For Glory, For Empire
Plans Done and Undone
“Boss?” Jony the Pringle asked the darkness. “News from ‘our eastern travelers.’” A jaunty, whistled tune answered back, and Jony the Pringle knew that Boss was in a bloody mood.
“Light the lamp, Jony,” came a new answer from the Boss. Feeling around, there was a lamp on the table by the door, with a tindertwig sitting beside it. Jony lit the lamp, and sitting tied to a chair in front of him was his cousin, Klae, beaten, bloody, unconscious.
“What is it, Jony?” Boss asked from the Darkness deeper in the warehouse.
“Word from the House is, ‘Reliant, eleven, Steadfast,’ whatever that means.” Jony tried to still himself and peer through the Darkness to find his Boss beyond.
“That means that the Ta’ankish are out considerable, Jony,” The voice still coming only from the Darkness, “And we are in position to be in even more considerable. And that the blood has already started to flow.” And then the voice became a sweet, lilting tenor.
Is oth liom féinig bualadh an lé úd
Do dhul ar Ghaeil bhochta is na céadta slad
Mar tá na méirligh ag déanamh game dinn
á rá nach aon ní leo pike nó sleá
Níor tháinig ár major i dtús an lae chugainn
Is ní rabhamar féin ann i gcóir ná i gceart
Ach mar sheolfaí aoireacht bó gan aoire
Ar thaoth na gréine de Shliabh na mBan
“Jony, do you know why I brought you and Klae together tonight?” interrupted the song jarringly. Jony knew it was time to flee, but he heard it being bolted behind him. A liquid warmth ran down his leg.
“I am sending many across the uncaring sea, and I cannot afford to let any who remain get away with any treachery. Was the taste worth it, Jony boy?”
Mo léan léir ar an dream gan éifeacht
Nár fhan le héirim is d’oíche stad
Go mhéadh dúiche Déiseach is Iarthar éireann
Ag triall le chéile ón tír aneas
Bhéadh ár gcampaí déanta le fórsaí tréana
Bhéadh cúnamh Dé linn is an saol ar fad
Is ní dhíolfadh meirleach darbh ainm Néill sinn
Is bhuafaí an réim linn ar Shliabh na mBan
“Jony, me boy, you and your addlepated cousin, Klae, here, have been working the side ways without me say so,” the voice was moving. Right to left, and getting closer. Jony edged back to the door, and slid right into the corner, making sure Boss was in front of him. No tricks and Jony might have a chance.
“Boss, I…” was all Jony could stammer before a crack came from the Darkness, and all Jony knew was his life flowing out of his neck, right where he felt the scorpion’s sting.
Is tá an Francach faobhrach is an loingeas gléasta
Le cranna géara acu ar muir le seal
‘Sé an síorscéal go bhfuil a dtriall ar éirinn
Is go gcuirfid Gaeil bhocht arís ’na gceart
Dá mba dhóigh liom féineach go mb’fhíor an scéal úd
Bheadh mo chroí chomh héadrom le lon an sceach
Go mbeadh cloí ar mheirligh, is an adharc á séideadh
Ar thaobh na gréine de Shliabh na mBan
“I owed you at least that, Jony,” the voice continued, taking care of the toxin.