The Duke of Barkshyre Inn: As good as the hound's proverbials!

 

Dear Reader,

This past week I found myself in the most wonderful establishment, though I suspect inclement weather may fill it with a rather unfortunate odour. The reason for this will become apparent quite soon!
Just outside the hamlet of Marek's Field, on the road between Cole's Villa and Ledcester, sits an unassuming building that could easily be mistaken for a small barn. All but hidden in the shadow of Badger's Gate House, the ancestral pile of the Royal House of Crufts, the ornate black iron letters are almost lost against the dark oak beam above the front door. The words may say "The Duke of Barkshyre Inn" but to the locals, at least the beagle that helped me find this place after more hours searching than one cares to admit, it's The Kennel.

And one can see why! The Duke of Barkshyre is recently under new management, after the previous owner was executed for Treason, by the noble watch-hounds of the Royal House of Crufts*. It is an up and coming inn, under the stewardship of Lord Spearling of the Crufts and operated by his menials. It caters to the gentlebeasts of Marek's Field, to those travellers fortunate enough to pass through and find it, and of course to Lord Spearling's pack of hounds. One could be mistaken for thinking the inn exclusively serves the latter, on first entry. During my visit, the door was opened for me** to reveal a drinking hall populated only by canines, most bearing the rich green of the Crufts, and even a few sporting the white of the senior ranks. Above the bar hangs their coat of arms, and the place is awash with bronze tankards emblazoned with the same.
Yet the patrons and staff are incredibly welcoming of anyone who finds their way through the front door. Two long tables run the short length of the hall, encouraging a very communal feel with conversation flowing as freely as the ale! Loud laughter regularly echoes from the rafters and rich music plays from dawn to dusk, and on into the night. It took me back to the days of my youth travelling through Bearvaria; Munchien in particular. Within moments of an affable retriever making space for me, I felt like I had made firm friends with the pug across the table and the collie to my right. A frequent rotation of table-neighbours (and indeed moving myself around as the night wore on) meant I soon felt as at home as I might in my local. I'm sure beasts of any species would be made to feel just as welcome. There was certainly no shortage of mouse-sized drinking vessels, and I spied a good number of others sizes across the back wall too!

With names like the Royal House of Crufts and The Duke of Barkshyre, it would usually be safe to assume this inn would be a royalist establishment. However, the relationship between the Crufts and the Othyrs is less than warm. Though Lord Spearling is a valued member of the court of the Othyrs, some of the Crufts hold a strong belief that they have a rightful claim to the Throne. If he also agrees with this, Lord Spearling would never verbalise such, but a certain level of anti-royalist attitude and discussion is permitted within The Duke of Barkshyre. I doubt anyone would be turned away for their socio-political views, though I did overhear stories of what happened to some warbands that had tried to cause trouble around Marek's Field. Suffice to say the watchdogs of Crufts are very proficient, and the locals equally happy to pile on. I wouldn't start trouble unless you have an army at your disposal...

That does, however, make The Duke of Barkshyre Inn very secure. Whilst there is no official accommodation, the inn allows weary travellers to stay and sleep on or under the tables, for a reasonable fee. The revelry does carry on to the early hours, so it may not be the most restful sleep. It does compare very favourably to a rough night in the woods though.
All that is well and good, but it doesn't cover the main reasons one travels to such an establishment. You will be intrigued to read that I rate the beer selection very highly, despite only two being available! You might be lucky to find an interesting bottle or two stashed behind the bar, but the only taps serve Marek's Pale and Marek's Dunkle. Brewed in the cellars of Badger's Gate House itself, they are remarkably fine quaffing largers; in the traditional sense of long brewed beers, rather than piss-poor hogswash. The Pale is almost creamy in body, with a refreshing and wholesome taste that would definitely hit that certain spot after a long watch in the cold, or a hard day out working the fields. It shares many fine qualities with the Dunkle, its far maltier cousin, which has sweet caramel notes underlying. Both are much stronger than they taste, so you may not want to try to "keep up" with the locals until your second or third visit.

To speak indelicately of visits, The Duke of Barkshyre lacks any real facilities to relieve oneself. A short distance behind the inn is a very private copse of privet hedges and sturdy trees, with a small stream running through (which can become quite the rapids after last orders). Whilst this may seem somewhat exposed by modern standards, those of us used to travel will have experienced far worse.

Should you wish to dine, there are a small selection of specials, changing daily, usually with some meaty rotisserie or other idly spinning above the open fire. Simple fare, perhaps, but hearty and filling. The prices were very reasonable (one suspects somewhat subsidised by the Crufts, ensuring their watchhounds are well fed) and the portions generous. The grub belly I had shortly before leaving was especially good; succulent as the cut is famed for, without being over fatty or shy on the actual muscle. As a personal preference, more vegetables would have been nice. Or any at all, for that matter! But as they say, "When in Rom..."

As a proud B.O.G. representative, I could not have been more excited that, when placing my first order, the basset behind the bar asked to see my membership card; more an expectation that I would have one, rather than requesting if I did. I got the impression he was somewhat crestfallen when I produced it, and had secretly been hoping to introduce someone new to the organisation, which is terribly understandable. My card was not requested again throughout my stay, but the discounts were always applied. Not the B.O.G. standard, mind; it would appear the staff treat that as a guideline minimum, which is exhilarating to see. A generous stack of application forms was perched at the end of the bar, though they looked to have been undisturbed for some time. Perhaps the basset's efforts, whose name escapes me now***, were successful enough that everyone present, indeed the entire local population, has already signed up! Certainly his infectious enthusiasm and boundless energy seemed equal to the task.
To surmise, whether you call it The Duke of Barkshyre Inn or The Kennel, one could scarcely meet a more jolly and vibrant patronage. With beers, food, music and company that will revive a traveller's weary soul, this is definitely worth the detour. Whilst it may not be the easiest to find, and certainly lacks some of the grandeur and facilities one may expect of a modern inn, it has an inescapable charm that ensures you will leave with a smile on your face and a tune in your heart that will carry you all the way to your next destination.

Your faithful servant,

Madam E.d.A-M

* The evidence was supposedly somewhat circumstantial, and rumoured to have been planted, but I wouldn't gainsay the bulldog who was telling me about it all in the first place. At least, not within earshot...

** The thick oak door was significantly heavier then myself, and the iron latch seemed scarcely less hefty!

*** I do apologise, good sir. Should our paths cross again, please request that I write your name in my notebook before pouring me a forth drink!