The Pope's Game Of Chess

: Jewish Fairy Tales And Legends

Nearly a thousand years ago in the town of Mayence, on the bank of the

Rhine, there dwelt a pious Jew of the name of Simon ben Isaac. Of a

most charitable disposition, learned and ever ready to assist the poor

with money and wise counsel, he was reverenced by all, and it was

believed he was a direct descendant of King David. Everybody was proud

to do him honor.



Simon ben Isaac had one little son, a bright boy of the name of

Elkanan, who he intended should be trained as a rabbi. Little Elkanan

was very diligent in his studies and gave early promise of developing

into an exceptionally clever student. Even the servants in the

household loved him for his keen intelligence. One of them, indeed,

was unduly interested in him.



She was the Sabbath-fire woman who only came into the house on the

Sabbath day to attend to the fires, because, as you know, the Jewish

servants could not perform this duty. The Sabbath-fire woman was a

devoted Catholic and she spoke of Elkanan to a priest. The latter was

considerably impressed.



"What a pity," he remarked, "that so talented a boy should be a Jew.

If he were a Christian, now," he added, winningly, "he could enter the

Holy Church and become famous."



The Sabbath-fire woman knew exactly what the priest meant.



"Do you think he could rise to be a bishop?" she asked.



"He might rise even higher--to be the Pope himself," replied the

priest.



"It would be a great thing to give a bishop to the Church, would it

not?" said the woman.



"It is a great thing to give anyone to the Church of Rome," the priest

assured her.



Then they spoke in whispers. The woman appeared a little troubled, but

the priest promised her that all would be well, that she would be

rewarded, and that nobody would dare to accuse her of doing anything

wrong.



Convinced that she was performing a righteous action, she agreed to do

what the priest suggested.



Accordingly, the following Friday night when the household of Simon

ben Isaac was wrapped in slumber, she crept stealthily and silently

into the boy's bedroom. Taking him gently in her arms, she stole

silently out of the house and carried him to the priest who was

waiting. Elkanan was well wrapped up in blankets, and so cautiously

did the woman move that he did not waken.



The priest said not a word. He just nodded to the woman, and then

placed Elkanan in a carriage which he had in waiting.



Elkanan slept peacefully, totally unaware of his adventure, and when

he opened his eyes he thought he must be dreaming. He was not in his

own room, but a much smaller one which seemed to be jolting and

moving, like a carriage, and opposite to him was a priest.



"Where am I?" he asked in alarm.



"Lie still, Andreas," was the reply.



"But my name is not Andreas," he answered. "That is not a Jewish name.

I am Elkanan, the son of Simon."



To his amazement, however, the priest looked at him pityingly and

shook his head.



"You have had a nasty accident," he said, "and it has affected your

head. You must not speak."



Not another word would he say in response to all the boy's eager

queries. He simply ignored Elkanan who puzzled his head over the

matter until he really began to feel ill and to wonder whether he was

Elkanan after all. Tired out, he fell asleep again, and next time he

awoke he was lying on a bed in a bare room. A bell was tolling, and he

heard a chanting chorus. By his side stood a priest.



Elkanan looked at the priest like one dazed. Before he could utter a

word, the priest said: "Rise, Andreas, and follow me."



The boy had no alternative but to obey. To his horror he was taken

into a chapel and made to kneel. The priests sprinkled water on him.

He did not understand what the service meant, and when it was over he

began to cry for his father and mother. For days nobody took the

slightest notice of his continual questionings until a priest, with a

harsh, cruel face, spoke to him severely one day.



"I perceive, Andreas," he said, "thou hast a stubborn spirit. It shall

be curbed. Thy father and mother are dead--all the world is dead to

thee. Thou hast strange notions in thy head. We shall rid thee of

them."



Elkanan cried so much on hearing these terrible words that he made

himself seriously ill. How long he was kept in bed he knew not, but

when he recovered, he found himself a prisoner in a monastery. All the

priests called him Andreas, they were kind to him, and in time he

began to doubt himself whether he was Elkanan, the son of Simon, the

pious Jew of Mayence.



To put an end to the unrest in his mind, he devoted himself earnestly

to his lessons. His tutors never had so brilliant a pupil, nor so

intelligent a companion. He was a remarkable chess player.



"Where did you learn?" they asked him.



"My father, Simon ben Isaac, of Mayence, taught me," he replied, with

a sob in his voice.



"It is well," they replied, having received their instructions what to

say in answer to such remarks, "thou art blessed from Heaven, Andreas.

Not only dost thou absorb learning in the hours of daylight, but

angels and dead sages visit thee in they sleep and impart knowledge

unto thee."



He could obtain no more satisfactory words from his tutors, and in

time he made no mention whatever of the past, and his tutors and

companions refrained from touching upon the subject either. Once or

twice he formed the idea of endeavoring to escape, but he soon

discovered the project impossible. He was never allowed to be alone

for a moment; he was virtually a prisoner, although all men began to

do him honor because of his amazing knowledge and learning.



In due time, he became a priest and a tutor and was even called to

Rome and was created a cardinal. He wore a red cap and cloak, people

kneeled to him and sought his blessing, and all spoke of him as the

wisest, kindliest and most scholarly man in the Church.



He had not spoken of his boyhood for years, but he never ceased to

think of those happy days. And although he tried hard, he could not

believe that it was all a dream. Whenever he played a game of chess,

which was his one pastime, he seemed to see himself in his old room at

Mayence, and he sighed. His fellow priests wondered why he did this,

and he laughingly told them it was because he had no idea how to lose

a game.



Then a great event happened. The Pope died and Andreas was elected his

successor. He was placed on a throne, a crown was put upon his head,

and he was called Holy Father. The power of life and death over

millions of people in many countries was vested in him; kings,

princes and nobles visited him in his great palace to do him homage,

and his fame spread far and wide. But he himself grew more thoughtful

and silent and sought only to exercise his great powers for the

people's good.



This, however, did not altogether please some of his counselors.



"The Church needs money," they told him. "We must squeeze it out of

the Jews."



But Andreas steadfastly refused to countenance any persecutions. Many

edicts were placed before him for his signature, giving permission to

bishops in certain districts to threaten the Jews unless they paid

huge sums of money in tribute, but Andreas declined to assent to any

one of them.



One day a document was submitted to him from the archbishop of the

Rhine district, craving permission to drive the Jews from the city of

Mayence. The Pope's face hardened when he read the iniquitous letter.

He gave instant orders that the archbishop should be summoned to Rome,

and to the utter amazement of his cardinals he also commanded them to

bring before him three leading Jews from Mayence, to state their

case.



"It shall not be said," he declared, "that the Pope issued a decree of

punishment without giving the people condemned an opportunity of

defending themselves."



When the news reached Mayence there was great wailing and sorrow among

the Jews, for, alas! bitter experience had taught them to expect no

mercy from Rome. Delegates were selected, and when they arrived at the

Vatican they were asked for their names. These were given and

communicated to the Pope.



"The delegates of the Jews of the city of Mayence," announced a

secretary, "humbly crave audience of Your Holiness."



"Their names?" demanded the Pope.



"Simon ben Isaac, Abraham ben Moses, and Issachar, the priest."



"Let them enter," said the Pope, in a quiet, firm voice. He had heard

but one name; his plan had proved successful, for he had counted upon

Simon being one of the chosen delegates.



The three men entered the audience chamber and stood expectant before

the Pope. His Holiness appeared to be lost in deep thought. Suddenly

he aroused himself from his reverie and looked keenly at the aged

leader of the party.



"Simon of Mayence, stand forth," he said, "and give voice to thy plea.

We give thee attention."



The old man approached a few paces nearer, and in simple, but eloquent

language, pleaded that the Jews should be permitted to remain

unmolested in Mayence in which city their community had been long

established.



"Thy prayer" said the Pope, when he had finished, "shall have full

consideration, and my answer shall be made known to thee without

delay. Now tell me, Simon of Mayence, something of thyself and thy

co-delegates. Who are ye in the city?"



Simon gave the information.



"Have ye come hither alone?" asked the Pope. "Or have ye been escorted

by members of your families--your sons?"



The Pope's voice was scarcely steady, but none noticed.



"I have no son," said Simon, with a weary sigh.



"Hast thou never been blessed with offspring?"



Simon looked sharply at the Pope before answering. Then, with bowed

head and broken voice, he said: "God blessed me with one son, but he

was stolen from me in childhood. That has been the sorrow of my life."



The old man's voice was choked with sobs.



"I have heard," said the Pope, after a while, "that thou art famed as

a chess-player. I, too, am credited with some skill in the game. I

would fain pit it against thine. Hearken! If thou prove the victor in

the game, then shall thy appeal prevail."



"I consent," said the old man, proudly. "It is many years since I have

sustained defeat."



It was arranged that the game should be played that evening.

Naturally, the strange contest aroused the keenest interest. The game

was followed closely by the papal secretaries and the Jewish

delegates. It was a wonderful trial of subtle play. The two players

seemed about evenly matched. First one and then the other made a

daring move which appeared to place his opponent in difficulties, but

each time disaster was ingeniously evaded. A draw seemed the likeliest

result until, suddenly, the Pope made a brilliant move which startled

the onlookers. It was considered impossible now for Simon to avoid

defeat.



No one was more astounded at the Pope's move than the old Jew. He rose

tremblingly from his chair, gazed with piercing eyes into the face of

the Pope and said huskily, "Where didst thou learn that move? I taught

it to but one other."



"Who?" demanded the Pope, eagerly.



"I will tell thee alone," said Simon.



The Pope made a sign, and the others left the room in great surprise.



Then Simon exclaimed excitedly, "Unless thou art the devil himself,

thou canst only be my long lost son, Elkanan."



"Father!" cried the Pope, and the old man clasped him in his arms.



When the others re-entered the room, the Pope said quietly, "We have

decided to call the game a draw, and in thankfulness for the rare

pleasure of a game of chess with so skilled a player as Simon of

Mayence, I grant the prayer of the delegates of that city. It is my

will that the Jews shall live in peace."



Shortly afterward, a new Pope was elected. Various rumors gained

currency. One was that Andreas had thrown himself into the flames;

another that he had mysteriously disappeared. And at the same time a

stranger arrived in Mayence and was welcomed by Simon joyfully as his

son, Elkanan.