Wallachia, 1462
Commander Alexandru Racovita, even more tired and shell-shocked than the quivering wreck of a horse upon which he rode, had known better days.
In spite of the valiant efforts of Prince Vlad Dracula’s army to repel them, the heathen Turks were even now advancing across the Danube and over the corpses of many fine soldiers, including everyone, boyar and peasant alike, who had been under Alexandru’s command. Now, cut off from whatever remained of the prince’s army, all he could do was try to cut an inglorious retreat to Targoviste, and accept the considerable risks faced by a lone, weakened rider in lands infested with wolves, bears, bandits, and outlaw gypsies who would as soon look at any boyar as slit his throat and strip his carcass.
