Memoirs of an Immortal Life (2 page)

Chapter One

Vlad Dracul’s Journal

20 December 1446

Turkestan Prison

In my
words, I must exercise care and in my penmanship disguise for should this record of captivity fall into the wrong hands certain death would be mine. But I mean for the world to know what these brutal savages have taken upon themselves to do to my brother and I in the name of their God.

I am grateful Belcor was so young that these vile creatures showed no interest to take him into their keep. Only Radu and I fell to be their prey. Mircea should consider himself fortunate to be the eldest son. I have been in this horrid prison now five years. It is rumored soon they shall send me to Sighisoara. I can only pray to God that he sees it in his power to grant me this one small grace.

Much has been learned about them in my captivity. They are, if anything, predictable. Radu submitted his will to them without second thought or consideration, embracing their faith and heathen nature whereas I shall never bow to them no matter the humility I am forced to endure. They tell me I am disobedient. I must learn reverence and respect. How can I respect that which is undeserving? Radu has already paired with one their wretched females - an incestuous dog of Satan. Their offspring no doubt destined to be devils themselves.

Today Radu and I are to
be presented to Sultan Mehmed. He is a cruel and heartless dog. Given the nature of those who serve him, I would expect no less than this to be true. The loyalty of his subjects comes from the fear he demands, what he beats from them until they are submissive and in indentured servitude. The less fortunate suffer beneath him while those who would be considered nobles in my homeland are treated with the highest regard. Mehmed bleeds the poorest of men down to the last meager piece of bread on their table handing what they have left to those who have done nothing to earn it.

It is said he keeps many wives and concubines to satisfy his lust. He rapes the women of the villages he conquers leaving them unclean. What manner of beast is so depraved he must harm the innocent to prove his conquest?

I must record all I  hear, all that I see, all that befalls me as a testament should this life be left behind at their hand so the world will know Prince Vlad of the Baserabs did not submit his will to theirs; never did I waiver; never did my God fail me.

They torture me with devices I have never before seen for my disobedience. My body, scarred from my experiences, shall one day bear witness to what happened within these walls. Then the truth shall be known to more than me. I have contemplated feigning interest in their faith only to aid in my release.
Should Radu begin to feel once more a kinship to me, he may take into consideration placing me upon the throne in Wallachia when the time comes. I must plan carefully with regard not only to my own wellbeing, but also that of those who would look to me as their Viovode should the time come when my release from this Hell on Earth happens. It cannot be said if they speak truths or with forked tongues, for it is said when they conquer an offer is made to choose Earth or Sky. Should Earth be chosen, they are bound to kneel before the Sultan, their new God, and swear allegiance to him. Should they choose Sky, they are sent to see their own God firsthand. Should the question be posed, not Earth nor Sky should I choose. My heartbreak for my country and for those left in the wake of their God is deep, unyielding, and even death will not still what I feel.

Beneath the stone floor of my cell I keep these memoires hidden till the day of my escape; till the day God grants my vengeance. Then they shall know pain, and they shall know it at my hand.

Chapter Two

Vlad’s Journal Continued

Word comes late this day from Mircea. His is well, in hiding, and cryptic in his words. I believe he works toward my release through well-laid military plans. Praise God I have Mircea as my aide. Father retains the throne in Wallachia. How he wove such a bargain with the Turks has yet to be discovered. I am certain Radu knows the truth behind the treaty Father secured, but this he would never reveal to me. Radu does not yet trust me, with good reason. We are blood, but that is not enough to heal the wedge he has driven between us, which I have made clear at every occasion presented to me.

I have bent my discord slightly to appear more amicable toward these savages in the hopes Radu will have sway in placing me as ruler in Wallachia should Father fall in his rule. I would love to stand upon the castle wall at Poenari, and look down upon the land of my home with pride, as he and his men drown in a river of blood handed to my brother by those he has so willingly chosen to abandon.

Mircea is diligent in his works to fortify our homeland through his brilliant strategic military prowess. The fortification of the Danube Citadels takes place as I write. He enlists the free and dependent peasants of the countryside to fight and has the support of our Pope. His alliances are strong ones and enable him to defend the independence of our countrymen and women with little resistance. He is to me a great inspiration and also arouses within me envy for which I pray God will forgive me. Mircea has become the Viovode our countrymen deserve though he carries not the title. One day, it is my hope, to rule as bravely as Mircea and to restore what
has been taken from our people with the grace of God.

1 January 1447

Radu and the incestuous dogs with which he has chosen alignment fight to convert me at every turn. My schooling is of great interest to them, and each day I spend an hour of training in equestrian skills and fighting, followed by four hours of written prose and strategic military defense. This begins in the early hours of the morn and ends before they face their false God for prayer. I am forced to bend to their God or face the flesh torn from body. It is not what I wish to do but what I must do to secure my place and trust, to secure my return to my beloved Wallachia and free those who barely exist under their rule.

After their prayer has ended, my life returns to its miserable existence and enduring their cruel treatment and torture has become the substance of each day. My faith I will not allow to waiver. They will not break my will, nor will they take my God from me - for patience in plotting is the best punishment deliverable. The scars my body now
bears shall be a testament to my will, to my faith, and to my God that Radu will never break me for instead one day I shall break him.

They speak with loose tongues and unguarded conversations not understanding I hear all that is said and have grown adept in their language. Much has been learned in the years spent here. Their military prowess is beyond repose, not because they are brilliant or exceptional, but because they study their opponents with great care, learning all they are able to use against their enemies. Weaknesses are sought and savored the way a man covets a beautiful woman. Be it a King who desires a profitable arrangement through marriage or protection from surrounding countries, the Ottomans find that which will aid them and offer such unto them. They accept or meet their death.

Mindful am I in what has been learned, for each behavior uncovered is yet another discovery that can be used against them. They are not cruel in warfare as one would expect, but are great in strength and numbers. The army is comprised of many elements - archers, swordsmen, infantry, and equestrians comprise the army of the Ottoman Turks. Their ranks are well constructed and fearless. It is a fact I will remember and hold close to my heart when the time comes.

5 March 1447

This day marks a day of great anger against Radu and the words brought to me by his bastard servants. Into a lair of deceit did he lead our brother, Mircea, and killed him. Great detail was given to relating his death to me. Hunyadi no doubt had his hand in the kettle and was instrumental in my Father’s death, but not Mircea’s, as my brother’s death was at the hands of the Boyars at Targoviste. My anger lies not with him, for in war traitors must be dealt with swiftly and surely. I understand the decisions Hunyadi made against Father for his betrayal of the Baserab and his treaty with the Hungarians. Keeping the throne, to him, was the only concern my father had and
whom he claimed as his bedfellow to keep it mattered little.

With smiles both sickening and
gleeful, they spoke to me of how Mircea’s eyes were burned out with a red-hot poker upon his capture. He was left to wander the swamp-filled lands of the hollow below Targoviste until he was buried alive. Father escaped their deadly deception only to be captured by Hunyadi and found his death for his betrayal at the hands of our own cousin. How fitting his death, yet I cannot say I am not angered. Imprisonment is what my father deserved with trial and death before those he betrayed in a public display to show the masses what befalls a traitor against our beloved homeland.

Their continuous gloating over the manner by which Mircea died shows in their eyes as I pass them. The satisfaction of showing anger or despair at my beloved brother’s death will not and cannot be displayed. My countenance must remain strong and unwavering. To them, I must appear the perfect vision of a Royal Prisoner until my release. Then all that I have learned, all that they have taught me, shall be used against them in manners so implausible they will believe their God has failed them, and the Devil is indeed real.

17 August 1447

My deception has been flawless, so perfect in execution Radu came to me this morn to announce my placement on the throne of Wallachia as an emissary to the Turks to whom shall be paid tribute.

The meticulous care I put forth in my deception has come to fruition for in the months following my release I shall begin rebuilding my country and inspire within the peasants the will to fight, retaking what belongs to the Baserabs and restoring our family name.

With Hunyadi I will make penance and prove I am worthy of the title of Viovode. Blood shall fall from the Heavens, and God will be pleased. Appeals to the Church will be made, and my life as a servant of God, I will gladly give to free my homeland from the clutches of the Turks, the Boyars, and any who stand against us. For no man’s blood is as pure as that of the Baserab which flows in my veins.

Ahbrim Baserab’s Journal

5 March 1447

Sighișoara
Monastery

This morn I spent time in deep meditation over my new charge, the return of Prince Vladimir from his Royal internment with the Ottoman Turks. Archbishop Mordecai shows great concern over the wellbeing of Vladimir’s condition.

“His constitution frail I fear, upon his return, Ahbrim. Guard well his heart in the hands of God. Keep well his faith and protect that which may have fallen to the heathens.”

His words stern in their manner with a certain amount of fierceness behind them that I felt also had a small amount of fear contained within. The brutal nature of the Ottomans is well known. Tales of their torturous ways have spread like wildfire throughout the Romanian countryside. Peasants fear allowing their daughters to stray too far from their sight with good sense and reason.

Mordecai has arranged for Vladimir to be formally introduced the day of his release. His charge I will serve faithfully. I pray he will not find my questioning intrusive. I must find how well he has been able to withstand his treatment at the hand of the Turks. His brother, Radu, is said to not be returning. He has converted to the Muslim faith and abandoned his life in Christ. God forgive him.

Mordecai has bade me to accompany him to Hungary in only a few days. We are to meet with Hunyadi regarding the welfare of the Baserabs and how it is we shall proceed once the young Vladimir has been freed from his torturous conditions.

15 March 1447

Hunyadi Castle

Hungary

This arrangement made without my knowledge, had the meaning been known, would have never occurred knowing the wrath it soon will infer. Mordecai said evils are necessary when ensuring the will of God is provided.

The words of what transpired this day will no doubt reach Vladimir with great haste, carried by a secret Vatican envoy directly to the Turks. They will no doubt find bliss in what I have done. The blood cannot be washed from my hands no matter the prayers or pleas, it cannot be undone. And should I have been more worldly, more educated in the political will of men who would use God as their ally to forgive their sins, this would never have happened.

By the commission of our most Holy of men, the command came from my lips to execute Mircea - a man both godly and kind. Only two days later, his father also fell at my command.

It is needed, Mordecai says, to ensure his devoted loyalty. He states that all distractions must be taken from his view and fire must be added to his belly to take the word of God and make it his own.

It is the darkest hour of my existence and no penance shall be enough to cleanse me of what I have done. I can only hope that God will shield me and that Vladimir shall never learn the truth.

2 February 1448

Sighișoara
Monastery

Knowing that I would meet Vladimir today in the flesh did not lead to a restful night. I scarcely slept. I spent the majority of the evening in prayer, asking for divine guidance for what I am about to face.

Vladimir was only five years in age when his father willingly gave him as hostage of Royalty to the Ottomans. I cannot understand the makings of Kings and the servitude and tradings of human bondage for the profit and continuation of a kingship. How a man could trade his own sons to continue his own placement as royalty and kingship is unfathomable to me and yet is still commonplace. I would value a son above all that I held dear and love him above all others but God, but then I do not know who my parents are or how I came to be placed at the Order at
Sighișoara
, so for me to speak is not conscionable.