“Of course you can ride, but not the white stallion,” he said. “You must dress as a man, ride as a man. But the bandits along the road, the Ottoman armies—”
“I will avoid them. I have young ears and eyes. Give me a fleet-footed horse.”
He smiled. He saw the excitement in her eyes, the chance to gallop a horse in the wind and rain. To escape Čachtice Castle forever.
Then his face drained of color. He fell back onto the pillows, closing his eyes.
“You must rest, or the fever will return,” Zuzana said, taking his hand. “Vida, send word that Aloyz should come stealthily through the kitchen entrance and see his master. He is to bring his riding clothes.”
Janos nodded, fighting to open his eyes. He struggled to gather his wits.
Zuzana searched in the bedclothes and found the lock of white mane. She placed it in Janos’s hand, which was moist with sweat.
He stared at the talisman. He curled his fingers tight around it, closing his eyes.
“But Vida, you and I must find the ledger,” he said. “With the pages as evidence, the Countess will be damned for all eternity.”
Chapter 93
ČACHTICE CASTLE
DECEMBER 28, 1610
The Countess’s retinue was roused from their sleep.
“Get up! Get up!” said Hedvika, slapping a switch across the slumbering servants.
The groggy handmaidens threw back their bedclothes, their eyes wide in alarm. They broke the ice on the surface of the washbasins, splashing their faces to dispel the slow wit of their sleep.
“Make haste for the Countess’s departure!”
Torches burned in the Countess’s dressing chamber. The maidens sorted the gowns and aprons on broad plank tables. The wrinkles in the silks and linens were smoothed by attentive hands, two women working in tandem to place each garment in a cedarwood chest.
“Bring all of my best clothes,” commanded the Countess, sweeping into the room. “I will be in royal company. And my warmest furs. The winds of Transylvania in winter are cold-toothed.”
The ladies trembled at her description, fearing for their own lives. “Which of us will accompany her?” they whispered. “Why does she seek refuge in such a savage land?”
“Have the coaches packed and ready for my departure.”
“When do we depart, Countess?” asked Hedvika, pushing back a stray lock of hair from her face.
“When you hear the cats scream, that is the hour,” replied the Countess. “Soon. But first I must bathe—and find pleasure.”
She walked to the looking glass, touching a hand to her face.
“I cannot let him see me so old and tired.”
Chapter 94
ČACHTICE CASTLE STABLES
DECEMBER 28, 1610
The stable boys threw back the dark cloth that covered the black carriage. Frost gleamed on the veneer of lacquered wood and the Bathory shield—red wolf’s teeth—emblazoned on the coach door.
Guard Kovach had enlisted Aloyz and his stable boys to carry the Countess’s trunks and boxes from the castle. Guards kept a wary eye on their progress, watching that swift fingers didn’t dig into the treasures.
“Should I harness the horses now?” asked Aloyz.
“Not yet. Keep them groomed and at the ready,” said Kovach.
“What a pity if the Countess travels the roads at New Year,” said Aloyz. “It is a bad omen, I have heard.”
Kovach cuffed the boy’s head.
“Shut your ignorant mouth,” he said, turning away. Aloyz watched the other guards’ tense faces.
The smallest boy, Halek, carried a birch chest clutched to his chest. He looked down at the knotted eyes in the white wood. They stared back, unblinking.
His foot slipped on the hoarfrost of the stone floor.
“No!” he cried, his cargo launching from his arms.
The chest belched out its contents, metal ringing on the rock.
The white stallion reared in his stall, his hooves tearing at the air.
Aloyz stared at the objects strewn across the stable floor.
In the torchlight, the blades of sharp knives glittered. Needles as thick as his little finger littered the stones. Scissors, their blades brown with dried blood. Pincers black with char gaped wide-mouthed.
“What meaning is this?” asked a voice.
Aloyz recognized the barracks cook, who, like the stable boys, stood wild-eyed in horror. “She takes these tools in travel? What wicked occupation does she practice?”
“Keep silence!” snapped Kovach, whirling around to face the cook. “If you value your life, you will forget what you see, all of you!”
“Blindness, you demand!” said the cook, spitting on the cold, dirty stones. “I have turned a deaf ear to gossip, but now I see murder spread out at my feet!”