Kings and Queens

It was a veritable Smörgåsbord laid out on the table – a buffet of all kinds of fine Scandinavian foods. Not only had Mrs. Samuelsson prepared fish chowder, but also there was a jar of pickled herring, a platter of smashed potatoes, and healthy servings of baked halibut and grilled tomatoes.
As the Samuelsson children gathered at the small dining room table, their mother checked them over before everyone took their seat. She clenched her hands just beneath her chin and began a prayer.
“Come, Lord Jesus, be our Guest,
And bless what you have bestowed.”
“Amen,” everyone said in unison.

Hands and arms simultaneously went in their own determined directions as everyone reached for their favorite food. Freda watched as the one thing she wanted, the fish chowder, was passed from brother to father to mother.
“What’s wrong, dear?” asked Mrs. Samuelsson.
“May I please have the fish chowder?”
“I’m terribly sorry. Hand me your bowl so I can fill it with chowder.”
As soon as Freda’s mother returned the full bowl, Freda began eating. The fish in the fish chowder was halibut. Freda could tell for two reasons. First, whenever her mother purchased halibut, she would have the fishmonger slice it into thin snake-shaped filets. When she came home, she’d chop each filet in half and boil the pieces until they puffed into tiny rectangular cubes. Secondly, her mother always purchased North Shore halibut, which always left an oily-fishy aftertaste. No matter how her mother cooked North shore halibut, you always knew it was a fish.
“Ma, why did you cook halibut when you put it in the chowder, too?”
“I made the baked halibut first. I decided to use the leftovers to make chowder at the last moment.”
It did not matter, because everyone would eat whatever Mrs. Samuelsson cooked.
Freda grabbed a piece of cold toast and crumbled it into her chowder before finishing her first bowl. She began her second bowl by adding cold crumbled toast. The bread soaked up the liquid, making the chowder even thicker than before.
“Did you catch any fish today?” asked Stefan.
“No we did not,” replied Freda.
“Your father and I never came home empty handed,” boasted Stefan.
“That’s not true,” Mrs. Samuelsson said defensively.
“There have been times,” added Mr. Samuelsson, “when we’ve spent an entire weekend in the ice shake and not returned with anything but wind-burnt cheeks.”
“That’s not the way I remember it,” replied Stefan.
Freda let out an exhaustive sigh.
Freda hated competing with her older brother, but her brother seemed to take great joy in proving who was the favorite son.
“Don’t you worry about it,” said mother, “you’ll bring something home next time.”
“Gretl, quit spoiling that child. She can stand up for herself,” said Freda’s father. He gave his young girl a wink as he plucked a pickled herring out of the jar.
“Does anyone else want one?”
“I’ll take one,” said Stefan.
“Me too,” added Freda.
Mr. Samuelsson fished the herring out of the tiny pickling jar and took one for himself, too. He then plopped a scoop of smashed potatoes on his plate, topping it with a healthy dollop of butter. He then slathered fish chowder over the top, as if it were gravy. Meanwhile, Freda reached for the grilled tomatoes.
“Ma, did you get these from the grocery store, too?”
“Actually, I got those from Mrs. Anderson. She has a hot house, you know.”
“I wish we had a garden, too.”
“We’d have to build a hothouse before we could have a garden,” said her father.
“I’ve seem outdoor gardens,” argued Freda.
“Those are for potatoes and carrots. It is very hard to grow tomatoes outdoors,” said her father.
“It’s just something the Danish people do,” said mother.
“What do you mean?”
“Of all the Vikings that settled in Iceland, the only ones that ever really farmed were the people from Denmark. I guess it’s because the rest of us were too busy being Vikings.”
“Next time you see her will you please thank her for me?” asked Freda.
“I think Mrs. Anderson would appreciate that very much.”
Freda did as her father did, eating one last serving of smashed potatoes, covered in butter. Her potatoes, however, were not topped with fish chowder.
“Daddy, would you like to play chess after dinner?”
“That sounds like a perfect idea,” replied her father.
Freda could always rely on her father for a game of after-dinner chess. He believed that a good game of chess kept the mind as sharp as a tack.
After she put her dishes in the washer, she went to the living room where her father waited. He was waiting in the middle of the living room, seated in a metal folding chair. Freda moved a small round lamp stand in front of her father. She sat up the chessboard and put the pieces in their places before fetching a second folding chair for herself. As she did, her father adjusted each piece was centered in its square. He plucked a white pawn and a black pawn from the board and held them behind his back for a moment. He held his two fists outstretched towards Freda. She tapped the left hand and he unfolded it, revealing a white pawn.
“I guess you’re first,” he replied.
They rotated the chessboard and replaced the two missing pawns. Freda began the game by moving the King’s pawn two spaces forward. Her father did the exact same thing with his black pawn.
‘Which way should I go now?’ she thought to herself. She moved one of her knights forward and her father countered by advancing his queen. They continued like this for a while longer, until Mr. Samuelsson attacked with his queen.
“I didn’t see that,” said Freda.
“I have a feeling you’re missing quite a few things,” replied her father.
In the next four moves, Mr. Samuelsson’s queen removed a pawn, a bishop, a knight, and the other bishop.
“You’re taking all my pieces,” said Freda.
“It’s all part of the game.”
Freda studied the board. She figured it was time to retaliate. She advanced her queen towards the center of the board. Now, she was in striking distance of three different pieces. Now, her father would have to choose who to keep and who to let go.
“That’s a fine move, Freda.”
Mr. Samuelsson pulled at his whiskers, just as he always did whenever he was perplexed. He had taught his daughter well. Maybe it was too well, because he now had to figure a way to protect his Queen. He slid the Queen backwards, removing yet another of Freda’s pawn.
Freda slid her Queen diagonally. Mr. Samuelsson advanced his Queen again, taking yet another pawn. Freda moved her knight. Mr. Samuelsson moved one space over, removing yet another pawn. Freda moved her knight again. Mr. Samuelsson took one of Freda’s rooks.
“Check,” he stated.
Freda moved her king out of the way. Mr. Samuelsson slid his Queen along the back row, removing the other rook. Now, all Freda had was her king, her queen, two pawns, and a knight. Her father was only missing a pawn. However, things were about to change.
“I think it’s your turn to be missing something,” said Freda confidently.
She picked up her knight and moved it into one of the squares where a black pawn sat. She swapped out the pieces, placing her knight a short distance away from the king. However, not one of the black pieces could harm the white knight.
“Check…and mate,” announced Freda.
“Hmmm,” said her father as he investigated the chessboard. The king could not move out of the way, because Freda’s Queen was protecting the only free space for his King.
He tipped his King over, signifying defeat.
“Good game, my dear child.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” said Freda.
“What’s that?” asked her father.
“You have all these pieces and I only have a few. I think you should win.”
“But you cannot rule a country without a King,” said her father.
“Wasn’t there a time when Iceland didn’t have a King?” questioned Mrs. Samuelsson from the hallway.
“Yes, the time of the Commonwealth.”
“What’s a Commonwealth?” asked Freda.
“It was when each part of the country had its own tribe, called a clan. Each clan had a leader, called a Chieftain.”
“It’s sort of like ‘Chief,’” replied Freda.
“That’s the exact reason why I gave him that name.”
“So, why did it change?” asked Freda.
“Sometimes, clans would go to wars. There was one family that rose to power. Have you ever heard of Snorri Sturluson?”
Freda nodded.
“His family started feuds with other clans.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They wanted more control over their territories. Some clans would attack neighbors to get their fields. When that happened, chieftains would retaliate. First, one clan would attack the other and then the other clan would attack back. Sometimes, chieftains would gang up on other gangs, just like your knight and Queen ganged up on my King.”
“So, I’m like a mini-chieftain?”
“I suppose so,” chuckled her father.
“What happened then?”
“These arguments would grow more and more hostile until many lives were lost. These arguments became known as blood feuds.”
“How did it finally stop?”
“The chieftains decided it was finally time to make an agreement not to fight anymore.”
“That’s it? They just stopped?”
Her father nodded. “In a way, yes. Also, this agreement allowed Iceland to unite with Norway. Now, Iceland had a King, who would make decisions and create laws. Instead of killing each other, farmers settled these matters by the law of the land.”
“That’s good for us,” said Freda.
“That doesn’t mean you and I can’t have another blood feud of our own. Do you want to play again?”
“Of course I do,” she replied.
Freda set the pieces in their proper squares. Meanwhile, Mr. Samuelsson carefully positioned each piece in the center of its square. This went on for the rest of the night. Kingdoms were created and kingdoms were destroyed, but not an ounce of blood was shed.
And this is the way Freda and her father liked it.