After riding most of the day, they entered a village and stopped at a water trough to give their horses a chance to rest and drink. With the barley harvest being brought in, the village was all but deserted, everyone, including the children, working in the fields. However, as Jack dismounted, he noticed a grizzled old farmer on a stool outside a small thatched cottage. He was chewing on a long piece of straw and eyed the four travellers with guarded suspicion.

‘Good day to you,’ greeted Jack. ‘What village is this?’

‘Oakfield,’ grunted the farmer.

‘Do you mind our horses drinking?’

The man offered a shrug of his bony shoulders. ‘Bit late to ask, considerin’ they already are.’

Yori stepped forward and bowed. ‘Thank you for your kindness. It’s an honour to visit your village.’

The farmer snorted. ‘An honour?’ He gave Jack a sidelong look. ‘Can your friend see with those eyes? This place be just a patch of mud!’

‘Yori and Akiko are from the Japans,’ Jack explained, as Akiko bowed respectfully too. ‘It’s their first time in England.’

The farmer gnawed thoughtfully on the straw’s stem. ‘Don’t they ’ave mud in their country?’

Jack laughed. ‘Yes, lots. But this is English mud. Nothing finer!’

The farmer’s frosty demeanour slowly gave way to a toothless grin. ‘Aye, it’s good mud!’ He offered his hand to Jack. ‘My name’s Jon Tiller. There’s some hay for the horses round back if you want.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jack. Rose walked off behind the cottage and soon came back with an armful of hay.

‘Where you folks travelling?’ asked Jon, his eyes never leaving Akiko or Yori.

‘Stratford-upon-Avon,’ Jack replied.

The farmer spat out a chewed wad of straw. ‘Long way to go. You ’ave business there?’

Jack shook his head. ‘Looking for my sister. She’s gone missing.’

His brow furrowing like a ploughed field, Jon sighed. ‘Lots of folk gone missing, what with the plague an’ all.’

They both fell into a gloomy silence. Jack tried not to imagine that gruesome fate befalling his sister, but, after seeing his father’s cottage all boarded up, it was hard to suppress his dread. Perhaps the plague was the reason Jess had been forced to move? But … why Stratford? As far as he knew, they didn’t have any family connections to the town … although it was possible Mrs Winters did.

The horses having finished their hay, Jack unhooked the reins and remounted. Their break had been short, and he still felt saddle-sore after their long ride out of London. ‘How far to the nearest decent coaching inn?’ he asked.