The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [497]
“And the fourth?”
“ ‘A man named after a form of waterproof shoe shall trounce a short Frenchman in Belgium.’ ”
“Clearly Waterloo—and the fifth?”
“ ‘The evil yet nattily dressed aggressors known as Nasis, whose fear has polarized the nation, will be ejected from these islands by—and I know this sounds really weird—the colony that was mentioned in prediction three. And Denis Compton will score 3,816 runs for Middlesex in a single season.’ ”
“Uncanny,” murmured Lydia. “How would a thirteenth-century monk know that Compton batted for Middlesex?”
“He was, and indeed might be again, the greatest of seers,” replied Joffy.
“We know that his Revealment the Sixth was a prediction of his own second coming, but it is the sports fans of Swindon who will really be bowled over by his Revealment the Seventh.”
“Exactly so,” replied Joffy. “According to the incomplete Codex Zvlkxus, it shall be ‘There will be a home win on the playing fields of Swindonne in nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and in consequence of . . .’ There is more, but it’s been lost. We can ask him about it when he reappears.”
“Fascinating stuff, Irrev. Next! Just one question. Where is he?”
I looked at my watch as Friday stood on my lap and stared that unnerving sort of two-year-old stare at the couple behind us. St. Zvlkx was already three minutes late, and I saw Joffy bite his lip nervously. They had made much of the Great Man’s predictions, and for him not to turn up would be just plain embarrassing—not to mention costly. Joffy had spent a great deal of Mum’s savings learning Old English at the local adult-education center.
“Tell me, Irrev. Next,” continued Lydia, trying to pad out the interview. “I understand that the Toast Marketing Board has secured a sponsorship deal with St. Zvlkx?”
“Indeed,” replied Joffy. “We at the Idolatry Friends of St. Zvlkx have secured on his behalf a very favorable deal with Toast, who wanted to have exclusive rights to his likeness and wisdom, if he has any.”
“Nevertheless, I understand that the Goliath Corporation was also said to be interested?”
“Not really. Goliath has been less than enthusiastic since their sportswear division paid over two hundred fifty thousand pounds for an exclusive sponsorship deal with St. Bernadette of Lincoln. But since her return six months ago, she has done nothing except brick herself up in a room and pray in silent retrospection, something that doesn’t lend itself to selling running shoes. The Toast Marketing Board, on the other hand, made no such demands—they are happy just to see what Zvlkx himself would like to do for them.”
Lydia turned back to the camera. “Astonishing. If you’ve just joined us, I’m speaking from the live telecast of the second coming of the thirteenth-century saint Thomas Zvlkx.”
I looked at my watch again. Zvlkx was now five minutes late. Lydia carried on her live broadcast, interviewing several other people to soak up time. The crowd grew slightly impatient, and a low murmuring started to arise from the expectant silence. Lydia had just asked a style guru about the sort of clothes they might be expecting Zvlkx to be wearing when she was interrupted by a shout. Something was happening just outside Tesco’s between the child’s coin-in-the-slot flying-elephant ride and the letterbox. Joffy vaulted over the press enclosure and ran towards where a column of smoke was rising from a crack that had opened up in the mother-and-child parking area. The sky grew dark, birds stopped singing and shoppers coming out of the revolving doors stared in astonishment as a bolt of lightning