He could not speak for some seconds; then he added: “I marvel not that I am looked on among you as guilty of his blood. Simon and Guy regard me as one with whom they are at deadly feud, and cannot understand that it was their own excesses that armed those merciless hands against him. Even my aunt shrank from me, and implored my mercy as though I were a ruthless tyrant. But thou, Richard, thou hast inherited enough of thy father’s mind to be able to understand how unwillingly was my share in his fall, and how great would be my comfort and joy in being good kinsman to one of his sons.” The strong man’s generous pleading was most touching. Richard bowed his head; the Princess watched him eagerly. The boy spoke at last in perplexity. “My Lord, you know better than I. Would it be knightly, would it be honourable?” The Princess started in some indignation at such a question to her husband; but Edward understood the boy better, and said, “That which is most Christian is most knightly.” Then pausing: “Ask thine heart, Richard; which would thy father choose for thee—to live in such guidance as I hope will ever be found in my household, or to share the wandering, I fear me freebooting, life of thy brothers?” Richard could not forget how his father had sternly withheld him from going with Simon to besiege Pevensey. He knew that these two brethren had long been a pain and grief to his father; and began to understand that the nephew, with whom the Earl’s last battle had been fought, was nevertheless his truest pupil. “Thou wilt remain,” said Edward decisively; “and let us strive one day to bring to pass the state of things for which thy father and I fought alike, though, alas! in opposite ranks.” “If my mother consents,” said Richard, his head bent down, and uttering the words with the more difficulty, because he felt so strongly drawn towards his cousin, who never seemed so mighty as in his condescension. “Then, Richard de Montfort,” said Edward gravely, “let us render to one another the kiss of peace, as kinsmen who have put away all thought of wrong between them.” Richard looked up; and the Prince bending his lofty head, there was exchanged between them that solemn embrace, which in the early middle ages was the deepest token of amity. And with that kiss, it was as though the soul of Richard de Montfort were knit to the soul of Edward of England with the heart-whole devotion, composed of affection and loyal homage to a great character, which ever since the days of the bond between the son of the doomed King of Israel and the youthful slayer of the Philistine champion, has been one of the noblest passions of a young heart. CHAPTER IV THE TRANSLATION “Now in gems their relics lie, And their names in blazonry, And their forms in storied panes Gleam athwart their own loved fanes.” _Lyra Innocentium_.