The Girl On The Bridge

"Boring guard duty again!" Pablek complained.

"Better than a patrol in the high hills, comrade," said Gremnu. "And anyway, I reckon this duty might be a short one. Standing guard at the door of the drill hall should be easy enough."

Pablek shrugged, leading the way as he and Gremnu climbed a narrow spiral stair. It brought them after many winding steps to the upper tier of the fort's great citadel. There, at the end of a wide echoing corridor, they saw the huge doors of the drill hall. Two young recruits, no older than seventeen, stood in silent vigil on either side of the doors.

"Crotho and Amzer," Pablek muttered as he and Gremnu walked along the corridor. "They look suitably bored and weary."

"Stop moaning!" Gremnu replied.

Pablek pointed to a framed painting hanging on the wall near the end of the corridor. "What's that? It wasn't there last week."

Gremnu halted to gaze at the picture. It was a large canvas, sixteen feet square, set in a richly-carved mahogany frame. In vivid colors it depicted with great artistry a scene of deadly combat: a young woman standing alone, wielding a broken sword, her raven hair flying in the breeze. A swirling mob of savage foes surrounded her, but she stood undaunted, piling corpses at her feet as she calmly held back the enemy.

Gremnu peered at the letters deeply engraved into the frame. Pablek, who could neither read nor write, nudged his comrade's shoulder and asked: "What does the inscription say?"

Gremnu stepped back a pace to gain a better view of the picture. "It says The Girl On The Bridge. The date on the canvas is fifty years ago, but there's no clue as to the battle it depicts."

"My guess is that it commemorates the Battle of Falcon River," said Pablek.

"Of course!" said Gremnu, with sudden recognition. "The woman in the picture is the famous warrior Jennet Orshak."

Pablek grinned. "I've heard many legends of her valor, but I did not know she was so beautiful. I wonder what became of her?"

Gremnu shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe she still lives."

"Indeed she does!" said a voice. It was Amzer, the smaller of the recruits guarding the door. He and his companion walked over to join Pablek and Gremnu at the painting. All four stared at it solemnly, almost reverently. For a long time none of them spoke, but eventually Gremnu broke the silence with a wistful sigh.

"She lives still?" he said. "That is good tidings. A girl so lovely and so brave deserves a long life. I wonder where she is now?"

"Did the sergeant not tell you?" said Amzer. "Jennet Orshak is here at the fortress, as a guest of our Captain."

"She arrived last night," Crotho explained. "She sits now in our drill hall, enjoying the adulation of many important folk. Our Captain invited them all here to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the great victory at Falcon River. This fine painting was presented to him by Jennet's daughter, in token of the Orshak family's gratitude for his hospitality."

"Jennet's heroism won the battle," said Amzer, pointing at the picture. "Today the generals are gathered here to honor the memory of her lone defense of the bridge, and to congratulate her on reaching her seventieth birthday."

"We haven't seen her," Crotho added. "I hoped she might come out, but the generals and their cronies are still keeping her busy with endless speeches. I really wanted to wanted to meet her."

"You'd better take up your duty," said Amzer, to Pablek and Gremnu. "We're off to the barracks for some well-earned ale. Guarding the drill hall on a warm evening is thirsty work, comrades!"

Gremnu patted the shoulders of the two departing recruits while he and Pablek took up position on either side of the door. From within they heard a volley of applause as a deep male voice began to speak.

"That sounds like our Captain," Pablek observed, and Gremnu nodded.

The door suddenly opened and a very pretty woman with long black hair stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her. The two guards stood to attention, for they saw on her short blue dress the embroidered emblems of her rank.

"It's too hot and stuffy in there!" she commented, wiping sweat from her brow. She smiled at the young soldiers, both of whom were so tall that they towered over her. "My name is General Orshak," she added.

Gremnu and Pablek clenched their right fists over their hearts in salute, and Gremnu said: "Lady, you seem so young. How can it be....?"

The woman frowned, then gave a kindly laugh, realizing the young man's error. "You mistake me for my mother, the girl in the picture. I am rather less famous! But it is true that I share her likeness, so do not reproach yourself. How old are you, soldier?"

"My comrade and I are both eighteen," Gremnu answered.

The general nodded, her finely-sculpted features softening in a smile. "This is a weary task for two fine young warriors. I relieve you of your duty. Go inside and get yourselves a drink and some food. The ceremony is nearly ended, but there's plenty of fodder left."

"But, lady...," Gremnu stammered. "Our Captain will forbid it."

She shook her head. "I outrank him, so have no fear. Tell him that General Orshak now guards the door, if he questions you."

The two recruits bowed courteously and saluted again, before nervously entering the hall. It was indeed airless and stuffy, and also noisy, for the assembled throng numbered in excess of fifty people. Everyone stood chatting in small groups, while servants in white garments moved among them with trays of food and jugs of wine. Many of the guests wore full military dress, but others appeared to be civilian dignitaries from the border towns. Gremnu recognized at least two mayors and several guildmasters. One of the latter, a portly middle-aged fellow in a green velvet coat, saw the two young soldiers skulking near the door and immediately walked over to them.

"Good evening, Gremnu!" he said, his chubby face broadening in a grin as he poured three glasses of red wine. "Do you remember me?"

Gremnu bowed. "Indeed I do, Guildmaster Bryn. I trust that you've had no more trouble on the highway."

The guildmaster laughed. "Not since you skewered that bandit with a well-aimed spear! My wagons now journey in safety, even after nightfall."

Gremnu nodded, introducing Pablek to the guest and thanking him for the gift of wine. Bryn began speaking again, but noticed that both soldiers were now staring blankly into the throng, their attention drawn to a small woman in a long gown, who flitted gracefully from group to group like a butterfly. Her gown was white as snow and her hair hung down her back in a shimmering cascade of silver. She shared laughter with each group as she spoke briefly to them, and they in turn bowed reverently to her. The military folk greeted her with formal salutes.

Bryn smiled at the transfixed faces of his young companions and sipped his wine quietly until the silver-haired woman vanished into the crowd. As if a spell had been broken, the two teenage soldiers seemed to return suddenly to the present world.

"A very beautiful woman," Bryn observed. "A vision of loveliness, like a bright angel of the heavens."

"Who is she?" Pablek inquired.

"Do you not know?" the guildmaster asked in surprise. "This ceremony is in her honor. She is Jennet Orshak, the Girl on the Bridge."

Gremnu and Pablek looked at each other, and Pablek said: "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Bryn chuckled quietly. "So say all who meet her. Even now, with her raven hair faded to gray and her face patterned with fine lines, she still draws admiring glances from men of all ages."

Pablek swallowed a mouthful of wine and gave a long sigh. "That gown clings to her sleek body like a white glove. How does a woman of such advanced years preserve such a remarkable figure?"

"Jennet's beauty shines from within," Bryn answered. "Her body is merely the visible form of a pure spirit. And today, as she marks her seventieth year of life, she remains the very essence of loveliness."

Gremnu and Pablek caught each other's glance and shared a smile. No description so poetic was turning in their eager young minds, and Bryn was wise enough to realize it. He laughed with gentle self-mockery at his own words .

"Thus speaks a bumbling old guildmaster!" he said. "Perhaps I should have commented instead on her fine tits and shapely ass?"

The young soldiers shared the joke and supped their wine. Bryn stared at them keenly for a while, his searching eyes making them feel somewhat uneasy. Then, nodding thoughtfully but saying no word, he left them with a half-full jug and wandered off into the throng. In the midst of a circle of generals he found Jennet Orshak, deep in talk about old wars, but with a gentle pull on her arm he took her to one side and began whispering in her ear. She began to giggle, putting her hands to her mouth to conceal her mirth.

"Don't be so silly, Bryn!" she scoffed. "What interest would two handsome boys have in a wrinkled crone? Stop teasing me!"

"I'm not teasing you, Jennet!" he protested. "I mean it. They're drooling over you."

"Fifty years ago, maybe," she retorted. "But not now. I'm just a worn-out sack. And besides, their eyes only followed me because I remind them of their dear old grandmothers back home, who I'm sure they miss terribly."

Bryn stroked his chubby chin and shook his head. "Just suppose you were twenty again. Would you not feel flattered by their staring?"

"I might," Jennet replied.

"And would you be tempted?"

"I might!" she answered, her blue eyes twinkling.

"Then why not be tempted tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

"Because I'm not twenty anymore," she said ruefully.

Bryn put his arm around her shoulder and held her close. "Jennet Orshak, my dear friend! I think you should take those two young bucks to your bed."

She raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Those two baby warriors? Have you gone completely mad?"

"Take them to your room," he continued. "Treat yourself to a night of joy. You've been widowed these past five years. Surely you miss the affection of a good man?"

"Yes, I miss it," she replied in a soft voice.

"Then wait here, my friend, and leave this to me!"

* * * * * * *

"I need a favor from both of you," said Bryn as he refilled his glass alongside Pablek and Gremnu.

"We are at your service, Guildmaster!" Gremnu replied courteously.

Bryn nodded and took a sip of wine. "Do you consider the Girl on the Bridge to be very beautiful?"

Gremnu nodded, and Pablek voiced their joint reply: "She's exceedingly lovely, sir!"

"Well, my young comrades," Bryn resumed. "Tonight she is not only lovely, but also exceedingly lonely. It is my belief that a woman so fine and brave should not spend this night alone." He took another mouthful of wine and paused to stare at the two recruits. "Fifty years ago she could take her pick of any handsome man in the army. I would like her to be able to celebrate that memory tonight. Does that not seem fitting to you both?"

The young men exchanged a glance, and Gremnu asked: "What do you wish us to do?"

* * * * * * *

Nightfall found Bryn leading Jennet by the hand through a lamplit corridor on the far side of the fort. Doors ran along it on one side, and at one of these they halted. Jennet hung back, biting her lower lip nervously.

"Oh, Bryn!" she whispered. "I can't do this. I feel such a fool!"

"Nonsense!" he hissed, opening the door and pushing her gently inside. He closed the door behind her and looked up and down the corridor, before leaving her to rejoin the assembled guests.

The room was small and cosy, with only a chair and a small table as additional furniture. Jennet stood near the door, staring at the two young soldiers who stood beside the bed. She gave a faint smile, and the men returned it, bowing their heads in greeting and clenching their fists on their chests.

Jennet chuckled. "No need to salute me, boys. I retired from the army twenty years ago."

"But you are still the Girl on the Bridge," said Gremnu. "Your renown has not faded in all the long years."

"Nor has your loveliness," Pablek added. "If anything, you are more beautiful than your image in the picture."

Jennet laughed and walked over to stand before them. They were tall and dark-haired, with soft brown eyes and tanned skin. For a brief moment, as she stared up into their faces, she felt like a teenage soldier flirting with her fellow recruits. But then she remembered that she was more than half a century older than them, and she gave a weary sigh.

"I'm old and wrinkled and worn out," she said sadly. "I fear that my friend Bryn has placed you both in a ridiculous position. Go back to your barracks, dear comrades, for I release you from the promise that you made to the Guildmaster. His intention was honorable, but he has made fools of the three of us."

"Lady, we do not wish to leave," said Gremnu, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close.

Jennet closed her eyes and murmured softly, allowing herself to be held by this handsome young warrior and enjoying the comforting warmth of his strong arms. Her resistance crumbled, and she put her hands on his waist. She felt his finger under her chin as he tipped back her head, and her lips parted to receive his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth, and she moaned in response, kissing him hungrily, tasting the wine on his hot breath.

Her hair tumbled like a silver waterfall down her back, and Pablek came behind to caress the gleaming mane. The rich tresses felt soft to his touch, like threads of silk. He stroked the full length of her spine, making her slim body squirm in delight. He placed both hands on her tiny waist before letting his fingers roam leisurely over her hips and buttocks. In the silence his breath hissed in a soft gasp as he felt the firmness of her body through the close-fitting gown.

"You still have the flesh of a young warrior," he observed, when Jennet and Gremnu broke from their long kiss.

She twisted her head to look over her shoulder. "I thank you for your flattery, young man. But you have not seen the horrors that lurk under my dress!"

"Show them to us, lady," said Gremnu, caressing her face. His fingertips gently traced the fine lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes.

"I'm too ashamed," she protested, and for the first time she seemed in real distress. Moisture glistened in her bright blue eyes, but Gremnu smiled, wiping the teardrops from her pale cheek.

"Show us, I beg you," he repeated. "More than anything else, my lady, we desire to see you unclothed."

"Hellfire!" she whispered as Pablek slipped the gown off her shoulders. He pulled it down her body, slowly revealing her pale skin. The garment fitted so closely that he had to kneel on the floor to ease it down her legs. She stepped out of it and Pablek flung it aside, his eyes feasting on her nakedness. In acute embarrassment she wriggled and writhed in Gremnu's arms, but his strength held her close while his voice reassured her with soft words.

Pablek remained kneeling at the rear to watch her sleek nude body squirming, a vision that greatly aroused him. He ignored the small creases and wrinkles on her pale skin, considering them an eloquent testimony to her wisdom and to her long years of renown. Other delicate lines patterned the flesh behind her knees and beneath her buttocks, or pinched the skin at her waist, or ran along her underarms. But Pablek barely noticed them, observing instead the neat shapely contours of her backside, the well-defined muscles in her legs and the flawless silver gleam of her hair.

Gremnu smiled at Jennet as she gazed up into his eyes, for she seemed to him like a beautiful white nymph, caught helpless and terrified in a deadly trap. He had seen her cheeks blush a faint pink when the dress was stripped from her body, but now he hugged her to his chest, kissing her finely-chiseled face to calm her fears. Wide-eyed in wonder he stepped back, for he wanted to look at her, but her arms instinctively covered her bosom. He saw, nonetheless, the dark triangle between her thighs, and it made him smile, for it recalled to his mind the raven-haired girl in the painting.

"What's the matter?" she inquired, wondering if his mirth had a hint of mockery. "Are you laughing at my ancient carcass?"

Gremnu shook his head. "On the contrary, lady. I am admiring the venerable beauty of your body. I see that the years have not turned all your hair to silver!"

Jennet relaxed, her face creasing in a smile as she gave a resigned sigh. "I guess it's pointless to hide myself from such inquisitive boys, especially from a pair of young bucks as courteous as you two."

With those words she lowered her arms and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with air so that her bosom swelled and her spine arched. Gremnu heard Pablek's whistle of appreciation as her buttocks tightened, but he himself had eyes only for her breasts, which were pert and shapely like those of a much younger woman.

"Very fine indeed!" he murmured under his breath, though Jennet heard it.

"Are you blind?" she said with a resigned grin. "Can't you see my wrinkles?"

Gremnu shook his head. In truth, he indeed saw the wrinkles where her bosom joined her body, but he dismissed them from his mind. Instead, he admired the way her breasts sat high on her chest like those of a breathless girl. A few fine lines fanned out from her dark-pink nipples, but so full and rounded were her superb orbs that the age-marks were barely visible without close inspection.

He caught Pablek's eye and nodded. Quickly, while Jennet stood watching intently, the two young soldiers stood in front of her and undressed. Her eyes narrowed when she saw their stiff erections and she licked her lips at the prospect of being explored by such eager flesh.

"You flatter me, comrades!" she whispered.

"No, my lady," Gremnu replied, as he and Pablek drew closer to her. "It is you that flatters us with your awesome beauty."

With a nervous gasp, Jennet allowed herself to be laid on the bed. There she lay naked, stretched on her back, with a handsome teenage soldier lying on either side. Their cocks brushed her thighs as their hands explored every inch of her body. Her silver tresses framed her face on the pillow as she grinned up at the ceiling.

"I am surely the luckiest grandmother in these lands!" she said, feeling a hand gently squeezing her breasts while skilled fingers caressed her hips and belly.

"And the loveliest!" Pablek added, his fingers wandering from her navel to stroke the soft dark hairs at her crotch.

He breathed on her cheek and she turned her head to meet his lips with hers. At once he became aware of the wrinkled skin at the corners of her mouth and it reminded him that she was a woman of seventy, but it did not detract from the intense excitement he felt when he kissed her. She was old, older indeed than his own grandmother, but she was venerable and beautiful and incredibly sensual. Both he and Gremnu revered her as though she was a timeless goddess of ancient legend.

"That feels so good!" she whispered, as Pablek's forefinger stroked her moist slit. Breaking from the kiss, she lay gasping and purring, her eyes closing and her dark eyelashes fluttering on her pale cheek. Her breath came like a hiss when Pablek's fingertip touched her clit, for she had almost forgotten the sensation. Arching her back, she clutched the bedsheet tightly.

Gremnu noticed for the first time that her hands had been ravaged by age: the skin was dry and wrinkled and the fingers were little more than bony claws. But it mattered little, for her breasts felt marvelously firm as he squeezed them, and her nipples were so sensitive that even the slightest touch of his fingertip made the teats harden like spikes. He leaned over her body to lick each nipple, bringing a low moan from her throat. Then, with a nod to Pablek, he eased himself on top of her, supporting his weight on his arms as he maneuvered his hips and legs. Pablek rolled aside and snuggled close to Jennet, watching her face as her eyes opened suddenly.