In the lair of Countess Dracula!

This is not strictly speaking a blog post but an article I wrote back in 2007. It was accepted for publication but never in fact saw the light of day. As I still think the subject is very interesting, I thought I'd post it here. It describes a visit I made that year to the castle of the infamous "Blood Countess" Elizabeth Bathory, in Hungary. There are photos too!

Countess Elizabeth Bathory[1], sometimes known as the “Blood Countess”, and famously played by Ingrid Pitt in “Countess Dracula”[2], is legendary as a sadistic killer accused of torturing and murdering over six hundred women and girls, allegedly bathing in their blood to keep herself young and beautiful. Born in 1560, she married Ferenc Nádasdy whilst still in her teens. The couple at first lived at Nádasdy Castle in Sárvár, where the young Elizabeth often remained whilst her husband was away fighting. She inherited his estates upon his death in 1604. Even before his death, accusations of cruelty were made against Elizabeth, but it was not until 1610 that she was arrested. Horrific tales of torture, of the Countess biting flesh from living victims, and of (literally) buckets of blood were reported. Although some of her accomplices were tried and executed, the Countess herself never came to trial, but spent her last years incarcerated in one room in Castle Cséjte[3], where she died in 1614.

Castle Cséjte is a ruin, having been plundered in the 1700s. Sárvár Castle, however, remains intact, and parts of it are open to visitors. It is, it has to be said, a long way off the beaten track. Situated in Transdanubia in the far west of Hungary and not far from the Austrian border, Sárvár is a considerable drive from both Budapest and Vienna and thus unlikely to be on the itinerary of a short term visitor to either city. The town has been developed as a spa centre for Germans and Austrians over recent years, but it is rare to hear English spoken[4]. Apart from the spa facilities, Nádasdy Castle is its single big attraction. Situated in the heart of the town, the castle, which was formerly surrounded by a moat, now by green lawns, is reached via a long stone bridge. The visitor then enters the castle via a square, white-walled tower with a pyramidal red-tiled roof and hefty portcullis.

The peculiarity of the castle’s architecture is now apparent: built and extended over the centuries by successive owners, it forms a pentagon around a large central courtyard. Perhaps a third of it is open to the public, comprising a museum and some palatial interiors, reached via a winding staircase. It is on the wall by this staircase that one may see a copy of a portrait of Elizabeth Bathory, showing a richly-dressed woman with a high forehead, arched brows, a long nose and a wide mouth. This appears to be the only reference to Elizabeth Bathory anywhere within the castle; strangely, the country which produced such colourful characters as Prince Miklos II “The Ostentatious” and Géza Csáth appears rather squeamish about the notorious “Blood Countess”. Some of the displays in the castle relate to Ferenc Nádasdy, but not to his wife. All the same, the castle does not disappoint: the interior is an intriguing warren of interconnecting rooms, with high ceilings and shuttered windows, chandeliers and marble floors. The display cases are full of curios including flags and uniforms, and fabulously ornate swords, their handles encrusted with mother of pearl or turquoise. A tapestry depicts the wooden horse being borne into the city of Troy, whose inhabitants, all unawares, are rejoicing. A corner of the staircase is adorned with a marble statue of Cleopatra reclining, an asp clasped to her bosom, its fangs deep in her flesh.

The jewel in the crown of Nádasdy Castle is however its Festival Hall. It is decorated with seventeenth century ceiling paintings by Hans Rudolph Miller, depicting the campaigns of Ferenc Nádasdy, and eighteenth century frescoes by Stephan Dorfmeister, showing a series of Biblical scenes frankly shocking in their brutality. In spite of the apparent reticence to memorialise the castle’s most notorious mistress, one cannot help thinking that the choice of subject matter gives a nod to the bloodthirsty Countess: prominent amongst the depictions are scenes of savagery carried out by women. One painting shows Samson awakening from sleep and thrusting out a hand as though to ward off an attacker, whilst a triumphant Delilah with an impressive décolletage brandishes an enormous pair of wicked-looking shears, the sharp points of the blades thrusting upwards, a tangled heap of dark curls tumbling down from them. Another painting depicts a richly-attired Jael standing over the body of Sisera, who lies sprawled at her feet, his body limp, his head hanging lifelessly back. In her dainty right hand Jael flourishes the hammer which she has just used to hammer a tent peg into her victim’s skull. The contrast between the tumbled corpse at the bottom of the picture, and Jael’s graceful and unperturbed deportment is marked. A third picture shows Judith and Holofernes. Holofernes lies abed, unaware of the frightful fate about to befall him; Judith stands to the left of the picture, grasping the sword which she has already swung high above her head, ready to deal the bloody blow which will separate her victim’s head from his shoulders. This gallery of female butchery is a fitting decoration for the former home of the “Blood Countess”. The effect, at first stunningly ornate, and then upon closer inspection so violently savage, has a slightly claustrophobic effect upon the visitor; it is something of a relief to descend the winding staircase once more, and step out into the sunshine.

---

[1] Rendered in Hungarian as Báthory Erzsébet.

[2] Hammer, 1971.

[3] Cséjte is in modern Slovakia.

[4] This is also true of the staff at the castle, where virtually no English is understood. The majority of the display labels etc. are also exclusively in Hungarian. 

Above: exterior view, Nádasdy castle. 

Above: interior view.

                                                    Above: statue of Cleopatra with the asp!

                                                            Above: Samson and Delilah.

                                                                Above: Jael and Sisera.

                                                       Above: Judith beheads Holofernes.

Lost in translation

I've spent this week working on the copyedited version of Silent Saturday, going through the copyeditor's comments and agreeing (or disagreeing) with proposed changes. Most of the suggested amendments are minor and pretty uncontroversial, but there are some special challenges in setting a book in a foreign country, as I have done.
My first three books were all set in the Eifel region of Germany, and although they were written in English and the dialogue was in English (with the occasional German word or phrase for a bit of colour), it was understood that the dialogue was an English rendering of conversations that would in reality have been in German. I had to take great care, therefore, that I didn't use any English phrases for which there is no suitable German equivalent. I could say, for example, that Klara Klein had "bitten the dust" because in German someone can "bite the grass" (ins Gras beißen), but I would not have Steffi Nett say that she would "give someone the top brick off the chimney" (ie. do anything for that person) because a German would not say that. Whilst I was writing those books, I constantly kept the theoretical German text in my mind.
My new Forbidden Spaces trilogy (coming in April 2013) is set in Belgium, and this presents different problems. Veerle De Keyser, the heroine, is Flemish-speaking but she lives in a village close to the cultural and linguistic faultline that divides the Flemish- from the French-speaking population. Most of the characters who appear in the trilogy are Flemish, but a number are French-speaking.
Towns and cities in Belgium often have a Flemish name and a French one, and sometimes even an English one too. Thus what we Brits call Brussels is called Brussel (Flemish) and Bruxelles (French). Antwerp (English) is Antwerpen (Flemish) and Anvers (French). Ghent (English) is Gent (Flemish) and Gand (French). So which versions to use?
An obvious solution is to use the name used by the local residents - Antwerpen, Namur, etc. However, some parts of suburban Brussels have both Flemish- and French-speaking populations (eg. Auderghem/Oudergem) so it is hard to know which to choose.
I then wondered whether to simplify matters by anglicising all the place names. This would also forestall anyone unfamiliar with the Flemish version of Brussels, Brussel, thinking that the missing s was a typo! Aha, I thought, a great solution....until I realised that the "English" version of Brugge, "Bruges" is actually also the French version. A Flemish-speaking resident of this city in north Flanders wouldn't think of it as Bruges. Veerle certainly wouldn't.  In the end I concluded that there is no "one size fits all" solution. Where a town is firmly Flemish-speaking, let it have a Flemish name; where it is French-speaking, a French one. Where it could go either way, I shall use the Flemish one since that is the one Veerle would naturally use. I shall use the English name for Brussels, hoping to avoid enquiries about the "missing" s and keeping things safely neutral in this political and linguistic minefield. Inconsistent, perhaps, but it strikes me as a nicely Belgian compromise. 

                                                            Ghent, Gent or Gand..?

Real glass demons! - and more

As I mentioned in my last post, I have recently returned from a trip to my former home town of Bad Münstereifel in Germany. Bad Münstereifel is a truly wonderful place but if there is one thing it doesn't have a lot of, it's wifi access. This is probably partly because a lot of Germans use an internet "stick" that plugs into their laptop when they want mobile internet access, rather than relying on joining local wifi networks. I was able to get onto the net in the local library but to my horror it closed for a summer break a few days after we arrived. Before the trip I had fondly imagined that going "internet cold turkey" wouldn't be a problem, might even be relaxing, but pretty soon both the kids and I were desperate to get online! I happened to mention this to some friends we visited, and they very kindly offered to give me the keys to the beautiful and historic Weinhaus an der Rauschen, a hotel and restaurant which has (roll of drums) wifi, so that I could log on there. However when I got inside, the wifi was pretty quickly forgotten, as I laid eyes on the wonderful stained glass windows in the restaurant. I have a real "thing" for stained glass, especially the antique stuff, so I couldn't photograph it quickly enough. With the kind permission of the owners I am reproducing some of the photographs here. One of my favourites apparently shows a real "glass demon" like the one in my second novel!

Below: the Weinhaus an der Rauschen. It is situated on the Heisterbacherstrasse in Bad Münstereifel, upon which Pia Kolvenbach, the heroine of my first novel The Vanishing of Katharina Linden, lives. So if you ever visit the town, this is the place to stay if you want to live on the same street as Pia!

Below: arms of Jülich. I especially like this one because I used the name in Wish Me Dead; one of the characters is called Kai von Jülich.

Below: head of Christ. I think this might possibly be a representation of the image of Christ's face on the cloth of Saint Veronika.

This is a very interesting window (below): it shows a knight with a real "glass demon" being subdued under the hooves of his charger!

...and here is a close-up of that demon (below).

This is also fascinating (below). At first glance this is a romantic scene of courtly love...

...but if you look more closely (below) you can see something rather grotesque peeping out from behind a tree at the two lovers! It may be a personification of the sin of Lust.

P.S. If you really do visit Bad Münstereifel, here's the hotel's website: http://www.dierauschen.de/ - it is in German but the owners speak perfect English. 

Return to Bad Münstereifel

Last night I got home from a week in Bad Münstereifel, my former home town and location of two of my books, The Vanishing of Katharina Linden and Wish Me Dead. When we lived in Belgium, it was quite possible to go back to Bad Münstereifel for the weekend or even a single day, but since we moved to Scotland this is no longer possible. This was my first visit to the town in over a year. It was a strange experience in a way; when I wrote those books, I located them in Bad Münstereifel because it was my home town. When I did school visits, people occasionally asked me why I set my books in Germany and I explained that amongst other reasons I couldn't have set anything in the UK at that time because I was so out of touch with life there, having lived away for years. Bad Münstereifel was my home environment. It's also a fascinating place with a long and interesting history (floods, plague, war) and culture (ghosts, witches and monsters), all of which I found very inspiring. 

We left Bad Münstereifel in 2008 and with the passage of four years I have slowly become out of touch with everyday life in the town. When I went back, there were some very big changes. such as the building of an enormous multi-storied old people's home opposite the Hauptschule - I remember when that spot was occupied by a terrace of tumbledown houses. The Printenhaus cafe has been knocked down and a carpark is being built in its place. The former department store Bollenrath has been boarded up pending redevelopment. I was very aware that there were things I had missed, that I am no longer a "local" of Bad Münstereifel. All the same, in spite of being away for so long, I still spend a lot of time in the Bad Münstereifel of my memories. Because of that sense of dislocation that I now have, the Bad Münstereifel of my books seems almost as real to me as the real town. After all, memories often have the same fuzzy edges as the imaginary scenes of a book. So it was quite strange being there - it felt as though I had stepped right into the pages of one of my own novels. I sometimes felt that if I were to run into Pia Kolvenbach (who would now be about 23) or Steffi Nett, I shouldn't have been at all surprised! 

I took lots of photographs of Bad Münstereifel as I am not sure when I will next visit. I am posting some here, and lots of others on Twitter. Someone asked me to take a photograph of Herr Schiller's house, which was an interesting challenge! Most of the places in my books are real-life places, including certain shops, but I always try to avoid identifying anyone's actual home as one of the houses in a book in case it causes offence. So I located Herr Schiller's house on Orchheimerstrasse, which is mostly shops, not homes. I did however photograph houses of the type Herr Schiller might have inhabited, in other streets. 

 Above: Orchheimerstrasse, where Herr Schiller is supposed to have lived. These are all shops!

 The houses in the photos above and below are on Heisterbacherstrasse, which is actually the street where Pia Kolvenbach lives in The Vanishing of Katharina Linden - I imagined that Herr Schiller would also live in an older style of house like one of these.

Here is a photograph of my favourite cafe in Bad Münstereifel, the Erft Cafe! I am sad to say that the cafe will be closing later this year, which is why I wanted to post a pic of it. Herr Nipp, who runs this cafe with his wife, was one of two bakers who advised me on the running of a German bakery for Wish Me Dead, and in my opinion he makes the world's best cherry streusel! All is not lost, however - Herr Nipp also runs the Cafe Am Salzmarkt so next time I am in the town I need not do without my favourite streusel! 

My favourite independent bookseller

It's Independent Booksellers' Week 2012 (see http://independentbooksellersweek.org.uk/ ) so I'd like to raise a glass to my very favourite independent bookshop, the inimitable Treasure Trove in Tervuren, Belgium. It may seem odd to pick a shop overseas but we lived near Tervuren from 2008 until 2011 and it was our "local" bookshop. Also, in spite of its location, Treasure Trove is an English language bookshop selling mainly children's and YA books.
It's also an amazing success story, thriving in a country where English is not the first language and the potential market is therefore smaller than it would be in the UK. They have achieved this through their energy and enthusiasm, organising regular events for their young customers including readings, craft activities and author visits. I have held two book events there myself and felt incredibly welcomed and supported. Treasure Trove, I think you're fab!