Marostica, Italy
T he train stops at Bassano del Grappa, the nearest railway station to Marostica. Most tourists take the buses, but the Pillar insists on taking a private taxi, so in case someone is tracking us we can see them in the mirror. Who knows what the Chessmaster really has on his mind?
The Pillar converses with the driver in Italian, but I don’t understand what they’re saying. All I know is that the driver seems pretty amused with the professor, and at some point, it seems they’re talking about national football teams.
Marostica itself is an exceptional town. I imagine Jack taking me here and us having a good time. But Jack is part of my past now. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, even if I want to.
Since we don’t know where we should be going in Marostica, the taxi driver starts giving us a little tour. He shows us a few landmarks and recommends a couple of restaurants. But none of that piques our interest. Not until he shows us two castles, one at the top of the hill above town, the other in the main square, Piazza Castello. It’s the one in the square that piques our interest.
The square before the castle is one large chessboard laid out in paving stones. I am not making that up. It’s true.
The view with the upper castle, Castello Superiore, behind it is enchanting. The lower castle, directly overlooking the chessboard, is Castello Inferiore, and it guards the main entrance through the town walls as well.
We stop and get out and the taxi driver refuses to take any money, which doesn’t strike me as an Italian behavior. He shoots me a pitying glance then says in English, “I pray for you,” before he guns away.
“What was that all about?” I ask the Pillar.
“I told the taxi driver you were an insane girl who still thinks that Wonderland exists,” the Pillar says nonchalantly.
“Why?”
“It helped us get a free ride, didn’t it?” He pulls my hand and shows me ahead. “Now let me tell you about this place.” He points at the people gathered around the large chessboard. “The famous Chess Game, or as the Italians like to call it: Partita a Scacchi di Marostica .”
“So this is where the Chessmaster wants us to obtain his Carroll’s Knight?”
“It has to be. Right here, the first-ever chess game in history took place.” He points at the live chess pieces, men and women dressed as such, gathering, each upon a square and pretending to be bishops, pawns, rooks, knights, kings, and queens.
“Really?” I say. “I mean, I never thought the first chess game was ever traceable.”
“You’re right about that. Let’s just say this is the first documented chess game in history, here in Marostica in 1454. There is no doubt this is where the Chessmaster wants us to be.”
“The only question is why.”
“I imagine we’re about to find out,” the Pillar says. “Usually there is a yearly festival in the memory of that game, in September of each year.”
“It’s not September, so why are people gathered and celebrating?”
“My assumption would be that it’s been planned by the Chessmaster.”
A woman wearing what looks like a rook’s top on her head approaches us and asks for tickets. The Pillar talks her out of it. She smiles pityingly and tells me she is going to pray for me.
“You have to stop that,” I tell him.
“It got us a free ticket, didn’t it?” the Pillar says. “Besides, I’m only telling the truth. You’re a mad girl who thinks Wonderland exists. The game we’re about to see, accompanied by dancing and music, involves scores of costumed participants and human chess pieces.”
“So this isn’t really a chess game?”
“No such thing. They’re reciting a traditional story of a local ruler with a beautiful daughter. She had two suitors, but rather than letting them fight a duel, the lord proposed a chess match, with the winner receiving her hand in marriage and the loser marrying her younger sister.”
“So she didn’t have a say in the matter of her marriage?”
“They’re not called the Dark Ages for nothing,” the Pillar says. “What strikes me as interesting, though, is the fact that the first documented chess game in history was about two men trying to win one woman’s heart.”
“Are you trying to sound sentimental?” I mock him.
“Nah, I’m trying to remind you of your similar situation. You still don’t know who you’ll end up with. Jack or the mysterious future husband, but anyways, let’s…”
This is when the Chessmaster’s plan starts to reveal itself.
A tall man dressed as a black knight in the game on the large chessboard acts like he is about to checkmate the white queen, but with a mallet in his hand, he threatens to knock off her head.