The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood - Volume 2 Read online

  “Your sins will live beyond you,” she warned, still pointing at him.

  “What is she talking about?”

  “She is mad,” Dancu said. “Everyone knows that.”

  They spoke in whispers, but she heard them clearly. It did not deter her from the message she wanted to deliver. “You may not pay for the wrong you have done,” she continued. “But your son will.”

  “We have heard enough!” Rodrigul shouted. “Be on your way before I have you thrown in the stocks.”

  “You should not be so unkind,” she said to him. “The fate that awaits you is not a good one.”

  Her words spooked him. He eased back in the saddle and went quiet.

  Valeria stepped closer to him. “Dracul!” she said, raising her tone. “Two sons you will sire this night. One is an angel, but the other a devil!”

  He did not take his eyes from hers. In that moment he wanted to run her down.

  “Are we too late?” Dancu wondered. “Has Lady Dracul had twins?”

  “You have had your say,” Dracul hissed. “I will hear no more.”

  “Open the gates!” Dancu shouted to the guards at the garrison.

  Dracul steered his mount to the left to ride around her. Valeria moved to her right to block his way. “Dark days lay ahead, Dracul,” she warned. “Dark days for the family whose crest you bear! Dark days for all mankind!”

  The gates opened before him. It allowed him to gallop into the courtyard where he quickly dismounted. He felt a cold sweat on his brow. The words of the old gypsy woman had struck a nerve.

  Rodrigul stopped to speak to her. “If I see you around here again I will have you burned for the witch you are!”

  Ionel Lutu ran to meet Dracul. He was the officer in charge at the garrison. “My Lord,” he said, a hint of urgency in his voice. “You must hurry!”

  The tone in his voice concerned Dracul. “What is it?” he asked.

  “It is Lady Dracul.”

  On hearing his wife’s name he feared the worst. Driven by that same fear he grabbed the officer by the collar and pulled him close. “What of her?”

  Lutu felt a little afraid at his glare. “Lady Dracul is in labour, my Lord,” he said. “She is about to give birth.”

  The words took a moment to sink in. When he realised his wife was well he released his grip on the man. He took a deep breath and smiled. Lutu smiled too, relieved at the change in his master’s mood. Dracul turned and entered his home through a side entrance. It was the one used by the servants, but the nearest to hand.

  He limped all the way through the house to his wife’s bedchamber. His leg still pained him from the night before. There his wife, Maia, lay screaming on the bed. He burst in to see two midwives and several other female servants attending to her.

  “Push, my Lady,” one of the midwives urged her.

  Maia screamed again and pushed with all her strength. The second midwife left her side to confront him. He saw at once her annoyance at his intrusion. She forgot her station and pushed against his chest with both hands.

  “My Lord!” she beamed. “Out at once! This is no place for you. Go!”

  Despite his great excitement he did as she asked. He stepped back into the hall. The image of the pain etched across his wife’s face touched him deep inside. A moment later the midwife slammed the door shut in his.

  He waited in the corridor. A nanny appeared with Mircea, his only child. He was three years of age now and his father’s pride and joy. Seeing his little one helped put everything else to the back of his mind. Dracul dropped to one knee and smiled. He reached out to his son. “Mircea!” he called, excited to see his boy.

  The infant smiled too and ran into his arms. “Papa!” he cried, kissing his cheek.

  Dracul lifted him up in his arms. He swirled him around in the air a few times. It was something that always made Mircea laugh. “How is Papa’s sweet little man then?” he asked, caressing his son’s cheek.

  “I missed you, Papa,” Mircea said, in his timid little voice.

  He closed his eyes and held his son close. “I have missed you too, my little one.”

  Alin Rodrigul joined him there. As his most trusted captain, he was never far away. He still had a bad taste in his mouth from the old gypsy woman. They always dismissed her as mad. Yet he knew people often listened to the things she had to say. That was because many believed she could see into the future. What she said about his still unsettled him.

  Dracul passed his son to the nanny. “Give Papa a kiss, sweet boy,” he smiled.

  He gave his father a kiss before she whisked him away.

  The two men locked arms in friendship. They then stood alongside each other with arms folded, as men do.

  “I am glad that you are here,” Dracul said.

  “Will she bear you another son, do you think?”

  “She may bear me two if that old hag is to be believed.”

  “I would not pay her too much heed. She is mad. Everyone knows it.”

  “It is what we are hoping for anyway. A son.”

  “Still, a daughter would be a fine thing too.”

  “Yes indeed. I care only that mother and child are safe and well.”

  “Yes. You have an heir. Any son born to you will merely be a bonus.”

  “It is always good to have more than one son.”

  “That depends,” his friend cautioned. “It can lead to rivalry. And the spilling of each other’s blood to win a birthright.”

  “No sons of mine shall ever war against each other,” Dracul said firmly. “The love of their parents will teach them unity and kinship.”

  “I wish you many sons then, my Lord.”

  “I thank you, Alin,” he half smiled. “If God wishes it, so shall it be.”

  He fell silent when his wife screamed yet again. The memory of her labour with Mircea had stayed with him.

  “Relax, Vladislav,” Rodrigul said, trying to ease his friend. “Maia will be fine. I promise you.” He put a hand on his shoulder. It was rare for him to address Dracul by his first name, but the situation warranted it.

  Dracul moved away from his friend and paced up and down. They did not speak for a time. He only stopped pacing when he heard his wife’s pain.

  Rodrigul resumed the conversation. “While we are alone…” he paused to take in a breath. “There are things we need to discuss.”

  Dracul looked at his friend. “What is on your mind, Alin?”

  “There is much for us both to think about. That said, my thoughts in this time are of the Wallachian throne.”

  “That is hardly a topic up for discussion at this time.”

  “I do not understand how you were passed over.”

  “Well,” Dracul sighed. He took a moment to choose the right words. “John Hunyadi favours the Danesti line. For that reason he is sweet on Alexandru.”

  “You know how quickly things can change.”

  “Rarely where Hunyadi is concerned.” Dracul almost hissed the name.

  John Hunyadi was the Protector of Hungary. Despite starting life as a lowly peasant he was, in reality, the true authority in that country. Even though he had good cause to reward Dracul he had neglected to do so. Rodrigul believed the snub was due to his father and the treaty he agreed with the Turks late in his reign.

  “You should petition your case to him.”

  “Why?” Dracul asked. “He cares little for me.”

  “You are a stronger man than Alexandru.”

  “So? What does that matter in the here and now?”

  “Because of your father it is certain more of the boyars would be loyal to you.”

  “You forget one thing. My father was his too.”

  “It is no secret that Hunyadi is eyeing this country for himself one day. He loves Transylvania. It borders Hungary. It is where he is from.”

  “His ambitions do not hold a place for me.”

  “Wait. His only fear is of the Turks pushing through Wallachia to get to h
ere.”

  “Perhaps he does not fear them as much as you think.”

  “I disagree. If he heard the rumours of your brother talking with the Turks he is sure to act.”

  “You can be sure if we have heard it, then so has he.”

  “The Emperor promised you the throne upon your oath to defend the faith.”

  “Well that promise has been broken.” Dracul paused to clench his fist. “It is proof that Hunyadi is the real authority there.”

  “But you have taken to the field for Hungary. He has not forgotten that.”

  “Well it is not at the forefront of his mind at this time. He has made his decision and will no doubt stand by it. He favours my half-brother.”

  “It is all wrong.”

  “When it suits him to give me my opportunity, he will do so.”

  “Let us hope your wait is not as long as I fear it might be.”

  Dracul went to answer, but stopped when he heard Maia scream again. He thought of the words of Valeria. She talked of the wrong he had done. What had she meant? She also said his son would pay the price for it. It made him wonder if his son might not be born healthy. He tried to think back through his past. The face of another woman drifted back from memory. Perhaps that was it?

  A similar scene unfolded in a forest near to the northern borders of Transylvania and Hungary. There, a gypsy woman was giving birth to her seventh child. The birth was cause for much excitement despite the circumstances that surrounded its conception. The woman herself was a seventh child. The gypsies saw the birth of the seventh of a seventh as a magical event.

  The previous winter she had lost her husband after a short illness. Providing for her six children, even within the tribe, proved a difficult task. In the spring that followed the gypsies moved south. They set up camp outside one of the towns on the border with Wallachia. The woman spent her nights crafting various items. This she did while her children slept. She then ventured into the town. Her hope was to raise extra money to bring food home for her little ones.

  A patrol passed through the town while she was selling her wares. The Lord who commanded this unit caught sight of her. Her beauty made her stand out from the crowd. He took a fancy to her almost at once.

  His guards arrested her for selling her goods without a license. They dragged her away to a quiet location. She fought them, but could do nothing.

  “Get your hands off me!” she screamed, as they threw her to the ground.

  Their Lord climbed down from his horse. She eyed him with contempt, as he slowly approached her, removing his gloves one at a time. He looked regal in his black uniform and cape. It bore the red insignia of the Dragon. Despite only receiving the honour a month before, his fame had spread far and wide throughout the land. She knew at once who he was.

  “So the mighty Lord needs his men to find him a woman?” she spat.

  One of the guards punched her to the side of the face. She crashed down hard against the ground. The blow scrambled her senses. Dracul waited for a moment while she dragged herself up. He dismissed his men with a slight shake of his head. They moved away and left him alone with the young gypsy woman.

  Dracul broke into a cold sweat. He looked left and then right along the corridor. When his friend spoke he did not hear it. He felt something else was there, with him and his trusted captain.

  “My Lord,” Rodrigul said for the third time.

  Dracul stepped back against a wall. He continued to look both ways, trying to make sense of the uneasy feeling that filled him inside.

  Rodrigul grabbed his arm. “What is wrong, my Lord?”

  He looked his friend in the eye, but did not respond.

  “You are not letting that old witch bother you I hope?”

  “Do you feel cold?” Dracul asked him.

  Rodrigul stepped back slightly. “Yes. It is cold.”

  “It is a different type of cold. It feels almost sinister.”

  “You are tired,” his captain reasoned.

  “No,” Dracul argued. “I can feel it.”

  “You have a lot on your mind. The last few days have been testing for us all.”

  He looked around again and stepped away from the wall. Maia screamed out loud. It took his attention back to the door of his wife’s bedchamber.

  His friend put a hand on his shoulder. “Try and relax.”

  Dracul did not hear him. The gypsy girl materialised before his eyes once more.

  He stood over her, but did not speak. She looked up fearfully, aware of what was to come. Blood trickled from her lip. A swelling had begun to show just below her eye. She knew there was no way out of this. It made her determined to be strong and not let him see the terror she felt inside.

  Dracul pushed her down again and lifted her skirts. She groaned slightly when her bruised face rubbed against the hard earth. The cold air touched against the backs of her thighs and her exposed sex. She bit into her hand and closed her eyes, emitting a muffled cry when he entered her.

  Maia screamed again. He shifted nervously where he stood. Rodrigul felt concern for his Lord’s state of mind and ran down the corridor.

  Dracul looked to see him turn the corner. His mind drifted for a moment, but then the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

  The figure did not move. It stood at the end of the corridor, tall and imposing. Dracul could not see a face behind the heavy cowl. In spite of this, he knew the figure in the cloak was scrutinising him.

  “What do you want?” he shouted. “You have no business here! Get away from my family!” When the figure did not respond, Dracul ran towards it. “Go away!”

  Rodrigul turned the corner again with a cup of water in hand. Dracul glanced at him and then back to the cloaked figure. It was gone.

  “Did you say something, my Lord?”

  “No,” he mumbled. “You are right. I am tired. Very tired.”

  “Come and sit down and drink this. It might help you feel better. We could be in for a long night.”

  Dracul’s guards stood a little more than twenty yards away. They watched all that he did, cursing him out of earshot. The woman was a sight to behold. Each of them to a man wished they could have a piece of her. But this was a pleasure reserved for the rich and wealthy. He would not permit them any time with her.

  The episode did not last long. After a few minutes he ejaculated and was done. She thanked God quietly that it was all over. Dracul tidied his clothes and stepped away. He threw three pieces of silver down on the ground beside her. She did not touch it. He turned away and rode off again with his men. When she knew he was gone she fell down against the ground and sobbed.

  The act angered the elders. They knew there was little they could do. Life was hard for the gypsies at the best of times. They could not seek any sort of justice for this crime. It would only heap more misery on the tribe.

  They asked the woman to put it behind her. She agreed to for the good of the group. For that reason they helped her when she fell pregnant. Now on this cold winter night the other women were on hand to assist with the birth.

  The gypsies lived their lives by a strict code. They worked together as a group. Yet the adults could rely on no one to care for their children. They had to do that alone. If a woman conceived with an outsider, the tribe would often cast them out. It did not apply in this instance. On the whole the women pitied this poor soul. She had played no part in the conception of this child.

  An air of excitement filled the camp. This baby was going to be the seventh of a seventh. To the gypsies such a child would grow to be a person bestowed with great powers. The women grew more excited with each new contraction. Some of them felt it a gift from God. They would revere this special child over all others.

  There were problems during the birth. The elder of the tribe had to take drastic action to try and save mother and child. He decided the welfare of the baby had to come first. When the baby turned his only option was to cut it out. With a heavy heart he did this. He managed to del
iver it safely. As it took its first breath its mother breathed her last.

  Maia screamed louder than at any time before. Dracul’s heart raced. “Maia?”

  The cry of a baby followed it. He let out a long sigh of relief. Gazing up at the ceiling, he was barely able to contain his joy.

  Rodrigul reacted in much the same way. “I told you all would be well.”

  Dracul looked to his friend, tears welling in his eyes. “Not quite yet.”

  Both men waited for the door to open. For Dracul it seemed to take an age. You may not pay for the wrong you have done. But your son will.

  The door swung open. He breathed in hard and held it. The same midwife that had evicted him appeared there. “My Lord,” she said. “You can come in.”

  Dracul did not move. He tried to gauge something from her expression. She neither smiled nor grimaced. Her face remained a blank.

  “Go on,” Rodrigul urged him. “Go and see your wife and child.”

  Many of the gypsies cried when she died. She deserved so much more than this. Death had taken her, leaving her seven little ones behind. Now they had no one.

  “We must love her children as though they are our own,” one of them said.

  “Yes,” the elder’s wife nodded. “The poor darlings. This is not their fault.”

  It was the elder of the tribe, Constantin, who had delivered the child. He cradled it in his arms. After its first cries it sucked on his smallest digit. “The child is hungry, Helga,” he said to her. “Go and get it some milk.”

  He waited while one of the women saw to it. “What are we going to name him?”

  His wife reached out to take the child. “Oh, he is so beautiful,” she said. “Hello, special little one,” she smiled with tears in her eyes, gently rubbing his chin.

  “His mother wanted to call him Andrei,” one of the others piped up.

  “Then Andrei it is,” he agreed.

  A brilliant white light appeared outside the tent. Everyone inside gasped at the splendour of it. Helga laid Andrei down in the crib they had ready for him. It glowed from inside. An incredible blue aura surrounded the baby.