"It has sinned."

Again the voice asked: "Did it die shriven of its sins?"

The angel answered: "It died unshriven, red sword aloft, fighting
a good fight."

"Fighting for the Cross of Christ?"

"Nay; fighting for a woman."

"Alas! poor soul, sinful and unshriven, who died fighting for a
woman's love. How shall such a one find mercy?" wailed the
questioning voice, growing ever fainter, till it was lost far,
far away.

Now came another visitor. It was his father--the warrior sire
whom he had never seen, who fell in Syria. Godwin knew him well,
for the face was the face carven on the tomb in Stangate church,
and he wore the blood-red cross upon his mail, and the D'Arcy
Death's-head was on his shield, and in his hand shone a naked
sword.

"Is this the soul of my son?" he asked of the whiterobed
watchers. "If so, how died he?"

Then the angel at his foot answered: "He died, red sword aloft,
fighting a good fight."