The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay Read online

  The Rumelian Spahis adopted a new position to the left and front of the army. Both cavalry flanks had strong supplements of the tough Akinji skirmishers. Three huge lines of infantry filled the centre. The Azab levies took the front. The sultan’s Janissary Corps dropped in behind. The Ottoman artillery filled the space between with trenches dug in front of each cannon.

  Darkness fell on the plain. Hassan stood outside his tent for hours. The lights from the enemy camp held his attention the whole time. He could not see much, but he could picture his enemy’s movements in his mind. Before night drew in, he had studied Hunyadi’s position. He did not see his rival’s artillery. That led him to think it lay behind the wagons Hunyadi had used to fortify the hill.

  Tariq Hazim stood at his side. “Our losses shall be high on the morrow.”

  “Yes,” Hassan agreed. He still did not draw his eyes from the flickering lights in the distance from the many fires there. “The artillery is dug in halfway up that hill. His range should be long.”

  “We shall need to break their lines quickly.”

  “You are correct,” Hassan sighed. “We need to get our cavalry in behind and remove those cannon from the fight.”

  “I hear rumours they have the Italian cannon.”

  “The Zarobotana? Yes, I have also heard it said.”

  Hazim thought about it. “Perhaps we should choose another battleground. This one does not favour us too well.”

  Hassan shook his head. “No, we shall fight them here. This is the right place for us to engage them. Our enemy has made a stand here not from choice.”

  Hunyadi did the same from his hill. He and his officers knew they faced a mighty army.

  “Well,” Szilágy said, sighing hard. “It is daunting, but not quite as bad as the situation that faced us at Varna.”

  “Save that judgement until the fight is over. The morrow is going to prove a long day. For many of us it shall be the last.”

  “Yes, a lot of blood shall be spilled.”

  “That is our trade,” Hunyadi said, looking to his friend. “We spill blood.”

  SERBIA.

  THE PLAINS NEAR KOSOVO POLJE.

  OCTOBER 18, 1448.

  Neither camp slept through the night. At the crack of dawn both sides began preparations to fight. The armies had a clear view of each other now and the first nerves had begun to set in.

  Officers on both sides worked hard to gee up their men. Hunyadi and Hassan issued instructions from the battle plans they had drawn up.

  Hassan launched the first attack on his left flank. He sent in the Rumelian Spahis to try and breach the Hungarian right. The Hungarian light horsemen dropped back behind the heavy cavalry. A vicious battle ensued. Hunyadi moved several infantry units from the centre to assist in defending the flank.

  Seeing this manoeuvre, Hassan launched his second offensive on the opposite side. The Anatolian Spahis pushed forward on a signal relayed by a loud horn. Basarab dropped back behind the heavy cavalry headed by Stephan Banffy, mirroring the tactic on the other flank.

  The Anatolians drove their enemy back. Seeing this, the infantry lines braced themselves to fight. They knew Hunyadi would move them across at any moment.

  Hunyadi rode back and forth behind the front lines of his cavalry that occupied the centre. He observed carefully the fighting on his left flank. Banffy was failing to hold the push by the Anatolians.

  “Székely! Talotsi!” he screamed. “Come on! We go!”

  He rode through the ranks and led the charge to his left flank. Hassan spotted his move and sent word for his Azab infantry to advance on the centre.

  They pushed forward and advanced across the plain. The Hungarians swarmed down the hill and met them near the bottom. Hunyadi had already taken many of their number away, and it left them weakened to meet with the strong assault.

  “Fire!” Szilágy screamed at the men operating the bombards.

  The line of wagon fortifications spat smoke and fire as the first volley sounded off. Screams rang out from the Azab ranks. The huge balls of stone shot ploughed deep ravines through their lines. Two rows of bodies lay to either side of each of the shot’s devastating paths. The great balls of stone lifted many enemy soldiers through the air and dumped them further back. They tore the heads clean off some of the bodies, and left the remainder smashed and bleeding.

  The battle raged on all fronts. Despite the artillery attack, the Azabs pressed on. Hassan moved his own artillery forward, guarded by the Janissary Corps.

  Cracks appeared in the Hungarian centre. Szilágy bellowed at his bombardiers to keep firing. He rallied his infantry and finally they checked the Azab advance. By the time the Ottoman artillery returned fire against the hill, the main assault had been repelled. The Turks fell back just out of range of the Hungarian cannon as dusk fell on the plain.

  Dusk turned to night and a black cloak descended on the battlefield. The artillery exchanges rumbled across the plain. At the same time, the forces regrouped and carried the badly injured from the field.

  “They should retreat,” Hunyadi surmised. “The Turks never have the stomach for a fight if they fail on the first day.”

  “It is time to celebrate!” Talotsi cheered. “We have beaten off the Turks.”

  “Do not be too hasty,” Szilágy cautioned. “They have not left yet.”

  Hunyadi slapped him on the back. “You are forever the worrier, Mihály. The Turks never come back after the first day.”

  “I feel they are going to see this one through to the bitter end.”

  “I agree,” Székely said. “This is Hassan bringing the fight to us. He has not yet lost a battle and I daresay he is not intending to lose this one. Could you not see it in their eyes today? They want us dead, every last man.”

  Szilágy used Székely’s argument as a cue to emphasise his own. “We need to train our minds on what strategy Hassan will employ on the morrow.”

  Basarab turned to Hunyadi. “If they do choose to fight us, John, what do you think they shall do?”

  Hunyadi gazed down at his bombards as they continued to fire. He thought long about the question put to him. “They shall test our flanks again,” he mused. “We hurt them badly on our right side so I wager they shall push more against our left.”

  The others agreed in principle with his synopsis.

  “János,” Hunyadi said to Székely. “If they do hit our left flank, I want you to move across with your cavalry. We cannot allow them to get in behind us there. They must be pushed back or we are in deep trouble.”

  Székely nodded that he understood the full implications of that. It pleased him that his cavalry would no longer be in the line of the enemy cannon.

  “The rest of you I want to remain in your formations from today.”

  The Ottoman commanders did not feel as optimistic in their camp. They threw everything at Hunyadi and had been repelled.

  “What are our losses?” Hassan asked his officers.

  They looked at each other for someone to answer.

  “Well?”

  “Eleven thousand dead and seven thousand injured,” Turakhan spoke up.

  The figures did not please Hassan. “We can endure it for the now.”

  “We are going to remain, my Lord?” Hazim asked in surprise.

  Hassan looked bemused. “You think I am going to allow Hunyadi to tarnish my reputation? Think again, sir!”

  “Pasha Hassan, it is customary to withdraw if we do not break the enemy.”

  “Not when I am in command. We fight to the last man if we have to. Hunyadi shall not advance another yard through Serbia while I can draw breath.”

  “What approach shall we employ in the morning?” Turakhan asked. “The Rumelian divisions took heavy losses today.”

  “And the Azabs,” Hazim pointed out.

  “I want one division of the Anatolians to lead the Rumelians in another assault on the left flank. Hunyadi fears a collapse on his right flank so he shall fight hard to d
efend it.”

  “Is the idea of breaking the Hungarian right a spent one?” Hazim asked.

  “No,” Hassan said. “It shall detract from our main assault on the other flank. I want to engage the Hungarian right and then throw everything at its left and centre. With our artillery at our backs we shall break through.”

  “Where do you hope to deploy my cavalry?” Turakhan asked.

  His Thessalonians had not fought on the first day.

  “I wanted to keep your men fresh,” Hassan said. “While we engage the Hungarian left, it shall be your task to ride around and attack them to the rear.”

  Turakhan nodded. He was as ambitious as he was courageous and could not wait to lead his riders into the fray.

  Hunyadi had his formations in position at first light. For hours Hassan made them wait.

  “I see they have not left the field,” Szilágy pointed out.

  “They do not look so keen on a fight either,” Talotsi remarked.

  “They shall engage us,” Hunyadi said. “You can be sure of that.”

  Szilágy nodded his agreement. He studied the Ottoman formations carefully in the distance. “Why are they not marching on us?”

  “They are testing our resolve,” Hunyadi assured him. “I have decided when their infantry come at our centre, I shall lead the counter attack against them.”

  “That is a risky ploy, John. They shall have their artillery trained on you.”

  “You be ready,” Hunyadi said to him. “When I lead the attack, move the artillery forward. I shall need as much help as you can give me.”

  SERBIA.

  THE HILLS BEHIND THE PLAINS NEAR KOSOVO POLJE.

  OCTOBER 19, 1448. EARLY MORNING.

  Dracula spent a restless night and morning in his camp. No word had filtered through from the first day of fighting.

  “It cannot be good that we have heard nothing,” he said to Kazic.

  “It is not uncommon,” the Serb assured him. “You are too anxious, my Lord.”

  “Perhaps the cur, Hunyadi, scored a resounding victory.”

  “I do not think there is any prospect of that, my Lord. I am sure the Sultan would name me as his heir before Hassan loses this fight.”

  Dracula looked at him, anger showing in his eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

  Kazic went on the defensive. “No, my Lord.”

  “I hope not,” Dracula said, in a half grunt. “I could not tolerate it.”

  Kazic tried not to laugh. The young prince was far too uptight for his own good. “Hunyadi cannot win this fight, my Lord. He may hold us off for a day or two, but that is all.”

  “Then why have we received no news?”

  “I imagine the first day finished in a stalemate. I expect Hassan shall use us at some point today.”

  “Let us hope so. I hate waiting around this place.”

  Kazic knelt down by the fire to warm his hands. The sun had only just risen so there remained a cold bite to the air. His stomach grumbled at the recent lack of food. They had to ration it when they were at war, and only small numbers had gone out hunting. The bulk of the army had to be at the ready in case the order came to fight.

  He watched the young prince walk off, not paying him too much attention. The fire felt good and he enjoyed the heat against his hands. Such comforts were few in the field and though he was hardened to this way of life, it felt good all the same.

  Dracula strode all the way through the camp to his horse and mounted it. Without a word to anyone, he dug his heels into its ribs and headed for the mountains in the distance.

  Kazic leapt up at the sudden sound of hooves racing out of the camp. He ran in the direction of the sound, and caught sight of the young price rising away. Without a second thought, he sprinted to where his own mount was tethered and gave chase.

  He followed Dracula as the young prince rode for the mountains to the east. It took a hard ride to catch him and, for two hours, they negotiated the tricky passes until they reached the apex.

  Dracula rode as close as he could to the edge to get the best possible view. He squinted his eyes for the plain in the distance where the two armies faced each other. “I see nothing,” he frowned. “It is too far away.”

  “Worry not, my Lord. We shall see Hunyadi’s army soon enough when it retreats.”

  SERBIA.

  THE PLAINS NEAR KOSOVO POLJE.

  OCTOBER 19, 1448. NOON.

  Noon came to the plain and still Hassan did not move. Only when the sun crept slowly towards the horizon in the west did he give the order.

  Just as he planned, a division of Anatolian Spahis led their Rumelian counterparts against Hunyadi’s right. Losonczi resisted the initial approach. Amid the fierce fighting, the Rumelian skirmishers posed all sorts of problems for the Hungarian flank.

  “They are coming at our right side,” Szilágy said, deep concern in his voice.

  “Hold firm,” Hunyadi instructed. “It is a ploy.”

  “How can you know?” Szilágy asked. “If they break through, we are in trouble.”

  “Keep your nerve. He shall hit us on our other flank.”

  Székely and Talotsi also voiced their concerns.

  “Get ready,” Hunyadi told them. “Prepare to reinforce the left flank. Look!” he said, pointing ahead. “The Ottoman infantry is mobilising.”

  They looked ahead to see the Azab lines moving forward. Hassan had pushed his artillery right up behind his infantry lines. He knew the enemy would not expect this as no Ottoman commander had ever deployed their artillery in the open battlefield before. The first volleys rang out from the cannon to try and clear a path for the foot soldiers.

  “This is it,” Hunyadi said, mounting his horse. “Move the artillery forward, Mihály. It is right here that we shall win or lose this battle. I am going to lead the attack through the centre.”

  Szilágy moved the most mobile of his bombards forward. By the time Hunyadi launched the push through the centre, they had begun to fire.

  They showered the Azab infantry with lumps of rock and other debris. Propelled at great speed, these missiles continued to decapitate men or crush their bones to dust. Showing immense courage, they marched on towards the Hungarian centre, engaging the first rows of infantry sent to halt their advance.

  Hunyadi spurred his men on. He sat astride his horse and directed them by shouting and waving his sword. When the two sets of infantry clashed full on, he led his cavalry into the fray.

  He fought with his usual distinction, hacking at anyone who came close to him. His cavalry matched his lead and eventually broke through the Azab centre.

  Hassan called on his mobile gunpowder units, the majestic Janissary Corps. They checked Hunyadi’s initial success, and the accuracy of their shooting killed many of his cavalry. However, they were still foot soldiers and soon the White Knight managed to drive them back.

  “Reinforce the centre!” Hassan screamed to Sinan Bey.

  “But, Pasha Hassan, my men are not equipped to fight a cavalry charge.”

  Sinan Bey commanded the baggage camp. Hassan wanted his camp guards and army followers to move forward and protect the line against Hunyadi’s advance.

  “Do it, or they shall kill you all where you stand!”

  Sinan Bey organised his guards and moved them forward to confront Hunyadi’s attack. They engaged the Hungarian cavalry despite being ill-equipped to do so. It allowed the Janissaries the time to regroup and, together, they drove Hunyadi back.

  Hassan saw that the Hungarians had held his attack on their left flank. He ordered Turakhan to cross the Sicnita to the west and carry out his plan. The Thessalonian cavalry left the field and negotiated the river crossing. They rode south along the riverbank until they passed Hunyadi’s camp in the distance.

  The Hungarian defence was weak along here. Once they had crossed the river again, it enabled them to attack Basarab from the rear.

  On the Hungarian right, Losonczi and his cavalry endured a torrid time. The
y held the line, but suffered from the relentless skirmishing of the Rumelian Spahis. Székely assessed the situation quickly. In Hunyadi’s absence, he led a couple of hundred of his men across to defend the right flank.

  One of the Rumelians caught sight of his sortie and tracked his movements across the plain. He found a gap to ride through unchecked and poised himself with spear in hand. Székely continued to lead the charge, unaware one of the enemy had him in his sights. The Rumelian waited for the right moment and then hurled the spear at the Transylvanian warrior.

  The spear caught Székely in the side of the neck just below his jaw line. It ripped through the soft flesh and snapped his windpipe. He dropped his sword instantly and lost control of the reins. The blow severed the flow of oxygen into his body, causing his head to loll back as everything turned black.

  He felt no pain. His body slumped to the right and he fell from his horse. The horse of one of his riders smashed against him and propelled him forward. He crashed to the ground just as the same beast mashed his skull with its hooves.

  It all happened in seconds. Székely was dead.

  On the Hungarian left, the Thessalonians hit Basarab’s light cavalry hard. The Anatolian Spahis upped their attack at the front and threw the Hungarian defence into disarray.

  Hunyadi spotted the danger on his return to his lines. He and his cavalry joined the fight. Their participation allowed his entire left flank to successfully negotiate a retreat back to the hill. There, they enjoyed the cover provided by the bombards.

  His infantry dropped back also to hold the centre. The Azabs pushed forward, but saw their advance halted by the persistent bombard fire. On the Hungarian right, Losonczi led his men bravely to hold the line, but suffered heavy losses. In time, the remnants of his force found themselves driven back too.

  Darkness descended on the plain a second time. Hunyadi’s army managed to hold the line firm. Hassan realised it was too much of a risk to carry on the fight in the fading daylight. He stood to incur much heavier losses. For today, the battle had come to an end. He took solace from the fact his side had gained the upper hand.