He was a smallish man with sparse gingery hair and pale skin flecked with scaly patches. He claimed to be a merchant, although his general appearance gave the impression that if indeed he was, then he was not a very successful one. In the company of a sway-backed mule laden with shabby goods that surely only the desperate would wish to buy, he travelled the roads and the tracks of a wide area of East Anglia between the coastal ports and the inland towns, villages and hamlets and his name was Sagar. Brought forward to repeat his tale, he was sweating with nerves and had clearly taken a drink or two. Baudouin had found lodgings for him with one of Lord Gilbert’s men. Lord Gilbert, informed that Sagar had evidence which would condemn Sibert for Romain’s murder without any doubt, had instructed his man to present Sagar at the appointed time and meanwhile keep him sober and keep a close eye on him. The appointed time was the next day. Tomorrow, Baudouin thought, tense with apprehension.
