Many of the saints I shut up in prison... and when they were put to death, I cast my vote against them. And I punished them often... and compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly enraged against them, I persecuted them even to foreign cities Acts 26:10-11 It is night in Zurich on the 21st of January, 1525, and the snow lies thick upon the ground. 1 A lone man, wrapped against the bitter wind and keeping to the shadows, trudges along the street known as Neustadt close by the Grossmunster. He stops, glances furtively about him, then knocks gently upon a door, his breath coming hoary in the frosty air. He rubs his numbed hands together and stamps his feet in the snow. The door is opened a mere crack. For a brief moment the shadowy snow is dimly yellowed by the flickering light from within. The man kicks the snow from his boots and steps quickly across the threshold. The door is closed, the bolt shot home. The street falls dark and silent once more – apart from the mournful moan of the freezing wind.
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