"Gentle Witch, sweet dame," quoth he, "what do ye with poor
Lob?"
"Thwack him shrewdly!"
"Which is, Witch, that which none but witch the like o' thee might do, for
lustier fighter and mightier dwarf never was. Thus, but for thy witch-like
witcheries, the which, Witch, witch do prove thee, but for this and the
power and potency of thy spells, now might he crack out thy life 'twixt
finger and thumb--"
"Ha, forest-rogue, 'tis a bad brat, a very naughty elf would run off into
the wild to be rogue like thee--an outlaw, forsooth!"
"Forsooth, Witch," laughed Robin, "outlaw is he in very truth, in sooth and
by my troth! Outlaw is Lob, banned by Church and Council of Ten, and so
proclaimed i' the market square of Canalise this very morn by sound o'
trumpet and--"
"How? How?" cried the old woman, wringing her trembling hands. "My Lobkyn
outlawed? My babe, my lovely brat, my pretty bantling, woe and alas! My
dear ugly one an outlaw?"
"Aye, marry is he, Witch, outlaw proclaimed, acclaimed, announced,
pronounced and denounced; as such described, ascribed and proscribed by
Master Gregory Bax, the port-reeve, for the late slaying and maiming of
divers of the city guard.
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