Chapter 17

Although they had been sharing the same bed in the second largest suite of the inner keep for nearly two weeks, Rowan and Gwenda had had almost no private time to themselves. At night they would hold each other, mentally and physically exhausted, naked in bed, but their few pitiful attempts at foreplay had come mostly to naught. Tonight, they agreed, things would be a bit different.

A large hot bath in a tub easily big enough for two had been prepared and Gwenda couldn't hardly wait to dive right into it. Despite being a woman of rather martial interests and pursuits, the appeal of frequent and very feminine baths appealed to her. With a rush, she near but ripped off all of her clothes in her haste and after giving her bare ass a lewd wiggle that certainly would have given Father Lankfred back home a heart-attack, she dismissed her two bath attendants, leaving the lovers alone to enjoy their hot water soak and play.

They started on opposite ends of the large tub, but when Gwenda's toes got a little too frisky under the soapy water, and her red lips and large nipples became otherwise too inviting, the pair ended up in an embrace at her end of the water. Hands above and below the water began to get rather busy and it was only with the greatest self control that Rowan avoided entering into her wet and very stimulated cunt. She certainly wouldn't have said 'No', but the lad wanted that final act of love to mark their troth-oath, on some happier and more special future occasion, when their world was free from invading Eorfleode.

Moving to rest his back once again on his own side of the tub, Gwenda cuddled up into his lap so that they might kiss each other, and so that Rowan could run his short bearded stubble back and forth across her sensitive breasts. For some reason, the tickle of his growing beard made her nipples extra tender and erotically stimulated, and it was only with very greatest concentration that she lifted up her asshole over his cock to gently take his wet soapy shaft deep inside of her ass, instead of deep inside of her cunt, where she would have much preferred to have enjoyed him. Sitting facing him and together holding hands, she began to slowly work her ass up and down on top of his cock, gently at first, more squeezing than pistoning, until his cock was completely impaled inside of her.

Working her ass slowly and carefully, she began to rotate herself around his cock, until she faced away from him, in a more pleasurable and deeper angle of entry, to lay her back upon his chest. Rubbing his beard this time across the nape of her neck, her ass clinched even tighter with pleasure as a shiver ran down her bare spine, even in the nicely still warm water. Taking her breasts into his strong hands to caress but firmly hold her, they began to both gently thrust together, as she raised her legs up onto the sides of tub so that his prick could ever more deeply delve inside of her bowels and she rocked herself upon his lap up and down and sideways on top of his cock, as it savagely but so wonderfully filled her bottom with its warmth and fullness. With Gwenda's long and talented fingers gently tickling his balls, along with the pleasantness of the heated water, Rowan ejaculated a tremendous load of his cum into her eager appreciative ass.

Slowly, Gwenda lifted her ass just enough from his shaft to free it and she turned around to cuddle and kiss again her beloved, but a pair of feminine giggles from the doorway distracted her. Her maids hadn't quite departed as instructed, but had instead stay to watch, and apparently enjoy the show. One was openly pinching one of her nipples under her dress and the other had her skirt hiked up high and was openly twiddling her own rather furry cunt.

"I'd say begone, you sneaky peeping pair of young ladies, but I'm feeling especially hot and nasty right now and sometimes its fun to have an appreciative audience. No, I'm not going to let you share ... he's mine — all mine! But, let me just show you how much I indeed do love my man! Rowan, sit up here on the edge of the tub, so that they can watch me suck you!"

"Alright..." Rowan said, a bit confused, but he willingly lifted himself up and seated himself on the edge, out of the water. The view of his still rock hard cock was rather prominent, and the two young maids got more than an eyeful at this remarkable specimen of manhood, and how his lover attended to its every need and whim as she slowly and loudly sucked him into her mouth.

"Ummm, you remember where my cock's just came out of, don't you?" Rowan whispered hoarsely, with more than a hint of excitement.

"Of course!" She said and smiled, giving his cock head and shaft an especially enthusiastic lick. "Ladies, heed me well and always lick your lovers clean and completely, especially after they have enjoyed the pleasure of your asshole. It's wickedly nasty, and shows your lover how much indeed that you do care for them, that nothing is taboo or forbidden to them, that everything of yourself can and should be offered freely to him, for his pleasure, by any means he wishes to take it. Do this girls, for the man that you love, that he will never even need to ask for anything that is yours to give ... especially your love!"

Her lesson to her young maids completed, she took his cock once more inside of her mouth and never again let it leave until a few minutes later, with his cock completely down her throat, he released his next and final load of semen for the evening, Although most of his cum had gone directly quite down her throat, she took extra time and care to lick and clean his cockhead once more, this time of any remaining drops of semen, and then loudly swallowed this last small gathering of semen in her mouth down with great obvious gusto, then licking her lips.

"Now! Away, naughty young ladies! You've had your thrill and lesson, and a good deal more! And if either of us catches you spying on us again, you'll learn about the extra fun that lovers can have in bed with whips, using your bottoms as the example! Now be off!" The peeping maids were at last gone and their bedchamber door once again secure.

"What's this about fun in bed with whips?" Rowan curiously but sleepily asked as he blew out the last candle and climbed into the much too comfortable bed with his beloved.

"Done right, with the right company, it can be fun ... the pain of a spanked ass can sometimes make the sex afterwards even more enjoyable." She whispered with a smile as she pressed her damp but soft and large breasts against his chest.

"And just how did you find out this nugget of knowledge?"

"As a teen girl just barely starting my cycles, I was spying on one of my father's stable boys, a lad who had a cock nearly as big and thick as yours! He was wanking it, after relieving his bladder, and he caught me fingering myself while I was watching him masturbate. When he saw me, he then spanked my bottom until it was red hot, and I begged him to fuck me there, right in my ass. I was a bit of a slut even then I think, at least in my head. I was always having nasty fantasies even as a girl, and on our big landholding it wasn't hard to watch the older lads and their lasses at their private love-play, either day or night. He fucked my tiny little ass good, and I swear I had a smile on my face for the next entire week. He liked fucking my ass, and he even made me suck him and clean his dirty shaft off a few times afterwards. I didn't really like it at first, except for the feeling of nastiness that it gave me, but after awhile I didn't mind the taste ... and I discovered I really liked the feeling of power and control it gave me over my men. Doing this for them, I found that they'd in turn, do nearly anything else at all for me. Now, it's just another way I can prove my devotion and love to my heart-song, the man that I shall marry and love forever, for every part of ourselves has already begun to be merged, our souls tied forever. Our bodies have also been joined, never to be separated, even when we are not quite physically together. We are as one, and shall remain so, until the cutting of the shears!"

Rowan would have quite agreed, except that he was already sound asleep, and Gwenda laid her head on his chest and shoulders and she too was asleep in moments.

Everyone agreed that the journey to Orshold should take at least a week, but it was also glumly concluded that there was probably no way that the walled city could withstand another full week of siege. The reported size of the Eorfleode army was just too great, even if their numbers had been exaggerated many times over. The brigade would have to make even greater haste. Additional teams of horses were gathered so that the pulling of wagons could be rotated, to keep the teams fresh and pulling at a slightly faster speed. The brigade was also now much better shod with better footwear and even more fully equipped than it had ever been. The soldiers were all at least slightly rested and everyone down to the lowest camp follower understood the desperation of the situation. There would be grumblings on the march, but they would be minor ... and what army doesn't love to grumble.

Still, Rowan had never dreamed of leading an army this size and it seemed to him that everything now took at least twice as long to do as it had taken previously. Even giving the order to have the brigade assembled and ready to march at the first light of dawn didn't quite actually mean that everyone was ready to go at the appointed time. In fact, with the size of his battalions, regiments and companies, it was another full hour after dawn before the last units of the rear guard actually marched out of the city gates. Soon, Rowan found it necessary to utilize his reserve cavalry just to ride up and down the long marching line to ferry and relay orders.

The first brigade sized exercise they conducted on the road was a near disaster, worse even than the first practice attempt of their original small regiment a month earlier. Too many men and horses moving in all directions at once, with their battle lines becoming confused and quite misaligned. If this had been an actual alert for battle, the chaos could have deadly. Gwenda sought out her two battalion commanders and screamed at them to fall back into marching ranks and prepare to do it all over again, and again, if necessary until they got it right. The next time they did it better, but only just barely. The units resumed their march until a full two hours after sunset. Pushing hard and long, they didn't stop until Gwenda noted that they had passed a full ten league markers that day.

Even long after they had camped for the night, Rowan and Gwenda were still trying to coordinate some smoother assembly strategies with their officers, so that the day's chaos wouldn't be repeated tomorrow.

One hour before dawn, Rowan sounded the assembly to battle with his horn to awaken all of his sleeping soldiers, still weary from their blankets. There was no danger, but the lad wanted a rehearsal of what chaos would ensue if they had been attacked during the night. The results made Rowan nauseous with worry at how even a smaller force could have easily overwhelmed them, and Gwenda launched herself once more with a fury at her two battalion commanders. Since in every army, shit most definitely does flow downhill, they in turn reamed out their regiment commanders, who in turn raised seven flavors of hell with their company commanders, who in turn made their soldiers lives a living misery until they could assemble into formation quickly and smoothly. Rowan repeated the call to battle drill three more times until something more satisfactory was finally achieved.

Getting another late start, they marched without a lunch break long into darkness once again, until Gwenda had determined that they had made another full ten leagues that day. And the next day as well, with just two battle drills each day, as they awoke from their camp and before they could halt to cook a quick but hot meal, long after sunset. Gwenda was determined that the just over ninety league journey could ... and would, be done in exactly a week. Each of the next days afterwards, it was at least a full eleven leagues or even twelve that they made upon the good stone road, even as they once again began to locate increasingly large groups of refugees, which were herded towards the regiment for safety by the ever watchful cavalry.

This time however, the rules had changed a bit. While the new arriving groups of women and children were encouraged to join with the ever-growing numbers of camp followers, Rowan instructed his cavalry squadron officers to make it blatantly clear to the new refugees that the soldiers, and their supply wagons, could not be delayed or slowed down under any circumstances. If the stragglers could not keep up with the rear reserve support and training regiment and the goblins, along with the supply wagons, then they would then be on their own. No one was going to wait for them to catch up, or come back to protect them if they were set upon. The relief of Orshold was too important. Daily, Rowan received updates that the city still held fast, but already they did not have enough guardsmen left to fully man all of their walls. If a final assault to all four of the city walls came at once, then the defenders could not hold the outer town. There was a smaller inner keep, much like at Kenniford, but it could not hope to hold off the entire horde for long either.

Estimates of the size of the combined Eorfleode army continued to grow. New forces had come from the north, from beyond the Emerald River, much as Gwenda and Rowan had feared. These Boar-Men that had probably sacked the cities and towns north of the river, were likely also the very same tribes that had killed her father and brother. Anger and determination now filled Gwenda's heart as she longed to exact her vengeance for their deaths. She raged at her commanders and their officers to keep up the pace, furiously berating the increasingly tired soldiers who stumbled at their feet to keep moving, faster ... ever faster, long after sunset and late into the night.

That night the halt was not called until nearly midnight, and it took the motivation of every officer and sergeant to get the weary men and women moving on their feet once more at dawn. Again that next night, it was midnight or perhaps even later when then next halt was ordered. In spite of the assistance of the cavalry, units of the two brigades were now mixed and scattered, leaving an increasingly long marching line that was spread out over nearly a full league. Some exhausted soldiers collapsed to the roadside for a desperately needed rest and began to lag among the camp followers, who were now quite alone several leagues behind the reserves.

Still, once again the next morning at dawn, Gwenda herself sounded the horn for assembly, and she had to prod the sleepy Rowan up to his feet and see him once more mounted upon Red at the front of their army. With only eighteen leagues to go, she rode up and down the long line of soldiers, ordering, begging, pleading with them to keep up the pace, but still their line drew out even longer with weary stragglers. Even Rowan begged her to allow the exhausted men and women to take a rest at nightfall, but for the first and perhaps only time in her life, Gwenda defied her lover, and her commanding lord. The march would continue, she barked between clinched teeth, until at least some of the brigade arrived within cavalry scouting range of the main Eorfleode army. Then, and only then, could they rest while a final scouting report was completed and a decision for battle made.

Rowan was sure that most of the soldiers would indeed collapse under this final relentless death march, but he saw the determination in Gwenda's eyes and her need and overwhelming thirst for vengeance. Silently he nodded his head in agreement and joined her in riding the full length of their marching column, nearly three leagues long now in length, to encourage some last final reservoir of strength and stamina from his soldiers.

"Just a few more leagues ... we're almost there!" He'd murmur to each group, watching as they'd blindly stumble with exhaustion in the dark, in a haze of bone-crushing weariness as they grimly planted one foot in front of the other, again and again, to take yet one more step towards their hated enemy. All through the night, the vast majority of the men and women continued to march onwards, until at last near daybreak the order was given to make camp and rest.

To the end of his days, Rowan never really quite understood what misplaced loyalty and determination caused his soldiers to complete that long desperate march, fraught with pain and constant fear of what evils their eyes would behold should they arrive but an hour too late. They had done the near impossible, and made a march of nearly a hundred leagues in just under a week. The walls and gatehouse of Orshold still stood, and while various Boar-Men units staged separated and uncoordinated attacks upon the town, with no more than three sides of the walls faced peril at any given moment. Their guardsmen had held.

Orshold was right at the foothills and border of Everdun, right where the small but mighty Roth River flowed from the hills and nearby mountains and became navigatable, running into the Emerald River. The town was at the top of a hill with a good sized sturdy wall all the way around it. At every point an attacker had to charge uphill and into a good killing field. No wonder that they had survived a siege of several weeks against enormous odds!

There was good iron and copper in the surrounding hills and much of it was mined and processed here into ingots, to be taken downriver to Swanford, and the City of Tellismere. As at Kenniford, the allegiance of Orshold to the Dukes of Tellismere was rather much in doubt. Nominally, the Duke of Everdun recognized the town's independence, defying the Duke of Tellismere, but they rarely involved themselves with the town's political arrangements. While the local barons liked to pretend that they were the ones in charge of things, it was the local independent miners and merchant factors that really ran things. Trade was the life-blood of the town, and even the largest of the land-holding barons couldn't collectively control more than a small fraction of the wealth flowing downriver. This tended to keep the local aristocracy, which still thought of earning coin by working trade as beneath them, rather more manageable than the misguided barons of the Lloan Valley. These much poorer rural noblemen would keep to the status-quo; revolution and true political independence would hurt trade, something the factors, miners and merchants would never tolerate. Unlike the rebels of Lloan Valley, these noblemen would be very happy indeed to see Rowan's army outside their town walls!

Unlike Kenniford, the town had received quite ample warning of the first horde army of Eorfleode coming south across the Emerald River from the Strook River valley and also the Great Yarmouth Pass from the Brittle Mountains. They had time to gather in food stocks from the nearby Lloan Valley and evacuate most of the outlying settlements. They had plenty of arms, the means to craft even more, and quite the willingness to use them, but no one ever anticipated the size of the Boar-Man army when it arrived. The addition of yet many thousands more coming from the greater western army over the last few weeks had quite nearly collapsed their hopes for rescue.

Being a mining town, they had long been prepared for such a great misfortune and had constructed several secure tunnels that went under the city. In an emergency, the townsfolk could be taken out under the city to another smaller hidden stronghold further east, up in the hills. Other smaller tunnels were quite suited for using as sally ports to attack the flanks of an invading army and make fast escapes back to safety. A few more tunnels emerged near or just under the river, suitable for sending out messengers for help, such as the ones that had reached Rowan. Now he could send back his reply. Other messengers reported that the Duke of Everdun had a good part of his own army on the way, estimated now to be about three days away still, but there was much uncertainty as to whether the town could hold for yet another three days.

With these fresh reports from the town's defenders, Rowan wrote a message to be smuggled back into the town that his brigade was nearby and that the town must hold for just one more day, until his stragglers could be collected and his weary troops rested just a bit before battle. Yet to be decided was whether his brigade could or should be smuggled inside the town via the hidden tunnels, or if they would wait for the arrival of the Duke of Everdun to make a concerted attack upon the horde.

This now was probably the single biggest decision that Rowan had ever faced, and he was quite now at a loss about what to do.

The Eorfleode army had not been at all understated. It was every bit as large as the reports had indicated. Between twenty to twenty-five thousand strong at present, with several more thousand now lying dead on the hillside or in the surrounding valley. Their attacks were becoming increasing desperate, but still badly coordinated. Perhaps their supply rations were running low. Boar-Men never did understand or study logistics and a large carnivorous army needs a lot of provisioning, even if they cheerfully cooked and ate their own dead. Any overwhelming assault could have taken the town weeks ago, but as always the various war-band leaders never wished to share the glory of a victory, and attacks had been piece-meal, albeit frequent both night and day.