Cheapside, the widest street in the city, was a bustling hive of activity. Horse-drawn coaches rattled along the paving. Women with baskets on their heads called out, ‘Hot pudding pies, hot!’ while others bearing trugs of herbs cried out, ‘Rosemary and bays!’ Water carriers and servants queued up to fill their pails at the large stone fountain of the Great Conduit. And at the far west end of the street a great throng of housewives, maids and travellers perused the timber-covered market stalls in such numbers that the street overflowed like a churning river.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Akiko gasped, her wonder and respect of the city growing.

Jack puffed out his chest a little. ‘I told you London is the centre of the world!’

The shoppers parted as the three of them passed through the busy market, and Jack realized they must make quite a sight. While many Londoners were used to foreigners, few would have encountered Japanese people before – or their fashions. Akiko drew many an eye in her red-and-gold silk kimono, her yumi bow strapped across her back; and Yori was a curiosity in his plain yellow monk’s robes and oversized straw hat, his Buddhist ringed staff jingling with each step.

But that was nothing compared to Jack in his black haori jacket and hakama trousers, his daishō of a katana and wakizashi swords on his hip.

Conscious that, as an Englishman, his Japanese garb was drawing unnecessary attention, Jack said, ‘I think I’ll invest in some new clothes.’ He stopped beside a market stall selling long, thigh-length shirts.

‘Good day, sirrah!’ greeted the trader, a short fat man with cheeks as red as apples. ‘You’ve come to the right place. I’ve the finest cambric shirts in the whole market!’

Jack remembered his father once telling him that ‘cloth is class’ and, with a full purse in his pack, he decided to treat himself to the finest clothes money could buy. He found a couple of shirts that fitted him, then moved on to a stall selling breeches and waistcoats. Half an hour of shopping later, Jack was quite laden down with two cambric shirts, damask breeches, a velvet waistcoat and doublet, calico netherstocks and a pair of knee-length black leather boots.

‘Are they all for you to wear?’ asked Yori, staring agog at the array of clothes.

‘Fashion has moved on in England since I was last here,’ Jack replied, carefully folding them into his pack. ‘Have you seen something you need?’ he asked them, offering his purse.

Yori politely declined. ‘All I need is my robe and sandals,’ he said cheerily.

Akiko, eyeing a pile of stiff bodices and heavy skirts, said, ‘I’m fine with my kimonos, thank you, Jack.’ She gazed around at the countless stalls in the market. ‘I never imagined such a wealth of goods. It’s quite unbelievable.’