Part 2 Thomas More was anxious to head off at first light. He found Bishop James Sadolet, or 'Jimmy' as the prelate wished to be known, in the visitors' quarters of Hampton Place. Jimmy was penning a letter. "To the people of Geneva," Jimmy explained. More was taken aback. He understood from Cardinal Wolsey's explanation of the previous night that the conversion of the followers of Calvin would be done through the media of fire and sword, rather than the tried-and-failed approach of evangelism, whether epistolary or incarnate. And once the necessary conversion had been achieved, the threat of Calvin's theology of Mass destruction would be averted and Jimmy could take his seat at the reconsecrated cathedral of St Peter in Geneva. But the regime change could not be engineered by a mere missive. Three well-placed barrels of gunpowder could do more than any letter, no matter how well crafted. Jimmy insisted on reading the letter aloud. The communication began by begging its readers to assume that the correctness of Catholicism or Protestantism might be resolved either way. To More this seemed a straight-out admission of defeat. But Jimmy persisted in reading. If Protestantism were false, any choosing the heresy would be damned at the Last Judgment for all time. But if Catholicism were wrong, the believer faithful to Rome would be following in the footsteps of 15 centuries of believers who Divine Providence had never allowed to be tempted by the recently emerging Protestantism. In other words, the Catholic Christian would be either vindicated or forgiven. It was an each way bet that the believer could not lose. At last More reached the end of the letter. It was signed, "From Geneva, with love." "Who is this 'Geneva', your grace?" More asked Jimmy. "'Tis I," Jimmy explained, "Ever since taking up my see, albeit not carnally, Geneva is my name. In the land of my birth, I was Jacopo Sadoleto. In Savoy I am Sadolet. To my English friends I am Jimmy. And in Geneva I am Geneva." Jimmy's got so many aliases, More found himself musing, one would think he was hiding from the Inquisition. "I would not give these heretic aught but a short shrift," declared Sir Thomas, "Your Christian charity is commendable, your grace, but have they not damned themselves to perdition." "Yet even Mother Church teaches the efficacy of Grace," the bishop countered, "And I hold myself in part responsible. As papal secretary I penned the Bull for the building fund[1] that so enraged the heresiarch Luther." "You mustn't blame yourself, your grace. By their own actions, not yours, the heretics in Geneva have condemned themselves." "Even so," sighed Jimmy. He wondered aloud if Wolsey had a messenger who could deliver the letter. An urgency came over More, "If we ride now, your grace, we can reach Savoy as fast as any messenger." Jimmy put his hand on More's shoulder, "We must ride now, Sir Thomas, but not to Savoy. Our first destination is Venice. And here is why..."

Lightning flashed, piercing the otherwise stygian gloom. Thomas More's heart was torn with melancholy[2] as he pulled his sodden fur collar closer by his neck. The rain clouds had passed by, though the electrical storm was still visible on the horizon. Water yet dripped from branches overhanging the road. Venice was still an hour's ride away. Yet the cause of More's unhappiness lay not solely in the sphere of meteorology. There was a presentiment of danger. And in his active life More had learnt not to ignore such an intuition. It was dry enough to wind three quarrels on Father Leo's bow. Should his fears prove unfounded, More would use one of the nearby trees for target practice before his allotted five minutes has expired. "Stand and deliver!" came a command in Italian. Four well dressed ruffians rode out of the shadows. More's premonition was correct. 'Twang!' The crossbow sang three times as Sir Thomas squeezed the trigger. Three horsemen fell, the fourth rode off shouting, "It's a ruse! There's more than four of them!" To whom the survivor was crying, More could only surmise. But there was no time for speculation. "Come on!" More shouted to Jimmy as the Englishman spurred Martin into full gallop. Jimmy applied his heels to his gelding Philip and hurtled close behind.

It was not practical to take horses into the city herself, so Martin and Philip were stabled in the village of Marghera. While this was being attended to More questioned Jimmy. "Your grace, those rogues who waylaid us where extraordinarily well dressed. Could anyone know of our plan to visit Burkhardt?"[3] The bishop flinched, "Yes, yes, perhaps. No secrets in this world. No secrets. But you seek Calvin's Achilles' heel. Georg will know. Oh yes. Spalatinus was secretary to the Prince Elector, John the Wise of Saxony. He was with the Prince and the heresiarch when the latter was burnt at Worms." "Then we must hasten," declared More, "Spalatin lives on the Fabbrica? Let us take this gondola there this moment." They boarded. Jimmy spoke a few words in Italian to the gondolier who quickly set the trio off with firm, manly thrusts of his long pole. Soon the Giudecca Canal had taken them past Saint Mark's Square. A profusion of banners bearing the device of the winged lion of Venice fluttered in the breeze. More whispered to Jimmy, "Don't turn around suddenly. But casually, tell me if you think that gondola astern is following us." A moment later, Jimmy said _sotto voce_, "By our Lady, Thomas, I believe you are right." In a louder voice, Jimmy ordered their gondolier to push faster." More glanced behind. "Damnation!" he swore, "They're matching us stroke for stroke. If only..." His words were interrupted by a quarrel flying over his head. "Get down!" he hissed to Jimmy in English. The gondolier, oblivious, remained erect, pushing his pole. More loaded his crossbow, just a single quarrel this time. He stood, shot - a miss - then fell flat. This caused his antagonist in the other vessel to also duck. The contest continued for two more rounds, neither bowman providing a reliable target when the other was ready to shoot. Finally, More ordered their gondolier to slow. The Englishman wound a full three quarrels into his bow. He ostentatiously shot one over the head of his cowering opponent, who was now but two chains distance. The other jumped to his feet, assuming More had shot his bolt. It was his final mistake as More's second and third quarrels hit home. The dead man's gondolier took fright at this point and desperately tried to reverse. "Follow that gondola!" More commanded in Italian. Their gondola began to describe a tight semi-circle as the gondolier tried to point in the correct direction. But the manoeuvre was aborted by the sound of horns and the Doge's barge hoving into view. "Scusi," said the gondolier, helplessly. "Offer him more money," hissed More to Jimmy. "More than his life's worth, Thomas," Jimmy explained. "The Doge's right of way is absolute." The other gondola was gone. There was nothing more but to continue to the Fabbrica to meet with Georg Spalatin. [To be continued]

[1] Of 1515, promoting the sale of indulgences to fund the building of St Peter's in Rome. [2] "It was a dark and stormy night. Thomas More was not a happy man," for those who eschew strong verbs. [3] Georg Burkhardt, alias Georg Spalatin, alias Spalatinus. Born 1484 in Spalt, near Nuremberg, hence some of his monikers. Has almost as many aliases as Jimmy. Though why people can't accept the name they are born with, and use only that, I know not.