God. The inevitability of it. 

The part of her that wore the bear skin rages. Thrashes. Cries. Begs. Why not draw your sword and dare them to try and take you? Why not run? Why not resort to banditry? What foul magic is contained within the word [i]knight[/i] to make you give up the truths of the heart, of the blood? What makes you dare every instinct? This path does not even have the promise of love or redemption or glory at its end. It is an unknown, awful burden - no, a [i]curse[/i]. A faerie curse from the living dead. Why consider this a matter of honour? Why accept the premise and let a deathless monster strike you down rather than spending your year learning a way to slay ghosts? Don't you want to taste again, to sing again, to be beautiful and strong beneath the sun? Why should you not be a goddess? Why should you not be a beast, when there is so much joy in savagery?

Eve no doubt asked herself the same questions when she stood outside the Garden. Nothing stopped her from returning. She had not become any more or less capable of violence. Predators still roamed the garden, the lion and the serpent, beasts still below divine judgement. The apple had not corrupted Eve, it had simply made her aware of the blood.

And she was aware now. 

She has no words, and yet she must find them anyway. She wants to face her death silently, stoically, like the ox before the hammer. She cannot be permitted that either.

"The ideal of chivalry has faded," said Robena Coilleghille. "The land is blighted. The fields are fallow. Warriors use the word 'knight' until its meaning drips towards 'bandit'. And I am as much responsible for that as anyone.

"I wish I could cast the blame away, I wish that I could cast the blame at the King, or even at my Countess. I wish I could let the salve of loyalty soothe the flame of every other vice. But I have stood in many lands, before many kings. I have seen many examples, brilliant and wretched. Always my soul had the knowledge of good and evil, and so I learned to suppress it. Alcohol, obedience and pride - three devils enough to drink the Grail dry. My soul desiccated in the drought.

"But then there came a wildfire; a spark set by the devil that set alight that fading forest. For this, I thank the devil. I burned while there was still some part of me left to burn. Five more years and I might not even have felt shame when I struck King Pellinore from behind 'neath the flag of truce. Certainly, my mistress did not. It was not [i]she[/i] who was called to face judgement here. At first I thought this a terrible injustice, but my heart knew that to be false. She was being treated as an animal. Returned to the Garden. The world resigned to her slaughter and base impulses. An animal she had become already.

"In being offered judgement, even if the judgement was to end in death, I was being offered a greater courtesy by far. I was recognized as someone who had the knowledge of good and evil, even if I had done great evil. So I am grateful, too, to King Pellinore and her mercy. She did not condemn me as a mere beast in that moment. She condemned me as a sinner. And so, I approach you lords and ladies as a sinner. While I have stained the title of knight, I have striven this past year to be at least a virtuous sinner."

And with this, at last, she kneels.