The road crew thought the Council had ordered them. Council presumed the Committee was responsible. All agreed the statues made a striking sight beside the new bypass.
But two young boys knew the real truth. The fields were their kingdoms, filled with hidden fortresses where they ruled over rabbit subjects and knighted owls, and where dragons roamed disguised as sheep. They were there the night the Iron Kings came.
They marched as one over the hill and all before them quivered in fear. What terror would they bring? Silence cloaked the emerald landscape and Jack and Eamonn watched from behind the abbey ruins as the invaders claimed their land.
The rabbits scampered underground and the owls flew away, but the dragon-sheep had nowhere to run. In fury they stood their ground and a terrible battle ensued. Through thunderous roars from the Iron Kings and lightning flashes from the dragon-sheep the nearby townsfolk slept, oblivious. But out in the stormy darkness two young lads cheered, as just before dawn the dragon-sheep mounted one final charge and with fiery breath turned the Iron Kings as if to stone before they could retreat over the hill and fade into the shadows.
Roadside art, you say? I say Jack and Eamonn and the dragon-sheep know better.
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