“Oho, Fool, aha!” cried the voice. “Thus have I, a poor, feeble old woman, wrought better than all thy valiance or Lobkyn's strength. So, by potency of my spells and magic are we quits, thou and I. Bring, then, thy rogue outlaw and haste ye!”
So saying the old Witch muffled her awful, fiery face in ragged mantle and turned away; and in that moment Robin was aware of three forms about him in the grey dawn-light, felt his bonds loosed off by quick, strong hands and drew a great, joyous breath.
“How, Fool, thou brave and noble Motley,” quoth he, “is it thou again? And I to live?”
“Aye, marry, Robin! But come apace, the day breaketh and the city is astir—hark to yon shouts! Follow!”
So with the Tanner on one side and Lobkyn on the other, Robin ran, hard on Jocelyn's heels; and ever the dawn brightened until up came the sun chasing away sullen shadow and filling street and alley with his glory.
But now, and just as they reached that narrow street where safety lay, they heard a shout, a scream, a rush of feet and roar of fierce voices and beheld, amid a surge of armed men, the old woman struggling in the cruel grip of Black Lewin who (like many others I wot of, my Gill) was brave enough by daylight. Vainly the old creature strove, screaming for mercy as Black Lewin whirled aloft his sword; but his blade clashed upon another as Jocelyn sprang, and for a while the air rang with the sound of fierce- smiting steel until, throwing up his arms, Black Lewin fell and lay there. But, roaring vengeance, the soldiery closed about Jocelyn who, beset by blows on every side, sank in turn, yet, even as he fell, two short though mighty legs bestrode his prostrate form and Lobkyn Lollo, whirling huge club, smote down the foremost assailant and, ever as he smote, he versified and chanted—thus:
“I'm Lollo hight,
Brave Lobkyn Lollo, I,
I'm Lollo hight,
'Tis my delight
By day or night
In honest fight
With main and might
Good blows to smite,
And where they light
'Tis sorry plight
For that poor wight,
Brave Lobkyn Lollo, I.
“Bows, swords and staves,
Come, lusty knaves,
And fit for graves
Brave Lobkyn soon will make ye;
So fight, say I,
Nor turn and fly,
Or, when ye die,
Then may old Horny take ye.”
Fierce raged the conflict, but in that narrow street they made good play against their many assailants, the valiant Dwarf's mighty club, backed by the Tanner's darting pike and Robin's flashing sword, which he had snatched from a loosened grasp. But Jocelyn lay prone upon his face, between Lobkyn's firm-planted feet, and stirred not. So club whirled, sword flashed and pike darted while, high above the tumult, rose Lobkyn's fierce chant:
“Hot blood I quaff,
At death I laugh,
Brave Lobkyn Lollo, I.
Come all that may,
And all I'll slay,
And teach ye how to die.”
“Lob—Lobkyn!” screamed the Witch. “Thou that drinkest nought but milk—talk not of blood, thou naughty poppet. Back now—stand back, I do command thee!”