‘Well, they certainly haven’t taught you manners there,’ sneered the other deputy, glaring at him from beneath a pair of bushy black eyebrows. ‘Or how to respect your elders.’

Jack held his tongue. The Japanese were ruled by etiquette and politeness. But it would be foolish and futile to argue that with these officious men.

The judge cleared his throat and began reading from the parchment he’d been handed by the court scribe. ‘The charges brought against you are: disturbing the peace, wilful destruction of property, brawling in a public place, and violent robbery.’ He eyed Jack with distaste. ‘How do you plead?’

‘Not guilty.’

Excited chatter burst forth from the gallery.

‘Order in court!’ called the scribe, and the crowd settled down again.

‘Who brings these charges against the accused?’ enquired the judge.

‘Sir Toby Nashe,’ said Sir Toby, striding forward with a self-important air. ‘Second cousin of Sir William Harrington, who is fr–’

‘Yes, yes,’ said the judge, waving away the chronicle of family connections. ‘Just give us your account of events, Sir Toby.’

Drawing in a dramatic breath, then addressing not only the bench but the gallery too, Sir Toby told his story. And what a story it was! He missed out entirely the insults he’d thrown at Jack and his friends, skipped the part where he’d challenged Jack to a duel, and even denied there’d been a formal fight for honour. According to Sir Toby, Jack, Yori and Akiko had tricked Sir Toby and his two companions into showing them round London, before setting upon them in Moorfields with the intention of robbing them with violence; only Sir Toby’s virtuoso sword skills had saved him, apparently, from certain death at the hands of these foreign scum.

With every new embellishment to the truth, Jack’s fury grew until he could take no more. ‘What a load of lies! He’s –’

‘Silence!’ barked the judge. ‘You’ll have your chance, prisoner, to speak in due course. Call the first witness!’

Sir Edmund waddled up to the bar. He repeated Sir Toby’s fabrication word for word. Next came Sir Francis, who also – predictably – corroborated the fairy tale.

‘This is a farce!’ protested Jack.

The judge narrowed his gimlet eyes. ‘You question the court’s authority?’

‘No,’ Jack replied stiffly. ‘I question the validity of the witnesses. They’re his friends!’

Pursing his thin grey lips, the judge gazed round the courtroom. ‘Do we have an independent witness to these events?’

‘Aye!’ A rough-looking man in a battered feathered hat stood up and made himself known. Sir Toby looked alarmed and his face drained of blood. He was evidently fearful that his lies were about to be exposed in court. But it was Jack who had more reason to be afraid.

‘And who might you be?’ asked the judge.

‘Porter,’ replied the man, doffing his hat and offering a charming grin.