Village Shepherd

Stephen started playing chess when he was quite small. On his fifth birthday, his grandfather gave him a chess set, and Stephen was hooked. He loved the feel of the smooth wooden pieces and he loved their shape, but most of all, he loved his grandpa.

Stephen's grandpa started to teach him how to play chess that very day. It was difficult and complicated, but Stephen concentrated and soon began to pick up the moves. After that, Stephen and his grandpa played chess together whenever they could. Stephen used to look forward all week to the weekend, when he knew he'd be spending an hour or more alone with Grandpa.

There was something about the old man. He was never in a hurry. It didn't matter how long Stephen dithered over his moves, Grandpa simply waited patiently until he was ready. And Stephen in his turn respected Grandpa's slowness, and his need to go to the bathroom at least once in every game. Grandpa was the only grown-up who allowed Stephen to be completely himself. He treated him not as a little kid, but as seriously as he treated his own friends. It made Stephen feel very special.

There was only one problem for Stephen. He never won. No matter how hard he tried or how much he concentrated, Grandpa always beat him. Stephen learned about Fool's Mate the hard way. And he soon learned too about castling, and about Queen's Gambit and King's Side openings, and about "pinning" pieces and about the Fork, but he still lost. Somehow or other, Grandpa was always one step ahead. Occasionally, when he was really disappointed, Stephen would pout and frown like a small child, but Grandpa took it all in his stride and it never put him off playing with Stephen. He'd usually nod wisely and say, "You're nearly there, Stephen. One day soon you're going to beat me, and then there'll be no stopping you. And when you do beat me, you'll know you did it all by yourself, because I'm always going to do my utmost to beat you!" And with that, Stephen had to be content.

It wasn't as if he never won. He could beat his older sister with his eyes shut, but she'd grown bored when Grandpa had tried to teach her, so she didn't really count. He could beat his Dad most times, but his Dad never had time to sit around playing games, so he wasn't much of a player. He could beat his Mum, who was quite a good player because she'd been taught by Grandpa when she was a child, but Stephen always had the feeling his Mum let him win from time to time because she felt sorry for him.

One day when Stephen was nine, he set out the board as usual, and sat down with Grandpa. Stephen was playing well. Grandpa was getting slower and slower with his moves, which meant he was having to think very hard indeed. Stephen felt a great excitement growing in him. Somehow he knew this was going to be The Day. With ever increasing confidence he made his moves, until he moved a pawn to the wrong square, and regretted it immediately. But it looked as if Grandpa hadn't even noticed, for at that very moment he got up for one of his frequent trips to the bathroom. In a flash, Stephen had corrected his mistake and moved his pawn just one square. It made all the difference. When Grandpa returned the game continued, and for the first time ever, Stephen beat his Grandpa.

He was elated. He'd never felt so thrilled or so proud of himself. Grandpa was delighted too, and hugged and kissed him. "There," he said. "I knew you could do it. And I knew it wouldn't be long. Now you're really a player, and you'll go from strength to strength. You'll see."

Stephen did go from strength to strength. Chess continued to be the all-absorbing passion in his life, and he played whenever he could.

But then Grandpa became ill. He was taken into hospital by ambulance, and Stephen felt as though his whole world was breaking apart. He went to the hospital to visit his grandpa, but the old man was too ill even to play chess. Stephen sat by his bedside holding his hand and not knowing what to say. Suddenly he blurted out, "Don't die, Grandpa. I couldn't bear it."

The old man managed a smile. "Don't grieve for me, Stephen," he said. "I shall be happy at that great chess game in the sky where winning or losing won't matter, just the enjoyment of the game."

Stephen stared at him, with a little frown of remembrance. "Grandpa, " he began. "There's something I have to say to you. Do you remember the first time I beat you? How thrilled we all were? Well, I cheated." And with that, Stephen began to sob, great heaving sobs which racked his whole body. Suddenly, after all this time, he was deeply ashamed of himself.

"My chess is all built on a lie," he wept. "I didn't beat you fairly. I cheated."

The old man patted his hand. "I know," he said.

"You know?"

"Of course. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you'd moved your pawn when I was out of the room?"

"But you didn't say anything! You hugged and kissed me as though I'd done it all by myself!"

Grandpa squeezed his hand. "I was sorry you felt you had to cheat, but I reckoned you'd have to sort that out yourself one day. You were wrong to cheat, but I couldn't stop loving you. It's you I love, not whether you win or lose, or even how you behave."

"So you forgave me right from that moment, even though I didn't really think I'd done anything much wrong?"

Grandpa nodded. "Of course. Forgiveness was always there, only you weren't able to receive it until now. But Stephen, you've made me so very happy. Now I shall die content that you've been able to acknowledge your wrongdoing and have therefore received the forgiveness which was waiting for you. Stephen, I love you so much. This is good bye, but now you can play your chess for both of us. And one day, we'll meet again."

Grandpa died next day, and Stephen was deeply sad for a long time. But somehow he grew up during that time, and eventually he became a leading national chess player. More importantly, he became a much loved and respected man, someone of whom his grandfather would have been very proud. Because Stephen never forgot his grandfather and his grandfather's love and forgiveness. And he never cheated again.