the papal
rite to banish anyone from its blessed entourage for violating the
tenets of established truth. Let's rest our case for argument's sake,
on this and all that has transpired today."

My companion was working on a pair of stubborn galoshes as I prepared
my coat for a quick exit through the snow.

The workings of Truth, all debate seemed so pointless after all--just
an elixir for resentment with the shifting sands of mood ever ready to
wash away any permanency. Like snow, words reigned as queen of the
elements for an appointed time, then they, too, passed away.

I had the feeling I had witnessed more than a huffy outburst within
myself against winter's dreary confines or the frustration of a limited
talent.

I had expressed the narrowing of tolerance and the box canyon of a
roped spirit that clamours for freedom on the wind of a signal fury.

I paused and went forth into the storm.

[1] A Medieval Schoolman celebrated Or his sharpness.

ERRANDS

We repeat, the aim of the IRA has always been the liberation of our
homeland. Any who aid or abet the enemy must fall full prey to force of
arms. (The Republican Proclamation)

Somewhere in the distance a dog kept at his baying. A long mournful
whelping that seemed torn from the damp night's very throat. Sean could
not help but hear it; so deeply did the dog's vocal cords implant sound
upon human ears. He could not help but think of the provos warning
nuzzled like that dog's steady cry over and over into the fabric of
one's memory swift as searing iron.

"Aid or abet," he murmured softly to himself, "a long distance is
covered by such a comment."

His Catholic heritage did him no justice in resolving the torment. By
birth, name even appearance and occupation--all such persuasions meant
he should embrace what the Republicans preached. One no sooner got his
name on their lips, Sean Paddy MacGuire than they knew him Catholic.
Two grandfathers had died in the troubles prior to Erie's break with
Westminster. That alone should dictate undying hatred for the English
and their stooges, the Prods, in Ulster. He found little comfort,
though, in the ever continuing war of nerves. Yet the manifesto bade
every Catholic to think with his blood and put shoulder to duty.

Sean emptied his glass, left his seat at the window's ledge and made
for the tavern door. Sectarian violence often came to pubs and was
drawn clearly along denominational lines. O'Leary's was an obvious