Jack understood. Enough of this! We need to fight our way out of here, Jack. But to the townsfolk in the crowd, Akiko’s words had sounded strange and disturbing.

‘She’s speaking in tongues!’ cried a dough-faced woman.

‘She’s trying to curse us,’ screeched another, pointing a fat finger at Akiko. ‘She’s a WITCH!’

All of a sudden, the crowd’s mood grew fearful and dangerous. A chant of ‘Witch! Witch! Witch!’ went up. Akiko looked around in horror at the baying mob, their cries and catcalls vicious in their intensity.

‘ORDER!’ bellowed the bailiff, as the constables tried to hold back the mob intent on attacking the sorceress in their midst.

The townsfolk fell silent.

The bailiff stood, glared at Akiko, and pronounced, ‘The devil woman shall face trial by water!’

23: Ducking Stool

Jack watched helplessly, his head and hands imprisoned in the pillory, as Akiko was tied to a wooden chair. His frustration was only matched by his fury at the small-minded and cruel townsfolk, who set about their punishment of Akiko with religious fervour.

Yori, his legs pinned by the stocks, was equally powerless to stop what was happening. Akiko did her best to resist her captors, but many hands made light work of strapping her to the ducking stool. Once her limbs were bound, the chair was fixed to a long oak beam set on a fulcrum post and lifted high into the air.

A great cry of ‘Witch!’ went up. The townsfolk, eager to witness Akiko’s trial by water, crowded round the reed-fronded pond at the edge of the marketplace. They continued to hurl abuse as her chair was swung over the frigid and stagnant water.

‘She’s NOT a witch!’ Jack shouted. ‘She was only speaking Japanese!’

An old woman nearby rounded on him. ‘Sounded like a witch’s curse to me,’ she snarled, then lobbed a rotten apple at Jack. She was an infuriatingly good shot, and the apple hit him square on the forehead, the fruit exploding in his face, smothering him in its sticky sour mush.

Prior to Akiko’s trial by water, the mob had slaked their thirst for violent punishment by pelting Jack and Yori with rotten fruit, mud and horse muck. The two friends had suffered several hours of humiliation, abuse and torture at the hands of the citizens, while the ducking stool was constructed beside the pond’s edge. By the end of the day they were filthy, stinking and bruised. But their experience had been nothing compared to what awaited Akiko.

‘Leave her alone!’ Jack begged, blinking away the slimy remains of the apple. ‘I tell you, she’s not a witch!’