And you’re clearly sick, thought Jack.

‘The only reason you’re still alive,’ he continued, ‘is that you’re a child.’

Jack had already thought he was as good as dead when Masamoto had stood over him on the beach. But the samurai had merely ordered him to accompany him and his samurai back to the mainland where Hiroko was waiting to escort them up to the house.

‘Doushita? Kare wa doko kara kitanoda?’ asked Masamoto.

His shoulder wound having been dressed, the samurai had changed into a crisp sky-blue kimono patterned with white maple leaves. He sipped placidly from a cup of sencha. Jack could not believe this was the same man who barely hours before had been fighting for his life.

He was now flanked by two armed samurai. To his left knelt Akiko and next to her was the boy she had been talking with prior to Masamoto’s duel. From the moment Jack had entered the room, the boy had glowered at him with a look that was both detached and threatening as a thundercloud.

‘Sumimasen, Masamoto-sama,’ apologized the priest, tucking his handkerchief away.

The priest, who knelt on the floor close to Jack, bowed with considerable deference to Masamoto, the dark wooden cross that hung from his neck gracing the tatami-covered floor as he did so.

‘His lordship Masamoto Takeshi wants to know who you are, where you are from and how you come to be here,’ he said, turning to Jack.

Jack felt he was on trial. He had been summoned into the room only to be confronted by this mean-spirited Jesuit priest. His father had cautioned him against such men. The Portuguese, like the Spanish, had been at war with England for nearly twenty years, and while the conflict was now officially over, the two nations still harboured great animosity towards one another. And the Jesuit Catholics remained the worst of England’s enemies. Jack, being an English Protestant, was in serious trouble.

‘My name is Jack Fletcher. I’m from England. I arrived on-board a trader ship –’

‘Inconceivable, there are no Englanders in these waters. You’re a pirate, so don’t waste my time, or his Lordship’s, with lies. I’ve not been brought here to translate your deceit.’

‘Douka shimashita ka?’ interjected Masamoto.

‘Nani no nai, Masamoto-sama…’ replied the priest, but Masamoto immediately cut him off with what sounded to Jack like an order.

‘Moushiwake arimasen, Masamoto-sama,’ apologized the priest more emphatically and bowed, coughing harshly into his handkerchief again. He turned back to Jack and continued. ‘Boy, I ask you again, how did you come to be here? And by the Blood of Christ, you had better speak true!’

‘I’ve just told you. I arrived here on the Alexandria, part of a trading fleet for the Dutch East India Company. My father was the Pilot. We’d been sailing for nearly two years to get to the Japans…’