They weren't kings really, those other visitors. The chaps that wrote the story down (and that was years after), they knew it, called them "wise men". Don't know where the "king" idea came from. Wizards, more like, astrologers even. Maybe there's something in that astrology stuff, but they were nearly a fortnight late. We were there at the birth, well, pretty soon after.

I don't know about angels. There was a light, like a star had exploded or something, but angels? We may have said so at the time; I'm not sure now. We'd gone into the village, some of us, looking for a drink and a change of company, but perhaps it was too late. Or perhaps it was just that the village was full of ­strangers claiming a royal ancestor. Pity they were all so ordinary.

But then we heard this baby, a real new one, in a cow-shed, with a pitiful little cry on him, and we went to have a peep. We had a lamb with us. Nothing unusual about that; he was only just weaned, and his mum had kicked him out, so we were keeping him warm. Lovely little chap he was, not a mark on him, just the kind for an offering in the temple. So when we saw the mum and dad so worried and lost-looking, and that scrap of a baby, well, they needed all the luck they could get. I suppose that was why we gave them the lamb.

But this is the bit that still scares me. When the baby saw the lamb he stopped  crying, and he looked ... peaceful. Wise. Only sad too, almost as if he knew what the lamb was in for. And - you'll say I was imagining it, but I know sheep, and I know what I saw - the lamb looked back at him the same. I've never seen that expression on a sheep again, and I've looked for it, believe me. It was almost as if he knew, too.