‘STOP THEM! Someone, STOP them!’ yelled Sir Toby. The pompous sot was now so drunk and unsteady on his horse that he almost tumbled off as he tried to give chase. But gathering their wits, the crowd now closed ranks and attempted to block their escape.

Hands reached up to pull them from the cart. Other men tried to clamber aboard. Then all of a sudden a hay barrow burst into flames as a burning arrow, tipped with tar, buried itself in the tinder-dry heap. People screamed; panic quickly spread. Another arrow sliced through the rope securing the wine casks beside the inn. The wooden barrels tumbled from the wagon and rampaged through the crowd, scattering them like skittles.

Yori drove the horses on through the chaos. Clutching the seat, Jack kicked away at anyone who still attempted to board the cart. But most people weren’t fast enough or kept their distance, for fear of being trampled by the horses’ hooves or crushed under the cart’s wheels. As they approached the edge of the market, Jack noticed a unit of constables racing to cut them off.

‘Faster!’ he rasped.

But Yori did the exact opposite and slowed down beside the church.

‘What are you stopping for?’ cried Jack.

‘To pick up a passenger!’ replied Yori. There was a light thump and the cart rocked, and Jack spun round to see Akiko crouched cat-like in the cart bed, her bamboo bow and quiver of arrows across her back. He glanced up at the church tower. ‘Did you just jump?’

‘No time to take the stairs,’ she replied. ‘Yori, let’s not hang around any longer. Jack’s done enough of that today!’

‘Ha, very funny,’ said Jack, but he was overjoyed to be reunited with his friends. ‘And unless you want to hang too, we’ve got to get out of here. Fast!’

Sir Toby and his two companions had finally managed to coordinate themselves and were now in hot pursuit. The constables were also on their tail, running down the street after them. Yori swung the cart into Cock Lane, the sharp turn almost tipping them over, then bore left on to Snow Hill. Pedestrians ran for cover as the cart picked up speed, the wooden wheels clattering over the cobbles.

‘Your daishō,’ said Akiko, presenting Jack with his swords. ‘Looks like we might be needing them.’

Jack slid them into his obi, their weight familiar and comforting on his hip, and with them he felt his strength return. ‘Never thought I’d see these again,’ he said, looking at Akiko – ‘or you, for that matter. Thanks for rescuing me. But how did you know I was to be hanged?’

‘Mad Bob told us,’ explained Akiko, clinging on to the cart’s sides as it bounced over a rut in the road. ‘We’d been trying to find a way to break you out when we bumped into him leaving the gaol.’