A Calculated Risk by Katherine Neville (most difficult books to read txt) 📕

“Knight to E seven,” said the Landgrave, his face red and sweaty from the effort of thought. He, too, took a swig of cognac. Leaning back, his eyes still on the board, he said, “Yes, I sent the message this morning. They have permission to bring the Jew from the compound tonight; it’s perfectly all right. But they close and seal the gates at sunset—we must keep him here until morning.”

“It’s a shame they have to lock them up like that,” the general said thoughtfully. “Knight to G five.”

“It’s for their own protection,” commented the Landgrave. “You know what bloodbaths we used to have when these Jews were permitted to run about on the loose; it’s better this way. Would you care for more cognac? It’s quite good, isn’t it? I have it brought from France and age it myself. Give me your glass.”

“Thank you,” said the general. “But still, it seems a shame. Take this fellow Meyer Amschel, for example—a very brilliant fellow.”

“Oh, they’re all bright, I’ve no doubt of that—but only when it comes to the common sort of thing. Barter. Trade. They’ve no culture, these people. You know that as well as I, von Estorff.”

“I think you’ll be surprised at this particular chap, Landgrave. But you needn’t take my word for it; see for yourself.”

“Here, have a taste of this,” said the Landgrave, passing von Estorff his replenished glass. “If you get drunk, perhaps I’ll win a game of you.”

“Only with God’s intervention.” The general laughed. “In twenty-five years, you’ve never done so yet! But it’s your move.”

“Knight takes bishop,” said the Landgrave. “I don’t like placing my affairs in the hands of Jews, however, von Estorff—so please don’t expect it of me. I’m willing to give the man my ear. If I find his ideas plausible and they make money, he certainly won’t go unrewarded.”

“That’s all anyone could ask,” agreed the general, “though I should point out he’s a great expert in numismatics, your favorite interest! Knight takes pawn at F seven.”

“Damn—why did you have to make that move?” the Landgrave cried, looking up in irritation as a page entered the room. “What the hell do you want?” he snapped. “Can’t you see that we are engaged?”

“A thousand pardons, sire. But a Jew is at the door, claiming he was bidden here to see you. Though I explained it is after the curfew and that you were occupied, he insists—”

“Yes, yes. Well, show the fellow in.”

“As you wish, sire.” The page bowed and departed. A few moments later he reappeared, and clicked his heels. “Meyer Amschel, the Jew!” he announced, then bowed again and left the room.

The Landgrave did not look up from the chessboard. He sat, a scowl on his face, studying the pieces carefully. After a moment, he noticed a shadow cast upon the board. He glanced up to see the intruder leaning over the board, rapt in concentration.

“What’s this fellow’s name?” the Landgrave demanded of the room at large.

“Meyer Amschel,” the general replied.

“Excuse me, sire,” Meyer Amschel corrected him, “but I go by the name of ‘Red-shield.’”

“Ah yes—I’d forgotten,” apologized the general. “He’s adopted the name of Red-shield, after the color of the weapons shield hanging before his place of business in the Judengasse.”

“A coat of arms?” said the Landgrave with raised eyebrow. “Where will it end, von Estorff? Well, Roth-schildt—the ‘be-knighted’ Jew—have a seat over there till we’ve finished; you’re blocking my view.”

“Excuse me, sire—but I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind.”

“You see how it goes, von Estorff.” The Landgrave sadly shook his head. “First Jews have coats of arms—then they have preferences. Look here, Herr Coat of Arms, you’ve no right to a weapons shield unless you’ve been knighted. And you’ve no right to be out of compound after the curfew. Sit down at once, or I’ll have you arrested for arrogance and insubordination!”

“Excuse me, sire—but is it your move?” asked Rothschild.

“I beg your pardon?” said the Landgrave in total astonishment.

“Yes, Meyer,” the general replied with a gleam in his eye, “it is the Landgrave’s move—and he’s playing the black pieces.”

“In that case, Landgrave,” said Meyer Amschel, “may I point out that you’re assured of a victory in eleven moves?”

“What!” cried the Landgrave, outraged. “How dare you presume to advise me in how to play chess?”

“William, William,” said the general, laughing as he put his hand on the other’s arm, “let’s see what he has in mind. I’m intrigued—and we can always play another game if he is wrong.”

“Von Estorff, are you completely mad? Imagine if it’s said of me about Frankfurt that I’ve taken to playing chess with Jews! My chess playing is already a laughing matter in some quarters.”

“But we won’t be playing chess with him, we’ll merely be listening to his advice. And that’s why you brought him here, isn’t it? What difference whether the advice is about chess or money?”

“If you want me to believe that a Jew can understand a complex matter like chess, von Estorff—then why not have my Borzoi in here, and he can bark out the paternoster in Latin?” When he saw the grim set of his friend’s disapproving features, the Landgrave added, “Very well—I know what a bleeding heart you are. But keep in mind, Herr Coat of Arms, that I’ll be judging your capabilities in more crucial matters, through your performance in this.”

During this exchange, Meyer Amschel had been as unobtrusive as if he were a piece of the wainscoting on the wall. Now he folded his hands behind his back, his face expressionless.

“Simply castle,” he said.

“But my God, man! That leaves my queen within reach of his cavalry!”

“Queens have fallen into the hands of the cavalry in the past, William,” said the general, greatly amused, “and a few have even survived!”

The Landgrave did as he’d been asked, shaking his head and muttering. General von Estorff smiled all the while, as if participating in a classroom exercise.

“Now, Meyer,” he said, “what move do you wish me to make?”

“It