by Dan Davis
Vlad nodded slowly and wagged a finger once at the envoy. “Indeed, sir. Indeed, you are. And so would you not wish to follow our customs when in our lands?”
The envoy swallowed and bowed again. “I wish that I could, my lord, but as you know I am merely the servant of my master and he has bidden me to wear the attire you see before you. I cannot remove a piece of it without his command.”
Vlad frowned, tilting his head as if confused. “So, you refuse to remove this hat?”
“It is not a hat, my lord, it is… that is to say, it breaks my heart but it cannot be removed without offending my master, the Sultan Mehmed II.”
“In that case, my friends, I cannot allow you to offend your master. I cannot allow you to remove your hats. Not ever, for the rest of your lives. Would that be acceptable?”
The envoy hesitated, sensing a trap. “I… yes, my lord. I am most thankful for your courteous understanding in this matter.”
Vlad clapped his hands once. “Wonderful.” He gestured to the captain of his guards who came forward with his fist clasped around some sort of bundle in one hand and hefting an iron hammer in the other. “And to help you to keep your hats on your heads, we shall hammer them into place with these iron nails.”
The envoys were confused and then they attempted to flee and then to fight. But they were seized by the soldiers and forced onto their knees. One by one, great iron nails ten inches in length were driven through the turbans and into the men’s skulls. Some of them died or at least collapsed immediately but others continued screaming and begging, despite the iron in their brains. However, those men were also not long for the world.
“Take the bodies to their servants and send them back to Constantinople,” Vlad commanded. “Along with my warm regards.”
“Did you see that?” Walt said in my ear, chuckling. “He must have had those nails and hammer ready the whole time. Whatever anyone says about him, you can’t say he doesn’t have a knack for a good jest.”
Most of the hall emptied temporarily and wine was served to the guests out in the courtyard below while the hall was decked with tables and benches ready for a feast. But Dracula stayed by his throne and called me to him as the work went on around us.
“Was that for Szilágyi?” I asked.
“Hardly. When I have Mehmed and William as my prisoner, and both are tortured for weeks before being sawn in half while they scream for their mothers, then we shall say that it was for dear Michael. This was…” Vlad shrugged. “A playful taunt. No more.”
“You hope to move him to attack sooner than he wishes?”
“Not through insults, he is too hard of heart to be moved by such petty things. If we can draw him close by military means, then perhaps we can get him to move this year, before his full force is readied.”
“And you have a notion of how to do that?”
Vlad brushed a finger along his moustache. “You know about the raids across the Danube?”
I nodded. “The razzia parties grow bold. They are taking plunder, which we cannot afford, and killing the men and ravishing the women to death but they are taking children now, also.”
“Taking them for the slave markets in Constantinople. I have lost too many people along the river and I will not lose any more. The boyars are doing their best but they cannot guard against all incursions. Every time they arrive, it is too late.”
“I am sure we could do something to help,” I said.
“It is not only the raids but they are certainly testing the defences. They want to take every fort on the river before they launch their invasion.”
“You want us to hold the fortresses? I am not certain the sluji will make good garrison troops.”
“I do not want to hold them. Not all of them. I am of a mind to allow some to fall but to fight for others.”
“So that Mehmed comes across where we want him to.”
“And you know where, Richard. Can you be ready by tomorrow?”
“I will go now.”
Vlad smiled. “There are not many men who would rather ride to war than feast with his friends.”
I bowed. “My Lord Prince, I will feast on the blood of Turks.”
***
Throughout 1461, we threw back many raids and in our turn raided enemy camps. The sluji were swiftly learning to fight together, and together we drank the blood of many Turks. The villages and fortresses by the Danube saw us as saviours, despite it becoming common knowledge that we killed our prisoners and sucked the blood of the dying from their very wounds. All the people knew we were fighting for them and so it did not matter what we were said to be doing to their enemies.
Despite our best efforts, we were only so many and we could only be a certain number of places at once. I requested that Dracula send more soldiers to help us but he wanted them, the peasant army that they were, to undergo further training together before the true invasion began.
The most important and greatest of all Wallachian fortresses on the Danube was Giurgiu. It was situated amid mud-flats and marshes on the left bank of the Danube where it swerves north for a stretch. There were many islands in the river there which made it easier to cross, and the land to the north produced enormous quantities of grain so it was a vital point in the defences. The fortress being surrounded by marsh made it difficult to assault from the land but the Turks swarmed the walls from the riverside and took it.
They held it for close to a year and Vlad said he was content for them to hold it, for he was not going to waste men on a frontal assault. As important as it was, I was likewise not going to waste any of my sluji when it was likely to continue to be fought over anyway.
And so, as much as it rankled, I let it be.
During that year, I captured and questioned hundreds of men before I killed them and they gave up as much as they knew. Often I would start the same way.
“What can you tell me that might save your life?”
It is remarkable the things that men say at such times. Almost always what they said was useless but I asked all the same.
One man, in the very depths of a freezing winter, gave me far more than most.
“An ambush!” he screamed. He was a captain of some importance, as evidenced by his clothes and his fluent Greek.
“What ambush? Our ambush of your men? Is that all you have? Very well.” I placed the edge of my knife on his throat. He had a bulging Adam’s apple and I poked at it.
“Vlad Dracula!”
I moved my blade away a fraction. “Say that again?”
He gulped, shifting so that his knees crunched the ice on the frozen ground. “An ambush on Vlad Dracula, my lord.”
I put the blade under his chin and lifted his face up. “A likely story.” I leaned down. “Where? When?”
“At Giurgiu!”
“He’s not in Giurgiu, you damned fool. The Turks have Giurgiu.”
He held up his hands. “That’s true, yes, but Dracula is coming to Giurgiu. And before he gets there, in the woods in the north by the marshes, he is to be ambushed and killed.”
“Why would he go to Giurgiu? In the depths of winter at that. Why would he risk his life in such a fashion? It is absurd.”
“I do not know. All I know is, he is coming there. There will be a Wallachian bodyguard of a hundred men and so we needed to be at least twice that number.”
Behind the man, Rob shrugged.
“You have less than a hundred here,” I said.
“Yes, it was to be my men, many Turks from Anatolia, a company of Bulgarians and some other Greeks who serve Hamza Pasha.”
“When?”
“Soon. Dracula has already left Târgoviște, so they say.”
Rob waved Walt over to listen.
I leaned down. “If you are lying to me then I promise that your death will be long and dreadful. Admit that this was all a lie now and I will end you swiftly.”
He swallowed. “It is the truth, I swear it.”
“We shall see. Bind him an
d bring him. Drink the rest.”
“Bring him where?”
“The road to Târgoviște.”
We intercepted Vlad Dracula’s company about twenty miles north of Giurgiu where Vlad was building a monastery at a place called Comana. Being so close to the Danube, it needed to be heavily fortified against raids and it looked more like a castle than a house of prayer. The building work was far further along than the previous time I had seen it and the great walls were almost completed. I had most of the sluji keep back out of sight and went up with just a handful of my men at first light. Dracula’s bodyguards were alert to any danger and I was escorted inside.
“Where is the prince?” I asked them when I was through the monastery gates.
“Preparing to depart, my lord,” the senior soldier said, blowing warmth into his hands. “He is eating in the refectory with Catavolinos.”
“With who? And what in the world are you doing bringing the prince so far south?”
Vlad’s bodyguard scowled, though it was not me. “Thomas Catavolinos, a Greek in the service of Hamza Pasha. There is to be a negotiation to avoid the coming war. Or delay it, at least, while we grow stronger. Hamza Pasha was due to come to Târgoviște but he sent this Catavolinos instead and the meeting place was changed to Giurgiu.”
“But why would you let him risk himself by coming to the Danube?”
“He is our prince. We do as he commands.”
“You men are supposed to protect him. Even from himself. Remember that. Take me to him.”
Vlad’s soldiers outnumbered the monks at least ten to one, crowding every corner of the monastery. But the refectory was empty other than Vlad’s bodyguards, a handful of servants, and the prince and his guest. It was mercifully warm inside.
The Greek named Thomas Catavolinos was a sophisticated and charming gentleman who smiled ingratiatingly and made it clear how truly delighted he was to be able to make my acquaintance. I told him the pleasure was entirely mine and begged he allow me to speak to my lord for just a few brief moments. Catavolinos bowed and said he would be delighted to take a stroll around the remarkable walls.
The moment he was gone, I turned on Dracula. “What in the name of God are you doing?”
“Good morning, Richard,” Vlad said, chewing on a piece of bread. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Why are you here, Vlad?”
He frowned as he leaned back. “I believe I should be asking you that question. Why are you not on the Danube?”
“It is a day’s ride away. The real question is why are you so close to it? Why are you riding into a fortress on the river that is held by the Turks? Have you lost your mind?”
Vlad’s moustache twitched. “There is no danger that I cannot overcome.”
“Did you not expect a trap?”
He shrugged. “Of course. But I have a hundred of my best men.”
“Do you not know that they would send a thousand? In order to kill you they would send ten thousand and you feel safe with a hundred? You would blunder inside Giurgiu and never come out.”
Vlad lifted his chin and looked along his long nose at me. “Do not think me a fool. I would not enter the walls. It was my condition that Hamza Pasha meet me outside the fortress and so I shall be free to flee if there is danger.”
“You will not reach Giurgiu.”
He stopped eating. “What do you know?”
“I have a man. A Greek captain who was to be one of the men leading the ambush. Just north of Giurgiu before the ground becomes a marsh, there is a woodland.”
“I know it. The garrison cut wood for fuel there. It is dark and dense, even in winter, as it is a pine woodland but they could not hide ten thousand men there, Richard.”
“At least two hundred will attack from all sides. There could be as many as five hundred, if they lay in the marshes also.”
He nodded and began picking at his food again. “Where are the sluji?”
“With me. Here. Unseen to the south.”
“Can you get close to the Giurgiu woodland? Unseen?”
“Not in daylight. After sunset, certainly.”
“Then I will delay here. The food has produced in me a sickness and I will only be able to travel at first light tomorrow. I shall ask Thomas Catavolinos to send my apologies ahead later and then I shall see you on the road to Giurgiu tomorrow.”
“You mean to spring the trap yourself? That is not necessary.”
“I am the Prince of Wallachia. It is necessary.”
It was a test of our men that they maintain discipline throughout the approach to the woodland. It was a cold and wet night and they were sodden and freezing as they crept with me through the marsh, walking where we could on top of the thick ice that had formed on top but just as often crashing through it. We hid ourselves behind tussocks of frozen grass and stands of bare bushes and waited in silence for sunrise. In truth, I doubted we would make it until the prince’s party arrived. I was certain one of the Turks would wander close to relieve himself and discover us but even if that happened I thought we could fight our way through them. Even if they were five hundred. I left half our men beyond the marsh with our horses, in case we needed to flee or pursue an enemy and hoped that my remaining two hundred and fifty immortals were strong enough.
But Vlad came along the road early, their horses surrounded by a cloud of steam illuminated by the morning sun. Even after his earlier bravado, he was sensible enough to wait beyond the wood and send most of his bodyguard in ahead while keeping the Greek Catavolinos back with him.
As the Wallachian riders disappeared into the darkness of the pine trees, I heard Walt and Rob whistling like birds, prompting me to order our men to attack. But I wanted to ensure no enemy escaped.
I whistled back.
Not yet.
When the sound of fighting started, I called out the order and rushed through the icy bog. As I stood, I realised that ice had formed around my legs and flanks and it shattered as I strode forward. All around me, the sluji emerged from behind tussocks and long grass and bushes and we swarmed over the ice toward the woodland. The cold and wet Greek, Turkish and Bulgarian infantry were trying to break the fresh, mounted Wallachians but they were biding their time as more of their men got into position.
My men came up quickly and cut the enemy to pieces. We cried the name of Vlad Dracula and the Bulgarians were so surprised they tried to surrender but we killed most of them without hesitation. The Greeks instead tried to flee but they were intercepted by my men and cut down by the Wallachian bodyguard.
When Vlad came up, he had Catavolinos bound to a horse.
“It was done well, men!” Vlad shouted beneath the trees. “I am proud of you all. Now, we shall go on to Giurgiu.”
I strode toward him, still damp and shivering despite my exertion. “What do you mean to do?”
Vlad ignored me for a moment and called to his men. “Find the biggest Turk you can and strip his armour.” Vlad turned back to me. “How is your Turkish coming along?”
“Still not as good as my Arabic. Why?”
Vlad grinned.
It was not long before I sat on a horse beside Vlad before the vast gatehouse of the fortress of Giurgiu. It was a massive, squat castle covering the only section of dry land for a mile in any direction, barring the road. Beyond the fortress, the great Danube was a sheet of white ice and beyond that was Turkish Rumelia which had once been Bulgaria.
Behind us, almost fifty of our men sat with their shoulders hunched and heads down in ill-fitting Turkish armour. In our midst, we had a cluster of Wallachian prisoners, including one wearing Vlad Dracula’s fine clothes.
Vlad called out to the men on the battlements in perfect Turkish. “Open the gates, you fools!”
“Who are you?” the guards shouted.
Even Vlad’s audible scoff had a Turkish ring to it. “Who do you think we are, you damned idiots. Tell Hamza Pasha we have Vlad Dracula.”
“Where?”
; “See for yourselves? He is here, the treacherous dog!” Vlad said, gesturing at the soldier dressed up in his clothing. “And hurry, would you. We have a hundred Wallachian bastards chasing us.”
“Praise God!” The guard said, and they were all smiles behind their beards. “You must wait there for us to—”
Vlad’s friendly tone shifted at once. “I shall not wait! I have ended the war! The Sultan will thank me himself, inshallah, and you will be praised also, my friend, for doing your duty. But if you do not open this gate at once you shall be executed, this I swear. What is your name? Tell me your name, immediately.”
There was a sudden commotion above and their hands pointed behind us. I turned and although I could not see what the guards on the walls were pointing at, I knew what it was. A hundred Wallachian horsemen galloping from the distant woodland towards Giurgiu along the road.
“Quickly!” the guards in the gatehouse called to us. “The enemy approaches. Inside, quickly.”
The gates swung open.
Before we rode in, Vlad turned to me and winked, a crooked smile beneath his long moustache. I had to lower my head to hide my own smile from the men on the walls above.
Our first task was to capture the gatehouse and hold open the outer gate and the inner gate. While we held open the gates, the poor Turks on guard were silenced forever and it did not take long for our Wallachian companions to come charging up to the fortress. We allowed them to charge right on in and then we closed the gates and followed the sound of the screams.
Once inside, we set about killing and capturing every damned Turk in the fortress. They did not understand what was happening and panic spread through the garrison. There was hardly any resistance at all and none of it was organised. Our men swarmed into every pocket of the fortress and dragged out those that attempted to hide in storerooms and under floors.
Giurgiu was a Wallachian fortress and the soldiers saw the Turkish presence as an infestation and as a personal affront. The Turks could not surrender fast enough and though we killed many, we still took a thousand of them prisoner. Most importantly of all, the treacherous Hamza Pasha was captured, and we ensured that he and Catavolinos were kept safe from the rampaging Wallachians.