by Lori Lebow
Arthur felt a need to excel in scholastic pursuits, so he studied law and became an accomplished musician. Richard went into commerce and managed one of the most respected financial planning institutions in America. His prestige made him a nationally known personality, and governments around the world consulted his expertise in foreign affairs. Both Arthur and Richard spent considerable lengths of time pursuing their separate careers, and did not see each other much after they had grown. However, when they did meet at family functions and on visits to this house to see their parents, their old rivalries re-emerged. They would compete at sport and in games of chance at almost every opportunity. As I said, Arthur felt his disability handicapped him when they were participating in acts of physical daring, but he would not let his lameness prevent him from attempting to beat his brother, and he often succeeded out of sheer determination.
Randolf was aware of his sons’ contentious attitudes, and he was concerned that the house and estate would not be preserved if he tried to divide it equally. So, Randolf decided that when he died, his money would be bequeathed to his wife, and on her death, it would be divided between his sons. But the house and grounds and all of the art treasures would go to whoever won the chess match that would be played in this room. Only one move would be permitted each year, on the anniversary of Randolf’s death. If his sons did not live to finish the match, then their children would continue when they had reached their eighteenth years. If there were no children, the estate would be left to the State, to be preserved as a museum. Unfortunately, Randolf and his wife went down with the Titanic.”
“How sad. What a strange arrangement Randolf Lander made! It sounds as though he did not want to leave anything to his heirs — as if Lander were trying to take it with him. Why do you think he contrived such an elaborate means of disposing of his property? I thought you said he loved his sons.”
“I suspect he was worried about their competitive attitudes toward each other. Both felt somehow worthy of being the lone heir. Each regarded the other as a rival or usurper. I think Randolf wanted to keep this unique property: the house and contents, safe from his sons because he was afraid their rivalry would destroy the collection. However that may be, they agreed to meet and play out a chess match to decide who would inherit the home and all of its treasures.”
“I guess they must have expected the chess game to last for decades.”
“They were both good chess players, and naturally they studied chess with real commitment after their father’s death when they discovered how important the chess match was to be for them. King’s Castle: A Book About Chess was one of their most valued sources of chess strategy. According to Randolf’s will, they could complete their first five moves during the first day of the tournament so the opening, which is fairly straightforward, could be dispensed with. After each player had completed five moves, the positions of the pieces would be recorded, and the players would meet the following year to continue. If, for some reason, one or the other player was unable to be at the table on the appointed day, they had to find a mutually acceptable alternative date within three months of the appointed day. Otherwise, the game was forfeited to the player who had been available. Naturally this stipulation meant that both Arthur and Richard met as required each year for five years.”
“Only five years? With so much at stake I would have thought they could persevere longer than that.”
“On the fifth anniversary of Randolf’s death, they met as required and resumed the game. Having a year to consider what move to make, you can understand that the actual moving of the chess piece took mere seconds. Both men had, no doubt, consulted experts. So, I would open the room, show them in, and stand by as witness to record which piece was moved; which taken. Then it was over for another year.”
“Quite an anticlimax, eh?” I said. “All that build up, and in a moment it is all over.”
“Well, the brothers always had other business regarding the estate to attend to. And it was not exactly a hardship to come home. The house and grounds were always beautifully maintained. They would often stay in the house for a few days, and their young children became playmates.”
“Oh, they had families. You hadn’t mentioned any.”
Mrs Bridges shook her head. “Did I forget to tell you that both boys married in the same year: 1913? And both boys had their first child almost exactly one year later: Arthur had a son born in June 1914 and Richard had a daughter born in September. They were: Samuel and Elizabeth, cousins who were together in this house on every occasion that their fathers came to resume the chess game. Unfortunately, their fathers both met their deaths shortly after. Richard was killed in Europe in 1918 when serving as an officer during the battle of Paschendale, and Arthur was stricken during the influenza epidemic and died in 1919. The chess game had to be discontinued until their children came of age to continue the contest.”
By the time Mrs Bridges had told me this much of the saga, we had finished eating. She resumed her tale as we cleared away the lunch things. “The children met each other here on a number of occasions during the next fifteen years or so, when their mothers brought them together at family gatherings. They were good friends, and enjoyed each other’s company. They also kept up a lively exchange of letters and frequent phone calls across country and even oceans when they travelled. I sometimes suspect that they were the instigators of the holidays that brought them to this house.”
“Were they aware that they would have to resume the chess match?”
“Oh yes,” Mrs Bridges assured me. “That is one of the reasons they got on so well. They played chess with each other, and they discussed strategies, and talked about what they intended to do with the estate once one or the other had won it.”
“It sounds as though the rivalry of their fathers had passed to them.”
Mrs Bridges smiled. “Actually, I think they considered it all a bit of a joke, and they were too good natured to mean any harm. I believe they were very fond of each other, even as children, and so did not want to cause any unhappiness.”
“Ah, Mrs Bridges, where money is concerned I think you will find that fondness does not overcome greed.”
“Well, Mr Dubrovnian, you will have an opportunity to find out, because this afternoon at two o’clock they are meeting to play the match. Indeed, they should be arriving shortly.”
“I must be going,” I told her. “I would not want to present further complications for you on such an important occasion.”
“Quite the opposite, Mr. Dubrovnian. It would be a great help if you could stay to watch the match. I would like to have a neutral observer on hand to confirm the game outcome, and there is good reason to believe the final move may be made today.”
I was excited by the prospect of finding myself allowed to watch the conclusion in a chess game that had been in progress for a quarter of a century. “Certainly, it would be a privilege to attend this event,” I told Mrs Bridges.
“Good,” she said. We could hear tires on the gravel drive, doors slamming and voices.
§ § §
Brendon turned the newspaper over and dropped it into his lap, making as much noise as possible. When Catriona looked up, apparently ripped from her involvement with the textual world into the reality of the present moment, Brendon was smiling through closed lips. “Finished? Let’s move.” He rose to his feet and offered his hand.
“I have only read the first half of the story,” Catriona admitted sheepishly.
“Does it make you want to know what happens next?” Marcel had not taken his eyes from her since she started reading.
“I guess. Yes. It is a complicated, rather unlikely plot, but I would like to know how it concludes.” She held the book out to Marcel who made no attempt to retrieve it.
“Go on,” he coaxed her. “Finish it. You won’t be sorry.”
“I’m sorry already!” Brendon cried in exasperation. “Catriona, let’s go!”
“The second part is much shorte
r than the first,” Marcel assured Brendon in particular. “Be patient and let her finish. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“I am so glad of that!” Brendon almost laughed. His cell phone rang: an electronically synthesized version of the main theme of Saint-Saens Dance Macabre. Brendon answered the call as he stood and moved away from the bench. “Hi. Jerry? Just a second…” To his companions he explained: “I’ll take a stroll around the duck pond. But we’re leaving when I return: story finished or not. Okay?”
“Thanks, Brendon,” Catriona said and dropped her eyes to the page to continue.
King’s Castle (Part 2)
Mrs Bridges conducted me to the sitting room adjacent to the War Room and indicated I should wait there. I could hear the greetings being exchanged, and felt the excitement of life returning to the quiet solitude of the empty mansion. After a short interval, the footsteps approaching revealed a very tall, slim young man with light brown hair, an olive complexion, and light brown eyes. He was wearing a brown suit, a light brown shirt and no tie. He was so uniform in colour he looked like an old sepia photograph. He reached out to greet me immediately as Mrs Bridges introduced us. His expression was of amusement and easy-going good nature. “I hope you won’t be disappointed, Mr Dubrovnian. This game may last a few seconds, or go into another century of overtime.”
“Are you nervous?” was all I could think to ask.
“Oh, when you meet Elizabeth, you may understand why I am both nervous and totally resigned.”
“I meant about the game,” I explained. “Are you concerned about losing?”
“I’m more concerned about winning,” he smiled. “Elizabeth has her heart set on beating me.” He looked pleased at the prospect.
The door swung open and a dazzling, petite young woman sailed in. Her hair and eyes were black; her complexion so pale she looked like a kabuki actress. She seemed to be riding a wave of energy that lifted everyone in her path. “Hello, dear Samuel.” She kissed his cheek and gave him a hug. “Is today the day you will let me defeat you and become mistress of this mighty castle?”
“Elizabeth, allow me to present Mr Dubrovnian, an insurance assessor who is here on business and has kindly agreed to stay to witness today’s play.”
She smiled warmly and laughed. “I hope this little contest will not be tiresome for you. We seem to play for all of ten seconds each year!”
“A marathon effort,” I replied.
“I have to train very hard to be in shape for it,” she agreed. “Samuel just plays by ear.”
He shrugged. “I merely follow Elizabeth’s leads and try to survive another turn. Elizabeth is a brilliant tactician.” He gazed at her a long time. “Shall we catch up on the news before we play, or after?”
“Let’s not keep Mr Dubrovnian in suspense,” Elizabeth started toward the chessboard, glancing around the room as she crossed it. “This is an exciting moment. We may be concluding the match with the next move. I believe last year I captured your queen.”
“Ah yes,” Samuel held her chair as she perched herself on the edge and studied the positions of the pieces. “In terms of the game’s potential tragedy, losing a queen is second only to losing the game.” Samuel enjoyed watching Elizabeth, who seemed already to be sensing her victory. Her brow was furrowed with concentration. She pointed to the white pawns lined up before her King, and was about to comment but stopped herself. She glanced toward Mrs Bridges who was straightening the picture of the chess players. Elizabeth looked quizzically at Samuel, and then returned her gaze to the board. Samuel took his seat opposite and leaned away from the table to ask, “What will you do with the estate when you have it in your possession?”
Elizabeth sat back and after a moment’s thought; then replied, “Torch it.”
“Really? Is there nothing you would salvage?”
“Oh, there are a few paintings I would probably keep. This one, for example,” she pointed to the chess scene on the wall. “But I think to level the house, bulldoze the gardens, pulp the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old trees would be a much better investment. I could divide the property into lots of medium-density developments that could comfortably house six hundred families, and instead push in twelve hundred. Build a small shopping centre where the old deer-park is and put into it a general store and grocery, perhaps a movie theatre, drug store, bar and some cheap general merchandisers and I could probably realise several hundred million dollars of investment income. No need to become sentimental and nostalgic about a quaint old house in a landscape that looks like a film set, is there? Natural beauty and old world values are so over-rated.” I hoped she was joking, and suspected as much since Samuel was still gazing with amusement at her, when she returned his question. “Well, what would you do with it?”
“I would only make one slight alteration.”
“Pity,” she leaned toward the board, “you will never get the chance. It’s your move.”
Samuel now sat forward and studied the board. He looked up and said, “I think the pieces are not correctly positioned.” He pointed to the row of white pawns. “I thought you had moved that Knight’s pawn.”
“So did I,” Elizabeth bit her lip.
“Would you like to check the record of moves?” Mrs Bridges asked. “I can bring it here in a moment.”
“No,” Elizabeth decided. “I’ll play the pieces as they stand, if you are happy to play on,” she told Samuel.
“I seem to enjoy a considerable advantage,” Samuel admitted. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?”
She sat back to watch him. “Seize the moment, Samuel.”
He lifted his black king’s castle, slid it past the unprotected white knight, and placed it in the white row, four squares from the white king who was trapped behind his own white pawns. “Check mate,” Samuel sat back and watched Elizabeth’s face. A kaleidoscopic succession of expressions passed over her features as she realised that she had lost. In a graceful sweep she placed her defeated king on his side. She reached across the board to shake Samuel’s hand and said with complete sincerity, “Well done, Samuel. That was very clever and took me completely by surprise. The game is finished. Congratulations.”
“Not quite,” Samuel replied as Mrs Bridges presented everyone with crystal stemware and champagne. “You never asked me what change I would make to the estate if I won it.”
“I know it would be in perfectly good taste, Samuel. And routine repairs do not count. What will you do with it now that it is yours?”
“I had never really thought I would win, Elizabeth. Your expertise in chess has always surpassed mine. I guess I was just lucky in this game. However, I think it would be a sad outcome if I had to take possession, alone, of an estate that actually should have been equally divided between our fathers. So, to make it right, I would like to ask you to marry me, and live in this house, and become joint custodian of the property. That way, we can play a rematch anytime without the inconvenience of having to travel to be here.”
Elizabeth was stunned and silent. She was staring at Samuel with a look of disbelief and admiration. Suddenly she jumped up and embraced him. She had tears in her eyes when she spoke, and he looked radiantly happy. “Of course I will marry you. How else will I be able to exact my revenge?”
“You realise, Elizabeth, that I will never agree to your redevelopment plans.”
“Oh well,” she laughed, “there are already so many apartment blocks and so few forests, I guess preserving the old place for its aesthetic qualities would be even more outrageous.” After a pause she added, “I wonder if old Randolf Lander foresaw that his grandchildren would live together, under this roof. What a tactician you are!” she grinned. “All this time I thought you were only trying to win the house and artworks.”
Samuel was staring at her with great affection as he answered, “I have won the greatest treasure of all.”
Sonia had put aside the books and was sitting transfixed as her grandfather concluded his story. “How romantic,”
she sighed at last. “Did Samuel and Elizabeth live happily ever after in Randolf’s mansion?”
Her grandfather nodded. “It was a surprisingly successful marriage. Their childhood friendship had sown the seeds for a solid, loving relationship.”
“And what about this letter?” Sonia waved the yellowed envelope.
Dubrovnian smiled and carefully removed the letter which was so fragile with age it nearly crumbled in his fingers. He handed it back to Sonia. “Read it, if you like.” Sonia read aloud:
” ‘Dear Mr Dubrovnian,
I am writing to you in relation to the matter of the chess match you witnessed which concluded two years ago and consummated the final disposition of Randolf Lander’s Estate. Samuel and Elizabeth are extremely happy sharing the property, and their lives together. I am delighted that you were able to be present at the event that brought their match to an end after a quarter of a century, and that brought closure to the business affairs of their fathers. However, I feel I must confess that the outcome of the chess match was influenced by an accident which occurred while I was dusting the room in preparation for their annual contest. I upset some of the pieces, and in replacing them, I put the white pawns in a straight line in front of the White King. This change meant a much speedier ending to the match. I altered the written records of the moves accordingly.
