It was easy, of course, to discover which was his tent; and Cuthbert soon got its position, and then took Cnut into his counsels.

“The matter is difficult,” Cnut said, “and I see no way by which a watch can be kept up by day; but after dark—­I have several men in my band who can track a deer, and surely could manage to follow the steps of this baron without being observed.  There is little Jack, who is no bigger than a boy of twelve, although he can shoot, and run, and play with the quarterstaff, or, if need be, with the bill, against the best man in the troop.  I warrant me that if you show him the tent he will keep such sharp watch that no one shall enter or depart without his knowing where they go to.  On a dark night he will be able to slip among the tents, and to move here and there without being seen.  He can creep on his stomach without moving a leaf, and trust me the eyes of these French men-at-arms will look in vain for a glimpse of him.”

“You understand, Cnut, all that I want to know is whether the other conspirators in this matter visit his tent, or whether he goes to theirs.”

“I understand,” Cnut said.  “That is the first point to be arrived at.”

Three days later Cnut brought news that each night after dark a party of five men met in the tent that was watched; that one of the five always came out when all had assembled, and took his station before the entrance of the tent, so as to be sure that no eavesdropper was near.

Cuthbert smiled.

“It is a case of locking the door after the horse has gone.”

“What is to be done now?” Cnut asked.

“I will talk with the earl before I tell you, Cnut.  This matter is too serious for me to take a step without consulting Sir Walter.”

That night there was a long talk between the earl and his page as to the best course to be pursued.  It was clear that their old enemy was the leading person in the plot, and that the only plan to baffle it with any fair chances of success was to keep a constant eye upon his movements, and also to have three or four of the sturdiest men of the band told off to watch, without being perceived, each time that the princess was in her palace.

The Earl of Evesham left the arrangements entirely in the hands of his page, of whose good sense and sagacity he had a very high opinion.

His own first impulse had been to go before the king and denounce the Count of Brabant.  But the ill-will between them was already well known; for not only was there the original dispute at the banquet, but when the two armies had joined at Sicily, King Richard, who had heard from the earl of the attempt at the assassination of Cuthbert, had laid a complaint before King Philip of the conduct of his subject.

Sir de Jacquelin Barras, however, had denied that he had any finger in the matter.

“He had,” he said, “discharged his page after the encounter with Cuthbert, and knew nothing further whatever of his movements.”