Page 23 - SagaOfBarak1

to his great booted feet on that dawn. Well he had quite simply bade his former
foemen a farewell, well those who weren’t speechless with drink that was. The
great smiling ogre had bade them as brothers of the sword and lance all a fond
farewell. Barak had wished them all good fortune in their future battles, oh and
also better luck in their choice of a new leader. Perhaps one with both eyes and
more intellect might be of some help the giant had joked quite uncaringly. Finally
once his words were spoken and all was done and dusted. And when big Barak
thought he had received sufficient adoration and homage from the newly won
over horde of savage horsemen. Well, the giant had then quite simply ridden off,
and the slayer did this on the best horse available. Oh and this horse as it so
happened was the former mount of the now deceased and headless chieftain. But
still after all said and done that brave fool had no further need of it. And also as
an added bonus as well as a certain amount of good luck, the horse to its former
owner’s credit, was a fast spirited beast. Aye the tall grey horse crossed many
cold rivers with Barak astride its back. And the gelding proved that it was a
damned good swimmer as well as a good galloper. To the savage bloodthirsty
horde that watched the great ogre ride away, singing an out of tune ballad as he
did so. Barak, well, he was no different a man to what they were, in fact, these
unwashed warriors supposed he was one and the same. Aye this great tattooed
slayer to them was neither a god nor a king or even an ogre, nor was he indeed
a Roman commander. No, the great slayer was only a barbarian, though except
Barak was of course quite the biggest barbarian any man there had ever seen
before, or for that matter ever would.

Barak had smiled and whistled, why the slayer even sang a little while he had
mounted the dead chief’s horse. Once mounted and with his mission
accomplished, the ogre had smiled again broadly to himself as he rode away from
the killing fields of the cold eastern plains. Above him now as the ogre rode off
in a westerly direction the skies were already darkening with the gathering of
huge black vultures. These creatures were always and ever hungry for human as
well as animal flesh. And aye these, screeching feathered carrion were most
greedy things, and also things keen to be getting on about their gory breakfeast.
Barak the meanwhile had at this time both standards heads pushed upside down
very disrespectfully inside one of his bags of weapons. Concealment in the giant’s
opinion of such trinkets was always and ever the wisest move. To some misguided
fools these pieces of wood with gold painted eagles atop of them were held as
great prizes. For gone now were the days when the standards were made of pure
gold with ornate silver trappings about them. Rome quite simply at this moment
in time was in decline, aye and a rapid decline at that. Now the Empire, well it
just could not afford such lavish expense. Still though, out of sight out of mind
was always the safer more sensible option Barak had always thought. Anyway
besides all of that, tomorrow or perhaps even the day after Barak mused to himself
as he sucked upon both his bad tooth and his long pipe. Then, aye then he would
ride off to Vindolanda to drop off the standards, oh and also to meet with the
Prefect who had sent him on this pricey ill-fated mission. Oh and what a foolish

27