?ACHTICE, Slovakia — More than four centuries after the demise of Elizabeth Báthory, a Hungarian noblewoman infamously labeled as one of history’s most notorious female serial killers, details surrounding her life remain ambiguous. From her castle perched on a steep hill in what is now ?achtice in western Slovakia, Báthory is said to have tortured and murdered as many as 650 young women and girls, fueling gruesome folklore that suggested she bathed in their blood to preserve her youth.
The tales of Báthory’s brutality rippled through the Kingdom of Hungary during the early 17th century. Eventually, following a royal investigation, four of her servants faced murder convictions and were executed in gruesome fashion. Báthory herself was confined within the walls of her castle for the remainder of her life, until her death in 1614.
Her chilling narrative has fascinated people and stirred speculation for centuries, leading to a plethora of books, films, television shows, and local myths. Nevertheless, a number of scholars have raised doubts regarding the authenticity of the accusations against her, suggesting that as a wealthy and influential woman in the late Renaissance, she might have been a target of conspiracy.
“Was Báthory a serial killer who was tormenting and torturing 650 young women purely for her amusement?” questioned Annouchka Bayley, a British author and academic who recently released a novel about the countess. “I am quite convinced that this situation resembles what we might call in England a ‘stitch-up.’”
Bayley, who wrote “The Blood Countess” and works as an associate professor at Cambridge University, argues that the mainstream representation of Báthory as a vicious murderer perpetuates a trope of women as monsters that lacks solid backing from available evidence.
Rather than being a cold-hearted killer, she proposes that Báthory may have been an influential figure posing a challenge to the existing power dynamics. This notion is further supported by evidence suggesting that Báthory educated numerous young women and possibly owned a printing press, which were considered radical and subversive actions during her time.
“We must remember that this era encompassed the Reformation and the Counter-Reformation, where people were executed for heretical beliefs. The emergence of printing presses across Europe granted wider access to information, deemed extremely risky by those in power,” Bayley elaborated. “I see enough evidence here to indicate that we should pause and reconsider the narrative.”
Born into an aristocratic family in 1560, Báthory wed a wealthy Hungarian noble, Ferenc Nádasdy, in 1575, and together they amassed significant wealth and territories. Nádasdy, known as a prominent soldier, played a crucial role in reclaiming Hungarian territories from Ottoman grasp.
Following Nádasdy’s unexpected passing in 1604, Báthory inherited a fortune vast enough to draw comparisons to current day billionaires. Bayley and other scholars speculate that this wealth and influence may have prompted rival power players to conspire against her. Báthory’s decision not to remarry after her husband’s death, combined with her educational pursuits for young women, could have alarmed those in authority.
Skepticism regarding Báthory’s culpability extends beyond academic circles; it is a contentious topic in the Slovak village of ?achtice, where the alleged atrocities occurred. Questions about her burial site have also led to public curiosity. While it is believed she rests in a crypt beneath a local church, rumors persist that her remains were relocated, though excavation attempts have been denied by the church authorities.
The enduring interest in Báthory is evidenced by a museum dedicated to her in ?achtice, which attracts visitors who trek up the hills to the historic castle. Local resident Ivan Pisca noted that the potency of Báthory’s legend may be fading with time. “Older generations are familiar with the legends about Elizabeth Báthory, filled with tales of young girls she harmed and killed. Yet younger people might not be as informed about these stories,” he observed.
Bayley contends that contemporary culture has disproportionately focused on gruesome narratives and often vilified powerful women throughout history. Through a “counter-narrative” of Báthory’s saga, she aims to provide a semblance of justice for the countess and others who may have faced undue vilification. “She deserves a more humane legacy; we all do,” Bayley stated. “Is the justice owed to Báthory in 500 years a simple claim of ‘She didn’t do it’? Or does it lie in dismantling the monster trope that haunts women and men alike?”