The Countess Read Online Free PDF Page A

golden thread that had once belonged to the great king Mátyás Corvin himself. She had come to inspect me as a possible bride for her beloved only child, Ferenc Nádasdy, though I did not know it at the time.
    All that week the house buzzed with preparations, with cleaning and cooking, with the baking of bread and the slaughtering of oxen and goats and capons to serve the guests. Great barrels of wine and enormous wheels of cheese were taken from the cellar, and stores of straw were brought in from the countryside to bed the many horses. For days there were voices in the corridors and the sounds of gypsy music coming from the banquet hall—the sting of a zither, the trill of a flute. The children of the other noble families, my cousins and friends, filled up the house with their shouts, their races and their games. As the eldest daughter of the house I was expected to entertain the other children, devise competitions and dances to keep them out of trouble. Little Griseldis especially I found difficult, for she was a spoiled and savage thing whose mother, having lost her other three children to the plague, indulged her every whim or desire. Every sweet Griseldis wanted, Griseldis got. Every order Griseldis gave, she expected the rest of us, no matter our superior age or position, to obey. I was patient with her for days and days, fetching her a bit of cake only minutes before the midday meal or letting her chase the puppies underfoot in the kitchen, but it was when she wrestled a doll away from Zsofía, who was a year younger and a whole head shorter, that I pinched the meat of her thigh until she cried and told her that if she didn’t learn to behave like a civilized child I would lock her in a closet for the remainder of her visit. She whimpered and pouted,but after that she did what I asked without complaint, and I learned almost to enjoy her company.
    She helped me the day I concocted a game of capture the flag to entertain the children’s court, building small castles with bundles of firewood for the little ones to defend. I convinced István to put aside his religious tracts and instead set him the task of playing the Ottoman forces surrounding the gates of Buda, his head wrapped in a bit of old cloth for a turban, and for once he seemed to enjoy himself. The younger children, even Griseldis, laughed at how easily he fell down when they rained their blunt-tipped little arrows at him, how dramatic were his death throes, his heels beating at the dusty ground. She threw herself at him like a little
hájduk
, a bloodthirsty grin curving across her red mouth. I had to drag her away to get her to stop gleefully kicking him in the shins.
    My role was to play the pasha’s harem. I wrapped myself in pieces of bright gauzy silk, pouting like a wife, and demanded my “husband” pay more attention to me than to his wars, stomping my feet and threatening to kill myself for love until István would leave the castle siege and come give me a little kiss, placed tenderly on my mouth. “There,” my brother said, sounding just like a husband, “that should hold you for now.” Pleased with his attention, I went back to being the placated, dutiful wife for a few more minutes, but there was little for me to do except sit around and bat my eyelashes and pretend to fan myself. Eventually I gave Griseldis my piece of silk and let her do the pouting for me, which she managed only too well. Bored, I told István I was leaving him in charge while I checked on baby Klára and her wet nurse. István looked around at the little girls and boys of the children’s court as they argued over the toy swords and arrows, as they cried and wrestled over the bundles of firewood, and begged me not to leave him there alone with the little savages. “Don’t go, Erzsébet, for God’s sake,” he said. A panicked look crossed his face.
    I laughed. “Don’t worry,” I said. “If they break anything, you cansimply tie them to a post and leave them