Bathed In Blood. Alex Archer

1

      Csejte Castle, Upper Hungary December 30, 1610

      The castle door stood partially open, as if in invitation.

      From his hiding place amid the shrubbery half a dozen yards away, Count György Thurzó eyed the door cautiously.

      He didn’t like it.

      He had planned every detail of this mission, for failure could not only doom his career but bring reprisals the likes of which he’d never seen. Thurzó had informed no one of his intent to visit the castle; the king had merely ordered that he investigate the accusations, a task he could have assigned to one of his own court functionaries. But Thurzó had decided to investigate himself. If the claims proved to be unfounded, he would cull favor with the countess, the widow of his old friend, for having saved her from public embarrassment.

      If the accusations proved to be true... Well, then, he would be in a position to handle the situation with the delicate hand it would surely require.

      He and his men had traveled from the capital only at night, hiding out in abandoned barns and empty groves each morning so that none might see their approach and send word ahead to the castle’s mistress, Countess Elizabeth Báthory. The success of their venture depended entirely on surprise; the countess might not be cut from the same cloth as her deceased husband, Ferenc Nádasdy—a man whose ruthless ferocity on the battlefield had earned him the moniker the Black Knight of Hungary—but Thurzó knew her to be extraordinarily intelligent and cunning, a combination that was apt to make her dangerous.

      His group had reached the village of Csejte just before sundown and hidden in a narrow canyon half a mile outside town until full dark. Then and only then had they passed through town and headed up the narrow road that led to the castle proper, sitting atop a hill that overlooked both the town and the surrounding territory. Nearing the castle, they’d dismounted before the final bend in the road, tied the horses to nearby trees and crept forward to their present position: a clump of shrubbery that allowed them to see the castle without being seen.

      That door looked like trouble to Thurzó. He hadn’t come all this way to be ambushed.

      Why leave it open?

      Thurzó watched the entryway carefully, his gaze returning again and again to the narrow triangle of light spilling across the floor tiles just beyond. If someone was waiting inside the door, they would eventually shift their position, and their shadow would dance across that space, even if only for a second.

      But the light on the floor remained steady; no shadow disturbed it, even after waiting several long, tense moments.

      Not an ambush, then? A careless servant, perhaps?

      If that was what it was, they were in luck. Before setting out for Csejte, Thurzó hadn’t known how he was going to gain access to the castle. He’d run through various scenarios, but each and every one of them, aside from clandestinely scaling the walls, had required help from someone already on the inside. He’d had his men pack grappling hooks and ropes just in case, but he’d spent the better part of the journey here praying for another solution.

      It seemed his prayers had been answered.

      He glanced back at his men, gave the signal and then rose from his crouch and headed for the half-open door at a brisk walk, drawing his sword as he went. If it came to fighting, he would be ready, as would his men; the handpicked fighters following at his heels were some of the best in his retinue, never mind the most trustworthy. They’d been sworn to secrecy for the duration of the mission, and he was confident that each and every one of them would keep their word. He heard more than one blade slide from its sheath behind him, and smiled at the sound.

      Thurzó didn’t stop when he reached the door but strode in, an excuse about his concern for the countess’s safety ready on his lips. The excuse turned out to be unnecessary, though, for the foyer was empty and quiet.

       Too quiet.

      Thurzó waved his men forward. Perhaps it was just a misperception caused by his own unease, but every single man that followed him inside seemed to hesitate, as if aware that crossing the threshold put them on a path from which there was no return.

      Real or imagined, Thurzó didn’t blame them. What they’d come here to investigate would chill even the most hardened of hearts. And if it was true...

      If it was true, then God help us all.

      The men quickly split into two groups. The first would sweep the upper floors while the second, led by Thurzó himself, would cover the main floor and then descend into the dungeons.

      If the rumors were true, that was where he expected to find Elizabeth. Word had reached the king a week hence that she would be gathering tonight with her confidants for one of her dark rituals. Thurzó had come to catch her in the act.

      Better me than someone else, he reasoned. At least I will show restraint.

      They found the first body less than five minutes after separating from the others.

      The young woman lay sprawled facedown against the side of the passageway. She was naked, with long blond hair that was caked with drying blood. A thin, wavering trail of the same stretched out behind her, as if she had been crawling forward on her stomach before her strength had given out.

      Thurzó rushed to her side, but when he rolled her over it was clear he was too late; her unseeing eyes stared up at him from her slack face.

      He noted absently that she’d probably been quite pretty, but the majority of his attention was drawn to the extreme pallor of her skin and the multiple wounds that covered her chest and abdomen. He stopped counting at twenty. The sheer violence of the act sickened him; who would do this to a woman?

      He knew the answer, of course. He didn’t want to admit it.

      Elizabeth, what have you done?

      At first, Thurzó thought the injuries had been made with a knife or dagger, but upon closer examination he could see the wounds were rounded, like those delivered with an auger or some other tool designed for puncturing. They were also deep and had no doubt led to significant blood loss. That alone made him think she hadn’t crawled here on her own; someone had been dragging her and dumped her here when they had no more use for her.

      After she’d been drained dry...

      He shook the vile thought from his head and rose from the body, knowing this wouldn’t be the last corpse they would find within these walls.

      “Nothing we can do for her,” he said quietly to his men. “We’ll take care of the body once we’ve secured the countess. Let’s keep moving.”

      The group continued deeper into the castle. The halls were well lit but eerily empty, and the strange silence lay about the place like a shroud.

      Thurzó was familiar with the general layout—one of the reasons he’d been chosen to lead the fact-finding expedition. He had been friends with Nádasdy, Báthory’s deceased husband, and had often played within the castle walls as a child. He used that knowledge to lead his squad through the various rooms that made up the lower floor with relative quickness until they neared the stairs that led to the dungeons. There they found a second body.

      This one was also a woman, though slightly older than the first. She was a brunette and she, too, was naked, making it obvious that the two women had been treated similarly. Thurzó could see the same rounded wounds, the same pale hue to the skin that indicated massive blood loss, the same refined beauty in the woman’s features.

      His men muttered darkly at the sight, and he knew their mood was changing from apprehension and fear to anger. It was one thing to accidentally kill a woman in the hot blood of battle. It was quite another, however, to ruthlessly murder a woman in one’s home. The noble class was not known for its gentle manner toward commoners, but this...this was just obscene.

      Thurzó rose to his feet, intending to speak to his men,