"I haven't either and I don't care if I never see him. The master says that when all the food is prepared you and I can have the rest of the night off."
"That would be nice for a change."
"Quite frankly, I can't wait. A nice evening to myself, how grand. We aren't even required to serve; he says he can manage alone. That's a pleasant change. Come on, hurry, let's get this work done so we can leave"
The entire day, I dusted, washed and shined the floors of the palace. Grigori arrived a little after sunset. I looked up from where I'd been kneeling on the hard marble to see him saunter past. Turning back for just a moment as he was escorted to a private chamber, he winked at me.
My back, knees and shoulders ached with the strain of the day's workload. When I tried to stand up straight, for a few moments I found it to be difficult.
Sympathetic, due to the fierce temperatures outside, the head cook, a kind woman at heart, allowed me to sleep by the fire in the kitchen for the night. Her eyes shone with sympathy as she handed me a blanket. Then she and the other cook prepared to leave the palace for the night. Jovial at the prospect of an evening to themselves, the two cooks made their way out of the building, but not before offering me a plate of food.
After a filling dinner of chicken tabka with fried panisse and seared sweetbreads, taken from the dinner preparations, I lay down on a thick wool carpet of swirling bright colors. Surrounded by the wholesome smell of food and the warmth of the fire, my weary body eased. I watched the flames leap and dance and was transported to the night I had danced before the fire for Jan so long ago.
Heavy eyed, I allowed myself to drift into a deep slumber. Resting comfortably for the first time in several days, my sleep felt like a drunken stupor. I did not realize how long I had slept until I heard a gun shot that woke me abruptly. From the room that Grigori had entered, where the party had taken place, I heard three distinctive men's voices, one of them with a British accent. They shouted, more gun shots rang out, and I sat up looking around. A loud hammering echoed through the halls as if someone were tearing down the palace. Cries of pain trumpeted alerting of a terrible suffering. Curling into myself, I hid in a corner behind the cast iron stove and listened.
"He's still not dead. I shot him in the head, I've attacked him with this club and still he lives. Nothing seems to affect him"
"Beat him again."
"I have again and again; he is a bloody mess, yet he does not die."
"Grab the rug over there, If we wrap him in it he will be easier to transport. Then we can take him and throw him into the Neva River. It's freezing that will kill him. No one could survive that. Not even this bloody bastard."
"Watch out for him, he tried to take hold of me."
"How can that be? Together we've shot him four times and still he is fighting back and trying to get away. Any normal man would have died."
"Any other man would have died from all of the cyanide I put into that food and wine he ate. It was enough to kill five men."
"And still he lives."
From the strain in their voices, I knew they struggled to wrap him in the rug. From my hiding place, I watched as they dragged his body out. I knew instinctively that it was Rasputin they were trying to murder. I did not want the men to know I had been a witness, lest they decide it best to destroy any evidence. After all, I knew how beloved Grigori was by the royal family. So I peeked from behind the stove and waited. Then, once sure that everyone had gone, I followed in the shadows as they took him to the banks of the Neva River
Because Grigori had been such a large and imposing man, it took all three of them to hoist the body into the water. They waited for a few minutes to be sure their task was complete. But the bitter weather forced them to tighten their coats, and with the wind at their backs, they left.
Once they turned the corner and I could no longer see them, I knew it would be safe to come out.
Standing at the edge of the half frozen water, I watched Grigori struggle as he freed himself from the wrap. His eyes met mine.
"Help me, please Zigeuya , my one true love, help me."
"Your one true love, Grigori? You killed my one true love. I begged you, but you would not come and so I lost the only man who ever cared for me. You have a child, a daughter. He raised and cared for her as his own, more than you would ever have done."
"How can you say that? I love you I have always loved you."
"Grigori, you killed my one true love and now I will kill the only person you have ever loved....yourself."
"Please, be reasonable...help me, you will come to live in the palace, bring our child. I will take care of you." For one brief moment the old feelings tried to surface, but I pushed them down. Raising my hand and pointing my two fingers at him as the wind whipped my hair about my face in a wicked icy dance, I said, "I remove my protection from you now, Grigori Rasputin. You are no more than a mortal man."
Changed instantly by the reversal of the spell, he was now affected by the gun shots, poison and frozen water. The strength drained from his body and he became weak and vulnerable.
Tears filled my eyes as I watched him sink beneath the dark waters of the river. For several seconds, seeming like hours, he stared at me as he struggled against the filling of his lungs. Then he lay still, his black eyes open and fixed upon me forever.
Grigori Rasputin, my first lover, the man whose seed I had carried, my enemy, and my rival, was dead.
I spent the remainder of the night in the train station. The following morning, I found myself heading back to Munich and to you.
As you know, over the next ten years we became as one. You are my daughter and my best friend. I have loved you and will always love you. I am pleased that Dr Stein willed that money to you for your education. Go as planned to Oxford and become a doctor. And now we come to the reason why I needed to tell you this story. My child, you have your father's gift. It is in your hands; you have the power to save the dying. Use it wisely, but take care that no one ever finds out the truth about your paternity. There are many who still hate Rasputin and who feel that he was the downfall of Russia. If they ever realize who you are, I fear they will kill you.
Take care my child, my dear sweet Margot, and know always that your father and I loved you with all of our hearts.
"Mama, stop...please...you are not ready to die. I can postpone my leaving for school and stay with you. You say I have the gift,- then I will lay hands upon you. I will save you."
"No child, I want to go, yearn to go. My work here is complete. I've raised you into an incredible young woman. It is now time to see your father. He has waited long enough and I ache to be with him. Your life is ahead of you, your dreams and your future await....go...fly my little bird...take your wings and fly."
Turning her head away, the old gypsy witch closed her eyes on the world for the last time.
Jan smiled that old familiar smile, his blond hair falling over his eyes, as he waited with open arms on the other side. She ran to him, and was instantly turned a young girl again. All of the disease and hardship of her life on earth dissolved in a cloud of fairy dust. Laughing as her skirts blew wildly, he lifted her off the ground in a long awaited embrace. Their lips met as their hearts and bodies joined together for eternity.
Outside the window, a rainbow peeked though the silver white clouds. Margot smiled as a single tear fell from her eyes onto the pillow. Then she left the room to pack her bags for school. After the funeral and the sale of the farm, she would take the train to England and into her future...
For more books by Roberta Kagan and Roberta Kagan writing as Veronika Knight please visit Amazon or:
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Thank you for your interest in my work. Many blessings to you, Roberta
Roberta Kagan, The Gypsy Witch
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