“You clumsy peasant cow!” said the Countess, leaping up. “Look what you have done.”
Brona snatched the linen napkin from the tray and doused it with water from a jug.
“Mistress, forgive me! Let me take the stain off immediately before it sets.”
She began soaking the Countess’s apron with water, blotting the stain with the napkin.
“You clumsy fool! This gown is Venetian silk!”
Brona spread out the apron to its full width, lifting it clear of the silken gown.
“You fool!”
“Forgive me, Countess, but I must remove your apron before it soils your dress.”
She untied the apron, helping her mistress out of the garment.
Her hand dug into the pocket of the apron, extracting the ledger. She shoved it into the pocket of her own apron.
“Oh! Look at your shoes. And the hem of your dress.”
Brona dropped to her knees, blotting at the Countess’s clothes.
“Never mind!” screamed the Countess. She plucked up the needle from her embroidery and plunged it into the cook’s scalp.
She gave it a savage twist.
Brona screamed, her big hands flying to her head.
“I shall change my garment,” said the Countess, twisting the needle. “Send the laundress to my bedchamber at once!”
Chapter 104
ČACHTICE CASTLE
DECEMBER 29, 1610
Vida took the ledger from the cook, who kept her hand clasped over her head in pain.
“Let me attend to it,” said Vida, her gentle hands touching the wound.
“Oaaaw!” Brona moaned.
“The gash is bad. I will dress it.”
“No,” said Brona. “You must give the book to Janos and leave this castle immediately. The Countess will murder you! Go now!”
Vida placed the ledger in her apron pocket. She looked out through the leaded windows. Through the warped glass, she saw the figure of the horsemaster, striding toward the stables in the moonlight.
“Hurry!” said Brona.
Vida raced down the stairs. She stood panting at the doorway, looking for any sign of the Countess or one of her wicked faithful. She dashed across the courtyard toward Janos.
“Here, take this!”
“Vida!” Janos said, looking around, frantically. “You risk your life—”
“Take it,” she said, shoving the ledger into his hands. “I am leaving this evil place.”
She reached up and kissed his lips. Before he could respond, she ran toward the gates, her footfalls echoing across the cobblestones.
Janos felt a chill. He whirled around, searching the windows of the castle in the moonlight.
Someone was watching.
Chapter 105
NEAR ČACHTICE CASTLE
DECEMBER 29, 1610
Zuzana told Count Thurzo about a passageway, a secret entry from the mountainside above Visnove, the tiny hamlet at the edge of the river.
“If you approach from the village of Čachtice, one of her spies would be sure to alert her. There are many passages and tunnels through the caverns below the castle, but I shall show you one through which your soldiers can pass.”
“Are you sure of the passageway?” said Thurzo, as he rode beside the girl.
“I could find my way blind through the darkness,” she answered.
Doricza, a plump, fair-haired maiden from the Croatian countryside, had never imagined such quantities of food and drink as weighed down the noble table of Countess Bathory. There were strange fruits, exotic spheres of yellow that gave off an intoxicating smell and freshness, unlike anything she had ever seen. A rounder cousin of the fruit, bright orange, remained partially eaten. Its spiraling rind—alternately white and gold—lay coiled like a Christmas ribbon.
But the most precious among the treasures were the golden pears. Mounded high on a silver plate, the delicate fruit tantalized her. They stood untouched, for the Countess had little appetite.
Soon the fat flies would cover them, thought Doricza. Her heart-shaped face quivered. Despite the December cold, those black spots of pestilence, the eternal plague of Čachtice Castle would swarm. Oblivious to the rhythm of nature, the filthy creatures would rub their greedy legs at their banquet, rotting on the linen-spread table.
Doricza gazed sadly at the tower of gold fruit.
Her hand reached out, snatching the top pear. She stuffed it in her apron pocket, hurrying to the kitchen before Brona noticed her absence.
Chapter 106
BATHORY CASTLE
HIGH TATRA MOUNTAINS, SLOVAKIA
DECEMBER 29, 2010
As Count Bathory descended, he was greeted by the cold, wet air of the dungeon.
“Show me the prisoners,” he said through the barred door to a skeleton-thin guard.
The guard unlocked the door, bowing. Bathory’s face was rigid, an ugly twist in his lips. The guard shrank back.