House of Bathory(61)
“Countess Zichy, may I present my horsemaster, Janos Szilvasi.”
The Countess did not curtsy, but extended a limp hand toward Szilvasi.
“It is an honor,” he murmured, kissing the girl’s hand.
She arched an eyebrow at his kiss, saying nothing. Janos noticed how she withdrew her hand hastily from his lips.
“We shall dine immediately,” said Countess Bathory. She entered the dining room without further conversation, expecting her guests to follow.
“Whatever is that foul stench?” whispered Countess Zichy to Szilvasi. “It smells of putrid meat!”
Countess Bathory looked over her shoulder to see that her guests followed. Janos did not answer the young noblewoman’s question.
Despite the opulent table, the fine Bohemian crystal, and the wines from Hungary and Italy, Janos could not enjoy himself. The glint that flickered in the Countess’s eyes as she observed her guests was deeply unsettling.
“I trust you have found my handmaiden knowledgeable and efficient,” said Countess Bathory to the Countess Zichy, taking a sip of Tuscan wine.
“She has obviously trained under your skilled hand,” said the younger woman. She raised her chin. “You are much too generous to share her.”
Erzsebet met the girl’s eyes.
“Is there a problem, Countess Zichy?”
“A problem? Certainly not. It is just that—”
“Please go on.”
“May I ask how she became so hideously deformed?”
Janos’s swallowed his wine clumsily, but he said nothing. Zuzana! She must be speaking of Zuzana.
Erzsebet flicked her eyes at him and then back to Countess Zichy.
“She contracted the pox as a young girl. I took pity on her.”
Countess Zichy dabbed her mouth with an embroidered napkin. “You are indeed the kindest noblewoman in Hungary. For she is ugly as an ogre.”
The Countess’s tinkling laugh filled the great dining hall.
Janos’s fingers tightened. He cleared his throat, hiding his hands in his lap.
“Yes, quite hideous,” agreed the Countess. She toyed with her silver knife. “But Zuzana serves her purpose dutifully and well. Those who serve me well are rewarded.”
The clink of silver against fine porcelain was heartless to Janos’s burning ears. He grasped his knife like a weapon, staring at his meat.
“And you, Horsemaster,” said Countess Zichy. “Tell me of the—stables. Surely Countess Bathory has the finest horses in all Hungary. Was not your husband the King’s Master of the Horse, Countess?”
“He served King Matthias in many capacities in the wars against the Ottomans, including financing the royal armies. Master of the Horse was just one of his titles,” the Countess said, frowning slightly. “But the Black Bey is the title he liked the most. It was given to him by the Ottomans, for there was no man they feared more in battle than Ferenc Nadasdy.”
“Count Nadasdy, Master of the Horse?” said Janos. “Indeed? Just as I am.”
“You are a horsemaster to me,” said the Countess quickly. “Not the same at all.”
“But my father is the horsemaster to King Matthias’s white stallions. Was not the white stallion I ride bred from one of the Habsburg royal studs?”
The Countess raised her glass to her lips. She swallowed a sip of wine before she answered. “And how do you know this?”
“The white horses of the royal stables are renowned, brought from Andalusia in Spain. His lineage is obvious.” He paused a moment. “Or perhaps the stallion told me himself, along with many other secrets of Čachtice Castle.”
Countess Bathory’s eyes flew to meet his. A black fly lit on her cheek and she swatted it away savagely.
“I jest, Countess—forgive me. And now for my news, Countesses, if I may,” said Szilvasi, sensing an advantage.
“News?”
“Yes. News I have been saving to share with you at this magnificent dinner.”
“What news?”
Janos cleared his throat, anticipating the Countess’s reaction.
“Good fortune has blessed the Szilvasi family, if you will forgive my boasting. King Matthias has knighted my father. He was given a fiefdom near Vienna.”
“Knighted? Your father?” said Countess Zichy, her face brightening. She clapped her hands in the air. “What wonderful news for you, Horsemaster! The King must be highly appreciative of your father’s service.”
The Countess said nothing, but a shadow passed over her face.
“Yes, my father is now nobility. And a great ally of our good King.”
Countess Bathory put down her fork. She glared at Janos.
“I correspond with my father constantly. He is always eager to hear about the conditions of the horses,” said Janos. “And about your health, Countess Bathory.”