Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 8470 Plough Quarterly • Winter 2017 she can tell you where she wanted to go. She was born in this village, you know. My granddad is the richest farmer in the village. My mummy said, ‘He is like a little king. Everyone asks for his advice. He is very clever, you know.’” Dyhema suddenly said, “Why are you going to your grandfather?” “Mummy said that the Christ Child had told her to go. We have never been there. We are very poor, you know. My daddy is dead. We had no money, but Mummy always said, ‘I will not take the first step.’ And then all at once she told me that the Christ Child had told her to go.” “Did she see the Christ Child?” “I don’t know. Afterwards she said it was a dream. And on the journey she was very uncertain. She said to me, once, ‘Do not be surprised if we only stay for a short time.’” Dyhema said nothing. He looked into the fire. Suddenly the boy saw the chessboard. He went to the table. “My granddad can play chess! He always wins, my mummy says! Can you play? I can. Mummy says that I play so well because I got it from my granddad. Shall we play? Do you know, I am hungry. We had no supper.” Dyhema looked up. “Can you really play? Such a small child?” “I am not small. And I often win.” “Come on, let us try,” Dyhema said. After a short time Dyhema understood that the boy really could play. Almost without thinking he made the right moves. After half an hour Dyhema became restless. The boy was winning! Really, the small boy seemed to be a better player than he was. And what annoyed him most was that while he did his utmost to win, the boy just played, without thinking it over. If Dyhema made a move, after a long time of consideration, the boy followed immediately, and it was always the right move. Perhaps it was because Dyhema was so annoyed that he suddenly made a wrong move. The boy smiled. “That is a bad move,” he said. “You had better take it back.” “No, what I have done, I have done!” The boy looked at him. Why was this old man so angry? He could not help it, could he? Was it because he could not win the game? A lot of people grew angry if they could not win. It was interesting. You learned most in a game that you lost. But this was an old man. Perhaps . . . Suddenly the old servant came in. “Dyhema, what about the Christmas tart? Can I bring it in now?” Dyhema looked very angry. “Go away with your tart!” What a pity, the boy thought. He was so hungry. How angry the old man