Page 12 - SagaOfBarak1

‘So anyway my friend, I merely told them, our beer drinking sausage eating
cousins, I only eat men when there is nothing to catch. Nothing else about if you
know what I mean Hubert, because after all men are not near as fleet as the stag
nor are they as big and ferocious as the bear are they? Aye and I do suppose all
in all, and taken on one at a time I must admit I do find them, men I mean very
poor sport. Why I do suppose they are not much more exciting in the hunt or the
kill than catching and killing a rabbit,’ the giant went on in all earnest.
Even under these present somewhat sad bleak difficult circumstances Hubert
could not help but sneak out another slight smile. Barak, as always and as ever
had a grim and a sharp ready sense of humour about him. This was a common
trait so it was said amongst the men who spent their lives under the constant
shadow of death. In fact it was well reported and rumoured the gladiators of
Rome’s arena mocked at their peril-fraught unlucky lot most of their waking
hours; well at least that was the rumour. Because after all said and done, bitter
tears coupled with complaints as well as screaming and cursing at the distant
moon and the stars above well this would not change a single thing in their
violent, bloody and mostly short lived lives would it?
‘Oh by the by, anyway Hubert while we are talking of meat,’ Barak continued.
‘Know you this with the right sauces, with some good spices and a few fresh
herbs thrown into the pot. Well, I do swear you can just about make anyone taste
like a nice roast chicken, or even a rabbit come to that. Oh, oh I am so sorry
Hubert, I mean of course you can make anything taste like chicken or rabbit.’
Barak added this very quickly thus hopefully correcting his somewhat careless
slip of the tongue.

Hubert, well the old guardsman in a very diplomatic fashion simply made out
he had never quite heard Barak’s verbal blunder. After all too much information
can at times often spoil a perfectly good friendship.
The two men next walked slowly over to a heavy much used oak bench. It
was an oak bench that of course was sat outside of the small sturdy stone built
inn. This was the only inn within the castle walls as it so happened. Aye and truth
said it was quite a prosperous little place at that was the inn of the Seven Stars.
And there above the doorway to the place hung a black wooden board carved in
the shape of a star, this with seven gold painted stars emblazoned neatly upon it.
Barak, once there outside the premises, banged loudly upon the tavern’s door
with a great fist, the ogre demanding loudly and urgently drink and food be
brought for both himself and the downcast Hubert. After but a short while in
waiting had passed them by it was a bleary, bloodshot eyed innkeeper that opened
a small window above the tavern door. It must be said the landlord was perhaps
not at all best pleased at being so rudely awoken so early on that chill morning.
But before complaining and once seeing who the huge caller was at this early
hour the innkeeper very wisely saved his insults for another less large and less
dangerous customer. Hastily the landlord at once dressed himself, this done he

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