Free The Border Trilogy by Amanda Scott Page B

to interest Duncan, so having discovered when Mary Kate was seven that she possessed innate skill at the game, he had taught her the finer points and encouraged her to play. Douglas readily admitted that she was an opponent worthy of his better efforts, and they played often. On one such occasion, a rather dismal and rainy afternoon, she once again nearly betrayed her knowledge of the meeting at Critchfield. They were discussing pawns.
    “I used to think them but minor pieces,” she said.
    “Aye,” he agreed. “Most players ignore them. But the end game is nothing without them, so a skillful player protects his. ’Tis much the same in real life. A king needs the support of his subjects, his pawns if you will. In wars they make up his armies. Remember that in Gaelic the pawn is called fiann , the soldier. Like soldiers, pawns are expendable in small numbers, but if the king loses them all, he will lose the war. In the more complicated business of statecraft, the same holds true. Look at Jamie now. He scurries from castle to castle trying to avoid public condemnation of his lack of action on Mary’s behalf. He is afraid of losing his pawns—their loyalty at least—over the matter of her execution.”
    “Well, the people are right to be angry.” Mary Kate paused to consider her next move and, in light of their conversation, decided to remove a pawn from mortal danger. “She was his own mother, after all.”
    “Not really a relevant point, since he scarcely knew her,” Douglas observed dryly. “He was but ten months old the last time he laid eyes upon her. Then, too, an extra monarch running around Scotland, and a Catholic monarch at that, might have proved as much of an embarrassment to the Scottish people as to their king. No one objected very strenuously to her long imprisonment, after all. Thank you for moving that pawn, by the by.” The bishop that had threatened her piece now swooped across its erstwhile position to a place behind Douglas’s king. Mary Kate thought she could detect a weakness in his defenses, however, and with her mind on the board did not choose her words carefully.
    “But the king couldn’t have wanted her to be murdered, and he just let it happen. Why, as soon as he heard—” Good God, she thought, what was she saying? In a flustered attempt to cover the slip, she pushed her queen forward, attacking the weakness. “Your king is in check, sir.”
    He chuckled gleefully. “I was afraid you wouldn’t succumb to that gambit. Guard your own, lass, for the tables are turned.” With that he interposed a pawn in the space between her queen and his king, thus opening a threatening pathway from his bishop to her king. Mary Kate was left with two choices. She could move her king or interpose her queen. The latter move would sacrifice the queen merely to delay the inevitable.
    “Damn your eyes, sir, I believe I must resign. If you cannot achieve mortshainn within three moves after this villainy, you are not the player I judge you to be.”
    “Aye,” he agreed, smiling, “and I have always thought the Gaelic term far more colorful than its English counterpart. Your king finds himself not just checkmated but in a ‘fatal predicament.’ You were too impulsive, lassie. I have noted the tendency a time or two before. You play a remarkably fine game for a woman, but your strategy is instinctive, and you tend to forget while you concentrate upon your devious schemes that your opponent has plans of his own. But don’t look so glum. Some of the best players fall victim to that fault from time to time, putting you in excellent company.”
    “Thank you, but I wanted to win, and it makes me feel stupid not to have guarded my queen more wisely.”
    “Like Jamie? What did you mean a moment ago when you said he let it happen?” His gaze was singularly penetrating, and she had the feeling, in her guilt, that he would read her mind. He had been gentle and kind for the past few days, and she knew he