From the moment he received the order from Grand Imperial Tutor - Supreme Commander of the Army cum Left Chancellor Trần Thủ Độ, to find the Chess Master until he escorted the man to the Thăng Long Citadel, Imperial Guard Commandant Ngô Tuấn was ceaselessly troubled. At that time, he could not fathom how Trần Thủ Độ, with his razor-sharp intellect that had guided Đại Việt's people through countless trials, could devise a strategy to guide His Majesty to win the traditional chess game without exposing it to the keen eyes of Chế Củ.
As the first chess game began, standing in his usual position beside the stone head of the dragons flanking the Thái Hòa Grand Hall, Ngô Tuấn observed closely. The eyes of a seasoned vanguard general, tempered by the smoke and fire of battlefields, immediately caught a glint of light reflecting from the gold-inlaid chessboard. That light, sharp as a blade, slipped through a tiny hole in the royal parasol above the throne, illuminating the moves the Chess Master signaled to the Emperor Lý Thánh Tông.
With a single glance, Ngô Tuấn unraveled Trần Thủ Độ's scheme. The Chess Master, standing outside the game, used subtle rotations of the royal parasol to convey moves, with sunlight piercing the hole at its apex to project onto the gleaming chessboard. A bold stratagem, but riddled with flaws.
As the people always said: "chess - outside player, cards - inside player," reflecting the excitement of an onlooker engrossed in a game of wits, even if merely watching. Once immersed in the match, the Chess Master could not restrain himself, constantly signaling even for simple moves like advancing a pawn. His Majesty, though a seasoned chess player, could not help but rely on these cues. The eyes of the Emperor Lý Thánh Tông subtly scanned the gold-inlaid board, where the flickering light whispered moves without sound.
Ngô Tuấn furrowed his brow, a complex feeling stirring within—part admiration for the Trần Thủ Dộ's audacity, part dread of the near-inevitable failure. Chế Củ, though a prisoner, was cunning and sharp, with eyes like cutting blades and reflexes like lightning. Only blindness in both eyes could prevent him from noticing such an obvious ploy.
A question lingered in Ngô Tuấn's mind: Why didn't the Grand Imperial Tutor choose a subtler approach? The traditional Chinese chessboard, with its nine vertical and ten horizontal lines intersecting at ninety points, was a miniature battlefield. The Chess Master could have whispered directly to His Majesty using a secret transmission technique: "Cannon forward, Horse supports, Chariot crosses the river at the third file, Pawn advances…" Such words, if spoken softly by someone skilled in martial arts, could reach the Emperor's ears without Chế Củ's sharp senses detecting them.
Yet, the Grand Imperial Tutor chose a flamboyant method, letting the light from the board betray his plan. Ngô Tuấn shook his head slightly, a faint sigh escaping him. Trần Thủ Độ had no other option. Ngô Tuấn realized this when he touched the Chess Master while escorting him to the palace. The man had no martial skills—his weapon was a mind brimming with calculations.
Ngô Tuấn knew that the failure of this plan would not only humiliate Trần Thủ Độ but also tarnish His Majesty's prestige.
Suddenly, from within the Thái Hòa Grand Hall, the resounding yet tense voice of the Chief Eunuch rang out:
"Summon Imperial Guard Commandant Ngô Tuấn to assist Trần Thủ Độ and escort him into the hall. Summon Chế Củ and the Chess Master to attend."
Ngô Tuấn lightly tapped his boot. In an instant, he was at Trần Thủ Độ's side. The elderly statesman, his forehead bloodied from repeated kowtows, was slumping, nearly collapsing onto the cold stone steps of the hall.
Ngô Tuấn reached out to support him, feeling the frail trembling of the once-mighty Trần Thủ Độ. The old man's eyes, usually sharp as a sword, were now clouded with a mix of regret and resolve. The Chess Master stood nearby, head bowed, hands trembling as if wanting to apologize but unable to speak. Ngô Tuấn wished to comfort them both, but his throat tightened. He silently helped Trần Thủ Độ to his feet to step up. Three of them entered the Thái Hòa Grand Hall. Civil and military officials sat still and silently on the wooden platform, their eyes a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
The vast hall felt heavy. The sound of footsteps echoed like hammer strikes in Ngô Tuấn's heart. On the throne, Emperor Lý Thánh Tông sat, his demeanor regal but his eyes tinged with sorrow, bearing the weight of a king who had recognized his error. His voice rang out, slow and painful:
"Grand Imperial Tutor - Supreme Commander of the Army cum Left Chancellor Trần Thủ Độ, you are skilled in strategy but clumsy in execution. It was you who proposed using this chess match to win Chế Củ's allegiance, yet you turned it into a laughingstock before the court, the people of Đại Việt, and the Champa prisoners. The one humiliated today is not Chế Củ but you and me."
Silence enveloped the hall, broken only by the faint sigh of the Emperor's trusted Chief Eunuch. Ngô Tuấn knelt beside Trần Thủ Độ, feeling the trembling of the old man beside him. The entire Thái Hòa Hall seemed to quiver. Glancing over, he saw the wrinkles on Trần Thủ Độ's face deepen, etched with regret and the devastation of a man who had poured his heart into this plan.
Emperor Lý Thánh Tông turned his gaze to Chế Củ, his tone softening but still weighty:
"Chế Củ, I acknowledge my fault before you. In this game, I lost to you—not because your moves were superior, but because my pride and desire for victory clouded my judgment. A victory gained through trickery is unworthy of a true sovereign."
Chế Củ stood tall, stunned. Once again, his eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and respect. In Champa, few, if any, rulers would dare admit fault before their court, let alone an enemy. He genuinely admired the Emperor Lý Thánh Tông now, more than when the Emperor had descended the steps to help him up. He bowed slightly as if he bowed to the integrity of the Đại Việt's Emperor, not the Emperor himself, his voice low but firm:
"Your Majesty, a single traditional chess game does not determine the greater outcome. But your candor compels my respect. Đại Việt indeed has qualities Champa could learn from."
Chế Củ's humble words eased the tension slightly. Lý Thánh Tông allowed a faint smile within. Chế Củ had addressed him as "Your Majesty," albeit hesitantly. Like a gentle breeze overcoming the face, Ngô Tuấn felt both relief and turmoil at the prisoner's sharp yet modest words.
Suddenly, Trần Thủ Độ raised his head. His clouded eyes gleamed with resolve. His hoarse voice carried unwavering determination:
"Your Majesty, I accept my guilt.
"Thủ Độ, I did not ask you to speak," Lý Thánh Tông interrupted.
Chế Củ stared at the Emperor, curious about how Đại Việt's court would handle the matter.
"A clumsy and childish plan has shamed Your Majesty…" Trần Thủ Độ continued.
"Thủ Độ, a mere game means little…" Lý Thánh Tông cut him off again.
Chế Củ understood instantly—the Emperor Lý Thánh Tông wished to spare his veteran statesman. If it were Chế Củ, he would do the same. No game, however significant, warranted such a price.
"Your Majesty. Let me speak." Trần Thủ Độ declared firmly, turning to the Chief Eunuch. "I request the Chief Eunuch's judgment. What is the penalty for a stateman who brings shame to His Majesty? You authored the Legal Code under the previous Emperor Lý Thái Tông. Please answer me."
The question sliced through the air like a sword. Chế Củ shuddered. His eyes darted to Trần Thủ Độ. Even without drafting Đại Việt's first Legal Code, he knew the penalty was death. "Đại Việt has much to admire," he repeated to himself, "a forthright king, a principled chancellor."
Ngô Tuấn clenched his fists, his heart in turmoil. He knew the Legal Code deemed humiliating the king's prestige a capital offense. Yet he also understood that Trần Thủ Độ's question was not a plea for mercy but a demand to face his mistake honorably.
The Chief Eunuch bowed deeply, his voice low and choked with hesitation:
"Your Majesty, Grand Imperial Tutor, according to the Legal Code, a stateman who shames His Majesty before the world faces… will be sentenced to the death penalty of the three generations."
Chế Củ, Ngô Tuấn, and the Chess Master flinched.
Lý Thánh Tông closed his eyes briefly, his hand gripping the throne's armrest as if wrestling with himself. Then he opened them, his voice no longer sorrowful but resolute:
"Thủ Độ, I do not believe a game could warrant and take the lives of an entire family of a loyal chancellor like you. But, Chief Eunuch, you are right. If royalty, officials, and commoners are not equal before the law, what remains of its justice? Ngô Tuấn, escort the Grand Imperial Tutor and the Chess Master to the citadel dungeon. After two more games, I will pronounce my judgment."
"I obey, Your Majesty."
Ngô Tuấn replied. He rose, his heart heavy. Supporting the now-exhausted Trần Thủ Độ and gesturing for the Chess Master to follow. Without looking back, he signaled two Imperial Guards with spears to follow.
As they left for the gate of the Thái Hoà Palace, Ngô Tuấn glanced back. A new traditional chess game was being set on the gold-inlaid board by the front. The flickering sunlight still reflected on it as if a reminder of the failed scheme.
The Emperor Lý Thánh Tông's gaze, pensive yet resolute, swept over the chessboard. Opposite him, Chế Củ's lips curved slightly, his sharp eyes glinting as if to say the true game had only just begun.