Scowling, the hangman finally turned his attention to Jack. He bound his hands then fitted the noose, the rough hemp cord digging into Jack’s Adam’s apple. ‘Tight enough?’ he said with a leer. ‘Well, it soon will be!’

This time the crowd were laughing along with the hangman.

With the rope heavy round his neck, Jack began to tremble. His breathing became fast and ragged with panic. He gazed in anguish at the baying crowd. The throng stretched north, south, east and west, filling the marketplace all the way up to the Church of St Bartholomew. There wasn’t a single friendly face to be seen. Even if his sister was somehow out there in the crowd, he probably wouldn’t recognize her after so many years.

By now, an almost festive atmosphere had taken hold, as hawkers wandered amid the onlookers, selling apples and nuts and bottles of beer. Entire families had gathered for the event, and the local inn had ordered extra supplies: a whole wagonload of wine casks stood ready outside its door. An execution clearly provided more ghoulish entertainment than any play at the Globe!

Then Jack spotted a face he did recognize. A pompous, moustachioed, copper-haired head on a plate. It appeared Sir Toby had bought himself a brand-new ruff for the occasion. He sat astride his horse, drinking and laughing with his friends, Sir Francis and Sir Edmund, and when he saw Jack looking his way, Sir Toby raised his bottle in a toast, downed the contents, then smiled with malicious glee.

Jack seethed. He’d fought so hard to get home, escaped death on so many occasions, vanquished ninja and samurai foes alike; he’d sailed halfway round the known globe, only to be hanged by the neck by his fellow countrymen. By an idiot in a ruff!

The absurdity of his situation – the injustice of it all – was not lost on Jack. He just prayed that Yori and Akiko had managed to find Captain Spilbergen and had taken up his offer to return to the Japans. He wanted them to get as far away as possible from this cesspit of a country.

What has become of England? thought Jack bitterly. Why was I ever so desperate to return home …?

Jess, of course. But now he would never see his sister. She wouldn’t even know he’d returned to find her; she’d believe forever that her remaining family had perished at sea. Whereas the truth was that her brother was about to be hanged no more than a few miles from her doorstep. In all of the past seven years, Jack had never been so close to his sister, yet had never felt so far away.

‘Cheer up!’ squawked a familiar voice. ‘Every cloud has its silver linin’!’

Jack glanced down. The crazed inmate from the prison cells was beside the cart, gurning up at him.

‘You’re free?’ queried Jack in surprise.