The Dracula Chronicles: For Whom The Bell Tolls

by Shane KP O'Neill

  Maia noticed him as he turned away and ran after him. She reached out and tugged at his elbow until he turned around to look at her. “Why are you leaving?” she asked; her tone soft to him for the first time in a long while.

  “It is a time for you to be with your son.”

  “He is our son. You should join in the celebrations.”

  “I would only intrude on your happiness,” he whispered back, a lump in his throat. “To see him safe and well is comfort enough for me.”

  “I want you to join us,” she said, taking his hand. “Please?”

  Tears filled his eyes when he met her gaze. The coldness seemed to be gone, for now at least. He missed her so much, and realised he should not pass up an opportunity to share a moment with her. She led him back to the party. That night they made love for the first time in almost two years.

  “Is this to last, Maia?” he asked, as they lay side by side. “Are you to be my wife again?”

  She was still out of breath when he spoke. It felt so good to make love to him again. She had never stopped loving him, even when her anger was at its strongest. The anger was still there. He had taken her boys against her desperate pleas, and they had not returned. Still, she could not remain angry with him forever. They were husband and wife and had been for a long time. The blame did not lie entirely at his feet. He loved his sons just as much as she; and she knew it.

  Closing her eyes, she ran her hand gently over his. “We can try,” she said, her voice still soft and tender. “There has been a lot of hurt between us.”

  “Yes,” he said. The sigh that followed was a long and deep one. “I know and I am sorry.”

  “It is not all your fault. I know you are doing the best you can.”

  “I never imagined ruling Wallachia would bring us such strife.”

  “It is what you wanted,” she reminded him. “We both wanted it for all the time we have known each other. It is your birthright.”

  “But is it worth the pain? I wanted it only for our sons.”

  “It shall bring them the same problems.”

  He sighed again. “I wanted a dominion to be theirs. So they do not have to be puppets for Hungary like I was in our days back before we came here.”

  “You have created a dominion for them. I know they shall thank you for it. With all its woes, being a prince is still better than begging for food on the streets.”

  “Perhaps it is better to be a beggar,” he mused. “I see little gain sometimes in having wealth and power.”

  “Wealth and position allows a man to marry a princess like me.”

  He smiled for the first time. It was true.

  “Stop worrying over it,” she said. “The Turks have promised to release all hostages. The boys shall be home soon. When the weather clears.”

  WALLACHIA. THE ROYAL PALACE OF VLAD DRACUL AT TIRGOVISTE.

  SEPTEMBER, 1444.

  The spring thaw came and passed. Murad still showed no sign of releasing Vlad or Radu. Maia grew tenser with each day. She had thought of him as a man who believed in the sanctity of treaties. It is what people said of him for as long as she had known his name. And yet, her boys had not returned home to her. She began to fear the worst—that something dreadful had happened to them. It would explain why they had not arrived home. And now more than ever she feared they might already be dead.

  Her worries transmitted in whispers to the citizens in the city. They had often seen the boys playing in the streets near to the palace. Everyone who knew them had grown fond of both boys. Life went on as normal in the city, but a dark cloud hung over it all the same.

  “I cannot bear another day of this,” she told her husband. “It is driving me to despair. I think I should lose my mind if I do not see my boys soon.”

  “Murad has always been good to his word,” Dracul said. “He likes treaties to be kept to the letter. I cannot see that he would renege on it. It is not his way.”

  “Well there is no sign of our boys!” she cried. “God only knows, they may not even be alive!”

  Dracul put his arms around her. “Maia, do not say such things.”

  “How can I not?” she said, sobbing, as she pressed her face against his chest.

  “I know they are well,” he promised. “They shall return soon.”

  She raised her head to look at him. “There has not even been a message sent from their court.”

  He looked into her reddened eyes, unable to hide the guilt he felt. “I know.”

  “I fear something is wrong,” she said, beginning to shake. “You have to do something, Vladislav.”

  He wanted to ease her fears, but felt helpless. “What can I do?”

  “Send an emissary there,” she implored him. “I need word that my boys are safe. My poor Radu must be so afraid.”

  Dracul did as she asked and dispatched an emissary to the sultan’s court. It took a full six weeks for him to return.

  “Well?” Maia urged the man when he stood before her and Dracul. “What is the situation with my sons?”

  The words stuck in his throat.

  At once Dracul knew he did not have good news. “Come on, man! Speak up!”

  “The Sultan says he shall not release them right away.”

  “Did he give a reason why?” Maia fumed. She could not accept the notion that her sons were to remain captive.

  The man looked embarrassed to be the bearer of such unwelcome news. “He said he does not feel the treaty of last winter would be honoured.”

  “My God!” Maia cried out loud. “Does he want our blood as well?”

  “The Sultan wishes to wait longer,” the man added. “He knows your son raised arms against him at Petretz.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “He said that even though the Voivode did not break the letter of the treaty by abstaining from the fight himself…”

  “Yes? Stop dithering man!”

  “He feels you still betrayed your word to him when you sent your son to fight in your place.”

  Dracul looked livid. “What am I meant to do?” he shouted out to no one in particular. “If I side with one, the other shall rise against me! I stay out of the way and still I am persecuted!”

  “You are not to blame, my husband,” Maia said. “The Sultan is a snake. I curse the day he was put on this earth.”

  The emissary stood there, red in the face. He clutched his left hand with the other in the hope they would not see him shaking. It never felt good to be the bearer of bad news. Least of all when the recipient of it could end his life with a nod.

  “Did you see my sons?” she asked. “Do you know if they are safe and well?”

  He perked up at the question. “Yes, my Lady,” he smiled. “I saw them both. They looked to be in good health. Your youngest says he misses you.”

  She warmed in an instant at his words. At last, she knew they were alive and well. The mention of Radu brought a smile to her face. “How is he looking?”

  “Oh, he looks more handsome than ever. And a little taller than I recall.”

  “What about Vlad?” Dracul asked. “How is he?”

  “He did not speak to me, my Lord,” he said, turning to Dracul. “He seemed a little withdrawn, but he looks well.”

  “Good,” Dracul said. “That is something, at least. You should go and get some rest. At the beginning of next week, I wish you to return with a letter. I shall dictate it later.”

  It was an order he had hoped would not come, but he bowed and left the room. The journey to the sultan’s court was a long one and fraught with danger.

  The letter he took to Murad implored the sultan to release the boys. Dracul affirmed that he remained loyal to him. He even offered to pay a higher tribute. Murad read the letter and tossed it aside. He did not give a reply.

  Maia grew more and more miserable as the months passed and fell ill for a time. She realised her sons may never be released and she might not see them again.

  Dracul grew more agitated
. He had kept his word, yet Murad continued to torture him. “How long must I endure this?” he said to Rodrigul one evening in late summer.

  “There is little that can be done, my Lord.”

  “I have upheld my obligations in the treaty he and I both signed.”

  “It seems Murad honours only the parts of these treaties that best suit him.”

  “It shows he has little regard for me. That much I know.”

  “He fears you, in my opinion.”

  Dracul raised his eyebrows. “I hardly think so, Alin. I pose little threat to him.”

  “I see no other reason why he would not free the boys. He fears you taking up arms against him.”

  “He is a snake, as Maia said. This is a real show of disregard for me.”

  “Murad treats us all with the same contempt, my Lord. You are not unique there.”

  “Perhaps I should give him something to think on.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I should build my army to epic proportions. Then he may fear me for real.”

  “It might also prompt an invasion. Have you considered that? For all that you do, he knows of it. And then there is the expense involved in building and maintaining such a large force. Even Hunyadi rarely keeps his numbers too high and few can match his wealth.”

  Dracul sighed and held up his hands. His friend was rarely wrong in such matters.

  “You should go ahead and build your army. It cannot hurt to flex your muscles a little. The treasury is not light.”

  Dracul grunted. “Yes, but one day I shall meet Murad again eye to eye. When that day comes, I shall drive my blade through his gut.”

  A messenger called to the capital in late September. The Draculs felt both nervous and excited when the guards admitted him to court. They believed him to be the bearer of the long overdue reply from Murad.

  Dracul’s mood soured when he saw him. The man did not have the look of a Moslem. Maia noticed this too, but kept her spirits up, in the hope of good news. Dracul took the scroll and broke the seal. His heart sank when he saw it belonged to John Hunyadi. He gave the man payment and sent him to the kitchens to eat. Hunyadi would want a reply and would not want to wait for it.

  Maia sensed his disappointment. “What is it?” she asked.

  “It is Hunyadi’s seal on the letter,” he replied, not wanting to look at it.

  “What on earth does he want?” she wondered. “Open the letter, at least.”

  Dracul could not bring himself to do it. He handed the scroll to Rodrigul. “You open it, Alin.”

  Rodrigul opened the scroll and took a minute to study its contents. When his face turned pale both Dracul and Maia knew it was more bad news.

  “What does he want?” she asked.

  “The King has broken the truce with the Turks,” he informed them. “They are taking up arms again and going to war.”

  Maia put her hand to her face in fear. She knew her sons stood no chance of returning home now.

  He went on. “You have been ordered as a Knight of the Order of the Dragon to take part in the conflict.”

  The news sparked a furious reaction from Dracul. “When one snake crawls back into its hole, so does a second rear its ugly head.”

  Maia too felt his anger. “Hunyadi knows you are in no position to meet his demands.”

  “Of course he knows this!” Dracul raged. “It is why he is forcing my hand.”

  “What shall you do?” Rodrigul asked.

  Dracul gritted his teeth and clenched both his fists. “I am going to meet with him man to man. I need to deal with this once and for all.”

  “It does say in the letter that he expects you to join him at Nicopolis. He wants you there within three days. Three days? Does he think we have sprouted wings?”

  “Then it is to Nicopolis we shall be riding,” Dracul said. “But I would rather be damned than take up my sword in support of him.”

  That same night Dracul sent the order to his cavalry to prepare to travel. The very next day they lined up in columns outside the city walls. His officers waited in the courtyard in the fortress for him to lead them out. He kissed Maia and after a lengthy hug from her he climbed into the saddle and turned his mount. The group rode out of the city with Dracul at the front and Mircea at his side. The four thousand three hundred cavalry left a thick trail of dust in their wake. They rode with their voivode on a trail south along the Dimbovita River.

  LADISLAS, King of Poland and Hungary, felt much hope after the campaign of the previous year. He believed he could drive the Turks out of Europe for good this time. It was a sentiment shared by both Cardinal Cesarini and the pope. The two of them were keen for another crusade. They knew the Turks were busy with revolts in the East. It could only improve their chances of success if they struck now.

  Murad had not upheld the terms of the treaty. He did not release a single hostage. The king used this to justify taking up arms again against him.

  The pope knew that several of the sovereigns needed on the crusade had sworn oaths to Murad. It was all they could do to protect their autonomy. Dracul was one of those forced to do this. To get them on his side, the pope absolved them of the oaths they had made. “Murad is an infidel,” he said. For that reason none of the men involved were bound to such an agreement.

  Cesarini had an even bolder plan than the one from the year before. It involved uniting with the mighty Venetian fleet. He employed the fleet with the task of preventing the Turks from crossing the Bosporus from Asia Minor into Europe.

  The crusaders planned to advance along the Danube to Varna. They held much of the territory on either side of the great river from the last crusade. Now that the Turks had moved the bulk of its force home, they did not expect to encounter too much of a fight. And Varna would be a huge prize for the coalition. It made them wonder why the Turks had not protected it so well, in spite of the treaty.

  If they took Varna, this would deny Turkish fleets further use of the port. The repercussions of this were far reaching. It would also deny them access to the Danube, along which they held many fortress towns. They would no longer be able to defend these towns from attack. The Turks’ trade routes would be lost in the region, and their forts would fall. In time, they would lose control of all their interests in Bulgaria and Serbia. Hungary would grow stronger and have a great platform with which to attack Anatolia.

  IT was the second night of the ride to Nicopolis. Dracul set up camp on the shores of the lake that surrounded the chapel at Snagov. He left his men and, with Mircea, decided to take a small boat to the island. There, he and his son would be welcomed and given a warm bed.

  He sat quietly in the boat. Lost in thought, he looked long into the dark waters of the lake. In another month, the cold would freeze it over.

  “Nothing good can come of this, you know.”

  Dracul turned sharply to see the oarsman staring straight at him. “You spoke?”

  “I said nothing good can come of this.”

  “What is it you are speaking of?”

  “This crusade against the Turks. I imagine you are on your way to join with it.”

  “And what would you know of it?”

  “I know enough,” the oarsman said. “I have already seen the outcome. I see fields and lakes red with blood.”

  Mircea stifled a laugh, which the oarsman ignored. He rowed with his usual steady rhythm and continued to look his voivode in the eye.

  “Really?” Dracul said, in mock disbelief.

  “You look at me as though I am mad.”

  “Are you, then?”

  “No, my Lord. I am quite sane,” the oarsman assured him. “But you are free to judge me as you will.”

  “How can you hope I would ever believe such talk? No one knows the future.”

  “I am only telling you what I have seen,” he said. “I speak only out of concern for the welfare of you and your heir.”

  Dracul took some time to study the man. Whoever he was, he ce
rtainly was no fool. “Then tell me, what have you seen?”

  “I see a massacre, and many dead on both sides. It is the Sultan’s banner that is raised, blowing hard on the wind.”

  Dracul pulled his cape tight around him when a biting gust from the lake passed over the small boat. “How can you know any of this? There has not yet been a conflict. There may not even be one at all.”

  “It shall happen, my Lord,” he vowed. “On the hills outside Varna I have seen rivers of blood. Your side shall know defeat. Do the wise thing and return home.”

  The prophecy unnerved Dracul. “And you have seen this, hand on your heart?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice calm and his gaze unwavering. “I have seen every blow of the sword, and heard every cry from the dead and dying. If you love your son as much as I sense you do, then turn back.”

  Mircea no longer smirked behind his hand at the man. He, too, began to heed the words of the soothsayer. The remainder of the ride passed in silence.

  The man did not want payment once they had reached the small island in the centre of the lake. “Take care, Voivode,” he said, before setting out again across the water. “I pray you do what is best.”

  “What shall you do, Papa?” Mircea asked, as they began the ascent up the steep path towards the monastery.

  “There is nothing I can do,” Dracul said. “I cannot hide away from this.”

  They turned to look back and saw that the oarsman and his boat had both vanished. Dracul and his son exchanged puzzled looks.

  “It is a matter of honour,” Dracul said, turning again to the path. “We ride to Nicopolis at first light.”

  BULGARIA. THE CAMP OF THE CHRISTIAN COALITION OUTSIDE NICOPOLIS.

  SEPTEMBER, 1444.

  The heavy sound of galloping alerted the camp. Two of Hunyadi’s men left his tent to see who had come.

  The White Knight looked up when one of them came back inside. “Is it Dracul?”

  “I am not sure, my Lord. It is a large force, many thousands of riders.”