‘They have to be warned!' Bugenhagen cried. The people at the next table turned their heads in irritation. Bugenhagen lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. 'I'm too old, too ill,' he said. 'I can't go myself. And since I'm the only person who knows the truth, I must…' Bugenhagen evidently found the thought so frightening that he was unable to say it aloud.

'Must what?' Morgan prompted him.

Bugenhagen stared into his drink. ‘... Stay where I'll be safe,' he said.

Morgan shook his head sadly. 'My dear friend,' he sighed. Bugenhagen knew what Morgan was going to say even before he said it. He recognized the condescending tone in his voice. 'I have a reputation,' Morgan went on, but Bugenhagen overrode him vehemently: 'That's why it has to be you! They'll listen to you!'

Morgan was becoming unnerved. There was something unsettling about Bugenhagen's fervor, but what he was asking Morgan to do was simply impossible. 'C'mon, Carl,' he said, 'they'd have me committed.'

Bugenhagen stood up. With the light from the setting sun behind him outlining his prophet's beard, he looked fierce, mad, and holy. 'Come to Yigael's Wall,' he said. It was a command, unlike any command Morgan had ever heard before. There was no resisting it.

'Now?' he asked quietly, already knowing what the answer would be.

'Now,' said Bugenhagen, and he turned and walked outside to his jeep.

Joan felt excluded. 'May I come too?' she asked, putting on her most winning smile.

Morgan shook his head. 'Why don't you wait for me back at the hotel? This won't take long.' He leaned forward and gave her a long, lingering kiss. Then he got up to leave.

'All right,' she said with an exaggerated sigh of impatience. But I'm telling you now—I won't wait forever.'

He laughed and blew her another kiss, then disappeared around the corner.

And that was the last time Joan Hart ever saw Michael Morgan, although it took her a long time to accept it, and an even longer time to understand why.

***

The ancient walled castle of Belvoir stood at the head of the Cebulan Valley, not far from the city of Acre. It had been there since the twelfth century, when the Crusaders, whose name derived from the cross of Christ, came down from Europe to wrest the Holy Land from the Moslems. They built the castle in His name. And it was in the ruins of the castle that Bugenhagen found the proof he needed—that an Anti-Christ was living among us. Now.

***