Source: 49th Asia Pacific Bridge Federation Championships Regal Hongkong Hotel , Causeway Bay, Hong Kong 7 – 16 June 2013
The first David Bird story featuring the monks of St Titus appeared in Bridge Magazine in June 1978.
The Reverand Richard Hyde unlatched the oak front door, and in from howling gale came Abbot YorkeSmith, looking even more red-faced than usual.
‘Come and warm yourself by the fire, Abbot; Father O’Neill is here already. Who did you manage to get for a fourth tonight?’
‘Well, it wasn’t easy to find anyone on choir practice night, but eventually I persuaded Brother Anthony to play again.’
‘Oh! Er…good,’ replied Rev Hyde unconvincingly.
Brother Anthony was a rather unpopular partner since, being a member of the Eustacian order, he had to obey their vow of total silence, and this naturally restricted his accuracy in the bidding. Only the previous week the Abbot had had to reprimand a young novice who had feigned a sudden sever cramp in the leg, and hobbled off towards the infirmary when he had cut brother Anthony at the monastery £1-a-hundred table.
The first hand of the evening was boldly bid by the Rev Hyde:
Dealer West None Vul
It was standard tactics to open light in front of Brother Anthony’s partner in order to disrupt even further communications which were already almost non-existent, but Rev Hyde clearly regarded his solid holdings as adequate for the Eustacian gambling 3NT convention.
Father O’Neill’s queen of hearts was covered by the king and ace, and the Abbot’s club switch was won in the dummy. When Rev Hyde played off four rounds of spades the Abbot, shifting uncomfortably in his cassock, discarded two clubs and two hearts and was subsequently thrown in to concede a trick to dummy’s ten of hearts.
‘Sorry, Patrick, I should have tried baring my knave of hearts,’ said the abbot, reluctantly writing down the score.
‘I forgive you,’ said his partner in a professional tone. Soon afterwards the Abbot dealt the cards as follows:
Dealer East Both Vul
Rev Hyde viewed his dismal collection in the South seat, and proceeded to open the bidding with a confident One Club. This diversion was, after all, fairly safe with Brother Anthony as partner.
Brother Anthony gazed wistfully at his 22-count. What could they make? A small slam? A grand slam? As he prepared himself to deliver the almost imperceptible shake of the head that had formed his bidding methods for th past 30-odd years, he thought how proud of him his fellow Eustacians must be.
‘Surely the Abbot was dealer,’ said Father O’neill suddenly. ‘Your bid was out of turn, Richard, but there is no penalty if the Abbot passes.’
‘One Club,’ said the Abbot promptly, reaching for the rule book, and eagerly locating the appropriate section. ‘It says that the offender’s partner is…silenced for the rest of the auction,’ he said, unable to hide his annoyance at this useless penalty.
‘Come, come partner, this is only a game between friends,’ said Father O’Neill compassionately. ‘Let us waive the penalty.’ Rev Hyde passed, and Father O’Neill raised the Abbot to Five Clubs.
Brother Anthony re-scanned his 22-count, seething with anger. They were making a mockery of him. They were insulting the venerable Eustacian order. They were implying that over 400 years of silence had all been in vain. The time had come to teach them a sharp lesson. ‘Double!’ he said firmly, noting with interest that, since taking his vows at a tender age, his voice had broken.
Only the ticking of the grandfather clock interrupted the stunned silence that followed. Eventually the Rev Hyde, eyeing his partner with a singularly unclerical expression, led the ten of hearts.
The Abbot won in hand, and cross-ruffed at high speed to produce the following ending with West, the dummy, on play:
Brother Anthony was forced to ruff the diamond high, and exit with another high trump to the ace. Dummy’s last diamond promoted declarer’s ten of trumps and the game was home. ‘What on earth do you mean by breaking your vow of silence, just to double a cold game?’ cried the Rev Hyde.
Brother Anthony shook his head almost imperceptibly, and pulling up the cowl of his cloak, he walked sadly to the front door, and out into the unforgiving night.