thrown back now live on those lands.”
“Does he think he’s telling us what we do not know?” Walt asked Rob in a stage-whisper.
“But why?” Stephen said, turning on Walt and Rob. “Why do they come on and on while we fight amongst ourselves?”
“William is there, whispering in their ears,” I said. “He was probably there beside the first Mehmed, and perhaps even with Beyazid or earlier, with the first Murad. Seventy or eighty years, perhaps.”
“You do not know that,” Eva said.
Stephen replied. “But it makes sense, does it not? All that time, they have been pushing into Christendom, taking over or else forcing the Wallachians and Serbians and Moldavians into vassalage. Consistency, across generations.”
Eva pursed her lips. “Yes, perhaps. What is your point?”
“It was only possible with a strong leader, who could dictate policy at will. Or close to it. The Sultans have accumulated personal power through all that time until Murad and his son Mehmed can expect to rule almost as tyrants. How can our scattered Christian kingdoms possibly stand in opposition to that?”
I nodded slowly. “So, you would have Hunyadi seek to hold the crown of Wallachia.”
Stephen crossed his arms. “And Hungary, and Transylvania.”
“And then Serbia,” Eva said. “And Moldavia.”
“You are in this together, I see.”
“We are of one mind about this, yes,” Eva said, holding up her hand with her fingers spread, before closing her hand tightly. “Only a strong king can hope to unite these kingdoms into one fist.” She punched her other hand.
“And who better than Hunyadi?” Stephen said. “He has healthy sons who could rule after him.”
“And when better than now?” Eva asked.
I snorted. “Have you two prepared your words before time?”
“Are we wrong?” Eva asked.
“Of course not. But what can we do about it?”
“He trusts you,” Stephen said. “You gave him Vlad Dracul’s head.”
I scoffed. “He does not trust me, Stephen, I assure you.”
Eva leaned forward. “He likes you, Richard. That is plain.”
“He respects what I can do on t
he battlefield but he fears me. He knows we are different. And his men absolutely do not like me, nor do they trust me. Vlad Dracul’s head or not. Whatever position I take, if I take one, they will argue against it purely for that reason.” They sighed and I continued. “Listen, both of you. You have bent your attention to the southeast for so long that you have forgotten what lies north and west. The kingdoms of Poland, the Holy Roman Emperor, the bloody Pope, and who knows who else. If Hunyadi attempts to make himself king of so many kingdoms, he will have war on Hungary’s northern border as the Habsburgs and all the rest strive to bring him down. And how will that help us resist the Turk?”
Walt snorted. “Without Hungary, all is lost. And that’s the truth, no mistake.”
Stephen wheeled away and kicked a bedpost. “Why are our people so bloody-minded? Why can no lord follow another?”
Rob answered. “Every free Christian man is the king of his own household, Stephen. Every wife is a queen and their children are princes and princesses.” He shrugged. “From Scotland to Italy, and Castile to bloody Wallachia, it’s the nature of our people. It just is. I ain’t learned much in all my years but I learned that. We do not good slaves make.”
“He’s right,” Walt said, his arms crossed and nodding decisively. “It makes us strong.”
Stephen pinched his nose. “No, it makes us divided. And divided, we are weak.”
“Our greatest strength and our greatest weakness, then,” Eva said. “Be that as it may, Richard, I would have us be patient. Clearly, William has laid his plans for decades, perhaps a century or more. These mountains are not easily conquered, nor are these mountain kingdoms easily overthrown, especially by armies of horsemen. You must be patient. If not Hunyadi, then perhaps someone else. Perhaps his son, or the son of another. Or a man not yet born. But we have time.”
“You speak as though I am one to rush in without thinking the matter over.” After I spoke, Walt burst out laughing and Rob covered his mouth and turned away. “What amuses you, men?” I said, which only caused them to laugh harder. “I shall be patient,” I said, “if you damned fools cease your bloody mirth-making.”
“We must discuss also the new man you have taken into your service,” Eva said.
“What is there to discuss?”
“He saw you drinking blood. And then offered himself to you.”
“Yes.”
“Does that not disturb you?”
I looked around at each of them. “Should it?”
Walt shrugged. “The old boy must have been shitting himself. He thought he would be next. And he swore to save his own life.”
“So what if he did?” I asked.
“If he swore only in the moment to save his neck,” Rob said, “then how can he be trusted to hold his tongue about what he saw?”
“He knew what I was. He called me vampir. It was a word that Hunyadi used before to describe stories of blood drinking demons. It is a Serbian word. In his own country, the word is strigoi. And now this man Serban saw me and calls me vampir. Am I wrong in thinking William has his own immortals in these lands?”
“It seems likely,” Stephen said. “And if they are here, then we must be careful. We must watch our backs. Any of Hunyadi’s men could be one of William’s.”
“Or Hunyadi himself,” Walt said.
“Do not be absurd,” I said.
“Right, yeah,” Walt said, covering his eyes with a hand. “Probably not.”
“We must watch for enemies in our midst,” I said. “But why wait for them? We must seek them out and destroy them first, if we can.”
“How do we do that?” Rob asked.
“I will speak to Serban and find out what he knows. He has rooms in the city, I believe.”
“Why not summon him here?” Stephen said. “It will be safer.”
“He’s above that tavern off the square,” Walt said. “The one with the good German beer.”
“We will go to him,” I said. “I will take only Walt, so that we do not overwhelm him.”
Walt rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Lovely. I’m right parched, I am.”
Serban came down from his quarters above the tavern’s ale room and the innkeeper directed us to a table and bench in a quiet alcove, bringing beer, wine, bread, cheese, herb sausages, and pork in jelly.
“I would have come to you, my lord,” Serban said as he sat opposite us, staring at the food.
“Eat, please. You must eat and drink. We cannot finish all of this by ourselves.” Walt glared at me but I ignored him as Serban grabbed a piece of bread. I poured him a mug of beer and handed it over before doing the same for myself. “Serban, you swore to be my man.”
“I did,” he said, not meeting my eye.
“Tell me about yourself.”
He looked up. “My lord?”
“You were a soldier in your youth. You said you once had land but no longer. I like to know all of my men and I would have you tell me about the things you have done so that I will know how to best use you.”
Serban bobbed his head slowly. “Yes, my lord. I was born in the west, near to the Iron Gates.”
“The great gorge that the Danube flows through,” I explained to Walt. “Near Serbia.”
“That is just so,” Serban said. “My father had good land. We grew almonds and figs. But there was not enough land for me. I was the youngest. So I go and fight.”
“Where did you campaign?”
“Many, many lands. Bulgaria, Albania. And across the sea to Italy.”
“Is that so? We fought there, also. On occasion. Where did you fight?”
“Oh, for this lord against that. A duke against another duke. Milan against Venice. Venice against Genoa. When I return home, a new lord ruled over my father’s land and had given my family land to another. My parents had died. My brothers and sisters fled, or died. I was lost. But there is always work in Wallachia for a man who fights. I come here. That is all.”
Walt and I exchanged a look and Walt shrugged.
“When you offered me your service,” I said, lowering my voice. “You called me something. You knew what I was.”
Serban held my gaze. “Yes.”
“How did you know?”
He stuffed a large slice of sausage into his mouth and took his time chewing it, looking around the room, in every corner, rather than look directly at us. Walt’s eyes twinkled with amusement but I was impatient.
“You have heard tales of these things?” I prompted.
Slowly, he nodded, pointing to his ear. “I hear things.”
“Have you ever met one before?”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin before answering. “All people know these stories.”
“All people of Wallachia?”
“And other places. These hills have long hosted vampir and strigoi.”
“So they are two different things?”
He shrugged, as if he did not care to answer. The man seemed nervous but was trying not to show it. “Different, yes. One is more powerful. The vampir. But both…” he lowered his voice. “Drink the blood of man.”
“Tell me more.”
“More?”
“Where are they found? Where do they live, Serban?”
“Why do you want me to speak of such things?” he said. “Do you not know these things yourself? You are one of them. You must know. No?”
“Humour me,” I said.
He frowned.
Walt cuffed his lips and spoke with his mouth full. “He means tell him what you know anyway.”
Serban nodded. “I know very little. Stories all mothers tell their sons and daughters. Do not go out at night, or the strigoi will catch you. They will drink your blood. If you are lucky.”
“What if you are unlucky?” Walt asked.
With a small smile on his lips, Serban continued. “The strigoi take the little children back to their master, the vampir. And there you will be eaten. Or some other evil thing. It was not clear.”
&nb
sp; “So it is just tales to frighten children?” I said. “What do you know of real men who are strigoi?”
“Forgive me, my lord, but are you afraid of them?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I simply wish to make their acquaintance. Perhaps we might become friends.”
“I do not know of any,” he said. “But there are old folk in the villages. They may know more.”
“Older than you?” Walt said, grinning.
Serban stared back. “Perhaps I can find one who knows more. They would need paying.”
I nodded to Walt who stared at me for a moment in contempt at my gullibility but he pulled a few silver coins from his purse and, scowling, pushed them across the table to Serban.
“And not a word of this to anyone,” I said before he took them. “One word from you to another lord and I will cut off your head and drink you myself, do you understand?”
“Yes, lord.”
***
He may not have been able to make himself into an emperor, even if he wished to do so, but Hunyadi’s dominance of the political and martial landscape was far from finished.
After pushing for support from the Pope, he organised a new crusade to be launched against the Turks, this time to save Serbia.
Serbia had capitulated to the Turks just a few years earlier, under their leader George Branković. The Turks had occupied his lands and, caught between two great powers, ultimately, Branković had simply been more afraid of the barbarous Turks than the Hungarians and so he had promised the usual great sums and the devshirme, the Blood Tax. What is more, Branković held a number of territories within the borders of southern Hungary and these he passed over to Sultan Murad II as part of his capitulation. Of course, this was never completed in practice, because physical possession is a fact that legal documents cannot themselves overcome and so Hunyadi had simply seized these lands for Hungary, considering them forfeited by the Serbian capitulation.
And Branković had even refused passage of the crusader armies through Serbia before the battle at Varna. Now, in 1448, Hunyadi demanded that Serbia join the new crusade. Not only did Branković refuse but he denied passage of the Hungarian army through Serbia.