Page 13 - SagaOfBarak1

next hurried himself downstairs to attend to the giant’s urgent needs. So with
some ale inside them, both Barak and Hubert sat there outside by the bench while
they talked together at some length. The early morning drinkers were brought
yet another jug of cool ale from the deep, well stocked cellar of the Seven Stars.
And this one was to follow the other three which had already been hastily
consumed. Also, as well as the cool frothy drink there was a large platter of goat’s
cheese, this with slices of thick cold meat the fat red faced landlord kindly
provided, aye and all of this was free of charge.
Hubert was a tired tearful man now with a few drinks inside of him, oh aye
the old guardian of the gate was full of sorrow worry and woe. Barak scowled,
grimaced then lit up his long clay pipe with the expertise of a man who was well
used to striking flints. Barak sat puffing away on his strong black mountain weed;
he said nothing for now, no the ogre said not a single word. As now the giant
chose instead to let the distraught Hubert pull himself together. And this Barak
did instead of pressing him and badgering for any immediate forced information
as to the cause of his obvious distress.
This castle, this impressive stone castle had been built quite recently by the
Romans themselves, it had been a present, a gift no less, as a token of thanks to
King Aulric. It had been Aulric who had helped the northern legions of Rome in
the long years past with border wars, aye Aulric had assisted them wage war
against the savage Pictish raiders. King Aulric, who years ago when he Barak
and Hubert had been much younger men, had tamed and fought nonstop against
the savage warlike Picts who dwelled north of the great wall. Then, as well as
defeating the savage but primitive Picts, Aulric with big Barak as his warlord
had also united the scattered feuding northern clans together. Even the warring
unruly tribes and the outlaw bands had all sworn an allegiance to both Aulric and
the old hated enemy that was Rome itself. Aulric was just a young chieftain then,
tall strong and proud he had always been and still was a highly principled most
moral man. But back then in those far off days Aulric was both a brave and
fearless warrior, as well of course as also a good leader of men. Times though
they are ever changing, it had now been many years since Aulric had been forced
to take up his sword. Well, this other than to knock apples down from a tree for
the children of the village.
But that though was perhaps another story.
Anyway at long last after several jugs of the landlord’s good if not very strong
beer Hubert had at last spilled out his tale of woe to the patient pipe smoking
giant. Aye and when he finally did so, well what a sorry tale it did indeed turn
out to be once delivered. Barak sat there both silently and patiently while puffing
away upon his long clay pipe, the slayer was still at this time not saying a single
word. No, the ogre instead listened most intently as Hubert told him of these
recent sad, very strange very sinister events.

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