Good Omens

Orient’s chariot inverted be, four wheles in the skye, a man with bruises be upon Youre Bedde, achinge his hedd for willow fine, a manne who testeth with a pyn yette his hart be clene, yette seed of myne own undoing, take the means of flame from himme for to mayk ryght certain, together ye sharle be, untyl the Ende that is to come. [Japanese car? Upturned. Car smash … not serious injury?? . . . take in … . . . willowfine = Aspirin (cf.3757) Pin = witchfinder (cf.102) Good witchfinder?? Refers to Pulsifer (cf.002) Search for matches, etc. In the 1990s! . . .. … hmm … . . . less than a day (cf.712, 3803, 4004)]
    Newt’s hand went automatically to his pocket. His cigarette lighter had gone.
    â€œWhat’s this mean?” he said hoarsely.
    â€œHave you ever heard of Agnes Nutter?” said Anathema.
    â€œNo,” said Newt, taking a desperate defense in sarcasm. “You’re going to tell me she invented mad people, I suppose.”
    â€œAnother fine old Lancashire name,” said Anathema coldly. “If you don’t believe, read up on the witch trials of the early seventeenth century. She was an ancestress of mine. As a matter of fact, one of your ancestors burned her alive. Or tried to.”
    Newt listened in fascinated horror to the story of Agnes Nutter’s death.
    â€œThou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer?” he said, when she’d finished.
    â€œThat sort of name was quite common in those days,” said Anathema. “Apparently there were ten children and they were a very religious family. There was Covetousness Pulsifer, False-Witness Pulsifer—”
    â€œI think I understand,” said Newt. “Gosh. I thought Shadwell said he’d heard the name before. It must be in the Army records. I suppose if I’d gone around being called Adultery Pulsifer I’d want to hurt as many people as possible.”
    â€œI think he just didn’t like women very much.”
    â€œThanks for taking it so well,” said Newt. “I mean, he must have been an ancestor. There aren’t many Pulsifers. Maybe … that’s why I sort of met up with the Witchfinder Army? Could be Fate,” he said hopefully.
    She shook her head. “No,” she said. “No such thing.”
    â€œAnyway, witchfinding isn’t like it was in those days. I don’t even think old Shadwell’s ever done more than kick over Doris Stokes’s dustbins.”
    â€œBetween you and me, Agnes was a bit of a difficult character,” said Anathema, vaguely. “She had no middle gears.”
    Newt waved the bit of paper.
    â€œBut what’s it got to do with this?” he said.
    â€œShe wrote it. Well, the original. It’s No. 3819 of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter , first published 1655.”
    Newt stared at the prophecy again. His mouth opened and shut.
    â€œShe knew I’d crash my car?” he said.
    â€œYes. No. Probably not. It’s hard to say. You see, Agnes was the worst prophet that’s ever existed. Because she was always right. That’s why the book never sold.”
    MOST PSYCHIC ABILITIES are caused by a simple lack of temporal focus, and the mind of Agnes Nutter was so far adrift in Time that she was considered pretty mad even by the standards of seventeenth-century Lancashire, where mad prophetesses were a growth industry.
    But she was a treat to listen to, everyone agreed.
    She used to go on about curing illnesses by using a sort of mold, and the importance of washing your hands so that the tiny little animals who caused diseases would be washed away, when every sensible person knew that a good stink was the only defense against the demons of ill health. She advocated running at a sort of gentle bouncing trot as an aid to living longer, which was extremely suspicious and first put the Witchfinders onto her, and stressed the importance of fiber in diet, although here she was clearly ahead of her time since most people were less bothered about the fiber in their diet than the gravel. And she wouldn’t cure warts.
    â€œItt is alle in youre Minde,” she’d say, “fogett about Itte, ane it wille goe Away.”
    It was obvious that Agnes had a line to the Future, but it was an unusually narrow and specific line. In other words, almost totally useless.
“How do you mean?” said Newt.
    â€œShe managed to come up with the kind of predictions