The Bathory Curse (3 page)

“Yes, I chose you because your mother was the first
of her line to lead a good pure life and die of natural causes. She
was a rarity, since the curse was cast no woman has escaped
it.”

“There are not many women born to the Bathory line,
are there?” Nea questioned, the room had only eight portraits in
it.

“Well, women who survived past puberty.” Bendis
acknowledged, “For every Bathory woman in whom the curse activates
and dies a new portrait blossoms.”

“How is that possible? There should be dozens of
girl children born throughout the years.”

“Aside from normal maladies like sickness, girl
children do not survive in Bathory households. The curse has a
strong hold on your family and the men tend to murder them young,
whether right after birth or later when the fear takes hold.
Several Bathory men and women have chosen abstinence or
sterilization instead of breeding new generations with the capacity
for insanity and violence.”

“Sterilization?” She hoped she understood the word
correctly. As far as Nea knew there were few things you could do to
stop an unwanted pregnancy, but nothing like what the Goddess was
talking about.

“There are herbs and some less than reputable
doctors have a new surgical procedure, but both have severe side
effects, like death and deformation.” Bendis sounded like she
disapproved and Nea was glad.

“Enough of this ghastly subject, I still have much
to tell you.” She motioned to the pictures.

Nea spied an empty picture frame first, it was white
wood and looked like the painting had been ripped out.

“Who was that?” She touched the plaque beneath it
that had been scratched so feverishly it was almost unreadable, she
could barely make of the dates: 1290-1321. She could feel the
emotion around the emptiness, someone had wanted to eradicate all
evidence of whoever had inhabited this picture and had done a
decent job.

“Nothing…a mistake.” Never had the Goddess sounded
so harsh and cruel. Nea held her tongue, understanding to pry was
to risk more than the other woman’s anger. She decided there would
be a time to get the answers she needed.

The first portrait was of a young woman, maybe 17
years old; her dark blonde hair was in a net under a pale yellow
pill box hat held on by a chin strap.  She had on a loose
gown, matching the hat, with tight sleeves. Underneath it the
plaque read:  Viva Bathory 1321-1340.

“This is where the story mostly begins Nea. With
Viva, she consorted with things humans are not supposed to and
became pregnant. Her husband was sterile and knew it. After the
child was born Viva was tried for witchcraft and killed. They would
have killed the babe, but even then I took an active interest in
your family.” Bendis touched the portrait’s frame with emotion.

“Why do you care about my family so much?” Nea
asked, the Goddess speared her with a dark look that sent shivers
down her spine.

“That is none of your business Strega, you are to
listen and do as you are told.” Taking a deep breath, Bendis moved
on.

“What happened to her child?” Nea asked. She didn’t
like being told what to do, but arguing with a Goddess? That was a
bad idea.

“It was a son, who died before he reached his tenth
birthday.” Bendis answered.

“Did you raise him?” Nea figured that’s what she
meant by intervened.

“No I asked some monks to take him in. I didn’t want
his lineage to affect his chances of a good life…It seemed I didn’t
need to worry.” And that was the end of that.

The next portrait was of a rather homely girl. Her
light brown curls were crammed under a gray linen cap. She wore a
dark blue floor length gown fitted with a black ribbon under her
breasts.

“Madalina Bathory 1355-1370” Nea read. “So
young.”

“This portrait gallery is special, but I wouldn’t
recommend coming in here too often. Touch the frame.” Bendis
suggested.

Nea took a few steps forward and placed her hand on
the dark wood that surrounded the picture. Her hand tingled almost
painfully, when she went to pull away Bendis stopped her.

“Wait.” the Goddess said.  The tingle ran up
her hand engulfing her whole body, her eyesight dimmed and when it
came back into focus the picture seemed brighter and a voice filled
her mind: A young girl, quiet, but passionate began to speak.

“
Father says they are beheading me tomorrow. It
is because they are all jealous, yes, that’s it: jealous…of me, my
ideas, my mind…that I am not just some stupid girl. They are angry
with me for grandfather’s death, that I told lies about him and
some of my uncles, lies that made them sound untrustworthy in
town.

“
Who cares if they were not true, I own this town
now! The people had begun to think I was the only one in my family
worthy to rule here….but now….now, it’s over.  Father and
mother are going to disown me. Mother said they won’t even bury me
with the rest of the family after what I did to Hanna….How was I to
know the slave master I sold her to would rape and murder her so
quickly? It’s not my…”

Nea pulled her hand away before she could hear more,
Bendis motioned her on.

“No, I don’t want to.” Nea shook her head.

“It’s important you know and this is the best way
for you to connect to your family.”

The girl in the next picture had a striking
resemblance to Nea, dark blue eyes and long black hair, though she
was much thinner than Nea and her face much more striking. She was
painted up in a way most women didn’t dare and in garments that
suggested mourning. Nea read out loud, “Jozsa Bathory 1385-1407.”
Nea repeated the gesture, magic filling her until the room seemed
more in focus and then words seemed to fill the gallery, this time
the voice sounded older, huskier.

“
They just don’t understand me.
I am not like other women, I don’t enjoy strange men to put their
hands on me. It feels so much better when it’s a brother, or uncle,
or even grandfather!”
Laughter,
sultry, filled Nea’s ears.

“
It is even better when they are willing to pay
me to keep our relationship a secret. But now that time is
over…they killed my Sara, my precious baby girl, simply because she
was Stephen’s. Took her away not even dry from my body and murdered
her. So now that I know I carry twins from my beloved Stephen I
will do anything to make sure they are taken care of. I have to,
for I am going to die, I can see the sores on my body and feel the
weakness in my soul. I will have Stephen take them away and hide
them so my family cannot find them!”

“Who was Stephen?” Nea asked

“Her little brother.”

“What happened to the girls?”

“They spent the first ten years in a secret place
with their father; he died from the same disease as their mother.
They were found by their grandparents and brought home. They should
have been killed on sight, but the grandmother was beside herself
with grief and begged for their lives.

Nea’s eyes settled on the faces in the next frame.
There were two women in this frame.  The girls looked exactly
alike with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. They sat together,
holding hands. They both wore long high waisted black gowns with v
necks showing purple under gowns beneath.  They had purple
cone shaped hennins on their heads with veils.

The plaque beneath was inscribed:  Agata and
Marta Bathory 1405-1431

“They seemed to like purple,” Nea knew it was
obvious but she had never so much as heard the name of her mother’s
relatives before and was at a loss for words.

“Yes, it was their signature color; they gave every
lover a purple scarf and left purple fabric at every crime.”

“Jozsa’s daughters.” Nea stepped forward for a
closer look, took a deep breath and slapped her palm against the
frame. A masculine, but female, voice filled her mind.

“
They are going to catch us, Marta.”

A higher pitched and breathy voice
answered
, “I know. I could see it on their
faces.”

“
I think it’s time, don’t you?”

“
To die together?”

“
Of course. We will kill our husbands and then
ourselves. They won’t mind, they knew this day would come.”

“
They had to; I mean they couldn’t think the
stealing and all of us fucking each other wouldn’t come without a
price.”

“
When we go I want it to be with my face between
your legs.”

“
Oh Agata, you are so wicked. Of course my love,
of course.” The words died away with their combined
laughter.

Nea pulled away sickened and moved on. She didn’t
like the looks of the next member of her family. A sour faced dirty
blonde, she was overweight with small blue eyes. She didn’t seem
like she even wanted to be painted. Her black and blue dress was
frumpy and she seemed to be rather unkempt, she wasn’t even wearing
a hat. In the picture she was holding a book.

“Were all the women in my family educated and
intelligent?” She asked

Nea was well learned for a woman; her mother had
taught her to read and her father had encouraged her to learn other
languages and to write. It was very rare and Nea had never quite
understood her mother’s passion for the written word.

“Yes. Nothing holds a Bathory back. This one wrote
some very twisted poetry you can find in the library.” Bendis
motioned to unkempt girl.

“This is your great aunt Catharine.” Bendis said.
Nea read the plaque and saw the dates were more recent
1415-1440.

The voice that came was weak and sad, tired and
dry.

“
They have forgotten about me down here, they are
simply going to let me waste away and die down here. I can hear
them upstairs, my mama is weeping and so is Margaretha, my
brothers’ sound so angry. I can smell their supper, the eggs they
had for breakfast, the wine mama always buys for Sunday meal, and I
am so hungry and so thirsty.

“
Why am I being punished? That little boy was so
cold to the touch, his eye lashes dark upon his pale skin, but he
was still so soft. His family was supposed to keep vigil, but they
were all getting drunk in the other room. It’s not my fault; I
couldn’t help it, just like with that girl with her young firm
breasts, no air left in her lungs to move them. When they are still
and cold, lifeless, they are so lonely…I just need to keep them
company.

“That’s vile.” Nea felt bile rise in the back of her
throat and had to swallow it down. It was customary for the family
to clothe and bathe a deceased loved one and keep them in the home
for two nights between the death and burial. Nea couldn’t even
think about how it must have been for the family to come in and see
Catharine with the body of their son.

“This is your other great aunt, Margaretha.” Bendis
pointed to another large frame. This woman was stunningly
beautiful, wearing a costume of sorts, looking like she came from
stories about far away desert places, in bright colors like green
and yellow, her face partially covered by a scarf.  Nea read
the dates beneath her painting 1420-1448.

Nea head was beginning to hurt. If this was how she
was going to spend her eternity, she didn’t want it, she just
wanted to go home and crawl into her enormous fur covered bed next
to her husband. She didn’t want to touch the portrait, but she
did.

“
I hate this cell, I deserve so
much better!”
Margaretha sounded high
strung and full of herself,
“How did
Viktor think we were affording our lifestyle? I am a female
Bathory. They don’t like to give me any of the family money because
I am going to turn out so evil.”
There was
harsh giggling.

“
Well they made me evil! Those children were
starving, penniless, homeless, so I sold them, so what? The men who
call them their wives probably feed them more than their dirty poor
parents. Their new masters, while harsh, at least will keep them
clean and give them a place to sleep. Viktor thinks he is so much
better than me now, just like my first husband. Excuse me? Could I
at least get some decent bread in here!”

“Did my mother know her?” Nea wiped her palm on her
night gown, as if touching the painting had tainted her.

“Barely. They didn’t live that close, they were the
same age but your grandfather kept your mother away from his
sisters. Your mother had already run away by the time Margaretha
died.” Bendis gave a great sigh, eyes focusing on the next
portrait.

Nea made to touch the portrait but Bendis stopped
her, “Don’t, that one is particularly revolting, and is barely
understandable.”

“Why?”

“This is your second cousin Barbara. She was
interesting, she liked women.” Bendis paused seeing Nea’s
revulsion, “I won’t tolerate that Nea. Love is love and you will
learn quickly I have no patience for judgement.”

“I am sorry, I will try.” Nea cast her eyes
downward, she understood what Bendis was saying…Love was love, but
in her world, the one she wanted to go back to, it was a sin to
sleep with a member of the same sex.

“Good, as I was saying. Barbara raped her lover with
twigs and beat her so brutally she could not walk… After the third
girl came forward with similar tales of horror her father took her
out to a lake and drowned her, rather than have more shame on your
family.”

Barbara was an angry looking young woman of 16, her
dates read 1475-1491. She had long light blonde hair and the
Bathory blue eyes, her skin was smooth and shiny, but she was
frowning, petulant.

“She is so angry.”

“She was, angry all the time, and it came through in
her deeds. One day you will have to listen to the painting, but not
today, or even tomorrow.” Bendis was quiet.