The History of Chess. H. J. R. Murray
a reference to this story when he mentions Shihrām as the monarch for whom Ṣiṣṣa b. Dāhar invented chess.
The fourth story is told in Man. f. 15 a, on the authority of b. Makhsharī. It is to the effect that a certain King of India, who was peaceably inclined, procured the invention of chess in order that his fellow-monarchs might settle their disputes over the board without effusion of blood.
I have left to the last what is probably the oldest of all the legends on the subject, dating back to pre-Muhammadan days. I have already called attention to the allusion to it in the tradition connecting the caliph ‘Omar b. al-Khaṭṭāb with chess, which I believe to be a genuine tradition. The legend is neither in al-‘Adlī (AH) nor in al-Maṣ‘ūdī, but al-Ya‘qūbī has a version of it which is interesting because of some of the details (ed. cit., i. 102–5).
It is related by some of the wise men of India that when Ḥūsīya, the daughter of Balhait, was Queen, a rebel rose against her. Now she was a prophetess with four children, and she invested her son. And the rebel slew her son. Now the men of her kingdom honoured him, and they guarded against her learning it. So they went to the philosopher Qaflān who was possessed of knowledge, wisdom, and prudence, and told him of it. He asked for three days and they granted it. He spent the time in thought. Then he called his disciple, ‘Summon a carpenter with wood of two colours, white and black.’ Then he devised the chessmen and ordered the carpenter to carve them. Next he called to him, ‘Bring me tanned leather.’ He ordered him to mark 64 squares on it, and he did so. Then he arranged a side, and studied it until he understood and had learnt it. Then he said to his disciple, ‘This is war without bloodshed.’ So he came to the men of the kingdom and produced it, and when they saw it they knew that no one exceeded him in wisdom. He made his disciple fight, and there befell shāh māt, and the Shāh was conquered. Now the Queen was interested in the news about Qaflān, and she visited him and bade him show her his invention. He called his disciple with the chess, and arranged it square by square. They played, and the winner said shāh māt. And she remembered and knew what he wished her to know, and she said to Qaflān, ‘My son is dead.’ He said, ‘You have said it.’ Then she said to the doorkeeper, ‘Let the people enter to comfort me.’ And when she had made an end, she summoned Qaflān and said to him, ‘Ask what you will.’ He said, ‘Give me a gift in grains of corn upon the squares of the chessboard. On the first square one grain (on the second two), on the third square double of that on the second, and continue in the same way until the last square.’ She said, ‘How much is this?’ and she ordered the corn to be brought. So they went on until she had exhausted the corn in the country. Then he estimated its value in money, and received that. And when this went on for a long time, he said, ‘I have no need of it: a small portion of worldly goods suffices me.’ Then she asked him about the number of grains that he had demanded.
Whereupon follows the total of the Geometrical Progression, which I give below.
There is a brief allusion to this story in H f. 6 a, but it is best known through its inclusion in the Shāhnāma (ii. 2889–3431; in Mohl’s edition, Paris, 1868, vi. 400–444),13 where Firdawsī names as his immediate authority a certain Shāhūī. As Nöldeke has pointed out,14 this is probably a misreading of the name Māhūī, Māhūī Chorsēdh, the son of Bahram of Shāpūr, being one of the four Zoroastrian priests to whom Abū Manṣūr al-Ma‘marī entrusted the work of arranging the national annals of Persia in A.D. 957–8. The section now bears the title of ‘The history of Gau and Talkhand, with the invention of chess’. The titles of the various sections do not, however, go back to Firdawsī.
The story treats of some incidents in the history of a kingdom in North-West India, which comprised Kashmīr and all the land to the confines of China, with Ṣandalī for capital. A king of this realm, Jamhūr, who excelled Fūr (Pauras) in fame, had died, leaving a widow and an infant son, Gau. He was succeeded by his brother, Mai, who married the widow and, after a short reign, died, leaving an infant son, Talkhand, who was five years younger than his half-brother. During the minority the widow held the regency, the question of the ultimate succession being left in abeyance. Each of the princes considered that his claim was the stronger, and their mother foolishly encouraged each in turn. As the boys grew up, the disputes became more bitter, and Talkhand adopted a most aggressive attitude. Gau, on the other hand, was as conciliatory as possible. Finally, however, Talkhand forced an appeal to the arbitrament of war. Gau gave the strictest instructions to his supporters that Talkhand’s life was to be spared. In the first battle Gau was successful, but Talkhand managed to collect his scattered forces, and a second battle took place close to the sea-shore. At the close of the battle, Talkhand was separated from his army and surrounded by the forces of his opponent, but when these came up to him, he was found to be already dead. The tidings plunged his mother into the deepest sorrow, and in her grief she accused Gau of slaying his brother. Gau defended himself, but to no purpose, and finally he offered to destroy himself if he could not demonstrate clearly to her how Talkhand’s death really happened. In order to compass this, Gau took counsel with his tutor, and by his advice convened all the wise men of the kingdom and laid the case before them. After a whole night’s consideration,
These experienced men ordered ebony to be brought, and two strong men made from it a square board to represent the ditch, the field of battle, and the armies drawn up opposite one another. They marked on this board 100 squares on which the armies and the two kings were to move, and finally they made two armies of teak and ivory, and two kings with heads erect, majestic and crowned. The infantry and cavalry formed the ranks in the battle array. They carved the figures of horses, elephants, viziers, and brave men charging on horseback against the enemy, all just as they went to the battle, some leaping in their haste, others moving calmly.15 Ready for battle, the Shāh (king) stood in the centre; on one side was the Firzāna (counsellor), his faithful companion. Next to the Shāh on both sides were two Pīls (elephants) who raised a dust, dark as indigo, about the throne. Two Shuturs (camels) were placed next to the Pīls, and two men of pure intention were mounted on them. Next to the Shuturs were two Asps (horses) with their riders, ready to fight on the day of battle. As warriors the two Rukhs at the two ends of the lines of battle raised their empty hands to the lips, as if to drink the foe’s heart’s blood. In front and rear moved the Piyāda (foot-soldiers), who were to come to the assistance of the others in the battle; if any pressed through to the other end of the field of battle, he was placed beside the Shāh like the Firzāna. The brave Firzāna never moved in the battle more than one square from his Shāh. The mighty Pīl ran through three squares, and observed the whole battle-field, two miles wide. The Shutur also ran through three squares, snorting and stamping on the field. The Asp’s move also extended over three squares, in crossing which one of the squares remained untouched. To all sides ran the vindictive Rukh, and he crossed the whole field of battle. Each piece moved in its own area, and made neither less nor more than its appointed move.16 If any one saw the Shāh in the battle, he cried aloud, ‘Remove, O Shāh!’ and the Shāh left his square until he was able to move no longer. The other Shāh, the Asp, Rukh, Farzīn, Pīl, and Piyādas had closed the road to him. When the Shāh had looked about him on all four sides, and with knit brows had seen his army overthrown, and his road barred by the water and the ditch, while the enemy were to left and right, before and behind, he died (was mate) of weariness and thirst.
Gau took this game of chess which thus explained the death of Talkhand to his mother. She continued to study it day and night without desiring food, until death released her from her sorrow. And from that time the chessboard has remained in the knowledge of mankind.
It is somewhat remarkable that in this legend Firdawsī has replaced the ordinary chess by a variety requiring an enlarged board, when no motive for the change can be discovered. As will be seen from the account of the derived forms of chess in Chapter XVI, he has not even adopted the standard variety on the 10 by 10 board of the chess books, but describes a form that is not mentioned elsewhere. The legend is repeated in RAS, as from the Shāhnāma, but the author of that MS. set out with the deliberate intention of enhancing the age and importance of another modification of chess, the Complete chess that was preferred by his sovereign the Mongol Tīmūr, and he has substituted for Firdawsī’s account of the invention a new version which makes Ṣaṣṣa b. Dāhir abridge