"Well, at least you were sensible in that regard," I said. "How long did you stand and gaze at each other?"
His face darkened. "Not long. We were together twenty minutes, I think. She was gone before the clock struck the hour again."
That took us up to eleven o'clock. "What did you do then?"
"I stayed near the canal. I did not want her reappearance at the school to be connected to mine, if someone should see her return from her late walk."
"Very sensible of you. How long did you stay?"
"I do not know. I was deep in thought. Then I decided not to return to the stables, but to visit my family." He gave me a defiant look, as though I would not believe him. "I knew they were moored down the canal near Great Bedwyn, so I walked that way. I boarded their boat, and we shared food and wine and conversation. It was good to see them."
Some Roma traveled up and down the canals in boats with all their worldly goods, much like other Roma traveled overland in caravans. They would take odd jobs and buy food and wine from any that would sell it to them.
I sometimes envied the gypsies their freedom, although I knew it was not true freedom-they lived hand to mouth and could not give it up when they liked.
"Did you stay with them all night?"
"A good part of it," Sebastian said. "I argued with my uncles-they do not believe I should work for the… English." He paused before he said English, and I knew he'd suppressed a more derogatory, Romany term. "But I want to have maybe a better life. Not hungry, not stealing."
"I understand," I said. "What then?"
"We argued for a while, then I left the boat and walked back to the stables."
"What time did you arrive?"
He bowed his head, stared at his fingers. "I think the clocks had struck two."
"Did you see Middleton?"
He looked at me, shrugged. "No. I thought he'd gone to bed. It was very quiet. I went to sleep."
He'd have had no reason to check that Middleton had actually returned. I let that go.
Sebastian went on. In the morning, he'd began his duties as usual, turning the horses out to the yard while he mucked out stalls. At about dawn, one of the stable hands had dashed in, looking horrified, and said that Middleton had been found dead in the lock.
Sebastian's story sounded plausible and was probably true. Unfortunately, however, the story provided ample gaps of time in which Sebastian could have met Middleton, killed him, and disposed of his body in the lock.
Even if Belinda dared admit that Sebastian talked with her between ten-thirty and eleven o'clock, there was still the time he waited on the canal bank, the time it took him to walk to his family's boat, the time he'd spoken with them, and the time he'd walked back to the stables. He had stood right next to the lock in question, lost in thought, which was not good. A canny magistrate could poke plenty of holes in his story.
On the other hand, his very vagueness spoke of his innocence. If Sebastian were guilty, would he not come up with a story that accounted for his whereabouts every minute?
His family would no doubt confirm that Sebastian had visited them, but would a magistrate believe them? Would a jury?
I sighed. "Did you see anyone, anyone at all in your journey up and down the canal? Hear anything?"
Sebastian shook his head. "I heard only noises of the night. I saw no other person."
Most helpful.
I rose, remembering in time to duck my head in the low-ceilinged room. "I will do what I can to help you, Sebastian. I cannot promise it will be easy, but I will help."
"Do not tell the magistrate about Belinda," Sebastian pleaded quickly.
He was a handsome lad. A girl constantly bullied and sheltered by her father would seek solace in the smiles of an attractive man who admired her. But theirs was a doomed love.
"I hope we do not have to." I paused. "Who was the Romany woman who tried to visit you?"
Sebastian started. "Woman?"
"The constable's housekeeper told me that a Romany woman came to visit you, but the housekeeper would not let her see you."
Sebastian's mouth was open. He looked pale, but that might still be his fear of the enclosed room. "My mother, most like," he whispered.
I could always ask her. Questioning the Roma would be my next task.
"A piece of advice, Sebastian," I said. "When you face the magistrate, tell the truth. Stick to the truth, do not try to embellish and do not avoid answering a question. If you stay with the truth, the person lying will eventually be revealed. Do you understand?"
I do not think he did, but he nodded.
I gave him a few more reassuring phrases, then I departed.
The door opened for me easily enough. The woman had not locked us in. She was waiting, though, in the yard, ample arms folded. As soon as I emerged, she slammed the door and shot home the bolt, as though fearing that poor Sebastian would leap from his den and murder us both.
Chapter Four
I returned to the tavern to collect my horse, intending to ride down the canal from here to Bedwyn to look for Sebastian's family.
The tavern, called the Boar, was the tavern to which Middleton apparently had been making his way last night. I inquired of the hostler whether he had seen Middleton the night before. The man shrugged. I decided to discover what the landlord knew and ducked my head to enter the warm, dark interior of the taproom.
Despite the excitement of the murder, the tavern was quiet, the people of Sudbury having gone about their business. They had not forgotten, however. When the landlord approached me, he expressed his views.
"Gave me a turn, hearing we had such a brutal murder so close to home. The lads hereabouts are all looking out for the murderer, I can tell you."
I asked him if Middleton had come to the tavern the previous night, and he shook his head. "Never saw him. Not last night. Came in here from time to time, he did, but didn't talk much with us. Kept to himself. Looked on in kind of a quiet way. But last night, no. Didn't darken the doorway."
I wondered why Middleton had set off for the tavern and never reached it. Had the killer lain in wait for him and dispatched him at once, or taken him somewhere?
Someone waved to me from a dark corner. I recognized Simon Fletcher, the Classics tutor. I moved across the room to him, and he grinned and gestured to the chair beside him.
"Sit down, Lacey, and share a pint. Poor old Middleton," he said jovially as I took a chair facing him. "One day saddling your horse, the next dead in a canal. You never know what the world will send your way, do you?"
"Did you know him?" I asked.
Fletcher shook his head. He had lank brown hair that was wearing thin and rather flat brown eyes. His face was long, horse-like, but his mouth curved into ready smiles that made his otherwise dull eyes twinkle. "I never went to the stables much. Not a horse man. I trust my own shanks or ride a coach if I need to go farther afield. Don't much understand the beasts."
The landlord's wife brought me an ale. I much wanted to be on my way scouring the canal for Sebastian's kin, but Fletcher could possibly tell me much. I took a fortifying sip of ale and found it spicy and warm, pleasant after the chill rain outside.
"What do you think happened?" I asked.
Fletcher looked mildly surprised I should ask him. "Good lord, I have no idea. Probably he met up with some ruffians who tried to rob him. Is there not a band of Roma wandering about?"
"They've arrested Sebastian, the Romany stable hand."
Fletcher nodded. "I heard. Some of the lads are unhappy. They like the fellow. Others say he should be stoned to death." He made a face. "Bloody little beasts boys can be."
"One of them put a garter snake in my bed," I remarked.