VROLOK

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  Vlad watched Isabella, the bright light making no difference to him, for his power was greater than hers. Isabella looked nervous for the sake of her companion, but as time went by, her nerves started to calm and she sat slightly more easily in her seat. By this time, even Ingram was beginning to calm.

  Kit got up to get another drink and as he did he stopped to say a few words to Paul Nesbitt. Ingram Frizer’s nervousness returned to him and was now rapidly turning to fear.

  Vlad needed to control his conspirators and he started to speak to them in a voice that only they could hear. The speech that was issuing from his lips was less than a whisper but a little more than just thoughts.

  Eleanor, bring them the bill. Vlad directed.

  Kit, having managed a fresh drink, was again sitting next to Isabella.

  Eleanor, who was the proprietor of this establishment, immediately stopped what she was doing and arrived at Kit’s table with the bill they had run up.

  “You are paying,” Kit stated in Ingram‘s direction.

  “I am not,” Ingram replied, for even though he was nervous with Kit and felt threatened by him, he still was as cheap as ever and reluctant to pay the bill.

  Kit, introduce Thomas Walsingham into the conversation. Kit, too, was not free from Vlad’s influence.

  “Thomas, didn’t you tell me Frizer was paying?” said Kit.

  “He certainly told me he was,” said Walsingham.

  “Walsingham, Thomas Walsingham,” Isabella cut in. She got up, turning her back to Vlad and moving swiftly over Thomas Walsingham. The following happened in a matter of seconds.

  Paul Nesbitt, shout Ingram’s name.

  “Ingram!” Nesbit shouted. Ingram turned around to look at Paul Nesbit with his back towards Vlad.

  Kit, see the dagger. You hate Ingram don’t you, you wish he was dead. The world would be a better place, wouldn’t it?”

  Kit grabbed the dagger and lashed out at Frizer. Vlad approached the group; Isabella still had her back towards Vlad and could not see his approach.

  Kit, don’t see me.

  Vlad took the dagger from Kit’s hand so that he missed Ingram; he then placed the dagger in Ingram’s hand.

  He was trying to kill you Ingram! Kill him before he kills you. Kill him before he kills you!

  Ingram took the dagger and stabbed Kit through the eye. “All of you forget me.” Vlad whispered his last instruction. Kit fell to the floor and Isabella turned round to see him bleeding to death. Vlad had already left.

  Frizer was arrested but Thomas Walsingham got him a pardon from the Queen, on the condition that no one mention he was ever there. And no one ever did. This was possible, as Kit and Ingram were the only two of the evening’s party who knew him. Thomas Kyd appealed to the Privy Council and other members of the Queen’s Council to try and vindicate himself, but Isabella made sure his pleas fell on deaf ears. He ended up destitute and on the streets and died within the year, just as Isabella had promised.

  A few days after Kit died, a woman approached two writers, George Chapman and Thomas Nashe. She gave them several unfinished manuscripts by Kit Marlowe. They finished them and made sure they were published. The woman was never seen by these two men again.

  ACERCA DE LA CONDESA SANGRIENTA

  CONCERNING THE BLOODY COUNTESS

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After Kit died, Isabella fell into a melancholy. Nothing could console her, not even Vlad‘s company. Kit was the second mortal she had cared for since she had died and the second she had watched die. Isabella, despite her great strength and power, had not been able to save either Kit or Lia. She had never loved Kit, not like she loved Vlad, but she had felt great affection towards him and she felt once again that she had lost her only friend. Friends for Isabella were precious, never sought, and rarely found.

  Isabella by this time was totally disenchanted with England. She had seen more than enough of the intrigue at court and wanted to go home. It took Isabella some years, but she eventually convinced Vlad to return with her. She would not even contemplate going anywhere without him. He would always be there whenever she needed him and she thought that she would never have to watch him die.

  When Isabella returned to the Carpathians, the first thing she felt she must do was visit Gizella. She found Katya’s house in the same state that she had left it in—empty. Katalin’s mother was still left alone, abandoned by her kin.

  “Katalin never came home to you?” Isabella began.

  “She visits very occasionally but never stays long. As soon as she arrives, you can tell she can’t wait to get back to her mistress,” replied Gizella.

  “Erzsébet.” An inner voice told Isabella to fear an alliance between these two women. “I might pay her a visit,” Isabella stated.

  “I would be grateful if you did,” Gizella answered.

  “Then I definitely will. You should have family around you.”

  “Thank you, Isabella!” Isabella nodded. She travelled that night to visit Katalin.

  Her journey was swift and when she came within walking distance of Count Nádasdy’s castle, she was bombarded by a strong malodour. The smell of death filled the air surrounding the castle, the stench thick and suffocating. Isabella was made ill by it. She had never came across its like before. She could hardly approach the castle without retching but she was determined to see Katalin, especially now. Isabella was afraid for her and for what she may have done.

  Isabella slipped into the castle unseen. Considering she had no intention of killing anyone inside, she felt she did not need to be invited. She searched the servants’ quarters for Katalin. Isabella did not find her or anyone else there, so she widened her search. She heard screams coming from the lower chambers of the castle. Descending the spiral staircase, she noticed that the stench was getting considerably worse, which hardly seemed possible. Isabella hurried down the stairs and followed the sound of the screaming. Lavender lamps lined the corridor and every one of them was burning. Isabella was nauseous; the strong smell of lavender mixed in with the smell of decay was attacking her acute senses.

  She reached the last door at the end of the corridor. Isabella paused before she opened it, fearing what she would find inside. The door was locked, but Isabella tore it from its hinges. She stood at the opening to the room watching the execrable scene inside.

  Her glance was immediately drawn to Katalin, who was thankfully unharmed. Katalin was hoisting up some sort of contraption to the ceiling. It looked strange to Isabella, something she had never seen before and never wanted to see again. It was a wrought iron cage containing a young girl who cowered behind the bars of this harrowing and pernicious prison. There were spikes on the inside of the cage and as Katalin hoisted it up the spikes were closing in on the girl. The young girl was now screaming in pain as the spikes penetrated her skin and blood started to pour from her. Erzsébet was standing underneath the cage waiting for blood to cascade down on her.

  “Katalin!” Isabella shouted. Katalin was shocked at seeing Isabella and dropped her iniquitous implement to the ground. The girl who was in it did not stir. The fall had finished off what was left of her life.

  “What are you doing?” Isabella demanded. There were several other women in the room and they stared at Isabella with disdain, wondering who this woman was, and how dare she interrupt them. Isabella recognised Erzsébet but no one else. Katalin was so frightened she was unable to answer.

  “Katalin, what are you doing?” Isabella asked again, hoping against hope that her eyes were deceiving her and that a descendant of Katya‘s could not be involved in such malefic acts.

  “Grab her!” Erzsébet shouted at Katalin. Katalin turned to Erzsébet and shook her head. Katalin was terrified of defying Erzsébet but Katalin knew enough to know that she should be even more afraid of Isabella. “Do as I say,” Erzsébet hissed.

  “Do as your mistress asks,” said one of the other women.

  “Who is she?” Isabella asked casting a glance a
t the third woman.

  “Anna Darvulia. She is one of Erzsébet’s servants,” Katalin finally answered.

  “Katalin, I am not going to tell you again,” Erzsébet scolded.

  “You don’t understand, my lady, she is too strong.” At that precise moment Anna came apart from the rest and lunged at Isabella. In response Isabella jabbed out her hand, grabbed Anna’s neck and swiftly broke it in two. Anna Darvulia fell to the floor dead. Erzsébet along with every other mortal in the room was now frightened.

  “Ficzkó!” Erzsébet yelled. In response to this a man considerably small in stature came running into the room with a sword in his hand.

  Isabella looked over at Erzsébet and said, “You think he can save you?” Isabella lifted up Ficzkó by his clothes. His limbs were flailing in midair as Isabella hurled him against the opposite wall. Ficzkó fell to the floor, but he was still moving. He had survived Isabella’s attack. Isabella turned back towards Katalin.

  “Explain this,” Isabella demanded, looking at Katalin and pointing to Erzsébet.

  “I can’t,” answered Katalin.

  “You had better,” Isabella answered firmly. She stepped into to the light to reveal a flawless and youthful face.

  “You are still so young,” Erzsébet exclaimed She ran to Isabella and threw herself at her feet. She reached up her arms and clung to the skirt of Isabella’s dress. Begging Isabella, she said, “Tell me the secret, please tell me.”

  Isabella threw her off. “You are humiliating yourself, Erzsébet,” commented Isabella.

  Erzsébet, insulted by Isabella’s remarks, stood up defiantly and stepped back. She was not used to being talked to like this.

  “Katalin, I need to speak to you outside,” Isabella said, returning her glance to Katalin.

  Katalin was frozen; she was so frightened of Isabella she just stood gazing at her, unable to move.

  “Now!” Isabella bellowed.

  Katalin jumped at the sound of Isabella’s harsh voice and scurried over to her. She obediently followed Isabella out into the corridor. Isabella picked up the door she had unhinged and pulled it back towards the wall with a thud, jamming the door into the stone wall so no one could get out and she would be left in peace to talk to Katalin.

  “What is happening here?” Isabella asked. Katalin did not know what to say, so she began by telling the truth.

  “Erzsébet wanted to know how you still looked twenty years old….”

  Isabella held her hand up to her forehead, dreading the answer to the next question. “What did you tell her?”

  Katalin hesitated and Isabella grabbed her, shook her and threw her back against the wall. “What did you tell her!?!” Isabella shouted again.

  “I told her, I knew it was something to do with blood,” Katalin sobbed. Isabella started pacing up and down the corridor, rubbing her temples. After a few moments she turned back towards Katalin.

  “Katalin, how many people have you killed?” Isabella asked.

  “Not many.”

  “Tell me the truth,” Isabella demanded.

  “Not many,” Katalin shouted again, desperately trying to make Isabella believe her. Isabella lifted Katalin off the ground by the neck and asked again.

  “How many people have you killed? The truth is the only thing that will save you.”

  “Perhaps a hundred.” Isabella knew that if she was admitting to a hundred it was much more that. She let Katalin go and the girl fell to the floor again in a heap.

  “How could you be involved in this? Where did this malignancy come from? Your family consists of the most kind-hearted and generous people I have ever known.”

  Katalin grabbed hold of whatever courage she had left to answer, “I don’t think you should be lecturing me on malevolence.”

  Isabella grabbed Katalin again and said as she lifted her off the floor, “What I do is no concern of yours.” Then she relinquished her grip on Katalin and turned away from her, adding “But unfortunately, what you do is of great concern to me.”

  Isabella paused and walked up the corridor, trying to think. She could not believe what Katalin had become involved in. Another thought struck her and Isabella asked, “Have you killed Slovak girls?”

  Katalin became nervous again and answered slowly. She knew it was useless to lie. “I believe so,” she said.

  Isabella ran over to Katalin and slapped her across the face. The force of the impact flung her back and she fell down hard against the stone floor, rubbing her bruised cheek. Isabella was furious; no one apart from Vlad had ever made her this angry before.

  “This has to stop,” Isabella said, quietly determined.

  “How?” Katalin cried out.

  “Do not speak to me.” Isabella was disgusted by Katalin. Not only had this woman killed Slovaks, but worst of all Isabella knew she had to save her from the wrath of the murdered girls’ families. “It has to stop and it will,” Isabella repeated. “I will make sure of it,” she said, with grim determination.

  “But Erzsébet is obsessed,” Katalin said nervously. “And if anyone found out, they would slaughter us all, burn us all to death.”

  “You’re right, we can’t just tell people, because you would be ripped apart.”

  Katalin shuddered as Isabella tried to think of a way out of this situation.

  “We have to ensure that she gets reported to the king,” said Isabella. “Matthias cannot openly tolerate such behaviour, whether she is a relative of his or not. He will not allow her to be killed by the mob. She will have a fair trial and it will buy me time to save your sorry life.”

  “Matthias will ensure that Erzsébet is tried fairly, but what about me?”

  “You are worrying about yourself now; I think it is too late for that.”

  “You have to save me, Isabella.”

  “Save you…? I shouldn’t! I should abandon you here! Those girl’s families deserve their retribution. But…I will save you,” Isabella sighed. Katalin was sobbing piteously in the corner of the corridor. “You are lucky you are Katya’s descendent, for I would gladly let you die for betraying your own people. Katalin began to cry more violently. “Not one more tear, Katalin. Save your tears for when they can be of use to you. How do you dispose of the bodies?”

  “We burn them mostly. Hungary has been hit so hard by the Inquisitors that a few more bodies are not noticed when added to the burnt corpses of the others.”

  “And the rest?”

  “We bury them.”

  “Are there any bodies within the castle that have not been disposed of yet?”

  “Yes, a few.”

  “Those bodies are going to be found. I want you to show me where they are.” Katalin did as she was instructed. Isabella tossed the bodies over the side of the battlements. Isabella waited and watched from the nearby forest until the mutilated bodies were found by a single man.

  Csaba was concerned for his youngest sister. She had disappeared and he had gone to the Hungarian Palatine, George Thurzó. He had been Csaba’s mentor and he would know what to do.

  “My sister has gone missing,” Csaba said.

  “When?” Thurzó asked.

  “A few nights ago.”

  “Have you any idea where she is?”

  “None.”

  “I think I may know where she may be.”

  “Where?” Csaba asked hopefully.

  “Go to Erzsébet’s castle at Čachtice. I hope to God that your sister is not there.” Csaba bowed, left the castle and quickly made his way to Čachtice.

  Isabella walked over to the man who had found the body. She would use her influence to stop him questioning her presence; she needed his cooperation to use him in her plan. She was surprised to see that the man had fallen to his knees and was weeping for his dead sister.

  “Who was she?” Isabella asked.

  “My sister,” Csaba answered.

  “I am sorry,” Isabella said and she was not lying. She was very sorry; she felt responsible. She shou
ld have stayed close to Katalin. She had known from the first moment she saw her what this woman could be capable of doing.

  “These girls have been tortured and killed,” Isabella said. “And they are not the only ones. Can’t you smell the stench of death around this place?”

  “I can,” Csaba answered.

  “You know the Countess is to blame? You must tell King Matthias about this,” Isabella continued.

  “I will.”

  Csaba left Isabella and on his way to King Matthias’ stopped to speak to the Palatine.

  “My sister is dead.”

  “I am sorry,” Thurzó answered.

  “Tell me one thing…”

  “Anything.”

  “You did not hesitate; you knew exactly where my sister might be as soon as I told you she was missing.”

  “I had a strong suspicion.”

  “I know there have been many, many others and so do you, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “And you did nothing?”

  “I was waiting for the right time.”

  “Right time for what?”

  “To expose her and bring down the whole Báthory family.”

  “Why?”

  “I have ambition. The Báthorys stand in my way,”

  “So you let girls die…innocent girls…for this reason only?”

  “I did. With all due respect, they are peasants; they mean nothing and are expendable, as you will one day come to learn. You could go far, Csaba.”

  “If becoming like you is the only way I will go far, I want none of it.” Csaba turned and left the presence of George Thurzó, never to return.

  A few days later Isabella watched as Matthias’ troops arrived. Isabella knew they wouldn’t try Erzsébet as a murderess in a proper court. The fact that she was a relative of the King’s would save her, and in addition the nobles of the land would not stand for it. They never wanted one of their own tried as a common criminal, no matter what they had done. The courts, they believed, were for the proletariat. Despite this, Isabella knew Erzsébet would be punished for her crimes. Even the nobles of the land would consider them abhorrent. Worst of all, Erzsébet had actually dared to kill some of the nobility; this last fact would seal her fate in the eyes of her own kind.