'Cash?'

Joffy nodded.

'Thank ?*&£@ for that,' said Zvlkx. 'Has the ale improved Since I've been away?'

'Not much. But the choice is better.'

'Can't wait. Hubba-hubba! Who's the moppet in the tight blouse?'

'Mr Next,' interjected Lydia. who had managed to push her way to the front, 'perhaps you would be good enough to tell us what Mr Zvlkx is saying?'

'I – um – welcomed him to the twentieth century and said we had much to learn from him as regards beekeeping and the lost art of brewing mead. He – um – said just then that he is tired after his journey and wants only world peace, bridges between nations and a good home for orphans, kittens and puppies.'

The crowd suddenly parted to make way for the Mayor of Swindon. St Zvlkx knew power when he saw it and smiled a greeting to Lord Volescamper, who walked briskly up and shook the monk's grimy hand.

'Look here, welcome to the twentieth century, old salt,' said Volescamper, wiping his hand on his handkerchief. 'How are you finding it?"

'Welcome to our age,' translated Joffy, 'How are you enjoying your stay?'

'Cushty, me old cocker babe,' replied the saint simply.

'He says very well, thank you.'

'Tell the worthy saint that we have a welcome pack awaiting him in the presidential suite at the Finis Hotel. Knowing his aversion to comfort we took the liberty of removing all carpets, drapes, sheets and towels and replaced the bedclothes with hemp sacks stuffed with rocks.'

'What did the old fart say?'

'You don't want to know.'

'What about the incomplete seventh Revealment?' asked Lydia. 'Can St Zvlkx tell us anything about that?'

Joffy swiftly translated and St Zvlkx rummaged in the folds of his blanket and produced a small leather-bound book. The crowd fell silent as he licked a grubby finger, turned to the requisite page and read:

'There will be a home win on the playing fields of Swindonne in nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and in consequence of this and only in consequence of this, a great tyrant and the company named Goliathe will fall.'

All eyes switched to Joffy, who translated. There was a sharp intake of breath and a clamour of questions.

'Mr Zvlkx,' said a reporter from The Mole, who up until that moment had been bored out of his skull, 'do you mean to say that Goliath will be lost if Swindon wins the Superhoop?'

'That is exactly what he says,' replied Joffy.