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Authors: Kim Ablon Whitney
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it.”
Thomas thought once more of the newspaper clippings he and Priska had seen. So Manfred wanted to play chess with a criminal. Was he that desperate for a partner, or did he just want to prove his racial superiority?
“You're afraid I'll beat you?” Manfred asked.
“No, that's not it at all.”
“Then I'll get the board.”
As Manfred took the board and pieces out of the cabinet, Thomas knew he could have protested further. But the truth was he yearned for a game. His body tingled as he and Manfred set up the pieces of the simple wooden set.
His father's pieces, including the pawn he carried, were made of ivory. The pieces always felt cool, as if they had been stored in an icebox. The black pieces had been stained and were more brown than black; the white had been left the natural bone color. The pawn he carried was white.
Manfred held out his closed hands to Thomas. Thomas pointed to his right hand. Manfred opened his hand and gave Thomas the black piece. Sometimes Thomas's fatherclaimed he actually preferred to play black. Even though it put a player in a slightly weaker position, he used to say that Black always knew a little more than White. Having to play the second move meant you got a glimpse into your opponent's mind, and then you could react accordingly.
Thinking about his father made Thomas uneasy. The fact that he was here, playing Manfred, made him believe for the first time that his father could actually be dead. He desperately wanted to be in the back room of the print shop, looking at his father across the chessboard. And would his father be disgusted to see him playing a Nazi? Thomas didn't know.
He took a moment to clear his mind, as he liked to do before a game began. Forget everything else—his brother's letter, the other ships, how he found himself hoping to see Priska whenever he went on deck, whether he should even be playing Manfred to begin with—and concentrate on the game.
“Good luck,” Manfred said.
“Yes, good luck,” Thomas replied. But chess had nothing to do with luck, which was perhaps what Thomas loved most about the game.
Thomas was surprised to find that Manfred disregarded one of the foremost rules of chess: that the center has to be controlled by pawns and that you have to work to support this control. Manfred ignored the center, focusing instead on developing his bishops to long diagonals. After the first fewmoves, Thomas was confident he'd win. While he took the center with solid pawn pushes, Manfred seemed content to let his pieces merely stare at it from a distance. Thomas followed the lessons he'd learned from his father and from studying the games of the great German chess master Emanuel Lasker. It seemed as if Manfred had never even had a proper chess lesson or bothered to emulate the masters.
Soon Thomas controlled the entire center. He pushed another pawn, grabbing even more space. Manfred moved both his bishops only one square diagonally and then just let them be. “What do you know about Priska?” he asked. His voice startled Thomas.
“What do you mean?” he answered.
“Where's she from?”
“Dresden,” Thomas said.
Thomas moved his knight out, twisting it so that its eyes stared across the board at Manfred's king, whose defending knights were sideways.
“Dresden, that makes sense.”
“Why?”
Manfred invited Thomas to take the center of the board at will, and Thomas counted on its destroying him later in the game.
“She's very cultured,” Manfred said.
Thomas glared at Manfred. “Unlike some other people on this ship?”
Thomas thought how Manfred had a way of saying certainthings as if they were casual and harmless, when really they seemed calculated and cruel. Thomas wasn't going to let him get away with it, no matter what the consequences.
Manfred moved his pieces quickly, letting them thump against the wooden surface. Thomas moved his pieces gently, realizing that it was the strength of the move, not the force of it, that
Thomas thought once more of the newspaper clippings he and Priska had seen. So Manfred wanted to play chess with a criminal. Was he that desperate for a partner, or did he just want to prove his racial superiority?
“You're afraid I'll beat you?” Manfred asked.
“No, that's not it at all.”
“Then I'll get the board.”
As Manfred took the board and pieces out of the cabinet, Thomas knew he could have protested further. But the truth was he yearned for a game. His body tingled as he and Manfred set up the pieces of the simple wooden set.
His father's pieces, including the pawn he carried, were made of ivory. The pieces always felt cool, as if they had been stored in an icebox. The black pieces had been stained and were more brown than black; the white had been left the natural bone color. The pawn he carried was white.
Manfred held out his closed hands to Thomas. Thomas pointed to his right hand. Manfred opened his hand and gave Thomas the black piece. Sometimes Thomas's fatherclaimed he actually preferred to play black. Even though it put a player in a slightly weaker position, he used to say that Black always knew a little more than White. Having to play the second move meant you got a glimpse into your opponent's mind, and then you could react accordingly.
Thinking about his father made Thomas uneasy. The fact that he was here, playing Manfred, made him believe for the first time that his father could actually be dead. He desperately wanted to be in the back room of the print shop, looking at his father across the chessboard. And would his father be disgusted to see him playing a Nazi? Thomas didn't know.
He took a moment to clear his mind, as he liked to do before a game began. Forget everything else—his brother's letter, the other ships, how he found himself hoping to see Priska whenever he went on deck, whether he should even be playing Manfred to begin with—and concentrate on the game.
“Good luck,” Manfred said.
“Yes, good luck,” Thomas replied. But chess had nothing to do with luck, which was perhaps what Thomas loved most about the game.
Thomas was surprised to find that Manfred disregarded one of the foremost rules of chess: that the center has to be controlled by pawns and that you have to work to support this control. Manfred ignored the center, focusing instead on developing his bishops to long diagonals. After the first fewmoves, Thomas was confident he'd win. While he took the center with solid pawn pushes, Manfred seemed content to let his pieces merely stare at it from a distance. Thomas followed the lessons he'd learned from his father and from studying the games of the great German chess master Emanuel Lasker. It seemed as if Manfred had never even had a proper chess lesson or bothered to emulate the masters.
Soon Thomas controlled the entire center. He pushed another pawn, grabbing even more space. Manfred moved both his bishops only one square diagonally and then just let them be. “What do you know about Priska?” he asked. His voice startled Thomas.
“What do you mean?” he answered.
“Where's she from?”
“Dresden,” Thomas said.
Thomas moved his knight out, twisting it so that its eyes stared across the board at Manfred's king, whose defending knights were sideways.
“Dresden, that makes sense.”
“Why?”
Manfred invited Thomas to take the center of the board at will, and Thomas counted on its destroying him later in the game.
“She's very cultured,” Manfred said.
Thomas glared at Manfred. “Unlike some other people on this ship?”
Thomas thought how Manfred had a way of saying certainthings as if they were casual and harmless, when really they seemed calculated and cruel. Thomas wasn't going to let him get away with it, no matter what the consequences.
Manfred moved his pieces quickly, letting them thump against the wooden surface. Thomas moved his pieces gently, realizing that it was the strength of the move, not the force of it, that
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