The Witches of St. Petersburg

Meanwhile Militza, finding it difficult to keep calm, sipped glass after glass of sweet red wine. Her appetites were not normally this voracious, but her guide always made her more lustful; her white skin became more luminous, her lips rosier and her touch altogether more sensitive. But it was her deep black eyes that held the Tsar transfixed.

‘You look particularly enchanting tonight, Militza Nikolayevna,’ he opined as he sipped his wine

‘Enchanting?’ Militza smiled. ‘It is the good company, Your Majesty.’

Thankfully, once the dinner was over, the party could move upstairs to the panelled library. Peter requested the servants leave the liqueurs and sweetmeats on a small table in the red hall, so the guests could help themselves.

The library was thick with a heavy smoke emanating from the cast iron pot that stood in the middle of the table. The smouldering cocktail of henbane and hashish had been burning all through dinner, filling the room with its intoxicating fumes.

‘I can’t believe we are about to do this,’ Stana whispered into her sister’s ear as she followed her into the room. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’

‘I will be fine,’ she replied tersely. ‘We have come this far.’

‘But when was the last time you did this properly?’ asked her sister.

‘Can you light the six candles for me?’ Militza simply replied.

Stana lit the candelabra while Militza covered the pot with a cloth. There was certainly enough smoke in the room now; as the guests sat down, it mixed with the fine wines from dinner and it did not take long before the sedative and mildly aphrodisiac qualities of the drugs took effect. The Tsar’s posture relaxed and he positively flopped down into his chair. As the most important guests, Militza had the Tsar and Tsarina on either side of her while Peter was opposite, with Stana to his right and George to his left.

Before commencing, Militza laid a square cloth on the table on which were written a series of numbers around the edge. In the middle there were the letters of the alphabet and four squares on which were marked ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ as well as the words ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’. She produced a well-worn glass from a small table in the corner of the library.

‘This,’ she said, holding it up to show everyone, ‘is the planchette. I shall try and contact those who have passed over without using the Ouija board. But sometimes if things are proving difficult, we can rely on the board. You will all need to place your fingers lightly on top of the glass, which will move around – but Spirit will be the one who moves the glass. We are just there to make sure that it doesn’t fly off the table.’ She smiled and then breathed in deeply, flaring her nostrils as she inhaled the heady smoke and spread her arms out. ‘Does anyone have any questions before we start?’

‘Will anything bad happen?’ asked the Tsarina.

‘No. I have my spirit guide here to help. He should prevent too much interference from the lower astral.’

‘All right,’ nodded Alexandra, not quite understanding what Militza was saying, but the mixture of the hashish, the wine and the henbane made her so delightfully relaxed she didn’t mind.

‘Shall we start?’ requested Nicholas.

‘Let’s all hold hands, then we close our eyes and wait,’ said Militza. The Tsar slipped his hand into hers. The feeling of his soft skin against her own gave her a knot in the pit of her stomach. She glanced across at him, but his eyes were already closed.

Within a few seconds the atmosphere changed. The air went cold and the six candles began to flicker. It was as if a fresh breath had entered the room. Alexandra kept her eyes firmly shut and squeezed Militza’s hand all the more tightly. She had waited so long for this, she could not believe it was about to happen. She turned her head, her eyes still closed, towards the ceiling and began to pray silently under her breath.

‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done… Oh please God, dear God, please let me speak to May…’

Suddenly, the gentle pitter-patter of feet was heard in the room. Militza sat quite still, her hands clasping those of the Tsar and Tsarina. Stana did not move a muscle. The little footsteps circled the table at a gentle trot and then the rhythm changed and they began to skip. Hop skip, hop skip.

‘She’s here,’ announced Militza. ‘You can open your eyes.’ As the group opened their eyes, two candles blew out, leaving the room in a more profound darkness.

The four remaining candles lit up Militza’s face. Her eyes shone, her topaz earrings glittered and her bosom rose and fell with increasing heaviness. It was as if she were in some sort of trance. She nodded as if in response to a question and then laughed silently at a joke that only she could hear.