This was nothing new. This was not a failure.

Of course you were wrong, Constance. Of course any dream that she, Robena, was some sort of hero was wrong. Ideals like that were memories of a time before Burgundy, before Antioch, before Jerusalem. She was a vassal. She was a shield. She was the extension of Lady Sandsfern's will so utterly it was hardly worth mentioning. She had only failed once in all her days and it had been when she had not struck down the Crossroads Devil before it could grant that fated wish. 

She had not hesitated this time. She had not known what wicked sorcery King Pellinore might have wrought against her Lady if she had been given the chance. What [i]restitution[/i] might have meant. 

This was [i]not[/i] a failure. She gripped her bloody axe so tightly she felt the ring mail of her gloves bend. 

This was a redemption. 

She had been given a second chance to save her Lady and [i]this time[/i] she had not faltered. She had not stood stunned. She had not begged uselessly. She had risen above a weakness and a failure she had carried in her heart for long years alone on the road and [i]so what[/i] if she was to be cursed over it? So [i]what[/i] if she was to die over it!? She had sworn to die for Lady Sandsfern if needed, and this was but that in slow motion! 

She felt death settle upon her shoulders, as heavy as the terrible bearskin she wore. 

So it was death, then. 

The haft of her axe, carved from ancient wood from German forests, cracked beneath the strength of her crushing hands.

An oath fulfilled. She had died for Lady Sandsfern as she should have at the Crossroads. Was that why she had done it? Why was she questioning now? Of course she had done it for Sandsfern! She had done it for - for honour! She knew what that meant and had accepted this fate in advance. She knew better than anyone! She'd known death would come for her and so of course it had held no fear for her in that moment! She - she was a puppet, and this had not been her choice to make. Not [i]truly[/i]. She had [i]known[/i] what her Lady had wanted and what was a Knight to do but obey?

And after all, Pellinore had ravaged Britain on the orders of a wicked ruler, foregoing chivalry and injuring the maiden heart of Constance.

And... who... who could commit a sin like that and deserve forgiveness?