by Dan Davis
The men muttered and looked around at each other in the tent.
“Indeed, Garcia,” I said, “that is the case. So you must each of you be on your guard at all times. We shall ride and camp as if we are in enemy territory. Any Wallachian or Transylvanian that comes near us, day or night, must be stopped and questioned and if he is on proper business then he must be watched and well guarded in every moment.”
“What about Serban?” someone called and others chuckled.
“All Wallachians other than Serban,” I said. “He is sworn to me. None of you will treat him as the enemy. Do you all understand what we are riding into? And do you all agree to follow me in such circumstances?”
Thanks to God, and the men’s love of money, they all came with me into Transylvania.
We rode away from our supposed allies in the day and camped with an established perimeter that we closely guarded. Each night, my close companions and I took turns to sleep, lest Vlad Dracula or his men attempted an outright attack or an assassination.
And each night passed without incident.
“Biding his time,” Walt said confidently one morning, after we had been in Transylvania for two weeks.
Rob agreed, as his squire strapped his vambrace on his handless arm. “Luring you in by being patient and waiting until you let your guard down.”
“Ah, well,” I said, tapping my nose. “Little does he know that I never let my guard down.”
Eva scoffed. “Every night, the whole of Transylvania can hear you snoring.”
My companions found this highly amusing. “I snore so that you, my friends, will each be wide awake enough to guard me in my slumber.”
One by one, Vlad Dracula toured the fortresses of the border that fell under his command, and each commander swore loyalty and agreed plans of action should the Turks attack. A few men he removed and replaced but the tour was largely without incident. Eventually, we took quarters outside a fortress in the east called Crăciune.
I had kept my distance from Vlad for weeks and what had started out as sensible precaution had begun to look like rudeness and, ultimately, outright fear. I did not like to skulk about and to always be where our leader was not. It made me appear unimportant and disinterested, as well as fearful.
“Perhaps I should join our young commander in the fortress,” I said to Eva, who lay beside me in our low, narrow bed inside my tent. “He seems committed to taking his throne and waging war against the Turks after all. If that is true then it is likely he would be a friend to me.”
“That would be taking an unnecessary risk.”
“If he was going to do us harm, he would have done it already. It stands to reason.”
“A man may use reason to convince himself of anything,” she said. “Many pathways of reason appear sound all the way to the conclusion and then men choose the one they like the best.”
“I am not prone to such failures in reasoning,” I said.
“All men do this,” she said. “And all women, too. You cannot out-think a problem to a certain conclusion. It is not possible.”
“But one may weigh up decisions. Come to a reasoned decision based on this outcome or that having more or less likelihood of success.”
“Precisely. For instance, you cannot reason whether Vlad Dracula will be a friend or an enemy to the Turks. Or to you. Perhaps he will be an enemy to the Turks and an enemy to you also. What you wish to be true is that he seeks to destroy his former captives with every ounce of will he possess, and so you look for reasons that this is true. You speak to me of the hatred that must have grown in his heart at being held prisoner by hostile and strange people. And you look for evidence of this in his actions since being freed, or in the words he uses, or the tone he takes, or expression his moustache makes when he speaks of the Turk. But it is all wasted effort, do you not see? Either of your suppositions could be true, or neither.”
“Out of all of the women I have ever known, you have the most elaborate way of telling me to shut up and go to sleep.”
She tutted. “I am telling you to be patient. Be prepared for any eventuality. Even better, be prepared for every eventuality and you can never be surprised.”
I pinched her suddenly on the flank and pushed her gently onto her back, shifting myself over her. “You did not expect that, did you?”
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “With you, Richard, I never expect anything else.”
“You expect me to always take your advice,” I said.
“Because it is always good advice,” she said.
“Perhaps. But how would I ever know if I did not on occasion disregard it?”
She frowned as I slid off of her and climbed from my bed, calling for my valet.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up.
“I will not live like a whipped dog, cringing at the sound of his master’s boots. I am going to speak to Vlad.”
“At this hour? He will be abed.”
“Or drunk.”
“Aye, or drunk, which would be far worse.”
I grinned at her as my valet entered and pretended not to be staring at Eva’s breasts.
“I am going to call on the future Prince of Wallachia so prepare my fine clothes,” I commanded and he bowed and crossed the tent to do just that.
“Richard,” Eva said, climbing from the bed. “Why would he grant you an audience at this time of night? Why not wait until morning?”
“I have something in my possession that he will want,” I said. “He will see me.”
Eva scowled and snapped at my valet. “Leave the clothes be, I will see to them. Go and rouse Sir Robert and Black Walter. They are to attend Sir Richard at once. Go, now.”
“Thank you, Eva,” I said.
“Wear the green jacket with the loose sleeves so you may hide a blade inside each arm,” she said, crouching naked by my clothes chest and searching through it.
I bowed. “Whatever you say, my dear.”
We crossed the field into the fortress by the light of lamps alone. The sky was low and rain threatened, with a cold wind bringing damp air down from the east.
“You sure about this, Richard?” Walt asked, scratching his chin.
“It does seem contrary to your previous advice,” Rob said, carrying the long wooden case that I had entrusted to him.
“All will be well,” I said. “Just, for God’s sake, be on your guard.”
It was a small fortress and the hall was likewise diminutive. When I was escorted in and instructed to wait, the remains of the meal eaten earlier were being cleared away and the trestle tables taken apart. We stood in front of the high end of the hall where the permanent chairs of the lord sat empty. A couple of soldiers sat slumped in the corners, heads lolling onto their chests.
Behind me, Walt scoffed. “Wallachia’s finest sons, there.”
“Useless bastards,” Rob said, before yawning. “Though I wish I was in a drunken stupor.”
Walt snorted. “Remember that time in Prague when that little Bavarian lad challenged you to—”
“Will you two old maids cease your prattling?” I snapped. “Someone comes.”
Footsteps approached from the rooms beyond the hall and Vlad Dracula entered, followed by a dozen of his companions. All were armed.
He did not acknowledge me until he had taken his seat in the largest chair upon the dais. It was not raised high but still it was a demonstration that we were not equals. Far from it.
“Sir Richard,” Vlad said. “What is the danger?”
“My lord?”
“I asked you what is the danger, sir.” He gestured with his palm up. “I assume there is some danger imminent and that is why you had to see me immediately. I was just about to get into bed, such as it is.”
“There is no danger, my lord.”
“Oh? Then what is the meaning of this urgency? After all, you have kept yourself and your company so far from me and from any service that I had concluded that you were workshy. It seems
that your reputation as a fierce soldier was no more than lies. You have taken your pay and done nothing of note other than to camp in this field or that with your men. What has changed, sir, that you felt so compelled to insist I see you in this very moment?”
“We are a fighting company, my lord, that much is true. Thanks to Christ, though, that there has been no fighting these past weeks, for us or for you. Clearly, your powers of diplomacy are significant and worthy of praise and you have done so much to secure the lands of Christendom against the Turk. Indeed, I was so impressed by your ability to secure the length of the borderland that I suddenly recalled a duty I swore to perform. This duty is why I have come to you.”
I left it there so that he would be forced to ask.
“A duty?” Vlad said. “What duty must you perform tonight?”
“I swore that I would support you, as long as you were an enemy of the Turk.”
Vlad sighed, gesturing at me to hurry up. “Yes, yes, you swore to Hunyadi, I was there.”
“I stated my terms in Buda and Hunyadi agreed. I swore nothing to him that is not in my contract.”
He was confused and growing frustrated. “Well, who did you swear this oath to?”
“To your father.”
He and his men bristled and I noted a few hands drifting toward their swords. Most would have spent the last hours of the day drinking wine and would be quick to anger and slow to see subtleties.
“You swore to my father to support me,” Vlad said, “before you killed him?”
“I pursued him and his men into the marshes. We fought and he was injured in the arm and neck. Before he died, he asked that I help his sons, Vlad and Radu, to fight the Turks.”
Vlad was very still, though I thought I saw him flinch at the name of his brother. “My father would not have said that.”
“I beg your pardon for disagreeing, my lord, but he did. He begged me to deliver these to you and to urge you to remember your duty, just as he had failed in his.”
I turned to Rob who handed over the long wooden case that he had carried for me from my tent, and I held it out to Vlad.
The case was covered in intricate patterns of moulded boiled leather in a deep red, with gold leaf in recesses throughout. The corners were protected by polished brass. The pattern on the top of the case in the centre was that of a dragon with its tail in its mouth and a cross on its back.
One of his men took it from me, his eyes widening as he saw the beauty of the designs and brought it reverently to his lord.
“My father gave you this?” Vlad asked, rightly suspicious.
“The case I had made in Buda,” I replied. “Though it was a Wallachian who did the work. He claimed to have trained in Florence and I did not believe him until I saw his work. It is the contents of the case that were given to me by your father that I might give them in turn to you.”
Vlad did not take his eyes from the case as he undid the clasps and opened it. His men clustered close about him and peered over his shoulders.
The interior of the case was moulded to the shape of its contents and covered in red silk.
Vlad reached in and lifted out the sword, staring at it with such fervour that I feared his eyes would pop from his head. With his other hand, he took the dragon amulet on its chain and looked from one to the other as his men took the case away.
Finally, Vlad lifted his eyes to me and I saw that they were damp with threatened tears.
“Did he say anything else?”
“He asked that I protect you.”
“Protect me?” Vlad repeated, bewildered. “And you agreed?”
“I said that any man who was an enemy to the Turk would be a friend as far as I was concerned.”
Vlad thought for a moment and stood, stepped down from the dais as he approached, still with the sword in one hand and the dragon amulet in the other, its silver chain dangling down.
Walt and Rob slid forward but I waved them back.
“Thank you, Sir Richard,” Vlad said, standing before me and looking up. “You have done your duty in this matter. And you have done it well.”
“It pleases me to hear it, my lord. As I said to your father. I am here to fight the Turks. The Sultan and his closest men in particular.”
Vlad glanced up at me. “I hate the Turk more than any man alive. Once I have my kingdom secured, I shall do everything in my power to destroy them. Every one. The Sultan and his closest men in particular.”
For a moment, I thought he was about to embrace me but instead he dismissed me. As I left the hall, I saw him showing off his father’s sword to his companions.
“How did it go?” Eva asked.
“I think perhaps we should throw in our lot with this Vlad Dracula. We might help him to win the throne and if we do, he may well become a great ally. Or even more.”
Alas, it was not to be. The Turks were not sitting still and allowing us to make our plans and live our lives. They were bent on conquest.
In the morning, a frantic messenger came from Hungary, with letters for Vlad Dracula but others for Stephen from his agents in Buda.
“What is it?” I asked Stephen when his face turned grey. He continued reading. “Stephen!”
He dragged his eyes from the words. “The new Sultan, Mehmed, is not coming for Transylvania after all.”
“Damn,” I said. “Where is he headed? Albania? Not Moldavia, surely, they are nothing.”
Stephen swallowed. “There is no doubt that he has chosen to concentrate the efforts of his entire empire on the final reduction of Constantinople.”
“Constantinople?” Serban said, crossing himself.
“Bastards,” Walt said.
“Can it be true?” I asked Eva.
Stephen answered, flicking the letter in his hands. “It is Constantinople herself that calls for aid. Letters have been sent to every Christian kingdom, begging for help before the Turks arrive.”
“Then that is what we shall do,” I said. “Prepare the men. We leave for Constantinople.”
5. Constantinople
1453
The Turks had long sought Constantinople and yet it was impossible to not see William’s hand in this new assault. It was the sort of grandiose monstrosity that he brought forth into the world. Yet it was certainly in the interests of the new young Sultan, for if he achieved his aim it would secure his position within his empire, as well as make him famous everywhere in Dar al-Islam, even in Arabia and Egypt where they looked down on the Turks as barbarian upstarts. Indeed, such fame would help to secure his empire’s porous eastern borders, for who would dare attack the man who had destroyed the great Constantinople?
The Byzantines had long been forced into vassalage under the Turks. Under the terms of their vassalage they had not even been permitted to strengthen the great walls of their city and had been sending troops to fight for the Turks for decades already. Even sixty years earlier, the subjugated Byzantines had sent troops to help destroy the city of Philadelphia, the last Byzantine possession in Anatolia. All that was left of the once great and vast Roman Empire of the East was the city of Constantinople and a handful of outlying ports, fortresses and villages. Such a disgrace and humiliation to suffer and yet the city itself, with its vast walls, had resisted every previous attempt at taking it.
There remained many elements in the city’s favour. Provided that Venice and Genoa and other fleets came to Constantinople’s aid, the Turks would have enormous trouble crossing the Bosporus without coming to disaster. The Turks were good soldiers but their fleets had always been weak compared to Christian navies. And if they attacked the great chain gate that protected the Golden Gate harbour, they would be risking a counter assault by the Christian ships safe in the Golden Horn.
“Do not think the Turk is unaware of this,” the Byzantine officer said as he escorted us along the top of the inner wall of the city’s main defensive fortification. The officer’s name was Michael and he was a grim fellow though he had welcomed me and my
company with open arms when we arrived. “One of the first acts that alerted us to the Turk’s intentions was his construction of the fortress six miles north of here, on the European side of the straits. It is at the narrowest point of the Bosporus, do you see? It was when the towers of the fortress grew as tall as our own walls that Emperor Constantine sent his letters requesting aid. That fortress is armed with vast cannons, powerful enough to threaten any ship passing through.”
Michael came to a stop beside a tower at the northern end of the inner wall and we looked out through one of the enormous crenels to the empty land beyond. The fields were untended and there were hardly any people on the roads, all the way to the horizon. On our right was the inner portion of the Golden Horn, the protected harbour so precious to the city. Within the harbour, hundreds of ships, large and small, bobbed on the blue waters.
On the other side of the harbour mouth was the walled town of Galata, which was largely populated and controlled by Genoese colonists. Unseen beyond Galata, further along the strait, was the new fortress that Michael had spoken of. It was technically, legally, on Byzantine land but the Turks had not cared about that. They meant to take everything for themselves anyway, so why quibble over such things? The local peasants had protested but there was nothing they could do.
“So they now control the northern half of the straits, at the least,” I said. “But still, the Turk cannot truly sail.”
Michael scoffed. “No, he takes to the water like a stone,” he said and spat. “And may they all drown like rocks, also. But no, they have been building ships everywhere in Anatolia. And they have promised fortunes for Christian crews and captains for a thousand miles and they have answered, the treacherous, mercenary, bastards. With hundreds of new ships and Christian crews, the Turk may be a challenge for the Venetians and Genoese.”