The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood - Volume 2 Page 9

  Dracula was waiting for him to strike. He drew his own sword in the very same moment. De Bourbon had no answer to the speed with which he moved and the vampire easily disarmed him. As his sword hit the ground he felt the tip of Dracula’s press against his throat.

  The move stunned all who saw it. In truth they did not see much at all. Dracula moved too fast for any of them. They all looked on. He was within his rights to kill de Bourbon if he so wished. They waited to see if he would.

  Dracula looked him in the eye. “You are a great soldier, General,” he said. “And I am your ally.”

  “Please, gentlemen,” Pescara said. “Let us not do this.”

  Dracula ignored him. He kept his focus on de Bourbon. “In light of that, there is no need to embarrass yourself in this way.”

  De Bourbon returned his glare. “Kill me. I would do it were I in your shoes.”

  “I have no desire to kill you. We are allies. Let us act as such.”

  “Then you ought to apologise, Charles,” Pescara urged.

  He could see that de Bourbon did not want to. Dracula waited for it. An apology was in order. Then he would step down. They continued to stare each other out.

  “Well?” Pescara prompted.

  “Forgive me, my Lord,” de Bourbon said. “I sometimes forget my station. My ambition does tend to cloud my judgement at times.”

  “Do you not mean your devotion to the Emperor?”

  “Yes,” Pescara said. “That is what he meant. Shake hands like friends.”

  Dracula sheathed his sword. “You do have my respect, General,” he said to de Bourbon. “You are a fine soldier.”

  De Bourbon picked up his sword and sheathed it. “And you have mine.”

  When he stood up again he saw Dracula’s outstretched hand. They locked forearms in a soldier’s salute. To show their mutual respect they touched their left fists against their chests. The other men in the tent did the same.

  “There are only great men in this tent,” Dracula said out loud. “We will win a great victory here by fighting as one.”

  The others nodded to show they agreed.

  Dracula continued. “I have a plan,” he said, “that should secure us a swift victory. It will also allow me to keep secret my identity.”

  “Why is that so important to you?” de Lannoy asked him.

  “It is my wish. They will write volumes about the coming battle here at Pavia. I will be happy for history to record your names, not mine.”

  “What do you propose?” Pescara asked him. The others gathered around the table. “I take it you are fluent on the field?”

  “Yes, General. That I am.”

  Mihnea smiled to himself. He watched his father take centre stage. It was a great sight to behold. He saw an ensemble of great military leaders. They were men of immense courage and honour. And now they lent their ear to his father. Earlier in his life he could have only dreamt of such a thing.

  Dracula spoke slowly for the interpreters. “There are four key issues to address.”

  He looked around the table to meet the gaze of each man. “First of all we must wonder what it is Francois is looking to achieve. How prepared is he for a fight?”

  “I would say he is well prepared,” de Lannoy answered.

  “I believe his generals wanted to attack the city a second time after the storm destroyed the dam. But Francois rebuked them,” de Bourbon added.

  Pescara nodded. “I think so too.”

  “Francois is idle and given more to the pleasures of wine and the flesh. He starts wars that he does not really care to see through,” Dracula said.

  “But he is a man of honour.”

  “Yes,” Dracula agreed. “And courage too. That is not in any doubt. But he has grown idle. It does make me wonder if…”

  “If what?”

  “If he engaged in war with the Emperor merely to impress upon the ladies.”

  Those in that tent that spoke Italian burst into laughter. One of the translators relayed the joke to Frundsberg. He then had a laughing fit of his own. He mumbled a comment to his aide. The man turned to Dracula. “Very amusing indeed.”

  “His men are growing lazy. But more important still they are cold and hungry.”

  “And discontented,” Pescara said.

  “Yes. I doubt if they are much in the mood to do battle.”

  The generals nodded too. Dracula pressed on. “The next item we must consider is the state of the battle areas.”

  He noticed a wry smile cross Pescara’s face. “Francois has erred. His camp is poorly located. The area is swampy and the ground much too soft for his artillery.”

  Dracula saw from Pescara’s face that he had thought of this too.

  “A surprise attack would render his cannon useless,” he continued. “Equally, our position is not ideal. But the ground is firmer on this side of the river. There is a good chance we can manoeuvre some of our cannon at least.”

  “A very sharp observation, sir,” Pescara smiled.

  “We must also consider the timing.”

  “In what way?”

  “Francois has made yet another grave error.”

  “Yes. By coming here.”

  De Bourbon’s comment raised another chuckle or two.

  “He has sent a third of his army to Naples.”

  “He thinks we cannot beat him.”

  “That is exactly what he thinks.”

  “Well we shall soon see,” de Bourbon said out loud.

  “It gives us an advantage,” Dracula pointed out. “He does not expect an attack. Neither could he stave off one when it comes.”

  “You want to attack in the now?”

  Dracula nodded. “If we strike tonight we will vanquish him. This is in spite of his greater numbers.”

  “His numbers are not what they were,” Pescara said. “The Grisons left for Switzerland only three days ago. As many as six thousand of them.”

  “I wager they were tired of waiting around,” de Bourbon cut in.

  “This is better still. It makes us more or less even in number.”

  “Yes it does,” Pescara nodded.

  “Then all is going our way. It adds to the emphasis of a sudden attack. We must strike at once. The Grisons could return at any time or even the army from Naples.”

  De Lannoy thought long and hard about what Dracula had said. “You paint a good picture of our prospects, my Lord.”

  “To go into battle with a faint heart is a mistake I am not going to make. So yes. I do paint a good picture, but it is an accurate one. We will win this fight.”

  “What is the fourth point you wanted to make?” Pescara asked him.

  “The weather. The whole area is beneath a heavy blanket of fog. It makes it the perfect time to attack.”

  De Bourbon did not so readily agree. “You want us to fight in the fog?”

  “Of course. The battlefield is very open. I see no high ground. It is flat all the way along. Without the fog we could never surprise Francois.”

  “What about the trees?”

  “They are not enough. The fog suits us, my friend. It will allow us to sneak up on them. We will catch them unawares.”

  De Bourbon was still not convinced. “How will our men tell each other apart?”

  “You mean from the enemy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pass the word to them to wear white vests over their amour. They will be able to see each other up close then.”

  Pescara turned to one of the officers standing out of the way. “Do it.”

  “We need to try and move our cannon. Whilst we still have the cover of the fog. At the moment they know the position of our artillery. When they retaliate I want them to be guessing where we are. This task needs doing with care. Lest we lose the cannon in the mud.”

  He addressed the lesser officers, who stood in a line. “I want the cannon moved fifty yards to the south. But keep them facing to the west.”

  They each nodded before turni
ng to leave.

  “I have not finished,” he advised them, his tone gruff.

  They stopped to listen.

  “Raise the elevation by thirty degrees. I want the French to think our cannon are further back. Our shot must barely reach them. You can lower it again later once the battle has begun in earnest.”

  “Why do that?” de Bourbon asked.

  Pescara laughed at him. “It will make them move theirs forward.”

  “Or try to,” Dracula said. He turned to the lesser officers again. “Make sure you use props under the wheels. We do not want to lose them.”

  He waited for them to leave. Then he continued talking to the generals. “There is a good reason why Francois abandoned the Castle of Mirabello.”

  “Yes,” Pescara said. “It is too hard to defend. He is better served on the plain.”

  “Yes quite. In doing so he is strangling the city too. However, he has risked his cannon in the swampy ground.”

  “Yes.”

  “That and the fog will prove his downfall.”

  “If we follow your plan?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what is it?”

  Francois was camped in the Mirabello Park. This was a vast area walled securely on three sides. The narrower southern side was open. It gave access to Pavia itself.

  Heavy forests covered much of the area within the walls. It was also home to two large fortifications. The Torre del Gallo stood further south from the castle. Before Francois came the area provided the city’s main resource for food.

  Dracula brought their attention to the model on the table. “Let us first examine the areas occupied by our enemy.”

  “You are familiar with them?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you know this?” de Bourbon cut in. “We have been here a few weeks and we are still unsure.”

  “Trust me,” Dracula said. “I have studied the whole area. I know the position of each of Francois’ armies.”

  For the first time de Bourbon thought he might be a spy. “You would not be leading us into a trap?”

  Mihnea drew his sword in anger and stepped up to de Bourbon. “I am not as forgiving as my comrade,” he said. “I expect you to retract that statement or I will run you through.”

  His actions prompted a few others to draw their own swords. De Lannoy stood in support of de Bourbon. “It is a fair question. How does the esteemed knight know these positions?”

  Mihnea kept up the defence of his father. “We have the area well scouted.”

  “The two of you?”

  Mihnea glared at de Lannoy. “What do you think?”

  “There are five of us,” Dracula said.

  “I want this to end,” Pescara warned. “I accept what our esteemed friend says. That is good enough.”

  “Then I accept it too,” de Lannoy said.

  “Please lower your sword,” Pescara asked Mihnea.

  He kept his focus on de Bourbon. “I have not heard him say it.”

  “Lower your sword,” Dracula said. “We do not have time for this.”

  “I accept it,” de Bourbon said with a nod of his head.

  “If you will,” Pescara said. “Tell us your plan.”

  “In the next hour I want the main body of our army to move out quietly.”

  “And go where?” Pescara asked.

  “North. They must take half our cannon.”

  “That is quite a task.”

  “Yes. But we will do it. I want them to follow the eastern wall around the Park. When they reach the north side they must cross the shallow waters there.”

  “We will not get the cannon across,” de Lannoy argued.

  “Trust me. We will get the cannon across.”

  “Without the French hearing us?”

  “They are a good distance away. They will not know. Not with this fog.”

  “We hope.”

  “The army is to make its way to the large gate on the northern side.”

  “The Porta Pescarina?”

  “Yes. You know it?”

  Pescara nodded. “But the French have it guarded.”

  “It is not guarded at the moment. We need to breach the wall near there. When this is done we can move our forces into the Park.”

  “It is not an easy wall to breach.”

  “It is the only way inside. The cover the forest provides will allow us to deploy our forces while our enemy sleeps.”

  “I thought Montmorency was camped with his army close to that gate.”

  “His force is about a half a mile away from there.”

  “Do you know the size of his army?”

  “He has three thousand Swiss troops.”

  “And cannon?”

  “Yes. But I am not sure of the number.”

  “This is something we need to know before we attack.”

  “It is not so important.”

  “What about d’Alencon?” de Bourbon asked. “Is he not also camped close by?”

  “No. Francois has moved him to the other side of the Park. His men are blocking the route south past the city.”

  “What is the size of his army?”

  Mihnea spoke up. “He has three thousand men and a thousand cavalry. When the battle begins they will pose no threat to us.”

  “D’Alencon also has a force on the other side of the Ticino. These are his South Corps. They too will have no bearing on the outcome of the battle.”

  “What about Francois?”

  “The main body of the army is with him.”

  “Is he still behind the Castle Mirabello?”

  “Yes.” Dracula pointed to a point on the model before them. “He is situated here in this clearing between these two forests.”

  “How many men does he have?”

  “His best knights are all around him.”

  “How many?”

  “Three and a half thousand.”

  “And his infantry?”

  “He has six thousand. The main body of his artillery lies here too. They can meet an attack from any quarter.”

  “So how do we engage him?” de Bourbon asked. “If he is ready for such an attack his cannon will cut us down.”

  “I will come to that.”

  “We must consider Florange too,” de Lannoy reminded the group.

  “Yes,” Dracula agreed. “His army is close behind the eastern wall.”

  “Near to the Torre del Gallo?”

  “Yes. Florange is in the chateau even as we speak.”

  “So his army is in range of our cannon?”

  “Yes it is. If our plan works to lure his cannon forward then we can remove him from the battle early.”

  “He has a strong force there. It has been enough to keep de Leyva hemmed inside Pavia.”

  “Yes I know. But he will crumble under the barrage we will give him.”

  Pescara nodded. “That is why you are leaving half our artillery here?”

  “Yes. With a small force to man them. I want them to bombard Florange’s position. It will serve as a distraction when we launch our main attack. On my signal de Leyva will break out of the city. Then we can hit Francois on all sides.”

  “It is a sound plan. How do you propose to deploy our troops?”

  Dracula glanced at de Bourbon. “The main threat is from Francois’ knights.”

  “Yes,” Pescara agreed. “They are great men.”

  “We need to deploy our cavalry on the right to counter them. At the same time I want Frundsberg to push forward with his Landsknecht and engage Florange.”

  The German stood tall at the mention of his name.

  “Florange’s position blocks our access to Montmorency’s cannon. If he could weaken the enemy here it would make the task for de Leyva that much easier.”

  “Yes. I concur with that,” Pescara nodded.

  “Much depends on Frundsberg. But I have every faith in he and his men.”

  An aide relayed this to the heavily bearded general. He puffed
out his chest and beat his fist against it. The other men did the same to acknowledge his salute.

  “And del Vasto,” Dracula said, looking at Pescara’s nephew. He waved him over to the table. “I want you to take command of a force of infantry and cannon.”

  “To go where, sir?” he asked. It excited him that Dracula had brought him into the conversation.

  “I want you to take a path through the trees here,” he said. They followed his finger to a spot at the northern end of the Park. “Stop here north of the castle.”

  “You want me to attack Francois?”

  “Yes. I want you to engage his positions here on the Casina Repentita. While you do this, your uncle and I will move south with the bulk of the army to the central areas around the castle.”

  “You want me to provide you with cover?”

  “Yes. We need to occupy this position. It cuts a line through the middle of the French armies.”

  “Does it not set us up for a crossfire as well?”

  “No. The other French forces will be too preoccupied. Once we have this secured you can turn south and join up with de Leyva on his push north.”

  The men studied the model carefully. They all felt clear on what Dracula wanted of them. De Bourbon felt more agitated than before. Dracula had not included him as yet. Despite this he kept quiet.

  “If del Vasto succeeds,” Dracula said, “it will draw Francois in. This will make our task in occupying the centre much easier. That will block any advance by d’Alencon or Bonnivet. For them to attack us they will have to breach the woods to the south. And they are a considerable defence.”

  “Then let us make haste,” de Bourbon said. “We have much to organise and a wall to breach.”

  De Lannoy nodded in agreement. “Our men have been expecting this. They will be pleased.”

  “Yes,” Pescara said. “It will be good to bring this all to an end.”

  Lombardy. The headquarters of Antonio de Leyva inside Pavia.

  Just before midnight on February 24, 1525.

  Varkal spent some time on the roof of the building where he knew he would find de Leyva. He listened to men chatting in the rooms below. As time passed it grew quieter. The men tailed off to bed one at a time.

  It did not take him long to know the voice that was de Leyva. He sounded to him like a man with strength. A good leader. The others respected him. That much he could tell.