‘We are hoping to engage the might of Scotland Yard in a friendly — I hope friendly — round of one of our favourite Rajput games. Chaturanga, we call it.’
Joe searched his memory for a reference to this sport but drew a blank.
‘You play chess?’
‘Chess?’ Joe could only repeat in some astonishment. ‘A game which originated in India, I believe. Yes, I do. . but — here? Now?’
‘Yes, indeed, here. Look! Do you see the squares? The courtyard is laid out for an open air game.’
Joe looked again at the pattern of black and white marble slabs and realized that they were more than merely decorative. He was looking at a huge gaming board.
‘This is an adaptation of our national game, chaupar or pucheesee,’ the Dewan was going on. ‘Normally it is played on a four-armed grid and rather similar to your own Ludo. Pieces move around the board according to numbers thrown using conch shells.’ Joe nodded dubiously. He had vaguely heard of this game. ‘But my brother is very fond of chess as it is played in Europe — it leaves less to chance and shows off the players’ skills — so he had the court adapted for playing this game. He understands that you are a skilled player, Commander. .’ A courteous nod and a smile in his direction did nothing to ease Joe’s forebodings.
The crowd pressed forward, murmuring and smiling, the dark-suited dinner party guests distinguishable amongst but greatly outnumbered by turbaned Rajput nobles in court dress, diamonds winking and pearls gleaming against silk coats. The atmosphere was one of restrained joviality but with an undercurrent which to Joe was palpable, an undercurrent of excitement. They shuffled around the courtyard, taking up positions giving a good view of the chessboard. He tried to recall whether their interest went as far as betting on the outcome and wondered very much who his opponent would be. With sinking heart he acknowledged that this was undoubtedly a set-up and that one of these clever, competitive Rajputs had already been chosen to make a fool of the officer from Scotland Yard.
He was surprised and relieved to hear the Dewan announce that his opponent was to be Edgar Troop.
Smiling and feigning humble astonishment, Edgar took up a position on the opposite side of the square. He nodded courteously to Joe and clicked his heels. Joe did the same, his mind racing. He had no idea that Edgar could even play chess, but then, there were many facets of Edgar’s character which, thankfully, had so far remained a mystery.
Reminding himself that this was just a bit of after-dinner entertainment and that with deliberate sleight of hand they had been set against each other to amuse the more skilled Indian audience, Joe determined to give a good performance. Chess, for him, was the equivalent of battle planning and he began at once to check the lie of the land. He had no idea of the local rules and assumed that his opponent did. But the Dewan was speaking again.
‘Commander Sandilands has not played our national game before. I think, under the British rule of fair play, it would be in order to appoint an adviser, one to each side.’
A murmur of agreement went up.
‘Claude? May I ask you to second Sandilands? I myself will undertake to assist Captain Troop. Not that Edgar needs or would pay attention to advice, I think.’
Joe noticed that Colin O’Connor was frowning and looking disconcerted. He caught Joe’s eye and made a grimace Joe could not fathom. ‘Bad luck, old man, but do your best,’ was the nearest he could get to an interpretation.
The atmosphere was becoming increasingly tense, murmur and chatter shot through with sudden bursts of laughter, long speculative looks directed at the two players.
‘Are they betting on the result?’ Joe asked Vyvyan who had taken up a position at his right hand.
‘Betting? No, not at all. But the outcome will entertain them. . whichever way it goes. They’re as fond of a bit of gossip and speculation as your average officers’ mess,’ he replied cryptically.
‘What the hell?’
‘Just calm down and go along with it, Sandilands. It’s only a game. It’ll give a lot of pleasure to a lot of people if you foul up and that’s the worst that can happen. At least in this combat nobody dies. They like a good show so I’d slightly overdo everything if I were you. Play to the gallery. Now listen. These are the rules. It’s very simple for a competent chess player which I understand you are. .’
He explained the rules, which indeed appeared quite straightforward. So simple was the whole game that Joe could not for a moment understand why the crowd was still throbbing with an undercurrent of excitement.
‘This is all very well,’ he said impatiently, ‘and I don’t want to appear demanding, but when I play chess I normally play it with chessmen. . you know. . pawns, rooks, knights, perhaps even a king and queen. . I see none here.’
Vyvyan gave a knowing smile. ‘Ah. Yes. The chessmen,’ he said mysteriously. ‘If I’m not mistaken — here they come!’
He turned to enjoy Joe’s expression of stunned amazement as the crowd parted and into the arena with a tinkle of bells, a drumming of bare feet and a whirl of bright skirts came two files of beautiful girls. With giggles and coquettish sideways glances from their kohl-rimmed eyes they took up their places on the board. Joe’s pawns and pieces were dressed in red and blue, Edgar’s in green and yellow. Joe’s astonishment turned to amusement and he began to relax.
The Dewan addressed the company again in his booming master of ceremonies voice. ‘When this game was invented by the Emperor Akbar, the chess pieces were slave girls and the winner of the round was permitted to take the whole lot away with him as his own. But we live in more civilized times. The winner of this game will not, of course, make off with the beauties you see before you. But he will have his prize.’ He paused theatrically, looking first at Joe then at Edgar. ‘He will have his choice of one of the girls for one night.’
Under cover of the chatter and laughter which broke out, Joe spluttered his disgust to Claude. With a fixed smile Claude replied, ‘When in Rome, Joe! Come on, it’s not the end of the world! It’s an honour you’ve been accorded. Try to look as though you appreciate it. For God’s sake, you can always plead a headache at the last moment!’ And then he added ominously, ‘If it should come to that. Look at the opposition, will you!’
They both looked towards Edgar, heavy, unattractive, the worse for alcohol but smugly confident and already running a lecherous eye over the girls.
‘La chevalerie oblige, Sandilands! Don’t you agree?’
‘See what you mean, sir. There are fates worse than losing at chess! And winning a night with Edgar must rank high on the list!’
Chapter Nine
Three notes on a silver trumpet called everyone to attention. The audience stopped moving about and looked expectantly from Joe to Edgar. The girls fell silent and held themselves in their positions as still as any chessmen, backs to their master, faces to the enemy, battle-ready.
Joe leaned to Vyvyan and said, ‘I don’t imagine, do I, that they are graded for height?’
‘Quite right,’ said Vyvyan. ‘Your pawns are the smallest and all the same size. All got up in red skirts. The blue girls, your main pieces, are in height order. You’ve got two small rooks on the outside, do you see? Larger knights next door, then bishops.’
‘Why do the bishops have elephants embroidered on their bodices?’ Joe asked.
‘Indian game, remember. Their armies were made up of four parts: foot soldiers — those are your pawns; chariots — that’s your rooks, the ones with the gold wheels on their backs; then cavalry — that’s your knights with the horse’s head embroidery; lastly, the elephants which are our bishops. In the centre, wearing crowns, you’ve got the two tallest ones, the king and queen.’