The Dracula Chronicles: The Path To Decay Read online

  Bogdan had himself been in this situation in times past. In his hour of need, he had turned to Dracula’s father. This was when Dracula was still a young boy. “You have a home here,” he promised. “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish.”

  Dracula smiled when his uncle stood up. The two men embraced to cheers in the room.

  “I want you to meet my son, Stephen. I am certain you should make great friends.”

  He introduced the cousins, and they liked each other straight away. The three men branched away from the crowd to talk. Bogdan waved a hand to the musicians to begin playing again. The festivities in the hall resumed as before.

  “So, it is safe to assume you have heard a tale or two about me, uncle?”

  “Oh, there are many. Some are good and some bad. You have made quite an impact in such a short career.”

  His nephew gave him a short nod. “I have been busy.”

  “Your feats in battle have brought you much fame. I hope I can make good use of your talents myself. Men such as you are hard to find.”

  “I would be honoured to serve you.”

  Stephen had a question he was eager to have answered. As soon as there was a pause, he took his chance to ask it. “Is it true what they say about Basarab’s sister? Did you really send him her head?”

  Dracula fell silent for a moment. He then looked straight into his cousin’s eyes. “Yes,” he admitted. “It is true.”

  “You have no fear,” Bogdan agreed. “But it is not always good to anger your enemy in this way. Basarab shall seek revenge until he draws his last breath.”

  “I, too, was seeking revenge,” Dracula argued, in his defence. “He needed to know with whom he was dealing.”

  “You can be sure he got your message.”

  “But were you not lovers?” Stephen pressed. “You and his sister?”

  Dracula fell silent a second time. “Yes, I shall not deny it.”

  Stephen laughed, agitating him a little. “I hope to God I never fall foul of you then.”

  Bogdan would have laughed too, had he not seen the frown on his nephew’s face. “Enough, Stephen,” he reprimanded his son. “It is not polite to behave in such a manner, and to a guest.”

  “I did not take offence,” Dracula said. “I can see that it would amuse some.”

  “I am sorry, cousin. I meant you no disrespect.”

  “Is it true what I heard about my sister?” Bogdan asked, on a more serious note.

  “Yes, Uncle. No matter how bad the story that met your ears, it is true.”

  Bogdan looked distraught at the news. He loved his sister, even though he had not seen her for many years. “I only wish we had known at the time of the attack on Tirgoviste.”

  “As do I, Uncle. But I shall make them all suffer for what they did.”

  “I hope you do. You have my full support at any time you need it. I cannot bear what they have done to my sister. Such an atrocity is unheard of against a royal.”

  Stephen put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “I am with you. Nothing would please me more than to be at your side when you exact your revenge.”

  “Thank you, my good friend. That day shall surely come.”

  Again, Lucy watched on from a quiet corner. She breathed easily, knowing Dracula was safe at last.

  MOLDAVIA.

  A MARKET VILLAGE TEN MILES FROM SUCEAVA.

  OCTOBER 17, 1451.

  Dracula loved life in his new home. He and Stephen grew closer with every day that passed. They trained, studied and hunted together. Even in the pursuit of love, they courted from the same circle of friends. Many a daughter of a Moldavian boyar flocked around them, hoping to win their favour.

  In June 1450, Bogdan faced a real crisis. An invading Polish army marched into his territory from the north. It allowed Dracula to make good on his promise to him. Bogdan’s army engaged them at Crasna. He gave command of the right flank to the two cousins. This part of the army consisted mostly of cavalry.

  Dracula sat with his cousin at his side as they waited for the battle to begin. He saw Stephen shaking with nerves. “Do not worry,” he said, trying to calm him.

  “It is easy for you to say. You have been in this position many times.”

  “I had to face my first enemy too, and draw his blood.”

  Stephen looked away, in fear of what was to come.

  “You are in your sixteenth year. It is time you were leading your men into battle. When you rule, you shall have to do it.”

  Stephen scoffed at his cousin. He was trembling with his nerves, no matter what he said.

  “Stay close to me. I shall not allow any harm to come to you.”

  “Have no fear. I shall stick to you like resin.”

  “Follow my lead. We shall win a great victory for your father and all Moldavia.”

  Stephen remained at his side throughout the long and bloody affair. But Bogdan’s forces won the day. He paraded the cousins through the streets of Suceava on their return.

  “Thank you, cousin,” Stephen said, smiling as they rode side by side.

  “For what?”

  “For this. Were it not for you, I would not be enjoying this glorious moment.”

  “That is not true. You fought a brave fight. You deserve every plaudit you get.”

  “It is a good feeling. To have the love of your people, and the delight of your father.”

  “Yes, it is,” Dracula said, offering him a smile. He remembered the look of pride in his father’s eyes when they last met.

  “You are my brother,” Stephen said, tears in his eyes.

  “And you are mine. So stop this and enjoy the day. You shall know many like it. Of that I have no doubt.”

  Stephen had never been without his father’s love. Even so, Bogdan only looked upon Stephen as a man for the first time after the success at Crasna. From that day forward, he properly nurtured Stephen for the day he would succeed him as voivode.

  IN February, 1451, Murad suffered a stroke and died. Mehmed took the throne and at once showed his ruthless side. While his father’s wife paid homage to him, he had his infant brothers drowned in their baths.

  Basarab sent a delegation to congratulate Mehmed on his succession. They wasted no time striking up an alliance. Mehmed was busy planning a campaign of conquest. In it, he eyed the trophies of Constantinople and Belgrade. It had long been a Moslem dream to conquer the first of the two. The famous old city was the capital of the Christian Byzantine Empire. By signing a treaty with Basarab, he knew he could focus fully on achieving this.

  WITH every day that passed, the bond between Stephen and his cousin grew stronger. Stephen was in awe of Dracula, both for his insight on all things military, and of his amazing skill with the sword and the bow.

  Stephen implored his cousin to pass on his skills. For hours every day, Dracula taught him the arts of combat. This was with an array of weapons, for his prowess was not limited to the two. It proved a great benefit to them both. Eager to learn, Stephen improved no end and always gave him a stern test.

  This was not lost on Bogdan. He watched his son and nephew with a close eye. It pleased him to see the bond develop between the two. He welcomed the influence his nephew had on his son. Dracula was a fine young man. There was real steel in him. He was a great leader who inspired the men around him. What better role model could there be for his heir?

  He watched them yet again from a window. Oltea stood at his shoulder and observed with him. He smiled when he saw his wife standing there.

  “It is good to see them together,” she whispered.

  “Yes it is,” he agreed.

  “Vlad is like the brother Stephen never had.”

  Again Bogdan nodded his head. “I am glad he came to us.”

  “I think it is time you told them about your brother.”

  He stiffened at the mention of it. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to relax him. “What he is doing concerns them both.”

  “You are right.
I should speak to them.”

  The cousins were duelling in the rain when one of Bogdan’s men called them inside.

  “I wonder what he wants,” Stephen said, grabbing a towel to dry his hair.

  “We shall soon find out,” Dracula replied, swiping the towel from him.

  His cousin wrestled with him for the piece of cloth. He struggled to hold him off he was laughing so much.

  “Ah, the joys of youth,” Bogdan said, standing in a doorway. “Come inside. We have much to discuss.”

  Stephen forgot the towel and followed him into the room. He saw Bogdan’s most senior officers were present. This told him it was a serious matter. Dracula sensed this too, when he entered the room.

  “What is it, father?”

  “I need to talk to you about my brother.”

  “Petru Aaron?”

  “Yes, Petru Aaron.”

  Stephen did not know him. His uncle and father remained estranged from an early age. It was rare that he had even heard his name spoken. “What of him?”

  “He has made his move against me at last.”

  Stephen stopped to think about this. Dracula already knew what it meant in regard to him. “What is he doing?” he asked his uncle.

  “He is rallying the boyars to his side.”

  “But surely they are loyal to you?”

  “As you well know, the boyars are fickle in the main. If they see that Petru has power they shall rally to his side. They live in fear of reprisal if they do not.”

  “But do they not fear the same from you?”

  “No,” Stephen spoke up. “My father is too easy on them.”

  “Then we must give a show of strength and crush him,” Dracula said, with real gusto.

  Bogdan sighed. “He has already gained control of Chilia to the south. It would appear he is strong in the east of the country as well.”

  “Is he being supported by anyone other than the boyars?”

  “Yes, I hear he is receiving support in the south from Basarab. They are related through marriage.”

  Dracula was livid at this news. “Basarab is a cur. I long for the day he feels the steel of my sword through his gut.”

  “It would be a good day for all concerned,” one of Bogdan’s men said.

  “So what shall we do, Father?”

  “I fear it is too big a risk to march south at this time. Taking the army out of the city leaves us open to attack from the west.”

  “Do you think Hunyadi would do that?”

  “He is still an ally to Basarab. Who imagined he would attack your father the way he did? It is a fool that would trust that man. I cannot leave my capital open to the same. It is the key to everything. Petru knows this. The power lies here.”

  “If we do not march south to Chilia, we must still act,” Dracula said. “Surely we should fortify the towns between here and there. And create a buffer for us.”

  “Yes,” Bogdan agreed, nodding to his nephew. “That is what we plan to do.”

  The next day the three men led a force of a hundred out of Suceava. Their first stop was a nearby village. It had strategic importance because of its location on the eastern tip of the Transylvanian Alps. Through it the road from Suceava ran south. A fort guarded the pass through the mountains and it was to here they rode.

  The cousins laughed for much of the ten-mile journey. Dracula had heard some gossip about a girl Stephen was keen on. It was something his cousin had kept from him, despite how close they were. Dracula was not going to let him get away with it. For the duration of the ride, he probed and teased Stephen about her.

  They arrived in the village to find it bustling with life. The market traders worked hard to bring the crowds to their stalls. Dracula observed his surroundings with a keen interest. The sights and sounds around him took him back to his time at Murad’s palace. Suddenly a shiver ran through him, a message from Lucy maybe. He stopped his horse. When he did, the others followed suit.

  “What is wrong, Vlad?” Stephen asked him.

  He did not answer right away. A puzzled look crossed his face. “I am not certain,” he said, his voice low and his focus still on the crowds. He had learned to trust in his instincts. At this moment, they told him there was danger afoot. “I had a bad feeling come over me.”

  “What is it that ails you, Vlad?” Bogdan asked.

  Again, Dracula did not respond at once. He studied those in the market around him with real scrutiny. One man caught his eye, and then another. Almost at once he had the feeling they were not traders. He kept his focus on them while he drew the Fier Negru. Both men stepped away from the stalls they were standing by, and he followed them with his eyes as they mingled with the crowd. To his left, he caught sight of several men who had not been there a moment ago.

  Bogdan began to feel uneasy. “What is it that ails you, Vlad?” he repeated.

  “I have a bad feeling about this place. We may be riding into a trap.”

  Bogdan looked puzzled. “A trap? Here? No, it is not possible.”

  “Those men look out of place to me.” He nudged his cousin with an elbow so that the younger man could see the same as he. “They are more concerned with us than the goods they are meant to be selling.”

  Stephen nodded at what he saw. “Yes. I think you are right, Vlad.”

  The men soon realised they had been spotted. They reached under the stalls and each produced a sword. Dracula saw the same thing happen to his right.

  “It is a trap!” he yelled.

  A hail of arrows rained down on the group. They struck many of the riders, knocking them from their mounts. The horses suffered the same. Many of them reared up in the confusion, dismounting more of the men. The crowds parted in an instant. The people ran in fear of their lives to avoid the deadly carnage.

  Dracula kept his calm despite the panic all around him. But his blood froze when he looked up. The sky turned black from a second wave of arrows heading their way. “Raise your shields!” he cried, as he ducked down under his own.

  At the same time he grabbed his cousin by the arm and pulled him down against the neck of his horse. They both heard the sickening thuds of arrows finding their marks. A second series of screams rang out from their less fortunate comrades.

  Bogdan was one of these. He cried out when an arrow embedded itself in his thigh. The enemy engulfed them from all sides. They drove their swords into horses to bring the riders down to the ground.

  Dracula rode straight into the fray. A surge of horses and falling riders met him from every angle. He wielded his sword and brought it down on the head of one the attackers. Stephen struck another of them down as he jostled to break free.

  The focus of the attack fell on Bogdan. His enemies honed in on him, desperate to end his life. They knew victory was theirs if he fell. He knew it too and fought hard to keep them at bay. It did not take them long to drag him from his horse. His son looked on in horror only yards away as five men stabbed him to death.

  Dracula snapped him out of it. “We cannot save him!” he yelled over the din. “It is time to worry about saving our own hides.”

  The enemy had reduced their number by more than half, and now less than forty of them remained alive. Of those, at least half carried a serious wound. The men tried to fight back, but the rebels overwhelmed them. Kazic had once told Dracula that cavalry were not so effective in a town. This proved him right.

  The two cousins fought for their lives. They broke clear of the melee and rode as fast as they could through the village. Going back the way they had come was not possible. The enemy pursued them, but could not stop them riding clear, and away.

  They rode for hours, leaving the road near the village. Dracula found a trail that led up high into the mountains. He pushed the horses hard even though they had begun to tire. A thick mist descended all around them. It was only then that they knew they were safe.

  MOLDAVIA.

  THE SAME MARKET VILLAGE

  TEN MILES FROM SUCEAVA.

>   OCTOBER 17, 1451.

  The attack in the village soon came to an end. Bogdan’s men all lay dead in the road that ran through it. The enemy did not spare any of them. When it was over, Petru Aaron rode in from his hiding place.

  Men and women alike eyed him high on his horse. They could not wait for him to be gone. The dead horses that lay all around would provide many a meal. That was all that concerned them now. The man that held power did not matter to them so much.

  He paid them no heed and rode on. His only care was to see the body of his dead brother. He had waited many years for this day and with the perfect execution of his plan, he knew the throne was his at last. All he had to do now was ride to Suceava and take it.

  Those who rode at his side made sure no one stepped out onto the road. Some of the people voiced their anger as the riders pushed them back. Many of them fell into the stalls, knocking them over. The men who had fought the battle for him dragged the dead bodies away.

  Petru looked about for his brother. He had waited a long time to see him dead. “Where is Bogdan?” he asked one of the riders.

  “I do not know, my Lord. I shall find out.”

  He rode on ahead to search for the dead voivode. His leader watched him stop thirty yards further on. The man then turned around and joined him again.

  “Well? Where is he?”

  “His body is lying on the road where he fell, my Lord.”

  He could not hide a smile. “Good. Take me to him.”

  They rode to where Bogdan’s bloodied corpse still lay on the ground. He jumped down from his horse and kicked his brother to make sure he was dead. Blood still trickled from the wounds that covered his torso. He kicked him again, to release some of the hate that still raged inside.

  The men stood and watched him. None spoke. Their thoughts they kept to themselves. From this day, life would change for everyone in the realm.

  “Look at you!” he spat at Bogdan. “Your life has amounted to nothing. Even your men have betrayed you. You are nothing but food for the crows. I shall take all that is yours. All that you kept from me. Your throne, and your woman.”