I ran towards an eternal hallway, seeing my loved ones gracefully walking away towards eternity leaving me behind. An open ocean rushed towards the beaches, softening and rounding every rock and crevasse that could be seen. I ran. Many small men, all servants wearing nothing else than tattered remnant of a once wonderful costume or at least that was what the dream told me. The ran around me with fine silverware bearing fine cooked goose, deserts with great fruit filling and festive jokes, and others with great beakers all pouring its wine and beer with a vigorous contempt to its confinement. And yet I ran. The eternal hallway always out of reach and not moving anywhere and still it grew further away and my body refusing to turn back, twisting the head was impossible, mine eyes only looking to its sides at the most and my throat dried up in thirst languishing, screaming for a single drop of mead. I was screaming. I was screaming with no sound leaving my mouth as I ran, endlessly, and the universe and all its inhabitants could see me and they mocked me laughing, laughing all of them.

From the bed I rose throwing away the cover with a muffled scream being all I could muster. A servant ran in holding a folded bed cloth ready to pounce on whoever dared enter my room, but it was empty. The servant yelled “My lord, wherefore do you scream? Where went the intruder? Shall the guards bell be rang and the castle closed?”

“Nay” I said, “I had a prophetic dream, one that I cannot overcome. Night after night it comes back to me. I cannot comprehend what it all means. Surely you were there, and all you servants were and yet you were not. I am lonely.”

“My lord” the servant returned his posture and stuck his head high with his nose in the air, “remain calm and I shall bring you a drink, it will do you good, and station a guard I will if you wish?”

“That I wish for, you know me so well. And in your old age I will remember this and take care of you like you did when I was but a child.” I told him sinking down in bed, looking at the sputtering fire on the firesaucer near the window. Compelling whatever energy remained in my body I stood up from bed and moved over to place some more firewood on the saucer, prodding the ember with the fire iron. The rigid rod causing the whole black remains to glow ever brighter and small red flakes to flow away in the air, dancing. It took some effort to get the fire going again but the room had yet to grow cold. About the same time the servant came back with a guard whose moustache tried its best to peak out from underneath his rounded nasal helmet and above his chainmail coif. He seemed tired yet not unhappy to enter a warm room, “indoors or outdoors my lord?”

“Stay here,” I said calmly gesturing for him to come over, “we will play a game of chess.”

“I do not know the rules, I believe,” the guard squinted his eyes still standing as if in duty to which I responded with a smile “sit, leave your weapon by your side. I will teach you this night, even if it takes until dawn. Please, we shall even share the same drink.” The servant nodded and poured the fine wine spiced with cinnamon, apples, and oranges in one glass quickly leaving to get another glass but only after making sure the fire took hold of the new logs.

The guardsman squinted and leaned in towards the fireplace as his lord prepared the wooden chessboard. It was unknown to him but to the lord the pieces were cheap even if eloquently carved and painted to represent the kings and queens of the continent. Was it not everyone’s wish to own one of ivory? One made from tusks of great beasts to better represent the struggle? At least now the lord did not need to feel ashamed for he knew the guardsman was impressed. And for every single piece he showed how they moved, the pawn one or two steps. The bishop diagonally as far as the board could reach. The helpless king and powerful queen. The horsemen who leaped across the battlefield so gracefully into situations that could counter any threat. The guardsman smiled and nodded, his eyes squinting and a small wrinkle showed that he enjoyed being told the rules albeit not understanding them.

“Take of your helmet and coif,” I told the reluctant guard, “There is no one to fight against but keep your dagger and sword in place.”

After some consideration and looking towards the door where only the servant once again entered he removed his helm and coif to reveal a head only lightly clad in a neatly cut curly brown style. His moustache being the only personal signature that would show through his armour, burly as it was. The guards face was stern yet kind, filled with wrinkles and dimples caused by a life of strain and sickness. The tanned face was indeed something else. The guard smiled “It is an honour to be invited for a drink and game but fear not I am still on duty and will draw my sword with haste to whoever enters through that door.” I smiled and slowly nodded with tired eyes gesturing with my hand towards the board, “I am white, I will move first which is easier for you.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

The lord moved the king pawn two steps, to which the guard responded with moving the queen pawn to oppose this. They exchanged pawns and now the guard controlled the centre of the board, he looked pleased at his understanding. The lord moved his knight to threaten the queen and said “It can run, but wherever it goes forward it is in danger.” The guard moved his queen back to its starting position, the lord responding by moving his bishop above his knight. The guard moved his left knight, the lord copied the move. The guard moved ahead with a bishop to threaten the lords horse, “I think I understand this”

“Do you?” the lord said as he moved his pawn and still losing his knight, exchanging it for the bishop as he captured it with his queen, “are you sure you haven’t played before?”

The guardsman laughed under his breath moving the kings pawn one step forward, “Nay, I have not. But before serving you I saw many great men play although not seeing perfectly well or understanding the game.”

White queen captures pawn at b7. Black knight to d7. White knight to b5. Black rook to c8 to which the white knight captured the pawn at a7. The two knights captured pieces at c8 although the guardsman was now on a losing side even with this fast exchange. I chuckled at him and jeered “Galter you are a liar! You have played before, but you should not try and play me.” There was no longer any peace between the two who now silenced by their wine and by the sparking fire moved their pieces rapidly across the board, the lord building a row with his rook and queen forcing a checkmate, “Do you know what they call this in the far east where the caliphates lay? shāh māt.”

“And what does that mean?”

“The king is helpless,” I said with a tired smile, “Now gather your pieces and pour another glass, I wish to challenge you to another game. This time Galter, don’t hold back with pretence and lies.”

“I shan’t my lord, but you might not like the results. I have served many men before you.”

“And you shall now serve me until I grow tired of playing with you”

“So be it,” the guard smiled, “I know you're not the sore loser.”