by Dan Davis
We had heard that young Mehmed II asked his father to reclaim the throne but Murad II refused. Our agents had reported that Mehmed wrote to his father thusly. “If you are the Sultan, come and lead your armies. If I am the Sultan I hereby order you to come and lead my armies.”
It sounded to me like the sort of thing William would say but whatever the cause of it, Murad had returned for Varna and for every battle since.
“We shall pray that the boy Sultan remains incompetent,” Stephen said.
“Was it incompetent to command his father to return?” Eva said. “Or was it in fact the only thing that saved their damned empire from destruction?”
“It was William,” I said, “Whispering in the boy’s ear. I have no doubts. But the old man is dead and now we have this young fellow. What is he now, nineteen years old? In command of a vast empire. No, William will have this lad wrapped around his finger, mark my words. We may wish for incompetence but we must plan for further conquest.”
“Have you thought any more about making us our own immortal army, Richard?” Rob asked. “To counter the Janissaries in red?”
“I think of little else,” I said. “But the questions remain, Rob. Who can we trust enough? Can I make a hundred Hungarian immortals and trust them to keep the secret? If I make a hundred, let alone five hundred, how will we find blood enough for them? Already, there are endless rumours about us here and the drinking of blood. William had Murad to shelter him and now he has Mehmed. Who do we have? You think Hunyadi would comprehend it? He is already walking a knife edge and if we brought him into it, his lords would overthrow him and then we would have chaos. And if there is chaos, William will walk right up to the gates of Buda.”
A knock at our door proved to be one of Hunyadi’s messengers. “My lord wishes to speak with you, sir. At your earliest convenience.”
That meant immediately. My servants prepared my finest clothes and I made my way through the city to the royal palace, whereupon I was brought at once into Hunyadi’s private audience chamber.
“Vladislaus II has not proved himself to be the ruler that I hoped he would be,” Hunyadi said, inviting me to sit with him by a window overlooking the Danube below.
“You mean he is not obeying your commands,” I said. “And you were the one who placed him on the throne of Wallachia.”
“I do not issue him commands,” he snapped. “But I have just had word that Vladislaus has sent a delegation of boyars to congratulate the new Sultan.”
I shrugged. “Wallachians are duplicitous. None can be trusted.”
Hunyadi eyed me, weighing up his next words. “And yet some can be trusted more than others. And it seems that Vladislaus can be trusted to throw in with the Turks, just as Vlad Dracul had done. We need a loyal man on the throne, or at least one who hates the Turks more than he fears them.”
“You need a man who hates the Turks more than he does Hungary,” I said, which did not please the Regent. “Are there any such men in Wallachia?”
“Perhaps there are not,” he admitted. “Not amongst the boyars in Wallachia at this moment. But perhaps there is one who feels this way who is not in Wallachia?”
“Very well,” I said. “Who is this man?”
Hunyadi looked out of the window before speaking. “We have had word that the Turks recently released a Wallachian who was their hostage for many years. He is the eldest of the two surviving sons of the former voivode, Vlad Dracul. The son’s name is also Vlad. He is coming here.”
I nodded. “The son of the man I killed is coming to Buda?” As I spoke, Hunyadi smiled. “And you wish me gone before he comes, is that it?”
“It would not be for long. You see, I have a task for you. We must begin to move against Vladislaus by taking at least two of the fortresses on the border of Transylvania and Wallachia so that we control the passes and not him. And while you are away, taking possession of these places for Hungary, I will speak to this young Vlad and I will see how he feels about things. And, yes, it might be best if the man who cut off his father’s head was not present when he arrives. It may have an undesired effect on the young fellow.”
“I am pleased to hear that he is coming,” I said. “When I do meet him, I will be able to fulfil a duty that I swore to uphold.”
“A duty? Swore to whom?”
“Before he died, Vlad Dracul asked that I look after his sons. He gave his sword, and a dragon amulet, into my care, and requested that I pass them to his eldest, this Vlad. I wondered if I would ever get the opportunity.”
“Truly? Well, that is well. Perhaps the bridges can be mended, in time. Nevertheless, the Transylvanian fortresses must still be taken. There will be no fighting, but the garrisons must be replaced, you see.”
***
The fortresses in the duchies of Fogaras and Amlas were willing to give up without a fight but honour demanded they go through the motions of demanding the legal proofs and the commanders stated they had to receive confirmation from the lords before vacating the defences.
Although I took my company and four hundred other mercenaries in Hunyadi’s pay and Hungarian soldiers, there was a lot of talking and even more waiting. I did my best to be courteous to all and remembered that it was supposed to take a long time. I was supposed to be keeping out of the way while Vlad, son of Vlad, made himself at home in Buda.
“Perhaps we can raid into Wallachia a little,” I suggested to Eva. “Keep the men busy.”
“Because you are bored,” she replied.
“It would make Vladislaus look weak,” I said. “And his people would demand his removal. Which is what Hunyadi wants.”
“He does not want lawlessness on his borders, and he does not want the Wallachians subject to raids by Hungarian soldiers. Or soldiers loyal to Hungary.”
“We would disguise ourselves,” I said, warming to the idea. “Perhaps we could find some Turkish armour?”
“You should train against Walt and Rob. Take out some of your excessive vigour.”
I scoffed. “They are no challenge. They have only three hands between them.”
“We will not raid Wallachia, Richard. You would not be so rash. Once, perhaps, but not now.”
“Have I changed so much?”
She smiled. “There will be war enough even for you, soon. Have patience.”
After a few weeks on the Transylvania-Wallachia border, my business was concluded. The towns and fortresses had written letters to the voivode, begging for forgiveness for accepting the protection of the Hungarian crown. My Hungarian soldiers and most of the mercenaries I left as garrisons in the towns. They would not be enough to resist the Wallachians should the voivode decide to take them back by force and instead the garrison soldiers were there to keep an eye on the towns. And no one believed Voivode Vladislaus would go so far as taking the towns back by force.
When I returned to Buda, the young Vlad had been welcomed into Hunyadi’s service and had sworn allegiance to Ladislaus V, the King of Hungary. Even so, I felt it best to keep my distance, literally. Until I was once again summoned by Hunyadi to the palace.
I knew what to expect. At least, I thought I did.
The summons was to his private quarters and I expected that the conversation would again be a quiet one with just him and his chamberlain and other servants.
Instead, when I was escorted in, there were dozens of men and lords present, surrounding Hunyadi. He was somewhat hidden behind those lords, engaged in serious conversation while wine was served and men drank in small groups, and I waited until his business was completed.
Some men nodded in greeting but I was not well liked by most lords, great and small, and most ignored me. I was an outsider and also I made no effort to play the game of politics by building friendships and alliances, which was unusual and so made the men who would be my peers mistrust me even more. Some looked down on me as a mere mercenary knight and others wondered if I had some secret motivation to have remained at the Hungarian court for so long.
It was fine by me. Their opinions on warfare were idiotic, and I often listened to impassioned arguments for one tactic over another where both men were woefully wrong. Even those infuriating discussions were preferable to the fools discussing the minutiae of this piece of armour over that, or a new weapon they had obtained. Worse still was the ravings over items of clothing that they were having made, or even the absurd shoes they were wearing. Other than that, it was complaints about their sons, fathers, wives, daughters, their servants, or their vassals. It was incredibly tiresome.
“Who is that man there?” an outraged voice cried out in Hungarian.
The room fell silent and I looked up. Across the chamber, Hunyadi was on his feet and beside him a short, young lord stood glaring at me with his hand outstretched and his finger pointing at me.
Nobles on either side of me cleared their throats and stepped backwards, creating a space around me.
Hunyadi looked anxious but restrained, watching me carefully.
The top of the young man’s head came up to Hunyadi’s nose but he was otherwise powerfully built and had a strong face, with a long, sharp nose and the beginnings of a fine moustache beneath it. His clothes were of rich cloth, in red, with sable edges.
“I am the mercenary captain known as Richard of England,” I said and bowed. “And who are you, my lord?”
I knew who he was.
“I am Vlad Dracula, son of Vlad Dracul, the former Voivode of Wallachia.” He stalked forward, approaching slowly with a face fixed in an unreadable expression. “I have heard of you,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “You are the man who did slay my father in the marshes.”
Lords and knights shuffled further away from me.
“I am,” I said, looking him in the eye. “And I did.”
He stopped just an arm’s span from me, looking up through heavily lidded eyes and thick black eyebrows. “In that case,” he said, speaking slowly. “I must thank you, sir. My beloved father was for too long a friend to the Turk. And so it is right and proper that he was removed from power and a loyal Christian put in his place.”
Around me, I heard many a breath being released.
Still, it seemed rather convenient to be swiftly and publicly forgiven.
I bowed my head a little. “I am glad you feel that way, my lord.”
“However, Sir Richard the mercenary captain, we do have a problem, do we not?”
“We do, my lord?”
“Why yes. Certainly, we do. For there is now one on the throne of Wallachia who has also forgotten his duty to God. He also must be replaced by a man who knows where his true loyalties lie.”
I glanced at Hunyadi, who stood motionless across the room. He met my eye but I could not read his expression. “I hope that such a replacement of the Voivode of Wallachia can be swiftly brought about, my lord.”
“Will you help me?” Vlad asked, suddenly. He cleared his throat and spoke more slowly. “That is, if you would agree, I would much value your assistance in claiming the throne that is mine by right.”
Over his shoulder, Hunyadi made the smallest nod of his head. “My only desire is to kill Turks,” I said, watching closely for his reaction. “My only goal is to drive them from Europe, once and for all.”
“Your only desire?” Vlad raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Truly?”
In fact, my only desire is to kill William and the Turks are in my way, I thought.
“Yes, my lord,” I said.
He smiled beneath his moustache. “I am pleased to hear it. And since that is my only desire, also, then you should help me.”
“I should?” I said.
The young Vlad frowned, his eyebrows lancing down over his dark eyes. “You would be paid, of course. You and your men. You are a mercenary company after all, are you not? And you are currently unemployed.”
“It seems to me, my lord, that you have much work to do before you begin slaughtering Turks. Not least of which is taking the throne that you say is yours by right. When you have armies to throw against our enemies, I will gladly fight beside you. Assuming, of course, that my lord Janos Hunyadi, who currently pays to retain my company for his service, grants us leave to take up employment by the new voivode.”
Vlad scowled and turned to look at Hunyadi, who appeared annoyed.
“The Turks have a new Sultan, Richard,” Hunyadi snapped. “And they will be on the march once more. Our new ally, Vlad Dracula, has accepted responsibility for guarding the Transylvanian border against Turkish incursion. If Vladislaus has indeed thrown his lot in with the Turks, they will march straight through the Wallachian plains and seek to cross the passes. Vlad Dracula, therefore, shall indeed soon be engaged in your favourite pastime. And because, as you say, I pay you well in order to retain your service, I will ask that you join him in his new responsibility.”
Vlad Dracula turned back to me, his dark eyes full of expectation.
It seemed quite possible that he intended to get me alone, away from the court, and out in the wilds so that he could take revenge for his father’s murder. There was no chance at all that he meant what he said about being glad I had killed the older Vlad. No matter how one feels about one’s father, no man alive could break bread with his killer, much less serve beside him in battle.
On the other hand, he seemed willing to throw himself into the fight. Perhaps his long years amongst the Turks had created in him a desire to destroy them, or at least resist them, as it had done for Skanderbeg in Albania.
There was still a good chance that the young man was in fact a Turkish agent, biding his time until he betrayed Christendom and opened the gates to the swarming hordes beyond. He would not be the first Christian hostage to convert to his captors’ religion and throw his lot in with them. If that was his plan, to kill me, and to betray his Christian brothers, then the best place to stop him would be at his side.
No doubt Hunyadi was playing his own games. Indeed, although he paid to retain my service, I was not sworn to him and could refuse a task. Breaking our contract would not go down well with my men, who would feel their reputation was at risk of being tainted and who always made more money on campaign than sitting idly.
By arranging for me to be confronted by Vlad publicly, Hunyadi was hoping to pressure me into accepting the task, even if I had doubts about my safety and the young lord’s chances of success.
But I thought I could protect myself against an inexperienced young knight. And if he failed, then I would not have lost much. More important was keeping Hunyadi on my side.
I bowed. “I will guard the border with you, my lord.”
And I will guard my back from you, I thought.
“Do you consider yourself an equal to me?” Vlad asked, watching me like a hawk.
Just in time, I stopped myself from bursting out into laughter.
Instead, I bowed. “You are a great lord, who will one day soon be Prince of Wallachia. I am a mere knight, albeit one of great renown and personal ability, with a small but loyal company of veteran soldiers.”
A Hungarian lord growled from across the room. “He is a mercenary dog who will do as he is commanded, if the whip hand is firm enough.”
I smiled. “And you are a fat old man who cannot hold his wine. Would you care to do combat with me, fat old man? You may choose the weapons, as I am your superior in them all.”
His face turned purple and he threw his goblet down with a crash upon the floor. “How dare you! I demand an apology!”
“You may try to take it, if you dare,” I said, holding out my hands.
“Enough!” Hunyadi roared. “Radol, I forbid you to fight my mercenary.”
“Listen to your lord, Radol,” I said. “Or you won’t live to regret it.”
Hunyadi turned on me. “Richard, you will go with Vlad Dracula or you will leave Hungary forever!”
Sighing, I imagined Eva mocking my inability to hold my temper.
I bowed to him and then to Vlad. “To Transylvania it is, then.”
Vlad Dracula watched me with a strange look in his eye. I could not be certain but it seemed as though it was a look of delight.
***
On the journey to the mountainous southern border of Transylvania, I was sure to keep myself and my company far from Dracula’s. His new personal forces, some gifted by Hunyadi, others by loyal Wallachian boyars, and a number of Moldavians, outnumbered mine many times over.
Before we left Buda, I had explained to the men of my company that we were heading into danger and that the threat might come from our host, Vlad Dracula.
“But the main threat is to you,” a grizzled Frenchman named Claudin said. The leading men in my company had assembled in my tent and it was crowded and unpleasant inside and I wished for it to be done as swiftly as possible.
“Well, thank you for your concern, Claudin,” I said. “My heart is touched by your compassion.”
Some of the men laughed but he continued. “Without you, my lord, we would have a company no more. But I merely ask whether Vlad Dracula means to kill you and you alone.”
“I do not know if he means me harm at all, Claudin, but it is a distinct possibility, would you not say?”
He shrugged and pursed his lips, for he was both deficient in wit and a Frenchman.
“Might he not kill us all?” Garcia asked. He was a young man, forced to leave his homeland in his extreme youth due to some indiscretion or other, but he was a sharp one. “If Vlad Dracula, son of Vlad Dracul, wishes you dead and kills you, might he not wish for there to be no witnesses to his crime? After all, Hunyadi would not wish to see you murdered. It would be a crime to blacken his name. Cause him trouble, no? But if the entire Company of Saint George is killed to a man, he might well swear that it was the Turks that did the deed.”