second, but he was passing up perfect opportunities to end the game. If I noticed them, he surely did. "I like to play with my food before I eat it." He smiled. Pope Formosus died paralyzed. I wonder, though, if in his paralysis Formosus imagined Pope Stephen VI, his successor, ordering that his lifeless body be removed from its slumber and brought to the papal court for judgment. I pitied my king as he jumped around the squares where his comrades once stood. "Will you just end the game?" I demanded. "Coach won't let me forfeit." 'Tm still playing;' he said laconically. Sweetly. He smiled. Did Formosus imagine that Pope Stephen would cut off his stiff benediction fingers, bury him in a graveyard for foreigners, and then re-exhume his body only to tie weights to his feet and cast him into the Tiber? ~een to D2. King to ES. Rook to F8. Knight to A2. Bishop captures A2. 1he game stopped. I stared at the board. He stared at me, waiting for my move. I didn't move. I couldn't. My king stood alone, safe within his square but could move to no other. 1he clocked ticked. "I think that's stalemate;' I said. "We tie." His eyes darted to the board. I extended my hand, but he didn't shake it. A look ofhorror spread across his face as he examined the board, then his notation sheet, then the board again. "Next time;' I said, holding back a smile, "just eat your food." Rumor circulated that Formosus's body, after washing up upon the shores of the Tiber, had begun performing miracles. Upon hearing the rumors, a superstitious populace removed Pope Stephen from the papacy and threw him in prison. Sleeping within the walls ofhis prison cell, an inmate strangled the ex-Pope to death. And again the people cheered. 33
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