The sudden shock and awe had overwhelmed Simon, who was indeed weaponless, since his dagger remained in Richard’s wound. He silently assisted the Prince in lifting Richard to the cushions of the couch, and the low groan convinced them that he lived: looked anxiously for the wound. The dagger had gone deep between the ribs, and little but the haft could be seen. “Poisoned?” Edward asked, looking up at Simon. “No. It failed once. He may live,” said Simon, with bent brows and folded arms. “No, no. My death-blow!” gasped Richard, with sobbing breath. “Best so, if—Oh, could I but speak!” The Prince raised him, supporting his head on his own broad breast and shoulder, and signed to Simon to hold to his lips the cup of water that stood near. Richard slightly revived, and in this posture breathed more easily. “He might yet live. Call speedy aid!” said the Prince, who seemed to have utterly forgotten that he was practically alone with his persevering and desperate enemy. “Wait! Oh, wait!” cried Richard, holding out his hand; “it would be vain; but it will be all joy did I but know that there will be no more of this. Simon, he loved my father—he has spared thee again and again.” “Simon,” said the Prince, “for this dear youth’s sake and thy father’s, I raise no hand against thee. Bitter wrong has been done to thy house, by what persons, and how provoked, it skills not now to ask. Twice thy fury has fallen on the guiltless. Enough blood has been shed. Let there be peace henceforth.” Simon stood moody, with folded arms, and Richard groaned, and essayed to speak. “Peace, boy,” tenderly said Edward; “and thou, Simon, hear me. I loved thy father, and knew the upright noble spirit that arrayed him against us. Heaven is my witness that I would have given my life to have been able to save him on yon wretched battle-field. But he fell in fair fight, in helm and corselet, like a good knight. Peace be with him! Surely in this land of pardon and redemption his son and nephew may cease to seek one another’s blood for his sake! Cheer thy brother by letting him feel his brave deed hath not been fruitless. Free thou shalt go—do what thou wilt; no word of mine shall betray that this deed is thine.” “Lay aside thy purpose,” entreated Richard. “Bind him by oath, my Lord.” “Nay,” said the Prince. “Here, on foreign soil, the strife lies between the cousins, the sons of Henry and of Eleanor; and if Simon must needs still slake his revenge in my blood, he may have better success another time. Or, so soon as I can wear my armour again, I offer him a fair combat in the lists, man to man; better so than staining his soul with privy murder—but I had far rather that it should be peace between us—and that thou shouldst see it.” And Edward, still supporting Richard on his breast, held out his right hand to Simon, adding, “Let not thy brother’s blood be shed in vain.” Richard made a gesture of agonized entreaty.