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Two men sat huddled close to the fire on the cold night deep in Dublin, Ireland. The chill night air blew strong and fierce through the ramshackle home of the two men in tatters of clothing. They looked to each other with eyes knowing how grim the situation looked. Niamh was a burly man of short stature, his black eyes burned with determination beneath a healthy head of flaming red hair. His companion’s, Finbar, small lanky form shivered beneath the long tangle of jet black hair, his green eyes glowing for want of things he could not have. The only sound’s that night was the sounds of the wind spirits and the crackling of the tiny flame. “Bah, I’ve had enough of this huddling over a small fire life. I wish to eat man, to eat with kings. With a hearth with a roaring flame”, Finbar finally said when the sound of the wind became too much. “Be grateful for what ye got. We have materials to burn to give us this warmth. What do the others have? And we aren’t going to tell them either, unless you want them all at the doorstep begging for this and that”, Niamh said with a derisive snort before continuing, “The best thing for us is a good nights sleep and prayers to the Gods that tomorrow won’t be so damned cold” They shared a small chuckle at the mention of the gods, neither of them believed that the gods had been with them for a while. As the night bore on and the small fire dwindled into glowing embers, the men retired to be embraced by sleep’s blissful embrace.

The next morning a loud knock beckoned both of the men awake. The mysterious visitor yelled for Niamh, for he had some dire papers for the man. Niamh swung the door wide with a scowl wore across his face, “What is it?” “Sir, I have news to share with you. Come with me”, the man who spoke those words was in the attire of a messenger of some lesser lord. What the man wanted with him, Niamh couldn’t figure out. Finbar stayed behind out of respect and stirred the stew for them both, for when Niamh came home he would be hungry. Hours seems to dawdle as the sun neared and passed its zenith, yet Niamh never came home. The dusk hours set in as Finbar ate his stew slowly wondering about his friend when another knock came at the door. Finbar answered it with a timid smile to a man in simple leather tunic and leggings. “Good evening, I am here to retrieve the items of Niamh to be delivered to his estates”, the man said in a regal tone. “What do you mean estates?” Finbar asked with a confused expression on his face. “Why, the man’s uncle died and he is the sole benefactor of lord’s holdings”, the man said again in those same tones. Finbar went silent and sat back in a dark corner while the items were gathered. After the man left with Niamh’s belongings, Finbar hatched a plan to get what was also rightfully his. Finbar went to bed alone for the first time in what seemed like ages ago. His sleep was fitful and he tossed and turned all night, dreaming of meats and more money than he knew what to do with.

Niamh sat staring at what all was his now in the early grey of the morning light. The land, the homes; they were all his now to do with as he saw fit. Some peasant’s had come looking for a home but Niamh had turned them out in short order, this was now his land and no one was going to take it from him. As he stood gazing out of the fogged windows, now in resplendent noble wear of greens and reds, Finbar had been guided into the large office with urgency. “You are doing well all of a sudden Niamh”, Finbar said, emphasizing the last word with a fuel of hatred. “Why thank you, come look at what all is mine now my good fellow”, Niamh returned without looking back at his friend. Niamh would have probably seen the crazed light in Finbar’s eyes had he turned about, or the dagger sliding out of the man’s sleeve as he approached. No, Niamh was too engrossed in his new wealth to even notice the sudden stab and jerk of the dagger that slid in between his ribs. Niamh crumpled to the floor, gazing at Finbar and pointing to a paper on the desk as deaths icy grip quickly claimed the young burly man. Finbar went to the paper and read aloud that he was the benefactor in case of Niamh’s death and that all lands currently were to be divided with him and Niamh. As Finbar read the words over and over again, he fell to his knees and began to cry.

That evening, the heavens claimed two souls. One was the greedy man known as Niamh. The second was a small wiry man who took his own life, Finbar. May the heavens embrace these two men who were corrupted by the sins of man, the sins of greed and envy.