The Dracula Chronicles: For Whom The Bell Tolls Page 19

  The scars on his back served as a grim reminder of the night in December. There were days when it still caused him discomfort. His body may have healed, but it haunted his mind both night and day. He was thankful it had occurred only once, but he used it to drive himself on to become the very best.

  A day did not pass when he did not think of Lucy. He did not even have a clear image of her in his mind as she had not shown her face to him. All that lingered in his memory was her soft voice and the kindness she had shown him. Each time he thought of it, a smile crossed his face.

  She was on his mind one afternoon while he practised on the archery range. For hour upon hour he tested himself here. He would alter his regime from time to time in order to improve. This would see him fire from longer distances or working on his speed of release.

  Konti watched him most days. He often wanted to talk with him, but had never done so. The young Vlad amazed him with his talent and his dedication to further improving it. He also admired him for his great courage. That night in the cell had stayed with him too. He had never seen anyone so brazen in the company of the sultan. Vlad was special, of that he had no doubt. He did not doubt either that one day, this young man would grow to become a feared ruler. If anyone had what it took to be that, then it was the boy with the bow in his hands.

  He decided today was the day to end his silence. “Good day, Vlad,” he said, stepping within earshot.

  Vlad ignored him and lined up his next shot. He took careful aim and waited and then fired. The arrow flew straight into the centre of the target.

  “Great shot,” Konti said. He smiled, though feeling awkward as he sensed his presence was not welcome.

  Vlad lowered the bow and turned his head to look at him. “Do you want something of me?”

  “No,” the Albanian said. “I came only to welcome you back. It is good to see you around the palace again.”

  “Why is that? It never seemed of interest to you or anyone else before.”

  “That is your own doing. You are not very sociable. But everyone watches you.”

  Vlad shrugged to show he did not care. “I like to keep to myself.”

  “That is fine too. A man is entitled to enjoy his own company.”

  “Well, this is hardly the place to mingle and make friends,” Vlad said, raising his tone. “This place is full of spies for the Sultan. I daresay I cannot shit and Murad would not know about it before it went cold.”

  Konti laughed. “It is good for you to remain so guarded. But I am no spy, if that is what you are thinking.” He watched Vlad take another arrow from the quiver on his shoulder. “I know you shall have your father’s throne as your own one day.”

  Vlad paused again to look at him.

  “I fear you might need to change the way you are,” Konti advised.

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “If you hide yourself away, then the people with power would see it as a weakness. You may find them rising up against you. Be wary of that.”

  “I shall adapt to each situation as it comes. When I rule, my people shall know me.”

  Vlad spotted two of the guards walking towards them. He turned and aimed the arrow their way. When they realised this, they stopped. Both looked at him with apprehension, knowing he was the type that would fire upon them. One of them was among the four he had humiliated that day in the cell.

  “Do not do it,” Konti said. “It is not worth the misery it would bring you.”

  “I would not waste a good arrow on one of those two. But they are not to know that.”

  With that, he aimed up at the sky and released the arrow. The guards followed its trajectory and then had to take evasive measures when it came back to earth and landed at their feet.

  Konti turned to leave, but Vlad called after him. “Why did you lie to protect me?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, in an attempt to draw Vlad into conversation.

  “The night I was flogged,” Vlad reminded him. “You lied to save me. I want to know why?”

  “Why would I not? You were showing such great courage. I could hardly fail you then. And, I felt if you had wanted Murad to know, you would have said it in a language he could better understand.”

  “Well, humility is not a quality of mine. But I thank you all the same.”

  Konti nodded and smiled. He turned a second time to leave, but Vlad called him back yet again. “Why are you here?”

  “I told you. To welcome you back.”

  “No, I mean why are you in the palace?”

  “Who can say? It must suit the Sultan’s purpose to keep me as a hostage. At least I have not met the end of a stake.”

  “But you are so much older than the rest of us.”

  “I do not think age is an issue. If it suits him, he would keep anyone a hostage.”

  “You are close to Skanderbeg, are you not?”

  “Yes, he and I are close friends.”

  “I am glad he made good his escape. He is a strong man. I would like it if he was to fight at my side one day.”

  “I would not rule it out. Not when you share a common enemy.”

  “It must be why he keeps you here; the Sultan. Perhaps he plans to use you to try and make terms with your friend.”

  “Perhaps, yes. I am sure time shall reveal all.”

  “I shall never keep my enemies hostage,” Vlad vowed. “I shall put them to death and be done with it.”

  “Yes, I do not doubt it.”

  That night Vlad tossed and turned in his bed. No matter how hard he tried, he could not sleep. He had a lot on his mind, but at the root of it all was Lucy.

  Why has she never returned? She said she was my friend. I must have imagined it all. Perhaps there was no Lucy.

  “You doubt me already?”

  “What?” he said, half startled. “Who is there?”

  “I said, already you doubt me.”

  “Lucy?” he called, excited when he recognised her voice.

  “Yes, it is I.”

  “I do not doubt you. I only miss you.”

  “Well, I am here.”

  “Yes, you are. Unless I am dreaming.”

  “Pinch yourself and find out, if you must.”

  He did not need to. He was wide awake and talking to her. “Why did you decide to appear to me tonight?”

  “You want me to go?”

  “No, no, no. I am only curious.”

  “You needed to see me. You were wondering if I had been a dream.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “There is much that I know.”

  “That is no answer. You can read my thoughts?”

  “Where they concern me, yes I can.”

  She remained in the shadows, obscured from view.

  “Why do you hide from me?”

  “I am not hiding.”

  “Yet I cannot see you. I have never seen you.”

  “Why do you want to see me?”

  “It would be good to know to whom I am talking. So I know I am not going mad.”

  “You already know.”

  “Oh,” he groaned, becoming frustrated. “To see whom I am talking to is what I meant.”

  “You might be disappointed if you saw me.”

  “How could I be?”

  “If I did not match the image you have of me in your mind. Then you would be.”

  “But I do not have an image of you.”

  “Yes, you do. Even if you cannot see it, it is there.”

  “So step forward from the shadows. Allow me to cast my eyes over you.”

  She stepped out of the darkness so Vlad could finally see her. His breath caught in his throat. Women had never held much interest for him. Lucy, though, was different to other women. That much he could tell right away.

  He did not find her a striking beauty, but she was a beauty all the same. She had long black hair and smooth, pale skin. He felt a little unnerved when he looked into her eyes. They were as black as coal. She smile
d and sat on his bed, which relaxed him again.

  “So this is my Lucy?”

  She sat there and allowed him to run his eyes over her. In them she could see he wanted to touch her. But he showed great control for one so young and fought the urge.

  He liked her slender frame. They were the same height, but her limbs and hands and feet much slighter than his. It gave her an almost delicate look. Her hair fell down well past her shoulders, but did not hide the outline of her breasts. They were large for her shape and it pleased her that he found it hard to take his eyes away from them.

  She smiled, half turning her head away. “Your Lucy?”

  He felt an ache begin to build inside. It startled him as much as it excited him. He had never felt such a thing before. “Are you not, then?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps I am. I can say I do not belong to anyone else.”

  “Then you must be mine. Why else would you come to me?”

  She liked the arrogant air he conveyed. He was indeed perfect for what she wanted. “Because you need me.”

  “Yes, you are right. I do need you.”

  She looked a fair few years older than he. He was unable to gauge much about her when he looked in her eyes. They hid any emotion that may have lurked inside and betrayed the depth of her character. Still, he knew it was there.

  “So what is next?” he said.

  She bit her lower lip and waited so that he might take the lead. When he did not she decided to tease him a little. “Where is your imagination?”

  “My imagination?”

  “Yes? Do you not have one?”

  “Of course,” he retorted, taking on a defensive stance.

  “You are blushing.”

  He grew even more defensive. “I am not.”

  She laughed. “I am only teasing you. So where does yours take you?”

  “It takes me home.”

  “To Wallachia?”

  “Yes, home to my family and the hills around Tirgoviste.”

  “Where else?”

  “It takes me to the battlefield where I crush the Turks.”

  “You would like to do that?”

  “Yes, it is a dream I have that grows with every day.”

  “Then one day you shall.”

  “Yes, as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.”

  “And what do you imagine about me?”

  His words stuck in his throat for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “If you think I belong to you, perhaps you should make it so.”

  “What do you mean?” he said again, though with a more nervous edge in his voice.

  “Are you so naive? Or are you afraid?”

  “You ought to not tease me. I am neither.”

  “Then this day is the day for you to finally become a man. Make love to me, Vlad, and claim me as your own.”

  BULGARIA. THE COUNCIL OF WAR AT DOBRUJA.

  MAY, 1445.

  Dracul was alarmed at first by the treachery within his ranks. After he had taken the time to reflect on it, it did not come as too much of a surprise. The throne on which he sat was a poisoned chalice. The stability his father had brought to it died with him. And now many of the boyars coveted what he had. It would not satisfy them, whoever had the seat of power. He knew if he wished to remain, then he would have to deal with it.

  After that day, he kept a keen eye on events at home. He had Florescu watched at all times. Even those the boyar trusted, were happy to take Dracul’s gold. He sent spies after many other boyars too. Lutu took charge of this and built up a solid network.

  But even they could not be trusted. Most, or even all, of the boyars came to learn of the spies that watched their every move. They guarded their actions and often met in secret. Some of them even paid the spies to pass on false information.

  Rodrigul did not like the fact that these men still walked free. He wanted them arrested and then hanged for treason. His argument was that Dracul ruled the country and could do as he pleased. He was the law of the land and had to answer to no one. But Dracul opted to play the waiting game. He ignored his friend’s argument that any of them would do it to him were the roles reversed. His friend did have a good point. Yet he felt he did not have the right to kill anyone he pleased. He had to answer to God, and to his people. He knew the alliance would soon call for an inquest. It was there he would bring his enemies down.

  He assumed his sons were now dead. Not a single letter he sent to Murad got a reply. The aid he had given to Hunyadi had cost them their lives. Yet his guest did not care and still treated him with utter contempt. For that, he intended to make him pay. The only way to do that was to see him at the gallows pole.

  The Council convened sooner than he had expected. And, to his surprise, it chose Dobruja as its location. Dracul was not too keen on the venue as Bulgaria remained in Turkish hands. They did not have too many troops outside of Varna, but that could change at any time. Dracul thought it best then that he and his son rode there with a strong guard.

  He and Hunyadi were openly hostile to each other now. Any time they met face to face, they argued. All along, Hunyadi had expected an attempt on his life, but it had not come. Now that they neared Dobruja, he began to feel at ease again.

  His arrogant manner returned almost as fast as he had lost it after Varna. He grinned every time he caught Dracul’s eye while they rode the last mile. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

  Mircea gritted his teeth. “It is not yet too late!” He pushed his mount against Hunyadi’s to add emphasis to his threat.

  The act brought back the fire to Hunyadi’s eyes. “I would not be so bold if I were you,” he spat. “You too must answer to this inquiry.”

  Dracul watched the exchange and rode closer to his enemy. “The defeat was entirely your fault. You marched to Varna against my strongest advice. Mircea has nothing to fear here or from any other quarter. It is sad to see how one so mighty cannot act in a way befitting his station.”

  Hunyadi broke away from the group and rode off at a gallop. The rest rode in at a more leisurely pace.

  Dracul noticed a large gathering of the Church hierarchy within the town. He would soon learn that legates were present from the Vatican and from most of the nations in the alliance. At first glance, the whole set-up looked pro-Hungarian in design. It was not what he had hoped to see. And for the first time, he did not feel so sure he would see Hunyadi fall.

  Dracul saw that some of the other commanders present at Varna had made the journey also. Among them he saw Szilágy, Báthory, Jan Dominek and Talotsi.

  The inquest began with accounts of the battle from the men present. They painted a picture of a noble and gallant effort from the Christian army. This was despite having numbers of at least four to one against them. The record made by the men heading the inquest accepted this as the true course of events. They also went on record to commend both Hunyadi and Mircea for their bravery. Then the Council came around to deciding what went wrong and where the blame lay, if any.

  Dracul stepped forward to speak before anyone else could. “The blame in whole lies at the feet of John Hunyadi. For his actions both before and during the conflict he should be held solely to account.”

  “That is a very strong accusation to make,” one of the papal legates said. “What evidence do you have to support this claim?”

  As he tried to answer, his rival stepped across him and cut in. “My noble Lords, anything this man has to say is driven by bias and an agenda against me. I ask you for that reason to disregard it.”

  Andrea de Palatio backed him up. “This is true. Had Mircea not left the field, our army would have won a great victory.”

  A heated argument broke out in the forum that took a while to subside again. The papal legate warned them all. He said he would view any further interruption as contempt of the court of inquiry.

  He waited until they had all fallen silent. “Vlad Dracul was trying to address the court, I belie
ve.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Dracul bowed. He kept his cool despite the slur against his son.

  “I met with him some weeks before the battle at Varna,” he began. “Many of the men here in this room know I warned him against going ahead with the crusade. I told him what might occur, and it did. He dismissed me out of sight with insults not many men would tolerate. I left there, but my son remained with my banner.”

  “Can anyone here confirm this?”

  A few of the men present nodded that it was so.

  “So why did you proceed, against such strong advice?”

  Hunyadi aimed a hateful glance at his rival. “I did so for two reasons, my Lord. I believed the advice he gave me was born out of cowardice.”

  “You thought Vlad Dracul to be a coward?”

  “Yes, my Lord. That is what I believed.”

  “But we all know he is nothing of the like.”

  “I had my reasons, my Lord.”

  “Dracul has proved himself many times over.”

  “Men can change, my Lord. Fear can change a man.”

  “What could ever make you think such a thing? I would certainly like to know.”

  He took centre stage. “It was the second time Dracul had refused to ride with my army.”

  “When was the first?”

  The question allowed him the chance to remind the Council of his past contributions to the cause. “It was three years ago when I defeated Sihabeddin. On that occasion he also sent his son in his place.”

  “I believe it was after that battle,” Mircea corrected him. “I rode with you for the first time when you formed the coalition two years ago.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Hunyadi said to the Council. “Mircea is right. Still, it does not alter the fact that he refused his support.”

  Dracul moved fast to counter him. He did not want the Council to recall the good that his rival had done in times past. “Does anyone not see why he mentions Sihabeddin? It is to detract attention away from his debacle at Varna.”

  The legate responded to Dracul. “The issue remains. Do you have an answer to what he accuses you of?”

  “Yes, my Lord. I declined his request because of the danger it placed on my sons. The Sultan has them captive and it restricts me. I did not want to endanger their lives.”