ii
The Pudding from Meretriciania
By the age of 10, Luke had become champion of Polkavia. His father, by now unable to test his son on the board, was nevertheless still able to help in other ways. He showed Luke how to keep calm, how to wait without losing concentration. He taught him to keep his hands firmly under the table, to count all his fingers twice before moving to prevent any hasty actions. And, not the least important, after each game, how to be modest in victory. After all, it's only chess!
One morning in spring, a man in a fabulous golden carriage rode into the village demanding to see Luke. He was directed to Peter's house, which lay on the edge of the forest. Rather embarrassed at the huge coach standing outside his humble house, Luke's father asked him to come in and Luke's mother busied herself making coffee and cutting bread.
'Sir,' the man began, 'is this Luke, chess champion of Polkavia?'
'It is,' Luke's father replied, blinking furiously.
'Good, good,' the man answered, looking at the boy. 'And how old is he?' he asked, glancing at his pocket watch.
'He is ten.'
'How old exactly?' the man demanded.
Taking a step forward, holding his hands in his lap, Luke's father replied, 'Luke is ten years, five months, three weeks... and a day.'
Luke gazed at his father, then started playing with his fingers.
'Good, good,' was all the man said. He sat there like a fat pudding stuffed into expensive clothes which seemed to be bursting at the seams, stroking his whiskers. 'I have come,' he continued with an exaggerated air of superiority, 'from the kingdom of Meretriciania, with some rather interesting news. We too have a champion chess player. Oh yes! And you will be surprised no doubt to hear that it is not a man.'
Luke looked at his father.
'And even more so when I tell you it is not even a boy.'
Maybe it's a frog, Luke thought, and giggled.
'Well,' Peter said, not knowing where all this was leading and still feeling rather ill at ease, 'we thank you for coming all this way...'
The man sat up quickly.
'You mock?' he roared, eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Peter started. 'I am merely thanking you!'
'The girl I am talking about is the best chess player in the world! She plays ten people at a time. And what's more, Sir, she is a mere nine years and seven months old - known only by the title the good Queen - may God keep her feet as warm as her heart - gave her, and that is, 'Princess.' '
Luke stopped counting his fingers and looked down at the man's feet.
'We are challenging you to a match. We will transport you to our kingdom, put you up in the King's own castle and feed you like royalty, in order to prove that we have the better champion. What do you say, Sir?'
Luke's father looked at his son. Playing chess with your own countrymen was one thing, taking a young boy to unknown lands, that was quite another.
'May we have time to think about it?' Peter asked.
'Time? Time?' boomed the man, 'what time do you need?'
'Time to talk,' Peter said quietly.
The man tutted, shifted uneasily in the creaking chair and after a couple of moments cried, 'well, have you talked about it yet?'
Luke looked at his mother who was holding on to the table as if someone were trying to steal it, then into his father's blue eyes and said, 'Let's go father! I'm not afraid. If I can beat everyone here I must be able to beat her too.'
'Ah,' the man said, 'a wise boy,' and sniffed the air.
'I am not thinking of the chess,' Peter said in all seriousness. 'I am thinking of the journey. It's a long way.' He looked kindly at the man, 'we don't know much about you, Sir. We are responsible parents.'
The big man nodded. 'Sir, I assure you, we will take good care of you all. You will be treated with the upmost kindness.' He scratched his chin and started inspecting the ceiling.
Maybe this was an opportunity after all, Peter considered, seeing Luke dangling his feet under the table, to broaden his young mind, to see some of the world. It's not often people from this village get out to see the world. He walked over to the window, stood there in contemplation for some time, and finally turned to face the pudding.
'All right,' he said at last, stepping forward, taking his wife by the hand, 'we accept.'
'Aha!' boomed the man.
'Moon!' cried Luke.
And everything was settled.