“Hmm,” said Erasmus’s companion, scratching the tip of his nose. “No, you are still far from your main prophecy. Too many errors. The Italians are always fighting the Arabs, but how can a black man rule in Rome? Persia—well and good . . . but there are no treasures in Libya, it is all desert that engenders nothing but a useless black oil. And even if there are iron birds in the world at that time—what ocean is this? Italy is separated from Libya by only a sea. No, too many errors—you are not yet ready. There is still time.”

“Time for what?”

“To prepare for the coming of the Executioner.”

I poured myself another finger of whiskey and asked: “So you called him the Executioner, Erasmus?”

“Yes, it was Blake who called him the Tiger—you know what poets are like . . .” Erasmus gazed pensively at the crimson coals glowing in the smoke-black opening of the hearth. “At that time my teacher called him the Executioner . . . or the Silent Executioner . . . or the Executioner of Prophets. The last title is probably the most correct one. He only comes to Prophets. To those who are preparing to make their main prophecy.”

“What for? What is so important about the main prophecy?”

“It’s global, that’s all,” Erasmus chuckled. “A forecast of a war in Libya or a flight to the moon concerns only a particular incident. Despite the significance of the events involved. The first prophecy must concern the whole of humankind.”

I pondered that for a moment or two, trying to decide exactly what it was in Erasmus’s words that had bothered me most. Then I realized.

“Humankind?”

“Yes, of course. The first prophecy is too global to be concerned only with us Others. The prophecy always speaks of human beings. Of humankind.”

“What kind of event could it be that affects the whole of humankind?” I wondered out loud. “A world war?”

“For example,” Erasmus said, nodding. “Of course, not even World Wars One and Two affected the whole of humankind directly. But, generally speaking, their impact was global.”

“Were the World Wars foretold?” I asked.

“Of course. Not merely foretold, but prophesied. World Wars One and Two. The Socialist Revolution in Russia . . .”

“The communists can be proud of themselves,” I remarked. “ ‘An event of world-historical significance’—that’s what the revolution was called in the USSR.”

Erasmus laughed.

“And what else have Prophets prophesied?

“Drawing on my own informal sources of information,” Erasmus said modestly, “other events honored to be the subject of a first prophecy were the creation of nuclear weapons, the discovery of penicillin, the appearance of rock music . . .”

I looked at Erasmus incredulously, but he nodded confidently.

“Yes, yes, the appearance of rock music. And also the publication of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem ‘The Bells,’ the fashion for miniskirts, the release of the film The Greek Fig Tree, the birth of Alistair Maxwell . . .”

“Who is Alistair Maxwell?” I asked, bemused.