Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon (18 page)

•••

"Here's the processional for Sunday," I said, handing out a hastily scribbled and copied piece of music to the choir. "You'll be walking just in front of the donkey."

The choir had already heard about the donkey. It was the foremost subject of conversation at supper.

"It's a short refrain for the choir with some solos on the verses," I said, as the choir looked over their music. "With a few added handbells for effect, it should be quite lovely. Memorize the refrain. It's only four measures long."

"Are all the children processing as well?" asked Rebecca.

"They are. But they'll be behind the donkey. You guys come in right after Wenceslas. No wait – that's not right. Here's the order. Crucifer, verger, acolytes, thurifer, choir, the donkey with His Eminence astride, the Barnacles, then the children waving the palm branches," I said, counting them off. The Barnacles was the title given to Father Barna's cope attendants by the choir, much to their embarrassment.

"What else are we singing?" asked Fred.

"Victoria's
Hosanna Filio David
, as the introit. Then we'll sing the Casals'
O Vos Omnes
at communion. We have a lot to sing next week. The service on Maundy Thursday at seven. The Good Friday service is at noon for all the men that can be here.

"Hey!" said Marjorie, coming up the stairs, a little late as usual. "Did you hear they found another snake?"

"Where was it?" asked Georgia.

"You won't believe this! It was curled up in Father Barna's spare toupee – the one he keeps in the sacristy! He picked it up to shake it and the snake came slithering out! I'd have given a hundred dollars to see that."

Her merriment was contagious and soon the entire choir was laughing.

"Listen Hayden," said Bev. "Before we get into all this depressing music and," she said smiling, "since we just had that simply stunning reenactment of the authentic last supper, may we please sing through
The Weasel Cantata
? There are several new choir members who haven't sung it."

"I've never sung it," quipped Rebecca. "We were going to sing it last Christmas when I joined the choir, but we never did."

"I haven't sung it either," added Jeanie. Several others nodded their heads.

"Fine," I said, looking over the balcony rail and seeing Father Barna deep in conversation with Jelly and Princess Foo-Foo. "This may be just the right time to go through it."

The choir members had
The Weasel Cantata
²
stashed in the back of their folders along with several other repugnant pieces I had written over the years including a motet entitled
Like As The Dog Returns From His Vomit
(on Proverbs 26:11).
The Weasel Cantata
, however, had the distinction of being the only piece ever written on the dietary laws of Leviticus and takes advantage of the fact that the word "weasel" is only mentioned in the Bible one time. Leviticus 11:29 – "And these are unclean to you among the swarming things that swarm upon the earth: the weasel, the mouse, the great lizard according to its kind." The verses flow over a Baroque rendering of
Pop Goes The Weasel
while the choruses are sung to the Thanksgiving hymn
We Gather Together
. It is an altogether lovely and well-crafted work of surpassing beauty. Or so I've been told.

I began the introduction, glancing toward the priestly convocation to make sure they were within earshot.

How many times does the weasel appear

In the Bible? just once – and it's perfectly clear,

That Moses and weasels did not get along,

And it's in his mem'ry we're singing this song.

Of all of the animals sitting around

In the Old Testament there may be found

Only one reference to our sly friend

From Genesis 1:1 straight through to the end.

The choir sang with gusto as they finished the first verse and launched into the Thanksgiving hymn:

The Weasel Cantata, it's not a sonata,

You cannot eat weasel though it may taste fine,

Or lizards or vermin, cause they commence to squirmin'

Leviticus: eleven, verse twenty-nine.

I snuck a peek down at the unholy trinity as we began the second verse. On this verse, the basses all had a little countermelody –
Pop Goes The Weasel
– sung in Latin. Father Barna, Jelly and the Princess were all looking up in disgust.

You can eat all you want of a sheep, but no pork,

And you cannot eat pelican, heron or stork,

Or tortoise or eagles or bugs on the floor,

And if you eat ravens, you'll cry "Nevermore!"

But all of these rules will come down in a trice,

When you develop a taste for fried mice.

For nothing's as tasty, no matter the cost,

As freshly baked mole-pie with iguana sauce!

So if you love weasel, just give it a squeezel,

And don't mind the greasel and it may taste fine,

With lizards and vermin, and never mind the squirmin',

Leviticus: eleven, verse twenty-nine.

The choir finished with aplomb and cheered themselves as they finished. I looked over the balcony rail, but the church was empty.

"OK," I said with a laugh. "Enough of this foolishness. Let's get to work."

•••

I went by the McCollough's trailer on Saturday morning. I had called Ardine on my way up the mountain and she was waiting for me on the makeshift porch. Moosey was behind her, trying to get by, but she had him pinned inside the door.

"Will you quit it!" she admonished. "You can go out in a second."

"I need to talk to you anyway, Moosey," I said as I went up the steps. "I have a job for you."

"How 'bout a candy bar?" Moosey said as he squeezed past his mother and went to my jacket pocket. I raised my hands as he frisked me and found the Milky Way. Then, quicker than Ardine could say "don't spoil your dinner," he had it peeled and half stuffed into his mouth.

"C'mon in," said Ardine, holding the door open. "I just can't teach that boy no manners."

"It's OK. He'll learn them once we send him off to
military school
." I looked hard at Moosey, but he'd heard the threat before and wasn't fazed by it.

"I wanna go, I tell ya! PLEASE send me to military school!"

"Well, you can't go. Not until you learn some manners," said Ardine, taking the opposite tact. Then she shook her head with a smile. These threats weren't exactly working out as she'd hoped.

I stepped into the living room. The McCollough trailer wasn't fancy, but it was always neat as a pin. Carrying a book, Bud came out of his room at the commotion and stood in the hallway.

"Hello, sir," he said, closing the book with his thumb inside to mark the place. Bud was a voracious reader and the single biggest patron of the St. Germaine library. To suppliment his habit, I brought him a book every week that he dutifully returned once he was finished reading it. He was also St. Germain's foremost authority on fine wines.

"Hey Mom," Bud said. "Pauli said to tell you that she was down at Lisa's doing a project. She'll be home before dinner."

"Thank you, Bud."

"Listen Bud," I said. "Anything new on the wine front I should know about?"

"The next time you're in Asheville, go to the Wine Market on Biltmore Avenue and get some
Beringer Gamay Nouvea.
It's based on the same Gamay grape as
Beaulolais Nouveau
but fruitier and simpler. I think you and Miss Farthing will really like it."

"Thanks," I said, writing the information in my notepad. "Oh, by the way, here's an interesting read." I pulled a worn copy of the first of the Horatio Hornblower novels by C.F. Forrester out of my coat pocket.

"Wow!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "I've been wanting to read these, but our library doesn't have them. I was going to try inter-library loan, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Well, I have them all, so don't bother trying to hunt them down."

"That's great!" he said, turning and walking down the hall before throwing a "Thanks!" back over his shoulder.

"OK, Moosey," I said, turning my attention to the real reason I came by. "Here's the thing. We need someone to lead the donkey down the aisle on Sunday morning."

"What donkey?" asked Ardine.

"The donkey for Palm Sunday. Geez, Mom," said Moosey with the disgust evident in his voice that only a six-year old can muster. "Don't you know about anything about religion?"

Ardine looked at me questioningly.

"I'm afraid he's right. The priest is riding a donkey into church on Palm Sunday morning."

"But why?" asked Ardine, finally voicing the question we'd all been asking ourselves.

"It's hard to say exactly," I said, raising an eyebrow in Moosey's direction. "I'll tell you later. Anyway, we need someone who is good with animals to lead the donkey in. It wouldn't do for Jeremiah to get scared."

"I can do it!" said Moosey. "Sure I can! I've already been over to Connie Ray's about a hundred times to play with him."

"I know you have."

"I told you to leave Connie Ray's animals alone," said Ardine sternly.

"Aw, Mom. He says I can come over and help him any time."

"It's true," I said, sticking up for Moosey. "That's what Connie Ray told me, too. Anytime he wants. And Connie Ray said that Moosey's mighty good with that donkey."

We both looked at Ardine and waited hopefully for her answer.

"All right then," she said, shaking her head. "But don't you two cause any trouble at that church."

Moosey and I looked at each other, then back to Ardine, shook our heads at the same time and answered in unison. "No ma'am. We won't."

•••

"You'll need to bring something for Jeremiah to munch on," I said to Moosey as he and I walked down the steps to my car. "Sometimes donkeys like a little treat. Carrots would be good."

Moosey nodded.

Chapter 15

I leaned back in my chair and contemplated my next move. The clowns were a problem. Rocki was a problem. Lilith was a problem. The bishop was always a problem. I had more problems than a Viagra salesman at a Castrati Convention.

The door slammed open and there was another problem. A big problem. It was Race. Race Rankle.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Calm down, Race," I said. "Take off your coat and have a drink."

"Listen, Bub
!
I don't have time for this, so I'll cut to the bottom line. You help me out and when this merger goes through General Convention, I'll cut you in for two percent."

"What about the clowns?" I asked.

"What clowns? I don't know nothing about no clowns. I've got this leper colony deal workin'."

I'd never had an interest in a leper colony, but I wasn't above taking one. I opened the bottle of Scotch on my desk and poured a couple of fingers into two glasses. Then I took Lilith's fingers out of the glasses and dropped in a couple of cubes. "That Lilith," I thought. "Always leaving trinkets around."