Page 27 - SagaOfBarak1

yet still be safe.’ And this the Briton blurted out both sadly aye and also more
than a little bitterly. ‘Damn Rome, damn Rome with its pompous arrogance to
hell and back,’ the heart-broken king cursed out loudly. Aulric had meant no
offence toward his friend Barak but nevertheless these words cut most deeply
into the giant’s very large heart, even more into his very soul itself if the truth
was to be known.
Aye, what made matters worse as it so happened, as has already been said,
this disastrous quest, well it was no more than a foolhardy disastrous folly. A lot
of good men had died on those cold windy plains to retrieve what was after all
only a symbol of dying Roman power. But still despite all and everything even
in the face of Aulric’s harsh bitter but honest words Barak still showed no outward
sign of either remorse guilt or even anger. Perhaps because after all was said and
done, and for better or worse, what had happened had happened. Aye what was
done was done. And therefore, well it could of course not be undone. But then
again though, on the other hand however, well this could and it would always be
avenged. So now with this black retribution firmly in Barak’s mind, now it was
a time to listen. Yes it was a time to listen now, time to learn of these past goings
on. And then, and only then, and when he had gathered enough valid information
would the ogre act. Barak of course being Barak, well then no doubt he would
of course act quickly, aye also very possibly and more than likely the ogre would
act most violently.
After some little time in passing whilst listening very carefully to Aulrics
every word the great tattooed giant relit his long much loved weed filled pipe.
Now the ogre appeared to be more relaxed, in fact the slayer appeared quite at
ease with himself. Barak listened most intently most carefully to every single
word Aulric said to him, the ogre as always and ever overlooked nothing. Often
the slayer would ask the king to repeat himself over and over again. This way
the giant was making quite sure Aulric was accurate in his every single detail of
this recent tragedy. But in the meanwhile the heat from the blazing fire warmed
Barak’s huge body, while the monks’ mead from the flagon warmed his belly
and the black mountain weed from his long pipe warmed his very being. For well
over an hour Aulric went over and over again repeating in parrot fashion the grim
events which had brought a once proud king to become a sad shambling mess of
a man.
Aulric ran a rough scarred gnarled hand through his long greying somewhat
unkempt lank and greasy hair.
‘Seven arrows, seven arrows that were black shafted and with black flight
feathers you say?’ Barak asked a little whimsically.

‘Aye’, Aulric replied simply in answer to Barak’s question, a question the
giant had asked him several times before already. ‘How many more ways can I
answer you the same question Barak?’ Aulric asked this a little sharply. Barak

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