The Dracula Chronicles: For Whom The Bell Tolls Read online

  It looked magnificent and sparkled in the light. He had never seen such a long barrel on a weapon. “You shall be the envy of all the land.” He still could not take his eyes away. “Who crafted it?”

  “Take a look.” Dracul said. He grinned and pointed to a small plate welded to the bronze barrel further along. “His name is right there.”

  Rodrigul saw the name of Master Leonardus engraved on the side. “That must have cost you a handsome sum. There is no one better.”

  “Trust me, good friend; we have more than enough coin to pay for it.”

  He nodded, knowing the coffers were brimming. “That we do, my Lord. And what of the shot for the cannon?”

  “I have charged three teams of stone masons to build us an arsenal. Plans are afoot to open a new quarry to the east of the city. We shall build shot in the thousands.”

  Rodrigul could not hide his surprise. “I am your second and you tell me none of this?”

  “You have enough to keep you busy. There are some things I can manage without you.”

  They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Dracul broke into a hearty laugh. He then slapped his friend hard across the back of his shoulders.

  “This must mean only one thing.”

  “What is that?” Dracul asked, his laughter ceasing.

  His friend looked him in the eye. “You must be planning to go to war.”

  Dracul could not deny it. “Yes, it is true. Hunyadi has lost all faith with Alexandru. He has told me to speed up the recruitment of the army.”

  Rodrigul’s earlier enthusiasm had all but deserted him. “Again, I was not aware of this.”

  “A messenger arrived this morning past. But as you can see, my good friend, I had anticipated this some time ago. There are times that it serves you well to keep an ear to the ground. Then might you have an idea of what is coming.”

  “How soon shall it happen?”

  “I do not know, but when he sends the word I want to be ready to march without delay.”

  OVER the next few months, the people in the city saw a steady increase in their number. Dracul built up a large cavalry regiment, which he kept close by. At the same time he continued to recruit in Fagaras and Amlas.

  It was mid-November when one of his messengers arrived at the gates. The man brought word from his spies across the border. Dracul digested the contents of the scroll with relish.

  Rodrigul saw the look in his eyes. “What does it say, my Lord?”

  Dracul grinned at his friend. “Alexandru is close to death. We leave for Wallachia before the week has passed.”

  He sent a rider to Fagaras and another to Amlas. His infantry was to march to the border just south of Brasov. He planned to meet them there with his cavalry.

  Rodrigul busied himself with his officers arranging transport for the stone shot and the necessary provisions for the army.

  A week later the forces joined at the designated rendezvous. They carried on south, thirty-five hundred strong.

  Some small bands of Turks hampered the march south. They engaged Dracul’s army in a series of skirmishes. His force easily repelled them all. On the back of these minor victories support for his half-brother waned. He marched on the capital, Tirgoviste, which fell without a fight.

  At last, Vlad Dracul had realised his dream. He ascended to the throne as voivode of all Wallachia.

  WALLACHIA. THE CITY LIMITS AT TIRGOVISTE.

  LATE MARCH, 1441.

  The scouts at the head of the large unit of soldiers sighted the outer walls of Tirgoviste ahead in the distance. The man at the front turned his mount around, prompting the others to slow to a canter.

  “We should ride back at once and inform the White Knight we are here,” he said.

  Hunyadi and his unit of five hundred men were a further ten miles back. He breathed deeply when he saw his scouts riding towards him. It indicated they were close. He had never travelled this road before and always exercised caution. There was no knowing who they might encounter once they had crossed over the border from Transylvania.

  “The scouts are returning, my Lord,” his trusted Hungarian friend, Mihály Szilágy pointed out, as if Hunyadi were not able to see this for himself.

  Hunyadi had married Szilágy’s sister, Erzsébet, nine years before. In that time he had come to know Szilágy very well. He thought of him as a very capable soldier and an honest man. It made him the perfect choice to become Hunyadi’s second in command.

  “Thank you, Mihály, I can see them. I might be getting older, but I am not that old. Indeed I am younger than you.”

  Szilágy returned his smile. “My apologies, good sir. Old you are, but blind you are not.”

  “And more than a match for you with a sword.”

  “Yes, quite. What kind of a reception do you think Dracul shall give us?”

  “Who can say? I am sure he shall not enjoy the suddenness of the visit. I imagine we shall know soon enough.”

  They rode on in silence as the scouts drew nearer. Hunyadi had only sent word to Dracul that same morning. He did not expect his host would be too pleased at the lack of notice. It was likely he would now see the visit as an intrusion, on his home and probably his sovereignty too.

  Dracul had been busy studying documents when Rodrigul entered his study. “What is it, Alin?”

  “A messenger has arrived, my Lord,” Rodrigul said, holding a scroll in his hand. “He says he is here at John Hunyadi’s behest.”

  Dracul pushed back in his chair. “Hunyadi? What does he want?” He put a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. “Read it to me. My eyes are driving me to despair today.”

  Rodrigul broke the seal and studied the contents of the letter. “You need to see this at once, my Lord.”

  Dracul knew from that it was not good news and did not hide his concern. He took the letter from his trusted friend and read it quickly. In only moments, his lower lip curled in anger.

  He looked up from the letter. “This man has no respect for anyone. I imagine he shall want me to drop to my knees and kiss his feet when he arrives.”

  “What do you think he wants, my Lord?”

  Dracul stood up and walked from behind his desk. “What do you think, Alin? He shall no doubt have some demand or other. And if he is true to form, his business should involve the Turks. He thinks of little else.”

  “I expect that shall be the case. He has many interests to protect and is not the type of man to make social visits.”

  “We should at least try to be gracious hosts. Send riders out to greet him. And send word to the kitchens that we are having guests to dine with us. He is likely to have a half a dozen officers with him. The rest can fend for themselves.”

  Rodrigul sent a dozen riders to meet Hunyadi’s party. They intercepted the large force about a half a mile from the city gates.

  The head of the group, Ionel Lutu, was a man Dracul had brought with him from Sighisoara. “My Lord,” he said, offering a light bow when he saw Hunyadi. “Voivode Dracul sends his greetings and welcomes you to his capital.”

  Hunyadi returned the gesture, though it was a rare occasion for him to do so. “I thank the Voivode for accommodating me.”

  “I hope you understand I can only allow five men to accompany you into the city. The rest of your troops we shall offer whatever sustenance we have at our disposal. But they must remain outside the city limits.”

  Hunyadi nodded that he concurred. No one in their right mind would allow a force of five hundred of the best-trained soldiers inside their walls. And the men at Hunyadi’s side were the best available. Few could afford to pay what he paid and the best soldiers and mercenaries flocked to him because of it. Further to that, he was the White Knight of Hungary, a legend among men and adored by his.

  For these reasons Hunyadi knew his men could not enter the city. Dracul had to have suspicions of the purpose of his visit with his coming at such short notice. It took him two weeks to make the journey from Hunedoara and Dr
acul would know this. Yet he had only sent word that same day. He imagined Dracul’s first notion must have been that Hunyadi had come to depose him. In these circumstances anyone would think the same. Hunyadi knew then that if he were to object to the conditions Lutu had presented to him, then hostilities would commence at once. He had no such fears for his own safety. Few men would ever dare to raise a hand against him and of those, Dracul was not among them.

  “I thank your Voivode for his generosity, but my men have enough food to sustain them. I and my officers, on the other hand, welcome his hospitality.”

  Lutu bowed his head again. “Then by all means follow me, my Lord, if you will.”

  Hunyadi rode through the city gates at a canter with his officers forming a cordon around him. He looked up at the ramparts where he saw many dozens of archers with bows poised, though aiming down. It did not offend him, as he would have done the same. He looked straight ahead once more and rode on, following Lutu through the gates and into the fortress. They dismounted together before Hunyadi and his group followed Lutu inside.

  Dracul stood waiting for him with Rodrigul and a dozen officers in close attendance. He did not yet know the true nature of the visit and wanted to ensure his security was adequate enough to meet any kind of a threat. It would be easy to assassinate him were that the plan.

  He watched with a keen eye as his guests walked towards him. They had not met in many years so it was sure to be an interesting occasion, if nothing else. When the moment finally came, all the others stepped aside to allow the two men some room.

  Dracul, as host, had to make the first move and convey his true sentiment on whether Hunyadi was welcome in his home. He stepped slowly forward and offered his hand in friendship.

  Hunyadi accepted his hand and shook it firmly and bowed. “I thank you, Voivode, for welcoming me into your home.”

  Everyone in the room knew that Hunyadi was by far the more powerful of the two. Indeed Dracul had only assumed the throne because Hunyadi had nominated him for the position. Yet on this occasion it was prudent that he followed the correct protocol. Whether or not Dracul owed his candidature to him was immaterial. As it stood, Dracul ruled in Wallachia, and Hunyadi, even though he may have felt it a step beneath him, had to afford Dracul the respect due him.

  “You are most welcome in my home, White Knight.”

  In using his famous alias, Dracul had addressed his guest as a warrior. It conveyed that he assumed the visit would be for military reasons. He had not embraced Hunyadi as a friend, nor had he offered a smile.

  A slight tension filled the air which Dracul did little to dispel. “I regret that my people did not line the streets and wave palm leaves on your arrival. Your letter allowed me time enough to do little more than run a comb through my hair.”

  Hunyadi’s officers stiffened at the perceived insult. Dracul’s men braced themselves, knowing they outnumbered the group two to one should hostilities ensue. Neither of the two men broke their gaze nor their handshake, though they could hear and sense the emotions of those around them.

  In only a moment the tension between the two factions had grown thick. Then suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, Hunyadi erupted into a fit of laughter. It even surprised Dracul, who released his grip on Hunyadi’s hand.

  “You certainly have a way with words,” Hunyadi said to him, his chest still heaving from his outburst. “And no, I did not expect such an entrance. I am not Christ our Saviour after all, only the White Knight as you so astutely reminded us.”

  Dracul still felt uncertain of what was to come, and a quick glance to Rodrigul at his right side told his friend so. His captain placed a hand on the hilt of his sword at the ready to defend his master.

  “It is good that you do not fear me,” Hunyadi said. “I like good strong men for my allies.”

  “Why would I need to fear you, my Lord?”

  “You have no cause at all to do so. I come as a friend.” Hunyadi turned to his men. “Be at ease, gentlemen. We are all on the same side here.”

  The situation relaxed at once, though Dracul’s men intended to remain vigilant. If their voivode were to lose his life then theirs could end very soon after.

  “So,” Hunyadi said, returning his attention to his host. “Shall we dispense with formalities? We have known each other a very long time. I am John and you are Vlad, as we were in the old days.”

  “Very well,” Dracul agreed. “John it is.”

  “And with that settled, are we going to stand here all day and admire each other or are you going to feed us?”

  His comment raised a first smile from Dracul. “Yes, of course. I believe our meal awaits us.”

  “Then lead the way, Vlad, before my stomach decides to offend us all.”

  They enjoyed a pleasant meal, though a little subdued. Hunyadi put all thoughts of the impending business aside and laughed and joked throughout. The others joined in except for Dracul and Rodrigul. They both spoke when addressed or when brought into the conversation, but otherwise they said very little.

  Hunyadi displayed all the airs and confidence of a man in his position. Dracul had not seen him in years and observed him with a close eye. The men at the table, even his own, hung on his every word. Here was a man who had begun life in a lower station yet had risen to great heights as the most powerful and revered general in Hungary. He held vast estates in his native Transylvania and in Hungary, having received many endowments from the king. These were a reward for his continued successes in repelling Turkish excursions into the Ban of Severin, a large area south of Transylvania and west of Wallachia. He had also raised sieges in Serbia further to the south.

  Everyone knew of course the reason for his rise in status in the days before he had become such a renowned general. It was no secret, certainly among the nobility, that Hunyadi was the bastard son of the former emperor Sigismund. It was Sigismund who had taken Dracul under his wing as a boy and sponsored his education and training. Through that association he and Hunyadi had known each other since before they had reached puberty. No one would dare ever speak of this within earshot of the White Knight. One man who had done so paid for it with his life.

  He had envied Hunyadi back then. Even as a baby on his arrival at Buda it is said the emperor filled his cradle with jewels. Sigismund’s only legitimate child was a girl born after him. It was natural then that he would lavish so much on him, despite the fact he could never succeed to the throne.

  Dracul was a man feared and respected himself far and wide. Yet he felt a little intimidated in Hunyadi’s company. He lacked the charisma of the other man and even though he had the love of his men, the love Hunyadi had from those that served him went much deeper.

  When the meal ended, the two of them retired to a private room with Rodrigul and Szilágy. The others waited in the hall outside to carry on their earlier conversations.

  The four men sat around a table and waited while a cup bearer poured plum wine into their goblets. It was time for business and Hunyadi wanted the boy gone from the room.

  “Leave the flask, boy,” he ordered, his tone much more serious than at the dinner table. “We are well able to pour our own wine.”

  Dracul made sure to start the discussion while Hunyadi reached for the flask. “So what brings you to my capital?” he said, before a pause, “John?”

  Hunyadi looked across the table at him before setting the flask down. “Ladislas, our new King, wanted me to come here and speak with you.”

  Ladislas, as king of Poland, had come to the throne of Hungary the year before after winning a brief civil war against supporters of the infant, Ladislas Posthumus; so named because he was born after the death of his father. He had won, though, with Hunyadi fighting on his side. After making the White Knight his second in command, he had charged him with the task of taking the fight to the Turks. He wanted a new crusade.

  Dracul raised an eyebrow to show the answer had piqued his interest. “He is looking for me to swear a new oath?”
/>   Hunyadi’s mood soured almost at once. “Do you think I would ride for nearly two whole weeks to obtain a promise?”

  “I was not looking to antagonise you. What then does the King want with me?”

  “You signed a treaty with the Sultan so a new oath would be a waste of everyone’s time. How far do you intend to honour this agreement?”

  “I shall do what I have to do to preserve my country.”

  “The country I gave to you.”

  Dracul’s confidence was growing equally with his temper. “You gave it to me? I do not recall your armies here in the capital when I took the throne.”

  “Do not play with me, Dracul. I made you our candidate and supplied you with the means.”

  “Dracul, you say? So much for etiquette.”

  Szilágy thought it a good time to intercede. He too had known Dracul a long time and did not like the way the two were growing hostile toward each other. “Gentlemen, this is foolhardy. We did not come here to be at each other’s throats. For many years we have known each other. Let us talk the way old friends should.”

  Dracul answered without looking at him. “It would appear, Mihály, I am a friend so long as I do as I am told. This throne is my birthright. My father held it before me.”

  “Wallachia owes sovereignty to Hungary,” Hunyadi reminded him. “It was the same in your father’s day. Yet he too negotiated with our common enemy.”

  Dracul’s face darkened at the slur. He had long felt Hunyadi held a bias toward him because of the actions of his father. “He too did what was needed to ensure the safety of his people.”

  “By paying large tributes and giving five hundred Wallachian boys each year to be converted to Islam and raise arms against us? A fine solution that is.”

  Rodrigul cut in before Dracul could answer and fan the flames further. “The King is looking for a new crusade? That is why you are here?”

  “It would seem your captain is quite astute. Yes, that is the reason I am here. Too many Turks walk the roads in this country again. This has to stop. They can have no such luxury here.”