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 colours 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 therefore Jennet Orshak.”

Pablek grinned. “I’ve heard the legends of her valour, but they did not tell me 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 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 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 honour the memory of her lone defence 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 did so want 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. She seemed to them no older than forty-five.

“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, realising the young man’s error. “You mistake me for my mother, the girl in the picture. I am no warrior so renowned! 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, his cheeks still burning with embarrassment at his foolishness.

The captain nodded, her finely-chiselled features softening in a smile. “This is a weary task for two fine warriors of Sorkin. 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 I now guard 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 weaved 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 by 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 silver mane. She shared laughter with each group as she spoke briefly to them, and they in turn bowed reverently to her, the military folk saluting.

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 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 honour. 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 grey 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 her 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 realise 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 breasts and her cute little 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 tug 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 old sack. And besides, their eyes only followed me because I remind them of their dear grandmothers back home, who I’m sure they miss terribly.”

Bryn stroked his chubby chin and shook his head. “Just suppose that 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 favour from you both,” 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 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?”

***********

One hour later saw 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 scuttling quickly back to his own guestroom.

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. I retired from the army twenty years ago.”

“But you are the Girl on the Bridge,” said Gremnu. “Your renown has not faded in 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 honourable, 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 cascaded 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. His fingers stroked the full length of her spine, making her slim body squirm in delight. He placed both hands on her tiny waist before letting them roam leisurely over her hips and buttocks, his eyebrows lifting in surprise at 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 fingers tracing 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 sprang in her blue eyes, but Gremnu smiled, wiping the tears 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 through gritted teeth 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 in order 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 softly whispered words.

Pablek remained kneeling at the rear and watched her sleek white body squirming, the sight greatly arousing him. He ignored the small creases and wrinkles that in places marred the smoothness of her skin, considering them a feature of her wisdom and of 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 and under her arms. But Pablek barely noticed them, observing instead the neat shapely contours of her ass, 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-chiselled 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 grin, for it recalled to his mind the raven-haired girl in the painting.

“What’s the matter?” she inquired, wondering if his grin was made in mockery. “Are you laughing at my ancient carcase?”

Gremnu shook his head. “On the contrary, lady. I am admiring its beauty. And 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 two so courteous as you.”

And with that 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 as pert and shapely as those of a young woman.

“Very fine indeed!” he muttered 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 in which the 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 the 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 close 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 eager 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 her flattened belly.

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

He blew 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 they would a timeless goddess of ancient legend.

“That feels so good!” she whispered, as Pablek’s forefinger stroked along her moist slit. Breaking from the kiss, she lay gasping and purring, her eyes closed 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 dry and wrinkled and the fingers like gnarled bony claws. But it mattered little, for her breasts felt marvellously firm as he squeezed them, and her nipples were so sensitive that even the slightest touch of his finger made the teats harden like spikes. He leaned over her body and licked each nipple, bringing a low moan from Jennet’s throat. Then, with a nod to Pablek, he eased himself on top of her, supporting his weight on his arms as he manouevred his hips and legs. Pablek rolled aside and snuggled close to Jennet, watching her face as her eyes opened suddenly.

“Blood of the gods!” she whispered, as Gremnu’s long smooth cock slipped slowly into her cunt. Her flesh savoured every inch of the hot shaft as it pushed deeper and her senses reeled in a daze of delight. She smiled when she heard him gasp, partly in her astonishment that a handsome teenage boy could find such pleasure in a woman of his grandmother’s age. Despite the praise and flattery of her young bedmates, she still felt like a wizened crone.

“You old fool!” she muttered softly to herself, even as her hands reached around Gremnu’s body to grasp his firm buttocks. A wide grin creased her face when she felt the ass-cheeks move in her fingers as he pumped her with the energy and eagerness of youth. Beside her, Pablek licked her neck and ears, sending tender thrills down her spine and heightening the climax that began to quicken in her body. Gremnu’s thrusting became more rapid, more urgent, and a rhythm of groans and moans issued from between his gritted teeth. Sweat glistened on his brow, dampening the dark hair that hung over his forehead.

Pablek waited for Jennet’s orgasm and caressed her quivering eyelashes when it came, his gaze transfixed by the climax of a woman so old and so beautiful. The vision aroused him intensely and he barely restrained his hand from touching his aching manhood.

Gremnu gave a final gargled groan, throwing back his head as his muscular legs stiffened. With a long deep sigh he ejaculated, smiling at each pulse of ecstasy as his cock squirted its juice inside Jennet’s soft warm cunt. The shaft was still hard when he withdrew it, dripping and glistening, from her slit. He rolled away to lie gasping alongside Jennet, wiping sweat from his face as he watched his friend take his place on top of her.

“She’s fantastic!” he said, and Pablek acknowledged the comment with a nod.

Jennet lay panting and breathless, her head spinning and her eyes blinking. The orgasm had barely faded when she saw Pablek’s excited face peering down at her. His hard cock effortlessly entered her oozing cunt and once again her spine arched and her body stiffened. As with Gremnu, the thrusting was tender but very eager and strong. Pablek’s manhood felt even harder, like a rod of hot steel probing her innermost flesh. He murmured her name over and over as he pumped her and again she felt immensely flattered. Her hands squeezed his neat round ass and her forefinger probed between his buttocks, exploring deep within the tight cleft until she touched the little puckered hole. To her delight, Pablek gave a sudden yelp and his ass-cheeks squirmed in her grasp.

“Darling boy!” she whispered, feeling almost maternal and matronly. A tinge of guilt flickered briefly in her mind and for a moment she felt like an old whore seducing an innocent boy. But the guilt turned to a sense of mischief which excited her, giving her a boldness and a confidence that she had not known for many years. She looked up into Pablek’s face, watching his expression change as her finger wormed its way inside his asshole.

That was too much for him, and he climaxed immediately. Jennet clasped his buttocks, feeling the muscles tighten as he ejaculated. He gave a small whimper at each spasm of his cock, and Jennet raised her head to kiss his sweat-soaked chest. Jets of hot fluid spurted deep within her cunt until she felt that her flesh would drown.

“You’re so beautiful!” Pablek whispered, kissing her grinning mouth as he slowly eased his body aside.

Jennet gave a murmur of surprise when Gremnu rolled her gently onto her belly. Parting her thighs, he knelt between her legs and began massaging her white buttocks, shaking his head in astonishment at their firmness. Jennet closed her eyes, moaning softly when his fingers stroked along the dark cleft of her ass. His fingers probed deeper until she felt his touch upon her rear hole, and then he paused, hesitating. Pablek knelt beside her, stroking her silken silver hair and murmuring her name.

“Lady,” said Gremnu. “If you want me to stop ...”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered into the white pillow.

She relaxed the muscles in her abdomen, making it easier for Gremnu to push his finger inside her asshole. But she winced in discomfort, for she knew that her rear passage was too dry. Gremnu realised it too, and he crouched low, putting his head between her thighs. Holding her buttocks apart with his hands, he saw the pink puckered hole staring back at him as he peered between her ass-cheeks. The hole glistened with semen that had trickled down from her cunt when she lay on her back. Gremnu’s face burrowed into the cleft, his nostrils flaring at the mingled odour of sweat, cock-juice and a faint scent of jasmine. He smiled, for he had never before met a woman who perfumed her ass.

“Oh my!” Jennet said softly, when she felt his tongue licking the skin around the rim of her sensitive hole. It was a sensation she had once enjoyed, more than thirty years earlier, with her secret lover, a friend of her husband. The memory was brief and distant, for her husband had not shown a similar interest in her hindquarters. She barely remembered how delightful it felt, and she gave a sigh of pleasure when Gremnu’s eager young tongue probed deep inside her flesh.

The sight of Jennet’s buttocks squirming and writhing as her asshole received a thorough lubrication so aroused Pablek that he began to masturbate, rubbing his erect manhood as he knelt beside her. Hearing the slurp of his foreskin and his shortening breath, she twisted her head on the pillow to look at him. His long stiff cock bobbed near her left shoulder so she moved her arm to clasp her hand around the gleaming shaft. Pablek threw back his head and gave a shuddering gasp. Jennet gasped too, for in the same moment Gremnu slowly withdrew his wriggling tongue from her moistened rear orifice.

“Tell me if it hurts ...”, he whispered in her ear, as he leaned over her, supporting his body on his right arm while his left hand eased his throbbing erection between her buttocks.

Saliva dribbled from her asshole as his bulbous cockhead penetrated her flesh. Jennet cried out, in pleasure rather than in pain, although her rear passage had almost forgotten how to stretch for a well-endowed young man. Gremnu thrusted slowly and gently, believing that this slender woman of seventy would be far more fragile than the hardy peasant girls whom he regularly took to his bed. He saw her hands clawing the pillow and feared he might be hurting her, for her ass felt exceedingly tight around his cock. But Jennet reassured him by sighing softly and making small moans.

“Hellfire! This is just too much!” hissed Pablek, as he worked his manhood to orgasm. Leaning forward, he knelt upright and ejaculated onto Jennet’s buttocks, spattering the skin with white fluid. The writhing movement of her ass-cheeks sent sticky rivulets trickling down her hips and onto the bedsheet.

Gremnu gave a huge gasp and tensed his muscular arms, savouring the exquisite climax that shuddered through his body as he squirted his juice inside her rear hole. He pumped himself dry before withdrawing slowly, his manhood lying slimed and flaccid on his thigh as he sat back.

“Oh, Jennet!” he said, reaching out to squeeze her buttocks. “You are indeed the most delicious woman in the Heartland!”

She laughed, shaking her head and rolling onto her back, her silver tresses framing her face as she smiled at the two young soldiers. They gazed down at her with a fondness that made her heart leap, but she still could not accept their adoration as genuine and real. She was enjoying their attention immeasurably and felt happier than she had felt for many years, but she could not understand why they had chosen to spend a night with an old woman thrice their age.

“Well, my young friends,” she said softly. “You’ve done the deed that Guildmaster Bryn asked of you. Are you now departing to your dormitory in the barracks?”

“If you wish us to leave, we’ll leave,” Gremnu replied. “Perhaps you wish to sleep, dear lady?”

He nodded to Pablek, and the two sprang from the bed and began collecting their discarded clothes. Jennet watched them for a while, biting her lower lip nervously while an anxious expression flickered in her blue eyes.

“Don’t go!” she pleaded, leaning up on an elbow and letting her silver mane drape around her shoulders. “Will you not stay until the morning?”

The soldiers halted, hesitating at the foot of the bed as they stood clutching their garments. Gremnu suddenly threw his clothes aside and leapt onto the bed. Pablek did likewise, grinning as he returned to lie alongside Jennet.

She stretched her arms and lay back, closing her eyes as strong hands began roaming over her skin. “My handsome boys!” she said.

**********

Gremnu woke in the brightness of a clear morning, startled from sleep by a soft tapping on the door. He yawned, rubbing his eyes against the pale sunshine that gleamed through the small window of the guestroom. Creeping quietly from the bed he tiptoed towards the door, fearing to wake Jennet and Pablek, both of whom were sleeping deeply and peacefully. The tapping grew louder.

“Alright!” Gremnu hissed. “I’m coming!”

“Is that you, Granny?” a female voice inquired urgently.

Gremnu froze in mid-pace. With bleary eyes he scanned the floor for his trousers, but it was too late. The door opened and a teenage girl with short black hair and bright blue eyes peered into the room. Her mouth opened in astonishment when she saw the naked young man staring at her, but then her mouth curled in a wry smile and she put her finger to her lips.

“Hush!” she whispered. “I’ll not disturb them. But tell my grandmother I’ll be waiting for her when she wakes. Our carriage departs at noon.”

Gremnu blushed and gave a swift nod. The girl winked at him and chuckled, and then she was gone, closing the door silently behind her. Gremnu stooped to pick up his trousers and put them on, then picking up his shirt and boots he left the room. In the corridor he dressed quickly, cursing the ache in his bladder and the lateness of the hour. He hurried through many echoing passageways and across a wide courtyard until he reached the armoury, outside which a burly sergeant sat grumpily in the sunshine, flicking an iron key against his chin.

“Late again, Gremnu!” he growled. “Did you forget your armoury duty this morning?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” came the red-faced apology. “Forgive me. I overslept.”

A whistle from nearby drew their attention to a scrawny corporal who seemed to be rearranging the display of enemy shields and captured trophies on the armoury’s outer wall. Gremnu and the sergeant walked over to see what the man was doing as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“There!” he said triumphantly. “I told the Captain there’d be enough space for it.”

Gremnu noticed that the corporal had fixed a large glass-fronted case to the wall, some five feet from the ground. The morning sun glanced off the glass, dazzling the three watchers, but they saw that the case held a painting in a wooden frame.

“The Girl on the Bridge!” the sergeant observed.

The corporal whistled again, nudging Gremnu and pointing at the picture. “Now that’s what I call a pretty wench! I reckon I’ll be dreaming about her tonight.”

Gremnu smiled. “Me too!” he replied.

****************

The Girl on the Bridge. Copyright © 2004 Trisha Monks. Return to Stories List