3

*

Inside the stone Church of St. John the Baptist, the faithful gathered by the dim light of candles and gas lanterns. Father Patrick, with the help of three of the Darcy lads, served Mass. He hurried his prayers and the fiddler hurried the choir along. And when the time came, Canon Hanrahan helped serve Communion. Wee Sean knelt at the altar rail, catching sight of  Father Patrick’s skirts rising above the hem of an unfamiliar pair of drawers. Canon Hanrahan moved as quickly as he could from one Communicant to the next.

Old Lady Keenan refused to comply. She opened her mouth in her own good time. Old Canon Hanrahan slowed himself down. She knelt, her spine as rigid as a British sentry, her hands folded neatly and if Sean could see her eyes, he’d be sure they were trained like a weapon on her target, Canon Hanrahan. The expression the old priest wore spoke more than his words could. As if Jesus Himself had stepped from the Cross and offered his place to Canon Hanrahan. The old priest held the Host at Old Lady Keenan’s mouth, with Tim holding a plate beneath his hand to catch her crumbs. Canon said his prayer. He blessed her. She continued to take her time. The pain grew in his eyes as he pressed the Host closer to her. When at last, she accommodated him, he sighed with great relief. Quickly he blessed her again as she slowly crossed herself. Three others hurried through their Communion and she still knelt. As the fourth took it in, she completed her Sign of the Cross and began to rise up.

Connor Corrigan pushed into her place before she backed completely away. And the lethal look she sent his way, Sean could see. Connor never noticed. His head was turned in Deirdre’s direction and his eyes were glued to her. Mrs. Keenan barely made it back to her place standing beside her husband, that the two Priests had their implements cleaned and stowed in the Sanctuary. Eamonn grabbed up the plates and Tim grabbed candles from the altar stone. Daniel leapt for the old Crucifix. Father Patrick blessed the crowd and before the choir could begin their refrain, the lads had led the Priest through the crowd and out the rear.

*

“Ashamed I am,” the old woman commented. “I’ve never seen such a sacrilege in m’life as I have today. You should both be looking for a Confessor.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Keenan,” Canon Hanrahan said, leaning closer, “Could you be repeating that? M’hearing ‘tisn’t so good these days.”

The woman turned on Patrick, but then changed her mind. She retreated into the crowd milling about the Crossroad. “Something is telling me she doesn’t care much for football,” Canon Hanrahan commented.

“That’s as much as she told me Sunday last,” Patrick offered, his hand to Mr. McCreary, and Canon Hanrahan greeted the Smiths.

*

Old Canon Hanrahan emerged onto the field first, holding back either side with upraised hands. He found himself a spot dead center either goal post, and dramatically, he drew in the spring dampness. Then he raised his face to the Heavens and crossed himself. A gull landed at his feet and pecked at his shoe. “In the name of the Father,” he said, “And the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” He began with The Lord’s Prayer and followed that with two Hail Mary’s. Someone groaned when he began the third. Father Patrick, stuffed into tight trousers, crossed the field to his side and whispered in his ear. The old Priest finished off quickly.

From the edge of the field, a ball shot into the air. It was made of rags, and even flew one as a flag. It was neither a soccer ball, nor an American football. Instead, it was as big around as a soccer ball, and longer than a football. It had no points. Canon Hanrahan caught it and set it at his feet. The crowd cheered loud enough to dislodge the rocks behind them, and Canon Hanrahan hurried away. He checked the field first, looking for the officials. Either side agreed to supply four. 

Malachie O’Shea, a brute of a man, guarded the goal while the Corrigans, Rory Murphy, Father Patrick, O'Hare and his lads formed three lines. They rushed the ball. Brendan, sinking his foot into it from the front, soloed it into his hand. Within two steps, he bounced it, and then knocked it backwards. Rory Murphy had it. Two of the Waell's Crossing boyos lifted Brendan into the air and tossed him aside. They faced off against Rory and O’Hare. Neither of the Waell’s Crossing boyos realized it until Father Patrick carried the ball up the outside towards their goal. Another pair from Waell’s Crossing stepped in front of Father

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