Oh, and here she was, the temptress! She who came begging before her with two eyes unshadowed and lips unreddened and requested the makeup of the gauntlet! There were a hundred ways to give the requisite offense here, a hundred ways to transmute this blustering conversation into something far less instantly tedious. Ah, well. If she'd wanted to spend her last days in mortal splendour she'd have turned to banditry rather than the church. 

"Perhaps the Saxons come tomorrow," said Robena. "Striking forth on raid, catching us unaware, putting us to the sword and looting the castle's wealth for themselves. If that is to be the case then all your winter preparation will be for naught but the service of evil - and yet there is no twist of fate that can turn my hunt of that fox from a good deed to ill."