Part 3 Spalatinus insisted on being called George, "The patron saint of your country," he told Sir Thomas More. "All we wanted was the spread of humanistic values," wailed George in his modestly furnished apartment on the Fabbrica, "of equality and tolerance, of salvation through reason and brotherly love." "You are a humanist?" enquired More. "I enjoyed a correspondence with Erasmus," said George proudly, "Did he mention me?" More shook his head. George looked hurt. "Martin was moody," George continued, "He wanted reforms but often he would just read the Bible, to the exclusion of other literature. And he could be so headstrong! I was there when they burnt him, you know. Even then, his last words were not abjuration, or even for mercy. He said, 'Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen.'" This time it was George who shook his head, "At least, I think his final shriek was 'Amen'." Jimmy placed a consoling hand on George, "What Luther did was folly, but as Erasmus reminds us, we can still praise folly." More was shocked. Praise the actions of Luther? Was that what Jimmy meant? But before he could give voice to his questions, George said something even more shocking. "There are humanists in the most surprising of places. Take Loyola and Calvin." More spluttered, "Both Loyola and Calvin believe in salvation through reason and brotherly love?" George nodded. More was shocked. To believe that Man could be saved this way was a heresy, one of the worse ones if he recalled correctly. What was it called? Perfectibilism? Jimmy would know. But before he could ask the bishop, George said something more shocking still. "And there are Jewish and Muslim humanists too, that are also on the path to salvation." This was piling heresy upon heresy. "How could infidels be saved?" demanded More. "If they treat one another with tolerance, as equals," said George, "With faith in the Great Architect of the universe and living lives of reason and brotherly love, then why might they not be saved?" "For the simple reason," insisted More, "That the God of the infidels is not the same as the God of the Christians." "Oh, Tommy!" chided Jimmy gently, "You must not anthropomorphise God. You can't force Him into a form pleasing to you." "But what of Christ?" More wanted to know. "You can't anthropomorphise Him either," declared Jimmy. Seeing the thunderstruck look on More's face and realising what he had just said might seem a tad Monophysite to the unsophisticated Sir Thomas, Jimmy changed the subject, "Let us not overlook the vital tidings George has given us in re Calvin." More thought back. "What, that he's a humanist?" he hazarded. "Precisely," said Jimmy, "And if you, a humanist, react in such a way to the inner teachings of humanism, heretofore kept from you, how might Calvin's simple peasant followers react?" "They'd tear him limb from limb!" More paused then turned to George, "Have you any proof of Calvin's true beliefs?" "Not I. But my old teacher, Christian, one of the wisest of us, he studied with Calvin at university. It is he who told me this and he would have proof." "Then let us go to this Christian at once!" George held up a hand. "Not so fast, my friend! Christian resides now in Constantinople, living under the guise of a Greek merchant. This allows him to travel freely through the Kingdom of the Turks during the winter months to seek the ancient wisdom of the East. But this season you would find him at his home near the Church of St Mary Pammakaristos in Constantine's City. You cannot miss his shop, it is under the sign of the cross and rose." More turned to Jimmy, "Let's go!" This time both Jimmy and George sought to restrain the Englishman. Jimmy spoke first. "Not I, Thomas. I must return to my see. Not to Geneva but the Catholic countryside. I must plough the fields in preparation for the seed you will bring back, that the harvest might be fruitful." More could see it now. Outraged followers killing their leader and then infighting between the Calvinists - pontifexcides against loyalists. Then the shocked remnant turning to a merciful Mother Church. That would be a bountiful harvest indeed! Then George spoke his piece, "I have an adult daughter, Tamina, who is studying under Christian.. It is several years since we have seen each other." He pointed to a portrait on the wall. "She is homesick but I have forbidden her to return as yet, for it is dangerous for a girl to travel unaccompanied. But if you would escort her Thomas, for I am sure she would be safe with you." Thomas nodded. If Tamina looked like her picture than George could rest assured he would not allow any other man to lay a hand upon her. George reached up a wall and unhooked some panpipes. "This flute," he said, "I used to play her lullabies as a small child. When she sees this instrument she will truly know you come from me."

After minor alarums and excursions, the walls of Constantinople and, beyond them, the spires of the Hagia Sophia came into view as the vessel sailed up the Sea of Marmara. More quickly found the sign of the cross and rose. A dark man with a thick moustache came to the door. "Christian?" More hazarded. "Demetrius," the walrus-moustachioed one said and pulled More inside.

"Yes, I am Christian. But in the City I am Demetrius and in Egypt I am Abdul. As a brunette, in this hot sun, I can pass for either Greek or Turk." This was true, More marvelled, as the two spoke in Christian's native German. There were more marvels to come. What seemed like a mean shopfront opened into a spacious, grassy courtyard. Pavilions were being erected and torches lit, in preparation for what might be an evening feast. "You didn't have to do all this for me, Demetrius," joked More. "Ah, Sir Thomas," smiled Christian, "If I knew you were coming I would have baked a karithopita. No, this is a betrothal feast for one of my fellow merchants. The only trouble is, we don't know the bride." "You don't?" asked More in wonderment. "It is an alliance between my house and his," explained Christian, "I have two daughters, Daphne and Irene. As a father, I cannot choose between them, for both are fair, diligent and well-spoken. The thing is, neither can Andronicus. So during the feast we will have a contest of kourabiethes. Sir Thomas, would you be willing to be the judge?" More, despite a fair knowledge of Greek, had no idea what kourabiethes might be. But it sounded if it could involve mud, so he readily agreed.

The stars shone and the torches burned. The garlic lamb was perfectly tender. Whoever thought of accompanying it with potatoes from the new world baked in olive oil, lemon and oregano was a genius. Christian was reminiscing about his college days. He had More on his right and Tamina on his left. "It was Iggy who started it. He was the oldest. He'd had a bit of trouble in Spain with his involvement with the Alumbrados - I suppose you would call them the Illuminated Ones. Not there was any such problem in Paris - everyone at the university was heartily sick of the Ancients and were eager to hear any new thing. Hans - Calvin - hung on Iggy's every word." More smiled, "And what of you, Demetrius?" "I was just a young kid from a small town. Being in Paris I reacted by embracing the familiar religion - mass every day and three times on Sunday. But the priest at the college chapel had fallen under Iggy's spell too - his spiritual exercises. Not the _Spiritual Exercises_ you can buy today - this was before he changed." More thought he had detected a hint of bitterness in Christian's words. Was he disappointed that Loyola had seemingly turned his back on humanism? "No. If anyone's to blame it was Mart. He spoiled it for everyone. Iggy's now a paladin for an ultra-pure vision of the Church, Hans has discarded Mart's humanism and is instead taking his Protestantism to its extremely logical conclusion. And I too hide my humanism under a bushel with the pretence of mercantilism as I grope for wisdom in conditions of extreme secrecy. "But enough of this. It is time." Christian clapped two hands together. "Let the contest commence!" he announced. Two young ladies stepped forward. Christian was right, More realised, there was little to separate them. The one of the left, Daphne More later learned, was buxom and had a smile like sunshine on a spring morning. Irene was taller, with flowing tresses of dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. But there was certainly something about Daphne as she leant forward and crushed the nuts. Irene's nut-crushing was more pedestrian but she had a distinct elegance as her hands swept the almond slivers onto the flour and sugar in her mixing bowl. More felt he was marginally favouring Irene as both girls put their biscuit trays in the embers of the fire. But the proof of the shortbread would be in the eating. While the kourabiethes cooked, Christian and More toasted each other with fiery liquid. "Raki," Christian explained, "One of the greatest gifts of the Turks to the world." "Turks distilled this?" enquired Moore, "Does not their religion prohibit ardent spirits?" "Oh, Sir Thomas," reproached Christian, "Didn't George explain that there were Muslim humanists, too? Living a life of reason and love means enjoying good food and good drink with good friends, regardless of one's religion." Soon the baking was complete; delectable morsels were placed before him. But before the sweetmeats could be enjoyed there was a shout from without, "Open up, in the name of the Sultan!" Armed janizaries burst in. Their leader demanded, "Where is the woman known as Tamina?" Tamina gasped, realising too late this might not be a wise thing to do. Two soldiers seized her. Their captain read from a scroll, "It is His Sublime Majesty's pleasure that the Christian woman known as Tamina should wed His Majesty three days hence. In the meantime the said Tamina should be taken to the Seraglio in preparation. Long life to his Majesty!" There was a ragged mumbling of "Long life to His Majesty!" from the guests and then Tamina and the janizaries were gone. [To be continued]