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Following such praise and assertions of fatherly pride from Masamoto, a wave of guilt now replaced the elation Jack had been feeling. He was ashamed to have to admit to his guardian that he’d lied to him.

‘Thank you, Masamoto-sama, for your kind words,’ began Jack, bowing low, ‘but I don’t deserve them.’

Masamoto leant forward, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. ‘Why ever not?’

‘I know why the ninja attacked us in the Iga mountains. It was Dragon Eye. He was after me. Or, to tell the truth, after my father’s rutter.’

‘What’s a rutter?’ asked Sensei Hosokawa.

Jack told the three of them about the logbook, describing how pilots used it to navigate their ships, and explaining the rutter’s importance to trade and politics among the countries of Europe.

‘I’m sorry, Masamoto-sama, but I lied to you,’ Jack confessed. ‘The reason why Dragon Eye attacked Hiroko’s house in Toba was because of the rutter. I should have told you at the time, but I’d made a promise to my father to keep it secret. I didn’t know who to trust and then I was worried if you had the rutter, you’d become the target for Dragon Eye, rather than me.’

Masamoto stared at Jack. His stony expression gave little away, but Jack noticed the scars on his face had begun to redden. Sensei Hosokawa’s expression was equally severe. Sensei Yamada was the only one who looked kindly upon Jack, his eyes crinkling in sympathy at Jack’s predicament.

‘We will have to deal with this matter tomorrow,’ declared Masamoto tersely. ‘Unfortunately there’s a more pressing issue to be discussed first.’

Jack wondered what could be worse than breaking the fifth virtue of bushido by lying to his guardian.

Masamoto nodded to Sensei Hosokawa. The swordmaster picked up a large scroll of paper and passed it to Jack.

‘Explain this!’ demanded Masamoto.

Jack stared at the paper. It was the size of a poster with kanji scrawled across it. Having been taught the basics of Japanese handwriting by Akiko, Jack recognized his name among the characters.

‘What is it?’ Jack asked.

The three samurai exchanged confused looks.

‘It’s a challenge declaration,’ replied Masamoto, as if that explained everything.

Jack continued to stare in bewilderment at the scroll.

‘You may have succeeded in the Circle of Three, but your confidence in your abilities may be somewhat misguided,’ observed Sensei Hosokawa grimly. ‘What on earth made you think of entering into a sword duel with an unknown samurai on his musha shugyo?’

Jack looked up in shock at the sensei. Surely they were playing a joke on him. The grave expression on their faces, however, told him otherwise.

‘I… didn’t enter any duel,’ stammered Jack.

‘Your name’s down here, claiming to be the Great Blond Samurai,’ replied Sensei Hosokawa, pointing at the kanji. ‘Sasaki Bishamon, the samurai in question, has accepted your challenge. You are expected in the duelling ground before sunset tonight.’

Jack was stunned into silence. This couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t written his name down for any challenge. He had no wish to risk his life duelling with a samurai just to prove whose martial arts were the best. And certainly not against a warrior named after the God of War.

His only intention was to retrieve the rutter. That was if Masamoto still allowed him to go to Nijo Castle tonight for the Circle of Three celebration. His guardian may have suspended judgement on the issue of the rutter until the following day, but the threat of it hung over Jack like a guillotine.

Now Jack had the prospect of a duel to contend with too.

‘I didn’t write this,’ insisted Jack, his eyes pleading. ‘I can’t fight this samurai.’

Jack’s mind whirled in panic. Such a duel could end in him losing a limb, or even in death. Who could have done such a thing?

Kazuki.

The boy had vowed he would get his revenge. This was it. Jack had to admire his rival’s genius, though. It was so neat, so Kazuki.

‘If not you, then who?’ asked Masamoto.

Jack was about to blurt out Kazuki’s name, when he remembered how he had falsely accused