The Sin Eater(16)
The steps spiralled round and were treacherously narrow. At the bottom, a door had been propped open, and beyond it was a stone-lined room. Colm and Declan had been expecting a conventional cellar, but this chamber was situated on the open side of the cliff face and one section of wall had a tiny barred window, barely two feet square, looking straight on to the ocean. Dull light came through it and there was the sound of the sea moaning against the rocks.
‘You’re in one of Ireland’s deepest pockets of memory,’ said Sheehan, who had set three oil lamps around the room. ‘This place is drenched in ancient memories – sometimes, on a still night, it’s almost possible to hear them. There are chords within the mind, you know. If you know how to pluck them they go on resonating for far longer than you’d imagine.’
At the centre of the room was a small round table with two chairs drawn up to it. Nicholas Sheehan tilted one of the lamps slightly and light fell directly on to the table’s surface. Colm and Declan caught their breath, for set out on the table, reflecting fathoms deep in the polished surface, was the sinister chess set from the legend.
It was the most beautiful and yet also the most repellent thing either of them had ever seen. The black pieces were ebony and jet, studded with tiny iridescent chips of something they did not recognize, the pawns about five inches high, the kings and queens two or three inches more. The white figures were ivory, crusted with what looked like tiny pearls. The carved armour gleamed and the crowns sparkled and it was easy to think the figures moved in the lamplight – that a fold of a king’s cloak twitched, that a prancing knight tightened his rein.
For a moment no one spoke, then Sheehan said softly, ‘Yes, they are beautiful, aren’t they? The white pieces are ivory and white jade, with seed pearls. The black are ebony and black jade with black diamonds. But it’s said they bring ill luck,’ he said, and Declan suddenly had the impression that Sheehan was afraid.
‘I’ll risk that.’ Colm was staring at the chess figures, and Declan was aware of a growing unease because Colm’s eyes held something he had never seen before. But Colm seated himself at the table, and Nicholas Sheehan took the chair facing him.
‘Declan, are you going to stay?’
‘I am,’ said Declan to Sheehan, and sat down where he could see the faces of the two combatants.
‘And,’ said Colm, with an edge to his voice, ‘we’ll both take another glass of wine.’
Storm clouds were gathering outside as they began to play, and the light from the lamps cast pools of light. But outside of those pools, Declan had the increasing feeling that something hid in the thick shadows and that it watched from sly narrow eyes.
Sheehan’s expression was unreadable. He played the black pieces, and when Colm captured his bishop, Sheehan shrugged and said, ‘A weak piece. Of little account. In Persian tradition, the piece was originally an elephant. Later, the Europeans called it Aufin. Aufin is related to a French word for fool. It’s curious how language merges one with another, isn’t it, and produces totally different words and meanings? But in that case the transformation was appropriate, for most bishops I ever met were fools anyway.’
Colm said, ‘Chess is a Persian game, isn’t it?’
‘Who knows? Some tell how the God Euphron created it, or that it began as a dice-playing game at the Siege of Troy. But most legends place its origins in India, although it was supposed to be part of the princely education of Persian nobility.’
‘You’re very knowledgeable,’ said Colm, with reluctant admiration.
‘I learned a little – a very little – from the man who owned this set before me. He possessed far more knowledge than I ever will,’ said Sheehan.
When Sheehan’s King was placed in jeopardy, Colm gave a soft hoot of triumph, and Sheehan said, ‘Yes, that’s a telling move. But you should not feel too pleased with yourself. The King is the most important piece, but it’s the Queen who is the most powerful.’
But as the black pieces were taken with measured inexorability, Colm and Declan had the impression that Sheehan no longer cared if he won or lost. Whether he was suddenly tired of the old legend and wanted to put an end to it, they had no idea, but at length the black Queen was cornered. As Colm reached out to lift the ebony figure from the board, the tiny jewelled eyes in the carved head caught the light and seemed to glint evilly. Colm hesitated. Then he shrugged and his fingers closed round the figure.
Sheehan and Colm looked at one another for a long moment. Then Sheehan said, ‘Congratulations, Colm. A game well played. I imagine you’re about to demand I keep our bargain.’
‘I am.’
‘Leave Kilglenn? Leave this tower?’
‘That was the agreement.’
‘A gentleman’s agreement only. And,’ said Sheehan, ‘it’s a long while since I was regarded as a gentleman.’
Colm said, ‘You’re reneging on the deal?’
‘An ugly word.’
‘Well?’
‘I’m not leaving this place,’ said Sheehan. ‘I can’t.’
As the words fell on the old room, something seemed to enter it – something that was not part of the ocean or the greasy lamplight, but that hissed its way through the black bars of the tiny window and scalded its way round the old walls.