ČACHTICE, Slovakia — More than 400 years after her death, the truth about the “Blood Countess”, a Hungarian noblewoman who was allegedly the most prolific female serial killer of all time, remains unclear.

Elizabeth Báthory allegedly tortured and murdered up to 650 young women and girls in her castle atop a rugged peak at Čachtice, in what is today western Slovakia; This sparked horrific legends that Elizabeth Báthory enjoyed bathing in the blood of her victims. It would help him preserve his youth.

Rumors of Báthory’s cruelty spread throughout the Kingdom of Hungary in the early 17th century, and following a royal inquest, four of his servants were found guilty of murder and brutally executed. The Bloody Countess was arrested and imprisoned within the walls of her castle until her death in 1614.

Báthory’s terrifying story has captivated the imagination and invited speculation for centuries, spawning books, films, television series and local legends. However, some researchers cast doubt on whether she was truly responsible for the alleged atrocities and suggest that, as a wealthy and powerful woman in late Renaissance Europe, she may have been a victim herself.

“Was Báthory a serial killer who tormented and tortured 650 young women just for his own pleasure?” asked British author and academic Annouchka Bayley, who recently published a novel about the wealthy countess. “I’m very convinced that it’s a sewing job, as we say in England.”

Bayley, author of “Bloody Countess” and associate professor of art and creativity at the University of Cambridge, says the popular narrative of Báthory as a serial killer relies on the “monstrous woman” trope that is not supported by available evidence.

He suggests that rather than a murderer, Bathory may have been a subversive figure who posed a threat to the kingdom’s power structure; especially given the evidence that she taught many young women to read and was able to own a printing house – radical actions during this period. he lived too.

“Remember that these are the years of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation, when people were burned at the stake for their heretical beliefs. Bayley said that printing presses that began to develop across Europe gave people much wider access to information, and this was seen as very dangerous.

“There’s enough for me to go, wait a minute. “Let’s stop here for a while and investigate.”

Born into an aristocratic family in 1560, Báthory married Ferenc Nádasdy, a wealthy Hungarian nobleman, in 1575, and the couple controlled great wealth and lands in the kingdom. Nádasdy was an important soldier and key figure in regaining control of numerous Hungarian territories occupied by the Ottoman Empire.

However, after Nádasdy’s sudden death in 1604, Báthory inherited his lands and wealth and became a “huge Jeff Bezos-style fortune,” according to Bayley.

It was this position of wealth and power that Bayley and other scholars have pointed to as a potential reason for other powerful figures of the time to seek to destroy Báthory and seize his fortune.

Bayley said Báthory’s refusal to remarry following her husband’s death and her activities in educating young women “should have set off alarm bells for everyone in power.”

Suspicions about Báthory’s guilt are not limited to academia; The question may still be polarizing in the Slovakian village of Čachtice, where the atrocity is said to have occurred. Uncertainty as to where Báthory is buried has also led to speculation. It is thought that he was buried in a cemetery beneath the local church, but there are rumors that his body was later moved and the church did not allow excavation.

A local museum dedicated to the countess in Čachtice and groups of tourists and villagers ascending the rocky hills to the castle above the town are testament to the power her legend still has over the region.

But Ivan Pisca, a local farmer, said the power of Báthory’s story may be waning as generations pass.

“There are legends about Elizabeth Báthory, relatively bloodthirsty legends about the young girls she tortured and killed,” he said. “Older people believe these stories, but younger people may know a little less about them.”

Bayley believes that popular culture has over the centuries been overly interested in the most horrific and violent narratives, and that history has often stigmatized strong women.

He said he hoped to achieve some justice for himself and all those whom history has unfairly condemned with a “counter-narrative” of Báthory’s story.

“She deserves better, we all deserve better,” Bayley said. “After 500 years, will justice for Báthory be: ‘He didn’t do it’? Or is justice for Báthory actually the elimination of the monster trope for all women and men?