Chapter 9
Ennsegg Castle
Enns, Austria, eight miles east of Linz
Murad IV, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Commander of the Faithful, and Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, was angry. A foul mood was not out of sorts for him, though this flare of rage was due to the missive he held in his hand, one that he had not anticipated.
He tore the letter to tatters and tossed the pieces into the fireplace. The flames consumed them immediately. “How dare he do this to me? How dare he?” He picked up his mace and swung it as if he were trading blows with a sworn enemy. “If I were facing him now, I’d take this mace and dash his head from his neck, and let his corpse bleed dry as it was paraded through the streets of his capital.”
“It is only an alliance with Bohemia, My Sultan,” Halil Pasha said, showing extreme deference and respect. “Not the alliance that we had feared.”
Murad tossed the mace to the floor. Its mass and weight chipped the stone, sparked, and clattered to a halt. The sound echoed through the room. “I am aware of the contents of the letter, Halil. Very much aware.”
In truth, he had always expected the USE to open a new front against him. Their supreme commander, Gustavus Adolphus, had proven himself an excellent strategist as well as tactician, willing to take calculated risks, and more often than not, benefitting from those risks at critical moments in battle. Such risks would, in time, fail him—indeed, it already had on a few occasions. Murad knew this despite his youth, for in war, one’s fortune always ran out.
Allah be Praised.
Yes, Murad had always expected a new front to open against him. He just never expected it to involve the Bohemians. Though, perhaps he should have.
He breathed deeply to calm himself. It would not do to show such anger and surprise in front of Halil or any other assistant, any other councilor. He was Murad IV, emperor of the Ottoman Empire. He had to act like it.
“What have you learned of Bohemian military assets and readiness?” he asked, turning from the fireplace and addressing Halil Pasha directly. “Have they mobilized?”
Halil dared to move forward and shook his head. “No, My Sultan. There appears to be some dispute between Pappenheim and that up-time commander, Morris Roth.”
Murad raised his brow. “Ah, yes. What a silly man to be at the head of an army. A jeweler! What kind of dispute?”
“Apparently, Pappenheim has refused to allow the Jew’s so-called Grand Army of the Sunrise to return to Bohemia.”
“It is currently engaged with Polish-Lithuanian forces, no?” Murad asked.
“Yes, My Sultan. It is going through an expansion. Jews are pouring in by the hundreds, the thousands, placing an enormous burden on its resources.” Halil smiled. “And, as it is near Krakow, as you say, currently engaged in battle with the—”
“And thus, because of these maladies, you believe that his army is incapable of moving, and that we have nothing to fear from this alliance between Transylvania and Bohemia?”
Halil shook his head strenuously and bowed low. “No, My Sultan. I did not say that. Any alliance between two countries in opposition to Allah’s, and your, cause is always of concern. I am merely saying that the dispute that seems to have erupted between Generals Pappenheim and Roth is causing delays in their military preparedness. They have declared an alliance with Transylvania, yes, but it seems to be an alliance in name only. Nothing that our spies in Bohemia and Poland have seen suggests an immediate threat.”
“How soon, then?”
Halil paused, rubbed his beard. Murad could see his advisor worrying over the best answer to give. Murad did not like bad news, which is what he had just received, but he expected accurate—or as nearly accurate as possible—intelligence from his advisors. Anything else deserved punishment.
Finally, Halil said with great care, “If this Grand Army of the Sunrise is the one that Bohemia moves against you, My Sultan, I do not think it will happen until late summer, perhaps early fall.”
“And they will then most likely move straight into Transylvania?”
Halil nodded. “That is our assessment, My Sultan.”
Murad turned back to the fireplace. He put his hands out to warm them. Despite the rising heat of early summer, Ennsegg Castle was always cool. Today, that was a blessing, for it kept his own temperature and temper in check.
If his spies were correct, then Murad did not have to concern himself with any Bohemian army moving into Transylvania until late summer…if it ever moved there at all. He could continue to focus all his attention on the USE and its occupation of Linz. That, indeed, was his most pressing concern, and it needed to remain so.
“What does the Koran say about patience, Halil?” Murad asked, not waiting for an answer. “‘Allah stands with the patient.’ Therefore, we shall be patient.”
Murad turned. “But, not too patient. It is prudent to send word to Moldavia and Wallachia to order them to immediately muster and move against Transylvania. Their collective armies should bring George Rákóczi and his treason to heel. And tell them that they may divide the spoils up however they wish thereafter. Transylvania is theirs, Halil, if they succeed. And they must.”
Halil nodded. “Yes, My Sultan. Will we also be sending them military support? Advisors?”
Murad shook his head. He knelt and retrieved his mace. “Vasile Lupu and Matei Basarab are loyal subjects. They are enough to deliver our message to George Rákóczi in force. But, let us at least prepare.”
He pointed the mace at Halil and waved it subtly. “Gather my commanders—Suleyman, Ahmed, all of them—and bring them to me. We will discuss what forces we may send into Transylvania, when and if the need arises.”
Halil bowed low. “Yes, My Sultan.”
The room was quiet again, save for the crackle of fire. Murad looked at the glow of the flames on the head of his mace. There, he saw the faces of his enemies.
“With Allah’s strength,” he whispered, turning the mace over and over in his hand, “I will bring this mace down upon all of your heads. All of you. One by one.”