“Whither now?” questioned Sir Pertinax.
“Verily,” said Jocelyn, “where but to the gatehouse—”
“Not so,” muttered Gurth, “'tis overly well guarded—”
“Aye,” growled Will, “which is true, as I'm a tanner!”
“Howbeit,” said Jocelyn, “I'm for the gatehouse!”
“And wherefore?” demanded Sir Pertinax.
“In cause of one Rob, a robber.”
“Aye, but,” said Gurth, “he is to hang at crow-o'-cock and 'tis nigh cock-crow now.”
“The more need for haste,” said Jocelyn.
But, even now, as they together spoke,
A sullen tramp the sleeping echoes woke,
Behind them in the gloom dim forms they saw,
While others grimly barred the way before;
And so, by reason that they could not fly,
They grasped their weapons and prepared to die.
Then in the darkness of that narrow street,
Broad axe and pike and flashing sword did meet.
Duke Jocelyn full many a thrust drave home,
Till whirling pike-staff smote him on cock's-comb,
And staggering back to an adjacent wall,
In deep-sunk doorway groaning he did fall.