Part 4 The guests had left the courtyard of Christian known as Demetrius shortly after Tamina was taken. Andronicus was among the last to leave. He was keen to know which of Christian's daughter's, Daphne or Irene, was the winner of that night's bake-off. More had taken a dislike to Andronicus, a balding, over-scented Greek who seemed to care for naught save commerce and his own appearance. He was in no hurry to see either of Christian's daughters married to this fop. "The matter will take deep consideration," Sir Thomas told the merchant, "I shall know who is the best two nights hence." As Andronicus left, Christian spoke to More alone, "And once two more nights are passed Tamina will be married to the Sultan. Oh, how I tried to keep her inside. She said she was not a Musselwoman, to be kept indoors or under a veil. But a young beauty like her, with all that blond hair - no wonder word reached the Palace. "Tamina was my pupil, I'd taught her almost everything I knew. She was keen to get back to the West, to Italy with her father or Germany his homeland. I'd promised her father that I would protect her and I would not willingly break my word to a fellow humanist. You seem a resourceful man, Sir Thomas. I have the proofs you need about Hans Calvin - they could be yours..." More thought how badly he needed the evidence of Calvin's past beliefs. He thought about Tamina. "I want to protect her, too," he declared. "I'll just need two days preparation." Two days is all we have," said Christian solemnly, "On the third she is wed."

Within 48 hours More possessed two new things. Firstly he had knowledge that, contrary to his earlier appraisal, Daphne was the better of Christian's daughters. (Although Irene was good, too.) Secondly, he had a plan. The only way More could enter the Seraglio was disguised as a eunuch. But More's pale English skin would look out of place. Christian had a remedy. "Tamarind juice," Christian said, painting the liquid on More's face, neck, arms and legs. "You can pass for a Turk like this. It's a pity we can't do anything about your green eyes but if you mostly squint, it should not matter." "Fortunately I brushed up on the language on the voyage from Venice," More boasted, "Sucuklu pide, afiyet olsun," - sausage calzone, eat in good health. Christian looked dubious, "If anyone asks, say you're from the provinces. That will explain your accent. At least, being English, you already have that squeaky eunuch voice." More was dressed in the flowing robes and pants of a harem guard. His rapier was replaced with a scimitar and regretfully he laid down his triple-bolt crossbow. He kept the flute, a token that he truly came from George Spalatin, Tamina's father.

Using all his guile, More reached Tamina's apartment in the Seraglio. Alas, George's daughter was being instructed by one of the Sultan's concubines. The latter shrieked, guards came, More was disarmed and he and Tamina were taken before the Kizlar Aga or chief eunuch, Mehmet. Mehmet was morbidly obese, shaven headed, seated on an armchair that matched his bulk. On his lap was a cat unlike any More had seen before. Its fur was long and all white. Perhaps from even further in the East than Constantinople. "Hosgeldiniz. Welcome. I do not recognise you," said Mehmet is a loud yet high pitched voice. More tried to voice his reply in Turkish in a similar register, "Merhaba. I was new to your service, excellency, today is my first day." "Isminiz nedir? What is your name?" the Kizlar Aga almost spat. "Ismim More. Thomas More." The chief eunuch looked closely at More, his round face full of suspicion. It's my eyes, thought More, I couldn't do anything about them. "Whip him!" Mehmet ordered the guards, "We'll beat the truth out of him. The guards bound More's hands with ropes and tied them to a handy manacle before setting about him with smaller cords. The pain was intense. More cried out but he remembered to swear in Turkish, "Küprülü!" "You fools!" Mehmet chided the guards, "You don't whip a man when he still has the robes on his back." The eunuch's body wobbled as he stood and stepped forward, the Persian cat daintily alighting. "Do I have to do everything?" he cried as he tore the cloth from More's back. The guards were shocked to see the pale skin where the tamarind juice had not marked More. Mehmet seemed delighted as if he had finally found a point of purchase where the interrogation could begin in earnest. He dismissed the guards - with an unarmed, bound man and a helpless girl they would only get in the way - but kept their whip that he might continue enquiries in a hands-on manner. "So, Thomas bey. You are a man of North West Europe, evet? Are you the lover of the Sultan's new dainty? Or do you plot against the Sultan for your country and are using the girl as a dupe?" Mehmet raised the whip high, "Answer me!" As the lash fell, so slumped Mehmet. From the corner of his eye More saw Tamina pinch the eunuch's neck. "How did you do that?" the Englishman wondered aloud as the blond woman began untying him. "You don't get to the fourth degree in the Order of the Rose and Cross without learning some things," she said, airily. More would have asked her more about this new Order but Mehmet was rising to his feet. The only weapon to hand was Spalatinus' flute. He thrust the instrument into the Kizlar Aga. Mehmet collapsed again with a whistle of pain. "That took the wind out of him," More noted, sardonically. "Follow me!" Tamina commanded as she and Sir Thomas ran from the room. "We can't go out the front gate, Tamina..." "No, but not far from here is a balcony they showed me where they throw into the Bosphorus girls who fail to please the Sultan. It's not much of a jump and quite safe provided you're not stitched into a silken bag." With noises of guards in pursuit More felt they had little choice. They reached the balcony, kicked off their shoes and jumped into the choppy waters. Tamina was making heavy going in the sea so More showed her the Austrian crawl.[1] Within a few minutes she was matching Sir Thomas' easy, fluid strokes.

They came ashore near the old Gate of Drungarii. But word of their escape must have spread through the city and another troop of guards ran in pursuit. Exhausted after her swim, Tamina could barely walk, let along run. "You go back to Demitrius' shop," More ordered, "I'll hold them off." "But..." she protested before catching the determined look in More's eye. Tamina sped off as best she could. The Englishman looked around. It was late afternoon. A nearby taverna was doing a roaring trade. The host was broiling skewers of spiced lamb over an open charcoal fire mounted on a tripod. More kicked one of legs of the tripod. The innkeeper howled in outrage. Burning coals and sizzling fat flew onto awnings and straw. In less than a minute there was a wall of fire between More and the Ottomans, and he was able to return to Christian's shop without further molestation.

"You must go at once," Christian told Tamina and More. "There are reports of Turks burning the Greek quarter. And janizaries are blaming the fires on Greeks and looking for foreign assassins. "Here are the papers I promised, Sir Thomas. Private correspondence in Hans' own hand. I do not feel I am betraying him for in starting his own theocratic regime he has betrayed all we stand for. Now go!"

The ship sailed South. To the West the last light of the setting sun bathed the sky over Greece. In the East, the stars were already appearing over Asia Minor. "I love the night time," said Tamina conversationally. "To me you shall always be the Queen of the Night," More replied gallantly. In the North, Constantinople burned. [To be continued]

[1] It's easy to forget that 500 years ago Austria was among the foremost swimming nations of the world. And the England produced the best cricketers.