The Immortal Knight Chronicles Box Set 2

by Dan Davis

  Our war wagons were hit, smashing them and sending shards of oak and limbs of hand-gunners spinning across our positions. Wallachian cavalry were blasted apart.

  The shock of it alone almost broke our poor army. Even I had never heard a cacophony like it. A hundred and twenty massive cannons firing at once seemed enough to shatter the very world, splitting first the air and then the ground beneath our feet. It did not shatter the Wallachians but we knew we could not stand against such a bombardment and so Vlad ordered a retreat.

  Without those Turkish cannon on the far shore, I do not doubt we could have sent the massive army back over the river by the end of the day.

  As it was, we were defeated. And the Sultan’s army was in Wallachia.

  ***

  “There he is,” Rob whispered. “Do you see him?”

  “Yes, yes,” Serban said at my side. “He is there. No, there, my lord.”

  Peering through the trees from a high ridge, I saw the banner and the man riding at the centre of the party. “By God, he looks just like him.”

  “Rather more handsome than Vlad,” Eva said, squinting beside me.

  “You cannot possibly tell at this distance,” I said, glancing at her.

  “Certainly I can,” Eva replied. “He is a most striking young prince.”

  Vlad Dracula’s younger brother, Radu, had joined the Sultan’s army. Indeed, it was common knowledge that the Sultan intended to place Radu on the throne as Voivode of Wallachia once Vlad had been defeated. What is more, he had four thousand of his own horsemen with him. Radu was completely and totally under the spell of Mehmed and William.

  “Do you reckon he’s an immortal?” Walt whispered.

  “Why don’t you go ask him?” Rob said.

  “What did Vlad say about it?” Eva asked. “Was his handsome brother turned?”

  “Quiet, all of you. He is here, that is all that matters. With him here, it is worth the risk.”

  The Turks had moved slowly north from the river. We knew they were coming for Târgoviște. They were so focused on destroying Vlad’s capital that they ignored the fortress at Bucharest and the fortified monastery of Snagov. Mehmed did not want to waste time and men on taking places that ultimately mattered little in his conquest. If Vlad could be removed and Radu put in his place, all the smaller places should either give up or could be conquered without consequence.

  We knew we had little hope of winning a set-piece battle on the open field.

  Instead, we started a type of war that I had fought before, in France and other places. Along the line of advance and for miles around, all grain stores were burned, as were the crops in the field. Every source of water was poisoned, and the livestock and peasantry were driven into the north where they would be safe.

  As the Turks advanced up the valleys and through the dense forests, we harried them everywhere they went. Every scouting party, every group sent out for forage, we pounced on them and killed them.

  Our purpose was to kill as many as possible, of course, but even more it was to break their spirit. To make it so that every man was afraid in his heart to face us.

  We also damned small rivers and diverted their waters to create swathes of waterlogged marshland to slow down the progress of the army, especially of their supply wagons and most of all the dreaded but enormously heavy cannons.

  Our peasants may not have been professional soldiers but they excelled at digging the earth. And so we had them dig man traps everywhere. Steep, deep pits with wickedly spiked stakes at the bottom which the peasants delighted in smearing with bog water and human and animal shit. These traps were covered with thin sticks and leaves to disguise them.

  It was a scorching summer. By denying the Turks access to water, they suffered deeply from thirst and heat exhaustion as they advanced. The sheer size of their army worked against them and they spent thousands of men relaying water for miles and even then it was never enough. Without enough fresh water to drink, they certainly did not have enough to wash with, and they grew filthy and, rather quickly, disease spread. The camp sickness began killing almost as many as we did.

  So their days were spent in misery as they crept forward in agonising thirst, afraid of each step and fearful of leaving the core of their army lest they be murdered most horribly.

  And we made sure they suffered every night.

  When they came to a stop for their nightly camp, they were exhausted and thirsty and short of food and then they had to dig their trenches and throw up their earthworks around their tents. And we made certain that they had to do it, for any man not within the safety of those defences we took and murdered and left for their comrades to find in the morning, often headless or skinless or somehow mutilated.

  My sluji could see in the dark better than any mortal and they delighted in creeping up on sentries and drinking their blood while their screams echoed through the hills and forests. When the Turks took up their march again, they would pass scores of their friends, skinned, or headless, and impaled upon tall stakes. At first, the Turkish soldiers, outraged, immediately cut down every man we left for them but we knew we were breaking their spirit when they began leaving them until the slaves at the rear were ordered to do it. Thousands of men saw what conquering Wallachia would cost them.

  The Turks we captured had begun referring to Vlad Dracula as Kaziglu Bey, which meant the Lord Impaler. It was a name we embraced. The Lord Impaler is coming to drive a stake through every man in your army, we would say to captured men, and then we would send them back to their men with the message on their lips but with their hands cut off or their eyes put out.

  And yet we could not stop their advance. They were too many. Slow and shaken as they were, their sheer numbers combined with the relentlessness of the will driving them, they were inexorable.

  “We must break their spirit,” Vlad had urged us, on many occasions. “They must be made to see that even if they achieve victory it will be at the cost of their entire army. We are not their only enemies. The tribesmen in the east threaten them, and they have no friends among the Arabs. The Mamluks of Egypt would gladly see the Turks destroyed. We must break their spirit and they will retreat.”

  The bravest of his friends on occasion risked asking for reassurance. “What makes you so certain, my lord?”

  “I know these men. I know Mehmed. I know Zaganos Pasha. They are men who carefully calculate the cost of their actions.”

  It was true, of William at least, I could attest to that. He was a man well versed in cutting his losses in order to save his skin.

  But it was not working. Not entirely. Not enough.

  The Turks pushed us back into the mountains not far from Târgoviște. If they turned from us to besiege the city then we could fall upon their rear and work away at them. But with their cannons and their sheer numbers they could break into Târgoviște and take it before our methods of warfare could drive them off.

  More desperate measures would be required.

  Peering down on Radu from that high ridge, I knew it was time.

  “Are you certain we can do it?” Rob asked, scratching at his stump.

  “Too risky,” Serban muttered. “To risk all when we need not do it, it is too much.”

  “Târgoviște will fall if we do not,” Stephen said.

  “So what?” Serban said. “It is a city.”

  “A city full of people,” Rob said. “Families.”

  “It is the heart of the kingdom,” Stephen said. “When it falls, the kingdom falls. Where will we stop William then?”

  Serban shrugged. “We would live. You would live, my lords. To survive is all.”

  “Enough talk,” I said. “Now that Radu is here, that makes every leader together in one place. It is worth the risk.”

  “I doubt that Prince Vlad will see it that way,” Stephen replied.

  “Then I must convince him. Come, we must retreat before we are seen.”

  We crept backwards through the trees until we were behind the
ridge and we rode north for the heart of the camp. Our army was spread over three valleys and each had at least one pass leading north into Transylvania. If the Turks attacked any or even all of the valleys we could retreat all the way out of Wallachia if we needed to. However, we also had prepared defensive positions all the way up those valleys so we could mount an effective fighting retreat with every step. If the Turks did attack us they would pay dearly for it.

  Few of us believed Mehmed would be so foolish. All he had to do now was hold Vlad’s army at bay, take Târgoviște and install Radu as the new voivode. Gradually, loyal boyars could be found to support him publicly and they would then be granted the lands held by the boyars in Vlad’s army. The Turks would garrison every town so strongly that we could not take them and then we would be starved of supplies until our army withered into nothing.

  “We should attack,” I said to Vlad, pushing into the cool shade of his tent.

  Vlad was sipping on a cup of blood while his armourer measured and fitted a new or repaired gauntlet on his other hand. I could smell the blood, though it was mixed with wine, and I am certain the armourer would have smelled it, also. There were rumours of Dracula’s regular blood drinking circulating amongst the army and the populous but it disturbed me to see him doing so openly.

  “Attack? They still outnumber us three to one,” Vlad replied, waving his cup in the Turk’s direction. “Each one of his soldiers is more capable than most of mine. We could not kill enough to win. Instead, we must drag them further into the hills.”

  “We do not need to kill many men to win. Only three.”

  Vlad grunted. He looked tired. “You mean Mehmed and William and…”

  “And Radu. Your brother is here. I have seen him this morning, with the four thousand horsemen Mehmed has gifted him.”

  Vlad ground his teeth. “I thought they would keep him safe in the lowlands. If he is here then we need not kill all three. Killing Radu alone would put an end to Mehmed’s great plans for Wallachia.”

  “It would not. Mehmed would find any one of a hundred other puppets to place on the throne. He could pluck one of the Danesti at will and they would gladly accept. If Radu alone is killed, it does not save Wallachia.”

  Vlad fixed his dark eyes on mine. “You would say anything if it meant getting what you wanted. And all you want is to kill William. You do not even care about killing Mehmed.”

  I kept my voice level. “That is not true. I have fought him and his father before him, fought the Turks, fought for Christendom as a crusader, for almost twenty years.”

  “You have. But only because William was by their side. If William dies, you will leave here and abandon us to our fate.” He glared at me. I could see white all the way around his irises.

  I shrugged, as if it was a matter of small importance. “If William dies then I have other business to attend to. Once that is completed, I would fight the Turks once more.”

  “I do not believe you. You are just like all the other Catholics. Only interested in each other. You will only care when the Turks are at the gates of Rome. Even then, no doubt, you would prefer to fight each other than to do your duty to God.”

  He glared at me and my anger flared up in response to his words. I had done more than any man and to be questioned and doubted by one so young was deeply offensive. I could have happily struck him a blow.

  But I forced my blood to cool.

  “Perhaps you are right,” I said, surprising myself almost as much as him. “But the fact remains that you are about to lose your kingdom, Vlad. Nothing can stop Mehmed from taking Târgoviște.”

  He sneered, curling his lip. “If they reach the gates of my city, I will make sure what they find will shatter their hearts in their chests.”

  “You will. But supposing they can bring forward their cannons and knock down the walls. Will that not give them cheer enough to carry them through?”

  He waved away his armourer who retreated as quickly as he could. “You would have me gamble the existence of my people on a single throw of the dice.”

  “If you do not throw the dice then your kingdom is lost. Your people will be slaves forever.”

  Vlad walked to the open front of his tent and looked out at his army. “It might cost half of them their lives.”

  “It might.”

  “Even if I kill Mehmed then William will see another Sultan put into his place. Another puppet. And William will come again.”

  “That is why we must kill William above all.”

  “Above Radu? Above Mehmed?”

  “Do you doubt that he is the most dangerous of them all? With William dead, with his Blood Janissaries wiped out, then our enemies are only mortal.”

  “Very well, then.” Vlad turned to me. “How could it be done?”

  13. Night Attack at Târgoviște

  1462

  We tortured Turkish soldiers and officers that we had taken in previous raids and questioned them about the precise location and disposition of the enemy soldiers within their camps. We had so many that it took some time but we combined the reports until we had a consistent picture of where Mehmed’s tents were, and those of Zaganos Pasha and also Radu Dracula.

  For all their heart and for all the deaths and mayhem that they had caused, we knew that the peasant infantry would not be capable of attacking in the manner we needed. Their officers were for the most part excellent but the peasants did not have the discipline needed. Not only that, they did not have the armour and weaponry required.

  Instead, we took every single remaining mounted soldier we could gather together. They had to be mounted. We needed to penetrate deep within the camp at multiple points, kill our targets and retreat before the remaining soldiers surrounded us and killed us.

  For a time, it seemed we would have only seven thousand men. Even after all their losses, to us and to plague and thirst, the enemy still had seventy or eighty thousand soldiers in the field. Some of the captured officers swore that they had received reinforcements bringing their numbers back to a hundred thousand but I was careful to silence those men and discount their testimony.

  “What’s the difference?” Walt asked, shrugging, as I cut a Turk’s throat for claiming such a figure. “Seventy thousand is already impossible. Might as well be seventy millions.”

  “Quiet, Walter, or your throat will be the next one cut.”

  “When a man threatens violence it means he has lost the argument.”

  “Shut up, Walt.”

  At the last moment, our numbers were boosted to almost ten thousand cavalry when two more great companies returned from their ranging. They were tired and their horses would be in a bad way but they would be coming with us that very night. We needed every man we could get.

  Such an assault could only have a chance of success if it was carried out in the dark of the night. By day, we would be seen and the enemy would be prepared. By night, we had a chance. Slim, yes, but a chance.

  Our attack took place on the night of 17th June 1462.

  “This could be it,” I said to my companions as darkness descended. The air was still warm from the day and the pines released their sickly-sweet smell into the sky. “This could be the night that we kill William and fulfil our mission. Or… this could be the end of our Order. Let us not pretend that this is anything other than a huge risk. We are outnumbered and we are riding deep into the heart of the enemy. While I pray for victory, I also fear that not all of us will escape with our lives. But we have toiled here for years for the chance to get this close to William. He is as well defended as any man on earth and so surprise is our only chance for ending him.”

  “We understand, sir,” Walt said. “Death or glory, ain’t it. Same as usual.”

  “Well, let us pray for glory and for victory,” I said. “You know what to do. Keep a tight rein on your companies and keep in sight or sound of the next captain, if not me. Any questions?”

  They went to speak to their detachments and to take a last draugh
t of blood before the fighting.

  “Serban,” I called. “Where are you, you little bastard?”

  “Here, sir,” he replied, hurrying over.

  “Listen, Serban. We are going into hell. Even the strigoi will struggle to make it out alive. I want you to wait here.”

  He frowned, wrinkles creasing like canyons. “I have not slowed you down yet. Not once, my lord. And I never will.”

  “That is true enough,” I admitted. “Still, I want you to stay at the camp until we come back.”

  He bowed. “I will prepare the servants for your return. And if you die in the battle, I must say it has been an honour to serve you.”

  “I could still make you a strigoi before I go? There should be time enough.”

  “Very kind, my lord, but I would rather stay as I am.”

  “Fine, well, you get going now. It is soon to get dangerous around here.”

  Our army would attack in two flanks. My sluji would accompany Vlad in the main attack while a boyar named Lord Gale was tasked with assaulting the Turks from the opposite direction. Our horses and their riders swirled in the darkness, a great mass of flesh and steel moving out of the trees, our lance points raised to the stars. I had seen countless battles and ridden in more raids than I could remember and yet my heart hammered in my chest as we swept down from the hills. William was out there in the dark. So close, I could almost smell him over the reek of the sap.

  Ahead of my men, each forward detachment took a handful of Turkish officers with them to allow us to get close to their outer sentries before killing them. The prisoners were then killed, despite our promises to free them for cooperating.

  “Close now,” I muttered. “Be ready to charge.”

  Word spread through our lines.

  Be ready.

  Once we reached the trench lines around the camp, our foremost men roared and their trumpeters sounded.

  Our cavalry charged in. Cries went up into the night sky and the hooves pounded on the hard, dry earth. We streamed into the camp, rushing by the outermost Turks and leaving them for the men who would follow us.