‘Was she with anyone?’ pressed Jack, his hopes rising.
‘I believe there was an old woman,’ said Rowland, furrowing his brow, ‘her chaperone, but I don’t recall anyone else.’
‘That must have been Mrs Winters,’ said Jack. Still holding the katana to Rowland’s throat, he asked, ‘Don’t you have any idea who paid for the locket? The girl in the portrait is my sister – and she’s missing!’
Seeing his blood drip from the blade, Rowland began babbling, ‘My master was secretive – didn’t want me stealing his most valued clients – so I rarely met them. Whoever it was, he must have been a gentleman of some wealth to afford such a fine piece!’ Then Rowland scowled. ‘Although … I’m as sure as I can be that he didn’t ever pay. I’d remember a commission worth eight sovereigns! So, truly, I never met the man. Any knowledge of who ordered the locket went with Holme to his grave!’
Upon hearing this disheartening news, Jack let his sword drop. The trail offered by the locket was now as dead as the man who painted it!
‘Don’t despair, Jack,’ said Akiko, joining him on stage. ‘We’ll find Jess another way.’
‘But how?’ replied Jack. ‘The locket’s a dead end.’
‘If a box has no hinges, it may still contain gold,’ called Yori sagely from the pit. ‘Don’t give up so easily. Remember, Sensei Yamada’s koan of the Daruma Doll: seven times down, eight times up.’
Jack smiled sadly. How could I forget? he thought. That philosophy had kept him going throughout his time in Japan. But with only a picture to go on, what chance did they have of finding his sister in a city the size of London? How could they even be sure she was still in the city and still alive?
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Rowland edging away. With a snap of his arm, the steel tip of his katana was back at the artist’s throat. ‘You must remember something useful,’ he insisted.
Rowland froze where he stood, the katana poised over his main artery. ‘I-I-I do recall the girl and the old woman talking about going to Stratford-upon-Avon … how she wasn’t happy about it … but had no choice …’
‘Stratford? Are you sure?’ questioned Jack.
Rowland nodded and swallowed nervously. ‘Now, be a good lad, and let me go.’ He offered a grovelling smile. ‘I rightfully should charge you for that unpaid locket … but in light of our, er, discussions here I’m willing to write off the debt …’
Jack lowered his sword once more. Taking that as his cue, Rowland bolted and fled through the backstage curtains. After a moment’s hush, the whole of the audience burst into thunderous applause and shouts of ‘BRAVO! BRAVO!’
Jack gazed in disbelief round the theatre, at the whooping and cheering crowd.
They all thought it was the first act of the play!
‘Stratford?’ Jack pondered as they trailed out of the theatre. ‘What would she be doing in Stratford-upon-Avon?’
Rose shrugged. ‘Only one way to find out.’
‘Is it far?’ asked Akiko.
‘It’ll take us about a week to walk there,’ replied Rose, ‘less if we had horses –’
‘Fletcher! Is that you?’ boomed a voice.
Jack turned to see a portly gentleman with a pointed white beard hurrying out of the theatre after them. He wore a thick padded-velvet doublet and a gold chain round his neck, and a rapier hung loosely at his hip.
‘Sorry, do I know you?’ asked Jack.
‘John, I know it’s been a long time,’ replied the man good-naturedly, waddling over, ‘but surely you haven’t forgotten me?’
Jack smiled politely as the man approached. ‘I think you’re confusing me with my father, John Fletcher, the pilot. I’m Jack Fletcher.’
The gentleman peered closer at Jack’s face. ‘Zounds! Why, I can see that now. My eyesight ain’t what it used to be, but you’re the spitting image of your father!’ He shook Jack firmly by the hand. ‘I’m Sir Henry Wilkes, a good friend of John’s. When did you get back? Is John here too?’ He looked around eagerly.
Jack bowed his head, the weight of grief upon him once more. ‘I’m sorry to say, my father was killed by Japanese wako pirates. By a ninja, in fact.’
Sir Henry stepped back. ‘Good heavens, no! It cannot be true. He was such a fine seaman, the best pilot I ever knew. And what on earth is a “ninja”, anyway?’
‘An assassin,’ explained Jack. ‘The worst kind.’
Sir Henry clasped Jack by the shoulders. ‘I’m truly sorry to learn this, dear boy. This is tragic news indeed. If there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all, you have only to let me know.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Jack replied.
‘You may not be aware,’ the gentleman went on, ‘but I’m one of the directors of the East India Company. I personally invested in your father’s voyage to the Japans.’ His gleaming gaze now swung towards Akiko and Yori. ‘And, by the looks of it, you’ve brought back some friends with you, as well as a quantity of treasures, I hope!’
Sir Henry kissed Akiko’s hand in greeting and inclined his head to Yori. In return, they bowed to him. Then Sir Henry wheeled back to Jack, his plump face flushed with excitement. ‘I daresay the ship is unloading as we speak!’
Jack went to reply, but Sir Henry cut him off as the sound of applause came from inside the theatre. ‘No, don’t tell me now. The play’s about to start. Come to my house on the Strand tomorrow evening at six. I’m holding a small party. I want to hear all about your adventures and what riches you’ve returned with.’
Jack once more opened his mouth, this time to politely decline. Although he was heartened to meet an old friend of his father’s, the party would only delay their departure for Stratford-upon-Avon.
But Sir Henry was already rushing away. ‘No excuses! You’re all invited.’
‘Remind me again why this is a good idea,’ whispered Jack the following evening, as a well-heeled footman led them from the marble-floored entrance hall of Sir Henry Wilkes’ London residence, along a passageway and towards the banqueting chamber. Besides being anxious to find his sister, Jack was concerned that they might draw unnecessary attention to themselves among high society. Someone could alert the authorities and they’d find themselves back in prison. Moreover, Jack had no great desire to inform Sir Henry of the failure of the trading expedition, especially as the man had invested his own money in the venture.
‘It’s a good idea because a man of Sir Henry’s standing could help us find your sister,’ explained Rose, who’d put on her best and only other dress for the occasion. Jack was in his finery too, as was Akiko, who’d insisted upon wearing a kimono to impress their host. Yori had been content to remain in his monastic robes. And, despite the risk of them being recognized, Jack couldn’t deny that Akiko looked resplendent in her glimmering silk gown of red and gold dragons.
As they approached the banqueting hall, they could hear chamber music and lively chatter. With due ceremony the footman swung open the double doors and swept them into a grand room with a high ornate ceiling, a dark polished-wood floor and a magnificent white-plaster fireplace. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes hung from the walls, luxurious Persian carpets were laid out on the dining tables, and expensive silverware gleamed in the glow shed by a dozen candelabras.
‘This is a small party?’ gasped Akiko, gazing around in awe at the throng of elegant guests mingling in the hall. Upon a raised platform there played a quartet of musicians, and some of the guests were already dancing.
‘So this is how the other half lives,’ said Rose, taking Jack’s arm.
As she led him through the room, Jack noticed Akiko lagging behind. ‘Are you coming?’ he whispered.
Akiko responded with a stiff smile and nodded. Yori bobbed alongside her, struck dumb by the sheer extravagance of the event. Servants carrying huge silver platters offered them a bounty of sweetmeats, preserved fruits and floral-shaped marzipan confections.
‘Talk about a banquet!’ said Rose, popping a rose-shape
d marzipan into her mouth. ‘I could get used to this!’
Curious and admiring gazes – especially from the ladies at Akiko’s attire – followed them as they wandered through the party. Jack looked around for their host, then noticed Rose taking a more-than-casual interest in the silverware on the dining tables.
‘Rose … we’re guests here,’ he said pointedly, pulling her away.
‘I was only looking,’ she replied, a curl to her lips as she returned the ornate silver spoon to its place setting.
‘Jack!’ boomed the now-familiar voice of Sir Henry. Their pot-bellied host was waving them over to join him and two other gentlemen. ‘So glad you could make it. I was just telling these gentlemen of your fortunate return. Sir Isaac,’ he said, turning to a wizened old man with white hair, ‘and Sir Thomas –’ he now turned to a handsome young man sporting a trimmed goatee beard – ‘this is Jack Fletcher, and these are his guests from the Japans.’
Bows were exchanged and introductions made. Rose offered her hand to the dashing Sir Thomas. ‘I’m Rose,’ she said, surprising Jack by affecting an upper-class accent, ‘London-born and -bred.’
Sir Thomas touched his lips to the back of her hand. ‘A true English rose, if ever I saw one!’ he replied with a grin.
‘That’s a pair of fine-looking swords on your hip, young man,’ observed Sir Isaac to Jack. ‘Are you knighted?’
Jack stiffened, his hand instinctively going to his katana for fear of another confrontation. ‘In Japan I was honoured with the rank of hatamoto,’ he explained, ‘the equivalent of being knighted.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m not questioning your right to bear arms,’ replied the old man. ‘I’m more interested in seeing your swords. May I?’
At his request, Jack partly withdrew his katana to reveal its sharpened steel blade, the cloud-like swirls of its hamon shimmering in the candlelight. Leaning in, Sir Isaac inspected the weapon and nodded appreciatively.
‘That is truly exceptional craftsmanship,’ he declared, before turning to Akiko’s kimono with the measuring eye of a tailor. ‘And that’s a magnificent silk dress too. Are these typical of your country’s workmanship, madam?’
Akiko bowed her head. ‘My people like to perfect our artistry.’
The old man grinned and fixed his rheumy eyes on Jack, an avaricious glint to his gaze. ‘So, Japan is the promised land of silk and steel! Are there riches of silver and gold to be had too?’
‘It’s certainly a place of untold treasures,’ Jack replied. ‘But –’
Sir Henry patted Jack hard on the back, almost knocking the wind from him. ‘Excellent news! Didn’t I tell you, Sir Isaac? The Land of the Rising Sun is a goldfield just waiting to be mined.’
‘And what of the trading routes?’ Sir Isaac continued keenly. ‘I heard rumour of a young pilot navigating the fabled North-East Passage. Would that be you, by any chance?’
Jack nodded humbly. ‘Yes, although –’
‘Extraordinary!’ exclaimed Sir Isaac, clapping his hands in delight. ‘No pilot has ever successfully navigated that route. Our company will have a monopoly on it. We can corner the market!’ He looked at Sir Henry. ‘You have my backing for another expedition, sir. Why, with the voyage cut by a year, the company’s profits would be doubled, perhaps trebled!’
‘I will make the arrangements forthwith, Sir Isaac,’ said a beaming Sir Henry as he put his arm round Jack. ‘Will you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen and ladies?’
Sir Henry drew Jack aside, leaving Sir Isaac to question Akiko and Yori further about Japan; Sir Thomas was still engaged in conversation with Rose.
‘Pray, tell: where’s the Alexandria docked? What of the other ships in our trading fleet?’ asked Sir Henry, his voice low. ‘I haven’t been able to track them down at the quay.’
Jack gazed awkwardly at his feet. ‘I’m afraid a typhoon sent the fleet to the bottom of the ocean, Sir Henry. Only the Alexandria survived, thanks to the piloting skills of my late father. We made landfall in Toba, several hundred leagues north of Nagasaki. But, as I told you, we were then attacked by pirates and the whole crew were slaughtered. The journey is treacherous!’
Sir Henry’s face grew as gloomy as the storm itself. ‘Not a single ship returned? Our whole investment – sunk? But you’ve been gone some seven years!’
‘I only survived by the grace of God and the kindness of a local samurai warrior, Masamoto Takeshi,’ Jack explained. He then told Sir Henry how Masamoto had taken him in, adopted him and trained him in the Way of the Warrior. How, following a civil war, he’d journeyed across Japan to Nagasaki, where he’d had the good fortune to meet with the captain of the Hosiander, the Dutch trading vessel that had eventually brought him home.
As Jack related his tale, Sir Henry’s demeanour brightened. ‘So, you are well acquainted with the Japans and the Japanese? You speak their language, know their customs?’
Jack nodded. ‘Yes, but I returned to Eng–’
‘Then return to the Japans you must! With a new fleet. As soon as possible. You still have your father’s rutter, don’t you? May I …?’
Jack hesitated. The rutter was with him in his shoulder bag. He hadn’t dared leave it at the Bunch of Grapes. However, as honourable as Sir Henry Wilkes seemed, Jack didn’t yet know the man well enough to trust him with such a valuable heirloom. ‘I’m sorry, Sir Henry, but I can’t return to Japan.’
Sir Henry blanched. ‘Why ever not?’
‘I need to find my sister. She’s missing.’ Jack pulled out the silver locket and showed him her picture. Sir Henry squinted at the portrait. ‘I believe she might be in Stratford-upon-Avon,’ said Jack.
Sir Henry frowned. ‘I thought you lived in Limehouse, so why on earth would you think she’s in Stratford?’
‘I’m baffled myself,’ replied Jack, ‘but the artist Rowland Bodley said he overheard her talking about going there.’
‘Did he, now? Hmm, it’s unusual for a young woman to travel so far alone.’ But, after a moment’s consideration, Sir Henry patted Jack amiably on the shoulder. ‘Of course, Jack, family must come first. Visit my stables before you go and take whatever horses you require for your journey.’
‘Really?’ gasped Jack, stunned by Sir Henry’s offer. Rose had been right about enlisting Sir Henry’s help. Having horses at their disposal would cut days off their journey to Stratford.
Sir Henry nodded. ‘Yes, really. We can talk more about your return to the Japans when you get back to London. But do be careful on the roads. Trust no one – these are dangerous times.’
‘Of course, Sir Henry. I thank you for your generosity –’
Jack felt a tug on his sleeve and looked round to find Yori at his side, a strained expression on his face.
Pulling Jack closer, Yori whispered in his ear, ‘We have to leave. Right now!’
‘Why?’ breathed Jack.
Yori nodded towards the door. A guest with a tight crop of copper-red hair and a preened moustache was entering the room. ‘Sir Toby Nashe is here!’
‘Are you leaving so soon?’ said Sir Isaac, a disappointed pout on his lips as Jack extricated Akiko from his company.
‘I’m afraid we’ve a long journey tomorrow,’ Jack explained. ‘Thank you, Sir Henry; it has been a splendid party. Goodbye, Sir Isaac –’ and with that he began ushering Akiko and Yori away. ‘Come on, Rose!’
‘Sorry, it looks like we’re going,’ said Rose to a forlorn-looking Sir Thomas. As she was dragged towards a side door, she hissed at Jack, ‘What’s the hurry? I was just starting to enjoy myself!’
‘See that man over there?’ Jack replied, his eyes directing Rose’s attention to the main entrance. ‘He’s Sir Toby Nashe, the idiot who challenged me to a duel, then had me arrested and sentenced to hang!’
‘Oh dear,’ said Rose, barely suppressing a smirk, ‘you are in a pickle!’
Keeping their heads low and weaving between the other guests, they crossed the room as swiftly as possible. Then Yori
stopped short and gasped, ‘Sir Francis is here too!’
The lanky, long-haired fencer was sampling the sweetmeats from a tray offered by a servant. Doubling back, Jack and his friends headed towards the rear set of doors … only to run straight into Sir Toby himself! By a stroke of good fortune, however, their nemesis had his back to them and was exchanging greetings with a grave-faced man in a black fur robe. Before Sir Toby could turn round, Jack and the others darted behind a group of ladies, the wide hooped skirts of their dresses providing partial cover for the four fugitives.
‘Did you hear about the fiasco at the Globe yesterday?’ said one of the ladies, too wrapped up in their conversation to notice anyone hovering in their shadow.
‘Yes …’ said another, ‘I heard it was a rogue theatre company …’
‘I heard someone confessed to a murder …’ chipped in an older lady, ‘and the Justice of the Peace is investigating …’
‘And what about that ghost ship along the Thames … do you believe the tales of killer shadows?’
Jack’s ears pricked up. Killer shadows … that was the second time he’d heard the phrase. The women tittered nervously as they discussed the series of grisly garrottings. To Jack, the manner of death sounded disturbingly like a ninja technique. But such a notion was absurd. He was in England, not Japan. He was simply reading too much into the rumours. Besides, he had more pressing concerns to deal with at that moment.
Sir Toby and his companion were coming their way. Edging round the chattering group of women, Jack and his friends managed to keep out of sight. Still, he overheard the man in the black fur ask Sir Toby, ‘How’s that young filly of yours? Tamed her yet?’
‘No, she’s as disobedient as ever,’ Sir Toby replied, a sour look on his face. ‘She almost escaped the other day!’
His companion tutted disapprovingly. ‘You need to keep her on a short rein. At least, that’s how I handle my wife!’ They laughed cruelly at the expense of a timid, mousey-looking woman trailing a few feet behind.
The Return of the Warrior Page 10
