The Countess (A short story)

“Lady Bathory will see you in a moment” the stout young man said to me, before walking away. I had never before seen such a small man. It was as if god himself has come down and molded the clay that was this man, shaping him exactly the same way... but he ran out of clay half way through and made due. His name was Janos Ujvary. "But you may call me Ficko." He had said, "Everyone else does." Its funny how the countess would have such a young servant. Then again, how would I know anything about how Countess’s think, let alone how they choose their servants. I waited outside the gynaeceum for the Countess. I waited a long while in that room outside, thinking of how she would teach me to be proper, to act as a noble women. That of course is why I am here, to learn from the Noble Erzsebet Bathory. Many a girl before me had come to learn from her, and many a girl before me left as ladies. My sister before me had come to learn, and left a much greater person. She never really did talk about her classes with the Countess much. She never really talked much at all really. I suppose its just part of being a lady. Speak when spoken to, that sort of thing. The door to the gynaeceum opened slowly and from the adjacent room stepped a gorgeous creature I can only suppose is Lady Bathory. She walked into the room, no it cant really be described as walking...it was more like she glided into the room. Her skin was milky white and had the appearance of the skin of a white lily. She wore a blood red corset, which hugged her waist and fit tightly across her, on top of that she wore an elegant blouse, also red in color making her look all the more beautiful. She smiled in my direction, and I attempted to smile back, but the most I could muster was a small half smile. She walked (glided) over towards me, her figure growing with each step, until she towered over me.

“You are here to learn. You will speak nothing unless asked, you will speak nothing of these lessons. Not to a soul. Do you understand?” Her voice washed over me leaving me dumbfounded at how god could create such a creature of beauty. I thought to myself, This must be what Eve looked like when god fashioned her from Adams rib. I nodded, of course I understood. Not a word. And so my lessons began.
I learned such simple things such as how to walk like royalty, how to talk like a lady, and more complicated things, like which is the salad fork and which is the soup spoon. Everyday I woke up at 6 AM, and every day at 7 AM I was at Lady Bathorys door. It was always opened by either Ficko or the other servant Dorko. By 7:30 I was with the Countess in the gynaeceum. This routine continued for several more weeks, leading into winter. I rarely saw the same servants twice, save for Ficko and Dorko. It seemed that the Lady had a steady stream of servant girls ready and waiting. Winter came, and I noticed a change in the Lady I had come to know and respect. She was moody, and frequently lashed out at servants when they passed by. There was not a single servant in the house without at least one bruise, including Ficko and Dorko. I soon came to dread my time with the Countess, however beautiful she was. It finally came to a day, late into winter, when I finally saw the Countess for what she was. The night had brought a snow flurry, and the landscape was painted with white caps. I woke up, as usual, at 6 AM and by 7:30 I was once again being taught by the Countess. She smiled at me but I could finally see it for what it was, a sinister mask behind which she could hide herself. Her skin, what I once thought of as white and lily like was no more than a pale imitation of life. She grinned, circling around me. I no longer felt safe, I no longer felt like a lady.

“Such pretty skin.” She said smoothly, devoid of any emotion. I blushed, a reaction to the words more than anything. “Such lovely skin, filled with so much life...” She cooed. “Lets walk.” She uttered breathlessly. I wanted nothing else but to run away from this place, but I could not. I nodded, and she led me out of the room. She led me into the garden, to the side of Castle Cachtice. She began talking to me in a voice I had never heard before, the voice of a women who had lost something, who was craving something. “I have grown to love you, Anna. You have followed me so diligently over the months. It really is a shame...” the Countess turned to me, grinning. She pulled from around her waist an ornate rope. I did not know what to think, what to do. Lady Bathory grabbed me, and at her cold vice like grip, I came to my senses. I struggled and screamed as she wrestled with me. I screamed loudly, screamed for anyone help me, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw Ficko and Dorko, my saviors have come to rescue me! They rushed to my side, but not to save me from the Countess' grip, but to help her hold me down. They held me tight as I struggled and screamed, as the Countess tied the rope around my wrists. She looped it over a tree branch over head. With strength I could have never imagined she hoisted me up until I was dangling feet above the snow covered ground. She took out a pair of ornate tailoring scissors and snipped away at my coat. She grinned all the while. Ficko and Dorko stood farther back, staring at the floor, taking every precaution to avoid my broken and sad visage. The monster I had known as the Countess left, and I praised that I was not dead. "Why? Why does she do this to me!" I yelled. Dorko said nothing, keeping her eyes to the floor.
"She is..twisted." Ficko muttered, barely a whisper, "She is sick...she needs people to hurt, women to massacre. To bathe in their blood. She wants to live forever you see..." The Countess returned with a basin of water and Ficko fell silent. She dipped a cloth into the water and began rubbing it on every inch of my body. Before long I had no feeling in my feet or hands. It was weird knowing that they were there, that they were in pain but that I could feel nothing, no sensation at all. She poured the rest of the basin over my head, and stood back to watch. I shivered in the cold winter air. Ice crept up my ankle, up my arms and onto my once bright and cheery chest. I tried to breathe deeply, but the ice constricted my chest and all I got was a small wheeze. And all the while the lady I had once respected, the lady I had thought I had known stood there staring deeply at my frozen visage, staring and smiling her manic smile. My last thoughts were dedicated to her. I now knew why she seemed to have a steady stream of servants. And how many a pupil will come... but not all will go on.