Part 2 It was a hot summer's day in Haarlem as Sir Thomas led the two horses, Austin and Martin to the Dominican priory. He left the pair with a young novice as he sought out the prior. The prior, a thin greying man, explained apologetically that he had received a letter from Rheims, Brother Felix was not expected until two days hence. More was disappointed but there was one more person he wished to meet. Sir Thomas and Brother Felix had set Haarlem as their meeting place as this was now the home of Johann Reuchlin, a mutual companion and More's former teacher, who had moved from German after that nasty business with his grand-nephew. To the knight's great delight he encountered Reuchlin in the marketplace, "Johann, my old lesson master! How glad I am to see you in Haarlem." "Tag, Thomas! Wie gehts?" Reuchlin greeted More in German, one of several languages they shared. "How glad I am to see you! For my all too short time in the Netherlands is coming to an end!" "An end!" riposted More, "How could you leave the country of Erasmus?" "There are many people leaving this country," confided Reuchlin, "Most making for Münster." Sir Thomas' ears pricked up at this point but the old scholar continued, "As for me, I am off to Augsburg." "Augsburg?" enquired More, "Wasn't there a nest of heretics there?" "Heretics everywhere these days," sighed Johann, "But yes, a large number of Lutherans put to the question in that Bavarian city last year. I see even you have heard of the confessions of Augsburg. "But Augsburg should be famous for something more. It is, Thomas, the seat of the great Fugger banking family. Anton Fugger has engaged me to tutor his daughter, Martha, in the autumn and I am already preparing for the journey." More was a little surprised, "Johann, Anton is a good Catholic, is he not?" Reuchlin was a good Catholic, too. But his interest in Hebrew and humanism made him suspect in the eyes of the less well read. "Herr Fugger is indeed a good Catholic. And banker to the Emperor Charles. But having no sons he is determined to give his daughter the best possible education. As humanist and a Catholic I find this laudable." "And she could wish for no better a pedagogue than you, old teacher!" More exclaimed heartily, "But what is this about the Netherlanders going to Münster?" Reuchlin looked around nervously. "The marketplace is no place to speak. After I have my purchases let us away to my studio, where we can discuss these matters freely."

Empty bookshelves in Reuchlin's study showed that the scholar had been packing. But the arm-chairs were well-upholstered and comfortable. In the flickering candlelight the two men spoke. "It is an exodus of heretics from this city for Münster, Thomas. Their leader, their 'prophet' Johann is dead but there is a new-minted Johann who styles himself king. "Yet I misdoubt many of the heretics will at the last reach their destination. Franz, the Prince-Bishop of Minden, Münster and Osnabrück, has Münster besieged so none may enter or leave." This struck More as odd. "Has the siege been in place long. Johann? "Since the start of this year, friend Thomas." More thought out loud, "So when the Dominicans moved on Münster in support of the Prince-Bishop, the city had been besieged for no little time." "Indeed," said Reuchlin, "His grace had adopted a most tolerant attitude to the anabaptists, who were few in number but swelling with the arrival of fellow heretics from here in the Netherlands. It was only when the anabaptists drove out the faithful catholics, who were still a majority of the citizens, that the Prince-Bishop was forced to take stern measures." "Yet the heretics already had hand-cannons, hundreds of them. Which they had not previously used. Which means they were recently acquired. Johann, could they have been smuggled in through the Prince-Bishop's lines?" "Nay, Thomas. A few heretics could have straggled through but not a wain with several hundredweight of weapons." "So could the heretics have fabricated the cannons in Münster itself?" "Again, nay. The city has now but ten thousand adults, the vast majority women, whose hysterical nature seems to attract them to the cult. There would be perhaps two thousand man, many vagabonds. There would not be enough artisans there to build but one of these hand-cannon." More was puzzled, "So they cannot make the weapons themselves, nor is there any direction they can they bring them in. There is no answer! We shall never get to the bottom of this mystery." Reuchlin held up an admonishing hand, "Never say 'never' again, Thomas! And there is a direction from which the guns may be brought." More's puzzlement grew, "Bishop Franz has the city blockaded north, east, south and west?" Reuchlin nodded. More continued, "It is not in the nature of hand-cannon to fall from the heavens, God saving His blessings for those He loves. And no mole could be dug through the Westphalian soil of such length to undercut the siege lines of the Prince-Bishop. The four points of the compass rose, and up and down. It is impossible!" "Now, Thomas," Johann tutted, "when I was teaching you logic, what was the first lesson you learned?" "That when one has ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how unlikely, is the answer." "Exactly! And north-south, east-west and up-down are but three of the four dimensions on Earth that we travel." "You can't mean... time?" "I can and I do, Thomas. By a simple application of Occam's razor we can deduce that if weapons unlike any we have today appear in a town that is completely isolated, then they must come from another time." "Most likely a time in the future," hazarded More. "Indeed. For people from the future they may send goods through time as readily as we ship goods across the Atlantic Ocean, something that was impossible for us a century ago." It seemed implausible. But Occam's razor was seldom wrong. And was this any more fanciful than More's own novel Utopia? Of course, that novel had been a work of imagination - an imagination that More had largely kept in check since becoming the National Enquirer. He decided to let that imagination off its leash. "What if?" he asked Reuchlin, "What if it not just the weapons but the whole city. What if this is not our Münster but a city of the future that Providence has sent into our time? With a heretic citizenry who wear hand-cannons as readily as you or I would wear swords?" "Don't be silly, Thomas. The city's architecture has not changed. Those inhabitants who have been captured and killed were wearing the sort of clothes and burgher or peasant of our day would wear. Any travellers from the future have remained well hidden. And they have not brought any cathedrals or palaces with them. In fact..." But what that fact was, Reuchlin did not say. He was interrupted by a large explosion, from nearby. "Wait here!" commanded More, "I shall investigate. I pray that I may return soon."

It was St Bavo's church. Only built in the last century, it had contained the largest organ in Christendom, with five thousand pipes. Unlike St Paul's cathedral two years earlier, this had not been fire but a gunpowder explosion. More wondered how much gunpowder it would take to cause so much ruination, both of sacred architecture and human bodies. Benedictines were already on the scene to assist the wounded and Dominicans to investigate. More recognised the abbot with whom he had spoken that afternoon. "A bad business," said the abbot, "It's those heretics in Münster." "Why do they attack here when they must defend there, your reverence?" asked More. "The Prince-Bishop has so little funds, it is all he can do to keep his army in the field. He has asked the Emperor for aid but none is forthcoming. The anabaptists know that so they send out pairs of men hither and yon to do devilry, hoping his grace will pursue them and lift the siege. Almost every other day good christian folk are killed and holy places despoiled." "Then I haven't a moment to lose," declared More, "Your reverence, please tell Brother Felix when he arrives that I have gone ahead of him to Münster." More then turned to make his farewells to Reuchlin and bid that scholar godspeed on his own journey to Augsburg.

The Prince-Bishop's men allowed More through their lines. They then fired shots over his head, as agreed, to give the appearance that the knight was a heretic infiltrating the catholic lines to join the anabaptists. The ruse worked. The gates opened briefly and Sir Thomas, astride Martin, entered the city. Sir Thomas jumped from his horse and took in the appearance of the young people idling around the streets of Münster. There were women immodestly dressed, their bodices showing too much décolletage and their skirts hoisted way above their ankles. And a man who wore his hair too short and instead of a proper beard had a foolish little goatee. The women were all taking familiarities with the man, in a way that a good wife would not even take with her husband outside of the bedroom. The townsfolk were, in short, evil. One of the young women called to Thomas, "Tag, Vati!" which his to say, "Hey, Daddy-o!" More responded in Plattdeutsche, the Low German that in this time was common to the Netherlands and Westphalia, "You talkin' to me?" "Sure pops. Now why is an oldster like you coming to join our kingdom?" More riposted, "Must one be a child to be born again?" adding a second 'again' under his breath. The young man spoke, "No. But most of the converts to the Brethren are Generation XXX, not fossils like thee." "Generation XXX?" asked More. "Sure," said the youth, "The Holy Roman Empire was founded in 800 by King Charlemagne and Generation I. Every 25 years since then new generation has emerged. Those of us who have achieved man's estate since 1525 are Generation XXX. Those of earlier generations we find are too full of their own importance, too... fat-headed to be worthy to be Brethren." A woman joined in, "The reason so many oldsters reject protestantism is that they can't understand our music." She and the other women broke into a spirited, a cappella rendition of A Mighty Fortress while the man played an imaginary lute. More fumed silently. That these callow striplings could be ready to dismiss great men such as Erasmus, Machiavelli, Copernicus simply because of their greater years of wisdom - it was monstrous! But he curbed his tongue and asked if he might see the King. "Sure thing, Gramps" agreed the youth, "Come wives!" All the women made to follow him. More was astounded. He had heard rumours of the polygamy in Münster but had not believed 'til now that they might be true. "All these ladies are your wives?" he asked. "Indeed, your fogeyness. Just as King David and King Saul had many wives, those who would be holy in these latter days are also under an obligation to marry and marry often. Besides, in a city of ladies where there are four women for every man it is good for everyone to marry, to frustrate the Tempter's snare of adultery." More was appalled. True, he had probably had relationships with as many women as had the youth. But that had been over many years. And sequentially. Apart from the twins in Bath, obviously. The Church had always preached against polygamy, why these 'Brethren' weren't Christian, they were no better than Musselmen! More realised that he had to destroy them, men and women alike. But he had to know more, the source of the hand-cannon. Had they really come from a future time?

King Johann preferred to be called Jan. The King dismissed More's escort, also called Jan it transpired, and began the questioning. Sir Thomas was not alone with the King. In the throne room was also a massive man, whom King Jane referred to as 'Bernt'. Bernt with a hand-cannon at his side held a large, naked zweihander sword but appeared to have little conversation. More referred to himself as 'Thomas Mann', a name he hoped would be nicely inconspicuous. He portrayed himself as a protestant and a merchant, one who could sell needful things to the town of Münster. He learned that Jan liked to be addressed as the King of Zion. "So, a city like Münster, there'd be 30,000 souls, right your majesty?" asked 'Mann' in the Plattdeutsche argot. King Jan explained that this was once the case but now there were less than half that number. Had the siege been that bad, Thomas enquired. Jan explained no, that the Zionist minority had expelled the catholic majority. Trying to look pleased, Thomas asked how that could be, that a people had succeeded in driving out more numerous locals from their homes. "They had no zeal," the King explained. "They looked to their distant Emperor for aid and lost heart when none was forthcoming. And they didn't really believe we would do that which we said we would. We desperately needed a home, being persecuted everywhere else. But first and foremost, God was on our side. The God that gave the Israelites the land of milk and honey has given us our own Zion. "Now, Herr Mann, what do you have to offer us?" "I can give you cheese, bacon and zwieback, your majesty. But what can you offer in return?" "The joy that comes from doing the Lord's will?" asked King Jan. "I was thinking more of some of those, majesty," said Sir Thomas, pointing to the weapon at Bernt's side. "Do you make those in Münster?" "Nope," the King laughed, "These babies come a long distance. In fact you would not believe where..." He paused. A sudden suspicion crossed his youthful features. The King turned to his guard, "Bernt, search him!" Have I given myself away in some wise? thought More, Does the King just have a suspicious mind? Or is he truly guided by God? The last thought was so preposterous, Sir Thomas immediately dismissed it from his mind. Besides, he knew he had nothing incriminating on his person. Except... Bernt triumphantly held up the tiny crucifix with its chain. "Ah," smiled the King, "A spy from the Prince-Bishop. Take him to dungeons. At dawn tomorrow we shall make an example of him." [To be continued]