“Verily!” nodded Robin, “an I do speak the word.”
“So be it—speak!” growled Sir Pertinax. “Come, Death—I fear thee not!” And out flashed his long sword; but even then it was twisted from his grasp and Lobkyn Lollo, tossing the great blade aloft and, catching it very neatly, laughed and spake:
“Five times, five times ten
Are we, all lusty men.
An hundred twice and fifty deaths are we,
So, an Rob speak, dead thou 'lt as often be.”
“Nay, hold a while, sweet lads!” laughed Robin, “the surly rogue shall sing for his life and our good pleasaunce.”
“Sing?” roared Sir Pertinax. “I sing! I? Ha, dare ye bid me so, base dog? Sing, forsooth? By Og and Gog! By the Seven Champions and all the fiends, rather will I die!” And here, being defenceless, Sir Pertinax clenched mighty fists and swore until he lacked for breath.
Then spake Jocelyn, gentle-voiced.
“Sing, Pertinax,” quoth he.
“Ha—never! Not for all the—”
“I do command thee, Pertinax. As Robin once sang for his life, now must thou sing for thine. Song for song, 't is but just! Sing, Pertinax!”
“Nay,” groaned the proud knight, “I had rather drink water and chew grass like a rabbit. Moreover I ha' no gift o' song—”