‘Jack Fletcher, Akiko D–’ the bumbling official squinted at the parchment – ‘Dāte and Yori Sanada, you have been charged and tried for horse theft, burglary, larceny and arson. You have been formerly tried and sentenced for disturbing the peace, for wilful destruction of property, for brawling in a public place and for violent robbery; the punishment for which you then escaped and went on the run through His Majesty’s kingdom.’ The crowd fell silent at such a disgraceful list of offences. ‘Considering the severity of your crimes and their repeated nature,’ the official went on, ‘the Court finds you guilty of all charges and has decided that you should be hanged by your necks till your bodies are dead and three tides have covered them.’ Neatly rolling up the parchment, he then stepped back from the quay.

Now Sir Henry came forward and took his place. He eyed Jack with the utmost contempt. ‘It is my duty, as servant of the King and the Court, to pronounce your execution …’

Deaf to the man’s proclamations, Jack frantically pulled at the manacles round his wrists. If he could get a hand free, then he might just be able to … But it was futile. The iron cuffs were too tight, his efforts only shredding his skin. He’d have to chop his own hand off to remove them. He scanned the crowd for a friendly face. By now, Signor Horatio, Rose and Jess must have realized that something had gone terribly wrong with their attempt to recover the rutter. But they wouldn’t know where to find them. And what can they do even if they come? he thought. To attempt a rescue would be suicidal. Jack just prayed that the three of them had seen sense and were already aboard a ship bound for Italy.

The atmosphere round the quay grew tense with excitement as Sir Henry raised his arm to give the hangman the command. Akiko and Yori held their heads high, facing their demise with the honour and dignity befitting samurai. Jack tried to muster up the same bold, defiant spirit, but the sense of injustice at their fate cut too deep. To rub salt into the wound, from his precarious position on the plank, Jack could spy the Hosiander among the countless vessels docked at the quay. Their last hope of escape was but a short dash from where they now stood awaiting death.

Sir Henry glowered at Jack and stood poised to signal the hangman. ‘May the Lord have mercy upon your souls –’

Suddenly there was a commotion in the crowd.

‘MAKE WAY! PARDON! MAKE WAY!’ shouted a footman, barging through the bemused onlookers.