The Greater Astral Kingdom

Moloney kept his eyes on Devin, who was still holding the shotgun.  Inaccurately.  A time would come soon, Moloney knew, when he would once more have it in his possession.  It was possible for him to simply run over now and wrestle the thing from the Belfastard’s hands – but he was in no mood to upset the place again.  There was a real thirst in him for another glass of brandy so when he spotted the bottle Elder had produced magically out of nowhere he sidled up to his mortal enemy with a smile drummed up from the depths.

            Another glass, Moloney?

            Sure why not?

            We’re waiting for cups.  Be with you shortly.  You can survive until then.

            Yes. 

            There was an unctuous look in Elder’s eyes, a look Moloney knew well for it arose in his most detested social memories, a look he’d seen in the praeposters and swots of his lifetime, in the magistrates, the foremen, the clerks, the clerics, the women – foxes and peacocks all; it was a look a person had when they knew they had some kind of power over him which he could not contend with, a trapping power full of glee and overbearance. 

            There it is, he said.

            There’s what, sir? enquired Elder.

            The cult leader in you.  You have me wrapped around your little finger.

            I beg your pardon.  I only offered you a drink as you came asking with your imploring eyes.

Frances Buckley then came in from the kitchen and she had with her a tray upon which there were many cups and the remaining bottles from Friday evening, some gin and wine. 

            She gave two cups to Elder who immediately poured some brandy for Moloney.

Now, what sort of cult leader would I be, so obliging of your awful vices as I am?

It’s all mind control, Moloney answered, after a much-wanted quaff.  I’ve got your number.

It doesn’t say a lot for your mind if that’s all it takes. 

Elder huffed and said, It’s the burden we all have on us in the Kindred Eye.  You and your sort out there will just never come to understand the lifestyle we’ve chosen.  Or is it that we have had the resolve to choose this lifestyle at all that has you bitter?

Not many sorts out there, as you say, could afford to live the way you’re living here.

And should I remind you how much acreage is under your keep and holding, my low humble man of the midlands, much of it inherited.  As was all of this that I have, but at least I had the finewill to share the property granted to me with the good people of Ireland – or some of them.  You’re still running around with your shotgun meaning to blow the head off anyone who would dare put their toe on your tulips.  Give me patience, will you.

I’m no fool and I won’t be controlled like your disciples here.  But thanks for the brandy.  It’s a good dram.

            The people are diverse here if you take a moment to study your surroundings, continued Elder.  They represent all the faces of the new Ireland.  With a hair of France and England.  And though they are certainly different in age and beauty and class and disposition, they have come here for the same reason.  A shared purpose.  Restoration of mind and body.  They are not mesmerised by me, nor are they being in any way coerced.  They remain individuals.  Our documentary film shall prove this to the world.

You’ve promised them the moon.

The Americans did that already.  We’ve set our minds on the greater astral kingdom.