‘The king,’ Erasmus replied instantly. He blinked in bewilderment and looked up. ‘On what hill?’
‘It matters not. You foretell the future, even though with little skill as yet. But tell me: in three or four hundred years, who will rule on the Capitol Hill?’
‘A black man will ascend the throne and all will glorify him as a peacemaker. But he will send iron birds across the ocean to seize the treasures of the Libyans and the Persians, and by that shall be caused a great war and convulsions in the world …’ the boy intoned slowly, as if he was sleepy.
‘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 realised.
‘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 honoured 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.
‘He died in Australia in the 1960s,’ said Erasmus. ‘As an infant. He lived for less than a month.’
‘What of it?’
‘I don’t know. But then, did the film The Greek Fig Tree really have a powerful effect on people? Or miniskirts?’
‘Miniskirts certainly did!’ I said firmly.
‘Let’s assume so. Then Alistair probably had an influence too.’
‘How?’
Erasmus shrugged and spread his hands.
‘Sometimes prophecies are not clear straight away. The effect of Maxwell’s birth on humankind evidently has yet to be clarified.’
‘Half a century after his death in infancy?’
‘ “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio …” There have been a few other strange prophecies, but it was never possible to prove that they were prophecies and not just predictions. Well, and naturally, there are some things we’ve never heard. Because of the Tiger, or for other reasons.’
‘Including your prophecy,’ I said.
Erasmus was embarrassed. ‘Including mine … But, you know, I really wanted to live.’
‘It’s hard to blame you for that,’ I agreed.
The teacher woke Erasmus as morning was approaching. He acknowledged no difference between the night and the day and, naturally, people could not hinder his movements in any way.
‘Get up!’ said the teacher, pressing his hand over the boy’s mouth. ‘Be quiet and do not make a sound!’
Erasmus crawled off the bed. The teacher threw him his clothes – stockings, trousers, shirt, jerkin …
‘He is close,’ said the teacher, pale-faced and with his lips trembling faintly. ‘I managed to get away … he was distracted by the village …’
‘By the village?’ Erasmus asked uncomprehendingly as he dressed hastily.
‘Yes, I made the people attack him … that will win us nothing except time – the Executioner is always thorough, he will finish with the people first.’
Someone stirred sleepily in Erasmus’s bed, someone buried under the eiderdown. The teacher looked at Erasmus’s crimson face and said: ‘Don’t wake Betty! She’ll give us another minute or two …’
Erasmus only hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded and clambered out through the window after his teacher.
The garden was fragrant with the cool freshness of the imminent dawn. Erasmus trudged after his teacher, who muttered quietly as he walked:
‘How could I … what a mistake … you’ve been ready to make the prophecy for a long time … I missed the harbingers …’
‘If I speak the prophecy, will the Executioner go away?’ asked Erasmus.
‘Yes, but only if no one hears the prophecy. Or if humans hear it.’
‘And if you hear it …’
‘The prophecy is for people!’ his teacher snapped. ‘It will come true if humans hear it! It will not come true if no one hears it. You will not remember what you have said – he won’t touch you after that – but if I hear it … he will kill me! So that I don’t tell the people!’
‘Then …’ Erasmus grabbed his teacher by the flap of his jerkin. ‘Then leave me. I remember what you taught me, I’ll do everything – and I’ll speak out the prophecy!’
‘You won’t manage it,’ replied the teacher. ‘You’re not fully prepared yet. You need a listener. You’re too inexperienced to prophesy into empty space … I didn’t prepare you in time …’
He groaned suddenly and grabbed hold of his head.
‘What’s happened?’ Erasmus exclaimed.
‘I’m a fool, boy. I should have defended the house … and you could have spoken the prophecy to your stupid girl … The Executioner would have left.’
‘And the prophecy would have come true?’
‘Yes. That is bad, all prophecies are bad … but you would have remained alive.’
The teacher suddenly laughed bitterly. ‘It seems that I have become attached to you, boy …’