[Tancred]

In the night, another man came to the chapel. The sword he bore lit the way with a golden light. Stepping carefully - lest his muddy, mailed feet wake the resting souls here - he made his way to the grave. In silence he stood, and looked upon the tombstone, the roses.
"Well, there she is, dead." a somewhat bored voice came from the sword. "Can we go now?"
"No."
Slowly - with a slight creak frm his rusty armour - he bent down on one knee, holding his head close to the earth of Galadria's resting place. He stared intently at the dark earth, still as a statue.
"What exactly are you looking for, holy-boy?"
A twinge of emotion broke the man's voice. "I... don't know. I..."
"Who was she, anyway?"
Tancred breathed out, heavily. "A Paladin, a heroine... her story is one of tragedy and enduring adversity. A legend, even now."
"Greater than ours?"
The man could not help but smile sadly at the hint of shocked pride in the blade's words. "Aye, Karnas. That she was."
He got to his feet, walking slowly to the tombstone.
"'You see Galadria, daughter of Foebanus'? My classical is not good."
"Something like that," comments the sword.
Tancred shakes his head. "Damn it..."
"What?"
"This... this isn't right..."
A smewhat softer note enters the sword's mocking tones. "All things pass on, boy. Her. You. Even me... possibly."
"No." Tancred's mouth tightened. "We are Paladins. We are heroes... we are not made for death. As long as there is evil... there is us. Surely that is how it should be?"
The sword snorts derisively. "Those who the Gods love, die young, boy."
It is Tancred's turn to stifle a bitter laugh. "That makes sense. I am still here..."
With care, the knight draws another rose - or at least, what once must have been a rose - from his pack. A small paper label still hangs from it - 'one penny'. The flower is crushed and the stem is bent, and as Tancred holds it up to look at it a few petals falls to the floor. The young knight looks at it ruefully.
"I'm sorry about this, Lady," he says to the darkness. "This is all I have."
With exaggerated care, the young man places the dilapidated rose upon the grave, and turns to leave.
Karnas tuts.
"Waste of a good penny. It's not like we knew her. Why did you do that?"
"Because it should be done," the young man snaps back. "and because I wanted to."
The pair walk on, out, back into the darkness.