The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,91

all-out attack. However, I had learned in my cavalry days, that one could charge too far. If a commander led troops too swiftly through the enemy lines, those troops could be surrounded and cut down.

Chess and real battle were of course quite distant from each other, but I taught Creasey a lesson about hurtling himself too far. I surrounded his army of pawns while I sent one of my own pawns marching resolutely to his end of the board.

The fight became vicious. Creasey hurtled his queen into the melee, capturing my knights and bishops. He’d not let me control the diagonals again. My queen went next.

But as I said, I was fond of the rooks. I found an open file and stood them one behind the other, a solid menace. Using these rooks, I took pawn after pawn, then his knights, and finally, his queen.

End game. Creasey and I faced off, I with a pawn and a rook guarding my king, and he with the same.

My pawn was a step away from being made a queen. Creasey couldn’t stop it, so he checked my king with his rook. I calmly moved my king one square aside. He chased it, checking again and again, until my king stood in front of my pawn.

One more check, and then I moved my rook one square in front of my king, blocking any more checks. Creasey roared his rage. No matter what he did, I’d move my pawn to the last square, make it a queen, and then have no mercy on him.

“Mate in four,” I said.

He tried. A reasonable player would resign, shake my hand, and send me off. Creasey decided to try to run his rook around mine and bring his king into the battle. I picked up the white queen, deciding not to comment on the irony that I’d brought him a white queen to signal Denis’s challenge weeks ago, and set it on the board in place of my pawn.

In three more moves, I had his king cornered, while his rook desperately tried to defend.

He lifted my king and hurled it across the room.

“Checkmate,” I said softly.

“How?” Creasey’s face was red, his mouth quivering. “When you first played me, you made mistake after mistake. How did you become a master in so short a time?”

I shrugged. “I was humoring you. I feared that if I played like a true opponent, I would anger you, with dire consequence to me. Also, it was true, I hadn’t had a game in a long time, and I wasn’t certain I remembered the strategies correctly. Since then I have studied to refresh my memory.”

“But you could not,” Creasey bellowed before he forced himself to calm. “No one can move from rustic bumbler to expert in a matter of weeks. No matter how many books you read.”

“That is so.” I leaned back in my chair, resting my hands on the stout walking stick, feigning relaxation, in spite of my pounding heart. “Have you heard of Monsieur Philidor?”

“Philidor?” Creasey asked in amazement. “Of course I have. I’ve watched him play, in Paris and in London, at Parloe’s chess club. None could touch him.” Creasey’s eyes widened. “Are you saying he was your teacher?”

“Not at all. I was at Cambridge when he died as an émigré. I joined the army soon after that. Six years later I was in Paris. My teacher was one of Philidor’s pupils. The chap knew everything Philidor did, but he was hard up—it was difficult to make a living as a chess master at that time. To pass the hours, I let him teach me.” Eden handed me the king Creasey had thrown in his pique and I stood the beautiful jade piece on its home square. “I let him teach me everything.”

“You lied to me.”

“Not at all.” I rose, hoping I hid my trembling well. “You assumed, and I did not correct you.”

“Man of honor, pah.”

“I always keep my word. Now, we agreed that if I won, I and my son and my friends were free to go. That you would withdraw for now.”

“Oh, yes. So I did.”

He would not let us leave so easily, I knew. I was poised to tear across the room and snatch up Peter while Brewster cleared a path for our escape, when the door flew open.

On the threshold was Lucius Grenville, pistol in hand. With him, to my immense dismay, was Donata. Behind the two of them were a contingent of Denis’s men, grim-faced and