r his left arm, Wulf leapt upon the back of
his own horse, and turned it. Ten seconds more, and the pirates,
who were gathering with the oars where the paths joined at the
root of the causeway, saw the two great horses thundering down
upon them. On one a sore wounded man, his bright hair dabbled
with blood, his hands gripping mane and saddle, and on the other
the warrior Wulf, with starting eyes and a face like the face of
a flame, shaking his red sword, and for the second time that day
shouting aloud: "A D'Arcy! a D'Arcy! Contre D'Arcy, contre
Mort!"

They saw, they shouted, they massed themselves together and held
up the oars to meet them. But Wulf spurred fiercely, and, short
as was the way, the heavy horses, trained to tourney, gathered
their speed. Now they were on them. The oars were swept aside
like reeds; all round them flashed the swords, and Wulf felt that
he was hurt, he knew not where. But his sword flashed also, one
blow--there was no time for more--yet the man beneath it sank
like an empty sack.

By St. Peter! They were through, and Godwin still swayed upon
the saddle, and yonder, nearing the further shore, the grey horse
with its burden still battled in the tide. They were through!
they were through! while to Wulf's eyes the air swam red, and the
earth seemed as though it rose up to meet them, and everywhere
was flaming fire.

But the shouts had died away behind them, and the only sound was
the sound of the galloping of their horses' hoofs. Then that
also grew faint and died away, and silence and darkness fell upon
the mind of Wulf.

Chapter Two: Sir Andew D'Arcy

Godwin dreamed that he was dead, and that beneath him floated
the world, a glowing ball, while he was borne to and fro through
the blackness, stretched upon a couch of ebony. There were bright
watchers by his couch also, watchers twain, and he knew them for
his guardian angels, given him at birth. Moreover, now and again
presences would come and question the watchers who sat at his
head and foot. One asked:

"Has this soul sinned?" And the angel at his head answered:

"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