Pale and woebegone they clustered on the green. News had come of
Robin--he was dead when they found him--but no man gave heed.
Death was in the air, death held them safe in walls they might not
scale. The heavens were brass, food failed for man and beast, God
and man alike had forsaken them. The forest lay one side, the
river, now but a shallow sluggish stream, lay the other; 'twas a
cleft stick and the springe tightened.
No evil had as yet befallen Dickon. He stood with the rest and
murmured, cursing. All at once he made for the ale-house.
"Fools that we are to stand like helpless brats when there is
liquor enough and to spare in yon cellars. He who is minded to go
dry throat to Heaven had best make haste; for me I will e'en swill
a bucket to the devil's health, and so to hell."
Half-a-dozen men followed him, pushing aside mine host who strove
to bar the door. Some of the women fell on their knees and
clamoured in half delirious prayer; the rest slunk dismayed to
their pestilent homes.
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