"Ah, now my heart truly does weep for thou, Constance," said Robena in an overwrought tongue learned in the courts of Frankish kings, "for now at last I realize that to become a priestess thou were forced to forswear thy martial pride! It is no longer thine to wield a weapon upon the field of battle as thou did in yesteryear, now thou art at the mercy of any unchivalrous knave who dares to cast against you. Very well, then! Remain here - I go to fetch thou a champion to stand in thy place."

Robena turned her back. One free shot, should Constance desire it - that was all honour demanded.