Chapter 1

Blood painted a bright red arc under Katarina’s rag.  She had thought the sanguine spill had dried sufficiently to wipe it up easily, but she had been too eager to dispose of the mess and now had only made it worse.  She plunged her hand holding the rag into the bucket of frothy pink water by her side, swirled it briefly, and pulled it out heavy with liquid.  She slapped it to the stone floor and threw her weight into the act of scrubbing.

Katarina’s family had been poor despite their noble name and lineage, and like many decrepit descendants of nobility they had sent their daughter to work in the service of a more respected noble family in hopes of increasing their daughter’s appeal to a son of a powerful family, or at least one with higher standing than they.  The Bathory family of Ecsed Castle wanted a companion for their youngest daughter, Erzsebet, and the Benicka family answered their call.  Katarina, only seven when she met her new mistress, barely knew life out of Erzsebet’s shadow.  Erzsebet was younger than Katarina by a year, yet Erzsebet had the air of a much older woman even then and Katarina recalled feeling like an infant in front of the small, black haired girl with cruel eyes and wealthy parents.  The day she met Erzsebet Bathory was the day her life as Katarina Benicka ended.  From that first meeting, the specter of Erzsebet had haunted Katarina.  

Chunks of gore and shattered bone had dried deep in a crack in the stone wall.  Katarina was fond of a particular narrow scrub brush to use in difficult to reach areas, and she grabbed it to start working on the bloodied bone shards embedded in the wall and the torn flesh drying and congealing in the crevices. Erzsebet didn’t mind residual parts of her victims in her work rooms, and sometimes lamented to Katarina that she had cleaned away too much of the evidence.  Katarina felt it was her duty to give the dead one last gift, one that they had yearned for in life; freedom from Cachtice Castle.  

The first light of dawn was breaking outside the work room window.  Cachtice Castle, a wedding gift when Erzsebet married and became Countess, sat on the highest peak of the surrounding land, raised on rocky green waves of scrubby bushes.  Views from any window swept over rolling farm land, framed by the dark outcrops of the Little Carpathians and the Podunajska lowlands.  The seventeen villages under Erzsebet’s authority dotted the vast landscape, noticeable in the distance only by the plumes of smoke rising from far away chimneys.

  Katarina was expected to assign one of the newer, younger servants the task of cleaning up after Erzsebet’s nights, but often she found that the girls were far too affected by their relationships to each other.  Most of the servants in the castle weren’t as skilled as Katarina in silencing their sentimentality and would wail in mourning at their first glimpse of the bloodied workroom.  Most of them hadn’t lost as much as Katarina had.

Erzsebet’s comfort, routines and general satisfaction needed to come before all else in the house, and taking time to mourn another dead seamstress could end with your own death.  

Even if that seamstress carried a second smaller victim within her.  

The other girls in the house didn’t know how she got pregnant, or at least claimed not to, and she wouldn’t say who the father was.  The women that had experienced pregnancy before shared their knowledge about supporting the new spark of life, but failed to show her how to stop from retching in the morning.

Katarina had liked Nora, but Countess Erzsebet Bathory had spent a great deal of money on the now ruined bolts of cloth.  Erzsebet was having an elaborate dress constructed for her for a wedding she was attending in Budapest and Erzsebet had hand-picked the heavy, cream colored fabric for her dress and had the bolts imported from Vienna, making sure that no other bolts of the cloth remained for another woman to use (too long).  Erzsebet cared deeply about her appearance, particularly if high ranking nobility would be present, and she hated to be judged unfavorably.   Nora and the other seamstresses had been working for weeks on the dress, painstakingly sewing each embellishment on one by one with exquisite precision.  There would be no time to start over.    

Ghostlike, despite the exertion of expelling her breakfast that was now soaking into the once pristine fabric, Nora bore the expression of a condemned woman.  According to the head seamstress Ilona, after the brief stunned silence after her vomiting, Nora let out a pained wail like a fox mortally caught in a trap.  Ilona and the other seamstresses tried desperately to soak and scrub the sick out of the milky white fabric, but water only spread the bile stain.  While Ilona and the others furiously scrubbed the cloth, Nora sat frozen, silent tears dripping down her round cheeks while she clutched her stomach, desperately trying to hold the child she would never meet.  Eventually it was just Ilona at the wash tub trying to clean the cloth and the other women, resigning themselves to losing another member of their ranks, had collected around Nora to murmur soothing words and gently pet her hair.  

Ilona was the one to inform the Countess.  She alone faced the reactionary wrath of Erzsebet, every muscle in her body tense with the possibility of violence. Ilona begged Countess Bathory to take pity on the young woman, to consider the unborn child inside her, but to no avail.  

That night Nora was taken from dinner by two large, stone faced men.  Katarina stood by the countess as Nora was dragged sobbing into the work room and dropped unceremoniously at Erzsebet’s feet.  Nora lay crumpled and trembling on the floor, a broken bird looking up at the cat ready to play with and consume her.

Katarina was no longer disgusted by the deaths she scrubbed off the walls, just regretful.

Sweet Nora had been cleansed from the room of her death just as the sky beyond the barred windows lightened to ghostly morning grey.  Now Katarina only had a few hours to clean herself up and make sure the staff was on time with Countess Bathory’s breakfast.

***

The smell of paprika and bread warmly enveloped Katarina as she entered the bustling kitchen.  Warm morning light slid across the room highlighting the aromatic curls rising from bubbling pots.  

Katarina approached an older, round woman sweating over large pot of simmering goulash.  “Good morning, Reka!”

“Is it?  I had the whole week planned, and then she goes and changes her mind last night.  I had to pull people in two hours early to make sure we had everything!”

Katarina’s heart dropped. “And do you?”

“Yes of course.” Reka threw her thick hands up “I always make sure I have enough of everything, even when half of it goes to waste.”

“Reka you’re the only person that can keep this kitchen going.  Are you still able to meet me tonight?”

“I’ll be there, unless the Countess has a bad day.”

“Well let’s hope for a good day!” Katarina heard the forced optimism in her voice and felt foolish.  

Reka raised an eyebrow and let out a huff.  Turning back to the stew she said, “You make sure it’s a good day.”

Katarina smiled at Reka, and as she moved past her to leave reached out and rested her palm on Reka’s shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Katarina made her way through the winding halls of the castle, greeting others as they went about their morning rituals.    Katarina looked out the small window as she passed and saw golden fields in the morning light and leaves shifting from rich greens of summer to fiery bursts of autumn.

Katarina had a sudden phantom taste of metallic dirt on her tongue, the same as the first day she really saw Erzsebet, an early fall day, just like this one when they were both children.  Katarina had been with Erzsebet for a few years, and was used to the cruel games that the children of powerful men often engage in. When she had complained to an older servant they had just laughed at her naivety.  Katarina made the choice at a young age to enjoy the fun and frivolity that came with being a noble child’s plaything, and to ignore the pangs of humiliation and physical pain that went along with it.  After all, Katarina got to meet other nobles, join in feasts, and sit with Erzsebet during her lessons, opportunities that others like her would be grateful for.

The two girls would take long walks together through the rolling farmlands and fields that surrounded the Bathory family castle, Ecsed.  They’d go rushing through thickets of grass to startle clouds of grasshoppers and knocking birds’ nests down with sticks.  There was a marshy portion of the land that the girls usually skirted around that had water so thick with suspended sediment that it looked as if one could step on it like firm earth.  On this particular day the girls spent several minutes tossing various rocks into the muck, giggling at the sucking noises as they sank to mysterious depths.

Katarina had her back turned to Erzsebet, while she watched the thick water ripple with the last projectile.  She turned to look at Erzsebet behind her, and saw a large rock in her hand.  Katarina remembered stepping aside to give Erzsebet space to toss her rock into the water.  When Erzsebet didn’t move or smile, Katarina felt a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Erzsebet’s black eyes were focused directly at Katarina.  Uncomfortable with the look from Erzsebet, Katarina bent down and took another rock.  She turned to throw it in the water when she felt a sudden bolt of pain radiating from the base of her skull and crackling down her arms and legs, her vision going black.  She felt herself crumple and stumble forward, desperately trying to maintain balance, but instead she fell into the marshy bog.

Paralyzed with fear and pain, the fetid water filled Katarina’s nostrils while her heavy skirts pulled her down to the murky depths.   In a desperate attempt for survival, Katarina kicked out her legs against the thick water and spread her arms out like wings, flapping to get back to the surface.  Her muscles and lungs burned as she managed to push her slender arm up into the cool, fresh air. She kicked harder and flapped with her still submerged arm until her head surfaced, a thin layer of scum coating her skin.  While her arms slapped weakly against the surface of the water, she took deep wracking breaths, grateful for the cool air in her burning lungs.

As she regained some clarity, Katarina opened her eyes and saw Erzsebet standing very still by the side of the water her eyes still fixed firmly Katarina, a small smile pushing up the edges of her cherubic cheeks.

“Help.  Please.” The plea was barely audible in between Katarina’s rasping gasps for air.

The weight of the skirts pulled her down again, her head slipping beneath the surface of the water.  Her legs refused to move and her arms had cramped in stubborn protest.  It was silent under the water, and when she looked up, Katarina saw the blurry shape of Erzsebet looking down at her.  Her vision tunneled, focused only on the cruel girl above her until her vision faded once more to black.  

Two shepherds had seen Erzsebet standing by the bog and had come over to check on her, which is when they saw the second girl still beneath the surface of the water.  According to the men that rescued her, Erzsebet was distraught.  They described her crying with fear while she watched her attendant and friend slip to her death.  The shepherds had been able to reach in and pull her small body, and heavy dress, from out of the water.  They reminded her to always be careful out in the fields, that there are always unseen dangers.  They also reminded her that she should be focused on her mistress, and falling into bogs was not taking good care of Erzsebet.  Her mistress, small and angelic, watched her with calculating eyes, as if memorizing every moment of pain and fear.

Katarina roused herself from the memory and moved from the window.  She continued towards her mistress’ chambers, cycling through the events planned for Erzsebet’s day.  She approached the ornate door and lightly tapped three times, waited a breath, and then entered the room, carefully closing the door behind her.

Heavy tapestries blocked the windows, leaving the room deep in shadow.  Katarina saw the familiar shape of Erzsebet beneath the blankets, the gentle rise and fall of the blankets indicating that she was peacefully asleep.  Erzsebet slept on her back, heavy blankets gathered up near her chin, and let out a soft purr with each exhale.  Katarina stared at the vulnerable body beneath the blankets, catching herself looking a beat too long, and moved towards the windows to begin the process of preparing the Countess for her day.

She slid the curtains along the runners, flooding the room with brilliant white light, chasing away the shadows from each corner of the room.  Erzsebet whined as she stirred from deep in her downy den of pillows.

“Good morning, my lady!” Katarina was careful to not be too enthusiastic so as not to irritate the Countess more than she already was in the morning.

Muffled from within the depths of her bed Erzsebet’s voice said, “Good morning, Kata.  Yours is the only face I can tolerate at this early hour.”  Erzsebet yawned as she lifted her head out of the blankets, blinking against the morning sun that highlighted the paleness of her skin.

Everyone called Katarina “Kata” under direction from Erzsebet.  It was a nickname that she had been given early on, and it had stuck.   Her real name was now only a faded token of life before the Bathorys, before this Castle.  In Erzsebet’s world, she was Kata.

Kata finished drawing back the curtains and approached Erzsebet who was now sitting up in bed and shifting her legs towards the floor.  Holding up Erzsebet’s dressing gown, Kata helped her mistress shimmy into the sleeves.  She noticed dark red crust matting down a portion of Erzsebet’s black hair.  

“Oh, it looks like I missed a spot from last night, ma’am.  I’ll go fetch some hot water.”

Erzsebet lifted a narrow hand up to her hairline.  She brushed her finger tip over the crusted blood, pulling away rust colored flakes stuck to the pad of her finger.

“Oh, dear  Kata.  Of all the things for you to worry about!  Some left over blood is nothing.” She put the finger in her mouth and smiled while looking at Kata.  Erzsebet’s brow furrowed as she removed her finger, “too bad about the flavor, though.”

Kata quickly fetched hot water and returned to Erzsebet’s bedroom.  She was standing with her back to the door looking out the window, seemingly deep in thought.  

Kata hesitated before entering. “Ma’am?”  

 Erzsebet slowly turned to look at her loyal assistant in the doorway and flicked her wrist to beckon Kata towards her.  The Countess sat while Kata gently wiped the warm, wet cloth across her forehead, quickly dissolving the residual blood of Nora.  When Kata dropped the soiled cloth back into the water, a pale wisp of red drifted like a plume of smoke through the water.  

Kata took the brush from the dressing table and began to run the course brush through the Countess’ coal black hair.  “I’m expecting news of Ferenc today.  I do hope that something comes in from the frontlines early.  I’m sick with worry.”

Ferenc Nadasdy, Erzsebet’s husband was Chief Commander of Hungary’s troops in their war against the Ottomans.  Kata had heard tales of Count Nadasdy’s brutality on the battlefield, how his name alone caused some of his enemies to retreat.  He was known for his particularly rough interrogation techniques, and collected new devices and methods of torture during his time away from the castle. His returns typically invigorated Erzsebet and he enjoyed sharing tales, and newly acquired skills, from his travels abroad.   If any couple had truly been fated for one another, Kata supposed it would be the two of them.

“You know he always returns stronger than before, my lady.  There is none in the known world capable of felling your husband.”

Erzsebet sniffed, eyes cold and clear and said “Obviously, Kata.  I know that.  I’ve made some assurances of my own in fact just to be sure.  I just ache to be near him again.”

Erzsebet relaxed under Kata’s rhythmic movements as she began to wind ribbons of hair on top of Erzsebet’s head, securing each twist of hair with a sparkling pin.  They sat in relative silence, periodically speaking about the weather and what was for breakfast.  Kata helped Erzsebet into her undergarments and then into a heavy, crimson dress with ornately ruffled sleeves drooping off the shoulders.  Despite her small stature, the dress gave Erzsebet an intimidating look, accentuating her strong shoulders and slender neck, and drawing you up towards her sharp nose and black eyes.  

As the last clasp was closed, Erzsebet turned and focused those eyes on Kata’s.  “Don’t forget that today is my private lesson.  The usual time.”

“Of course, Countess.  I’ve never failed you before, and today will be no different.”

Erzsebet usually only had her private tutoring sessions once a month, and Kata had often wondered what Erzsebet was learning behind the closed door of the study, but she’d never been allowed in.  In fact, she’d only caught glimpses of the old but clean shaven teacher with a hard jaw and ruddy cheeks, most of their face cloaked by a heavy hood.  

Giving Kata a pleased smile, Erzsebet turned and moved towards the door.  “Shall we begin?” she asked Kata, or perhaps it was just to herself.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2