Agronica the Cyprus king

Agronica the Cyprus king with jewels around his head,
Adorned with flowing, silken garbs, his shoes the soft earth tread.
His eyes flash blue as azure sky with silver glint within,
His skin as brown as clay built pot, passed down from noble kin.

The women of his filthy town throw themselves before his feet,
And men they come from all around with gifts of wine and meat.
The children flee for they are told before they go to bed,
That if they dare to misbehave, the king will have their head.

Agronica the Cyprus king lives in his marble palace,
He dines upon a silver tray and drinks from golden chalice.
But if a person within his town should make a bold request,
To ask the king for needed food has his head cut from chest.

For when the village is struck by drought the water belongs to kings,
And if the folk are freezing cold, neither shelter nor fuel he brings.
The seasons turn and every year they hope he may atone,
But hope is not enough to pull a savage dog away from his bone.

Agronica he sat upon the throne in his great marble hall,
And from his perch he sat so proud surveying one and all.
‘Fetch me a man’ he there proclaimed, ‘to entertain his king’,
And thus he sat and watched other men joke and duel and sing.

‘Enough of this’ he said aloud ‘I grow weary of these fools’,
‘I need more interest around than melodies and dancing duels.’
So then it was a man stepped forth, an age as old as Job,
He sat upon a little stool and pulled a box out of his robe.

‘I challenge you, oh mighty king, to pit your wits and skill,
To a simple game of ‘Armies All’ against me if you will.’
The guards they soon stepped forward to remove the foolish man,
But the king waved them away, sat down, and thus began.

The king he moved his pieces first, the townsfolk of the board,
And positioned the figurine emperor behind a guarding hoard.
The old man next took his turn, simply positioning one figure,
While the king laughed at this man who clearly had less skill and rigour.

The game continued onward while the king held his emperor back,
And sent the townsmen into slaughter as the old man did attack.
The old man he used his guards to fight upon the battle ground,
And used his village figurines, the emperor to surround.

The king was shocked to see he only had a few pieces left,
Accusing the man he played against of cheating and of theft,
He shook his head and pointed at Agronica’s guards all slain,
‘Keep the men you value least in order to win this game’.

The old man told how sending in the people of the land,
Meant that only guards remained to hold the emperors stand.
By sending in the guards to fight the battle when it begins,
The townsfolk survived to overrun the emperor and to win.

Beaten and abashed, the king bellowed an angry roar,
And swept his arm across the game sending pieces to the floor.
‘Kill this man’, Agronica screamed, ‘and kill most of the town’,
But when none of his guards came to his side he took a look around.

The guards were dead upon the ground, the marble floor was red,
And a group of angry townsfolk stood with the old man at the head.
‘You see’ said the ageing man ‘the game does not tell a lie’,
If you neglect the people you rule then you are doomed to die.

Agronica the Cyprus king with blood around his head,
His battered, tattered silken garbs lay on his corpse in shreds.
His eyes no longer azure sky but dull and grey within,
No longer shall he pass his blood down through his noble kin.