My Chess Story

An Altercation of Pawns
By Paul Jacobson Smith

It so happened, one day, that the Black King and the White King fell in love and, stealing their wives’ coronets, danced away across the Chessboard in each other’s arms, declaring a mutual hatred for violence and war.

The Queens lamented the loss of their crowns, as the helms were the source of their fortitude and without them, they found that they could barely manage walking more than a space, unless it was just after they woke and had their breakfasts, and even then it was just barely two. But what was to be done? A King was a wily thing to pin down even when he could move just the one square at a time, and now that they were sashaying their way about the board in not-quite-so-straight lines, entrapping them and forcing the return of the regalia was not a possibility.

The Queens now found their movement about the board to be rather aimless, until one morning, upon arising from sleep and exiting their tents, they discovered they were in adjoining spaces on a far edge of the battlefield. Though their primal natures urged them, they were unable to attack, being reduced, as it were, to pawns and so instead they resorted to name calling and throwing stones at each other; until, after the White Queen had succeeded in lobbing into the Black Queen’s hair, the feces of her greyhound, a White Bishop suggested one might prove her superiority over the other by besting her in a fair and straightforward contest. To this the Queens agreed and the terms were set as follow: Over the night, the Queens would rest their strength, and beginning the following morning, they would, by turns, race to the opposite side of the field, being allowed to move whatever pieces they wished to obtain their goal, but playing all pieces as they lay currently. The Black Queen asked how it should be determined who went first. The White Queen, knowing the Black Queen to be one who generally makes a night of it, declared the earliest riser should be allowed first gambit. The Bishop voted for this as well, leaving the Black Queen to complain that it wasn’t a fair decision, because the other two voters belonged to the same party. With that the contestants decided to call it a day and headed for their tents, but first the Black Queen asked the White Bishop to accompany her to hers, saying she had always been an atheist, and perhaps he could tell her of his faith and try to convert her.

The morning arrived and the Virgin was not in the least surprised to discover herself to be the first to greet it, as the grunts and moans of the conversion had kept her awake half the night. After giving up on their eventual cessation, she felt forced to buy that illusive ticket to Morpheus’ lands, or, if that wasn’t clear, she took a fistful of Valium. Feeling refreshed she took her turn and, befriending a lion, as virgins tend to do, had it lead her through the wilds of square two to square three.

The Virgin would have been wrong to assume from the noise nextsquare that a conversion hadn’t taken place, for, although the Valkyrie woke up that morning still a Valkyrie, cursing and downing large volumes of Aquafina, the Bishop who had entered the tent wearing a white robe, exited it wearing a black one. The Black Queen threw the keys for her Mercedes to one of her retinue and had him drive her to the square adjoining the White Queen’s, though they had to pull over in square two so she could throw-up out the window. “What are you going to do now, Kriemhild?” asked Brunhild. “If you move forward, you’ll be in my diagonal and I’ll be able to gut you with my spear.” Kriemhild replied, “I’ve sent word to my other Bishop that his brother succumbed to temptation. By now, your new lover should have succumbed to something else entirely.” “What’s that?” “Smoke inhalation from being burned at the stake.” Brunhild laughed, “That was indulgent and a waste of a turn.” “Yes,” smiled Kriemhild, “but such fun!”

“And what,” asked the White Queen, “could possibly be your inspired move, Brunhild?” In response to this the Black Queen, got out of her Mercedes and took from it’s back seat a good and noble hunting horn, upon which she blew a fanfare crisp and bright. In moments, a large black horse could be seen falling from high in the sky (falling, for it had jumped from Q.Kt’s 2nd), and landing, denting the roof and hood of the Mercedes, before ambling to the ground. “Good Sir Knight,” addressed the Black Queen of her patron, “Would you be so kind as to accept this richly band of gold and ruby in exchange for that dark courser upon which you so proudly dictate.” And then to Kriemhild, “Take that, bitch.”

The Virgin smiled, “I’m going to have to leave you now Brunhild, it will be hard not hearing your tender language, but I think I’ll manage.” “And where do you think you’re off to? You aren’t safe now. Remember, I can always get off this damnable beast.” The Virgin winked, “I’m going house hunting.” And sure enough to the White Queen’s forward-right diagonal was a black castle, open to her attack.

However, the Valkyrie wasn’t finished yet. It would still take the Virgin two turns to get to the end of the board, because there was a Black Pawn blocking her path that would have to be dealt with.

As the White Queen, ensconced in her new castle, coasted into the final row of the board, she felt giddy with victory and decided to write a letter of consolation to Brunhild as the loser, knowing it would particularly burn her up. She tied this note to the leg of a carrier pigeon and walked outside her castle to set it to the air. As she did so, she noticed the large black horse falling toward her from the sky. The Valkyrie had used her two turns to set up an attack on the winner, being just a horse’s jump away as the victor pulled into the finish line. The horse landed, squashing the White Queen beneath its hooves.

“Ah yes, Kriemhild,” sighed the Black Queen, “I suppose you are the superior woman for having won the contest, but who cares now that you’re dead?”

“No one really ever did,” said a Bishop dressed in White.

“I thought Kriemhild had you killed.”

“She tried to, but my brother didn’t listen to her. You see, we were both under orders from the White King. I took the turn that was meant to be my demise to line myself up for the final slaughter, yours. All the while you two were carrying on this charade, the Kings were each adding in an extra turn, each round, to move up the pawns they had fallen in love with.”

“You mean the Kings did fall in love, but not with each other?”

“That’s right. The Black King fell in love with Rapunzel and the White King with Cinderella and now, after this turn, they are free to move them into the final row of the board and crown them Queens.”

The Black Queen finished for him, “Which makes the contest between the true Queens, really nothing more than an altercation of pawns.”