As Dust to the Wind

by Peter Darman

  Hermann was being disingenuous because ten years earlier Ungannia was not his bishopric but Conrad merely smiled and nodded. He had fulfilled Maarja’s request and it had been refused. He was glad. Kristjan was far too dangerous to be allowed to live to the west of Lake Peipus.

  ‘But please convey to the Lady Maarja, Conrad, that she is always in my thoughts and prayers and tell her I will visit her after this crisis has passed,’ said Hermann.

  ‘Crisis, lord bishop?’ asked Sir Richard. ‘Are we at war with Novgorod?’

  Hermann went ashen. ‘No, your grace, and after this woman is returned to her husband then I hope the whole sorry affair will blow over.’

  ‘He is not her husband,’ protested Walter, ‘they were not married.’

  If there was one man to whom Conrad aspired to be like it was Walter, called ‘the penitent’ by many – a term that was in no way derogatory. Pious, honest and pure of heart he was a man who was the physical embodiment of chivalry. He scratched his aquiline nose.

  ‘The Princess Ivanna has sought sanctuary here and we would violate the vows we have taken if we were to cast her to the wolves.’

  Hermann raised his eyes to the heavens.

  ‘Walter, much as I cherish you as a friend and castellan as I have told you we have no jurisdiction over this matter.’

  They were seated around a beautifully crafted limewood table in the bishop’s audience chamber, a fine stone structure filled with oak panelling, rich carpets and expensive tapestries. The palace and adjoining cathedral being built were testimony to the wealth flowing into Dorpat due to the burgeoning trade with the Principality of Novgorod. As the entry point for the majority of Russian goods bound for Riga Dorpat had profited tremendously and the bishop had no intention of letting a woman interfere with it. Walter for his part had no interest in pecuniary matters but was very concerned regarding questions of honour.

  ‘Are we to turn away those seeking sanctuary, lord bishop?’

  ‘Fetch Father Tobias,’ Hermann commanded a guard standing beside the closed doors to the chamber.

  Hermann did not reply to Walter avoiding his eyes, toying with his bishop’s ring on his finger. Conrad’s warlords were becoming bored. Hillar growled at a servant who only half-filled his silver wine goblet, Andres sighed loudly and rudely to show his disquiet and Riki stared vacantly into the distance. Moments later a man in his seventies at least, his tonsured head almost devoid of hair, shuffled into the chamber, to present himself to Hermann.

  ‘Lord bishop?’

  ‘Father Tobias, we have need of your expertise. Father Tobias is a canon lawyer and an expert on the Holy Church’s legal foundations.’

  Hillar emptied his goblet and indicated to the servant that it should be refilled.

  ‘What is that to do with the Russians?’

  ‘I was wondering that,’ added Conrad.

  Hermann smiled slyly. ‘It has a great deal to do with the Russians. Father Tobias, perhaps you could explain to these fine noblemen gathered at this table, and to Master Walter in particular, the concept of sanctuary.’

  Tobias scratched his scabby nose. ‘Sanctuary. Yes, of course.’

  ‘A condensed summary will suffice,’ emphasise Hermann.

  Tobias flicked something from his nose on to the floor.

  ‘Well, yes. Essentially a fugitive convicted of a felony and claiming the benefit of sanctuary in a church is afforded protection for up to forty days, after which he has to “abjure the realm”, that is to leave the kingdom, taking an oath beforehand that he will not return. At least not without the king’s permission. As there is no king in Dorpat he would have to swear such an oath to the lord bishop.’

  ‘This does not affect the princess’s right to claim sanctuary,’ stated Walter.

  Hermann held up a finger to him. ‘Father Tobias, please inform us who is not eligible to claim sanctuary.’

  ‘Heretics, serfs, Jews and those who have been excommunicated, lord bishop.’

  ‘There you have it,’ remarked Hermann contentedly. ‘The princess, being an apostate follower of the Orthodox religion, cannot claim sanctuary in a Catholic church. It cannot be, Walter.’

  But Walter was far from defeated. ‘Then the princess can convert to the true faith, lord bishop.’

  ‘Ha, he has you,’ said Hillar, now mildly drunk.

  ‘I know nothing about the rules of the church, bishop,’ said Andres, ‘but know that we should not even be negotiating with these Russians who have invaded your lands with an army.’

  ‘I concur with Andres’ opinion,’ said Conrad.

  Riki nodded. ‘As do I.’

  ‘Force should be met with force, lord bishop,’ opined Sir Richard.

  Hillar rubbed his hands together. ‘Give the order, lord bishop, and we can butcher these Russians before sundown.’

  Hermann slammed a fist on the table. ‘No! I will not sanction violence against the Russians for to do so will embroil us in a war with Novgorod.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ asked Hillar, belching loudly.

  ‘Because, your grace,’ replied Hermann slowly and forcefully, ‘I do not wish to jeopardise the good relations Dorpat enjoys with Novgorod over what I consider to be a trivial and inconsequential matter.’

  ‘A defenceless woman seeking our aid is not a trivial matter, lord bishop,’ said Walter.

  ‘Your chivalry does you credit, Walter,’ said Hermann, ‘but my decision is that Princess Ivanna shall be refused the right of sanctuary and will be returned to her future husband at the earliest opportunity. I have no desire to become involved in what seems to me a matrimonial dispute.’

  Walter made to speak but Hermann held a hand up to him.

  ‘No, Walter, there will be no more discussion on this matter.’

  He stood, prompting the others to do the same. ‘I would remind all of you that we have the chance to usher in a new era for Estonia. The Oeselians have been subdued, the land from the Gulf of the Finns to the Dvina is at peace and our eastern border is secure. Only a fool would wish to jeopardise that.’

  He walked from the chamber, Tobias following, leaving a fuming Walter and relieved Riki, Andres and Hillar that the ordeal was over. Conrad accompanied Walter from the palace to the castle that like the cathedral was being converted into a stone citadel. Kalju’s old timber fort was giving way to a great stone castle that would be the strongest in all Livonia and Estonia when it was finished.

  ‘I will not abandon her, Conrad, I will not.’

  He was highly animated and Conrad wondered if he had been bewitched so strong were his feelings towards this woman. When he met her Conrad had to accept that she was striking, a woman in her early twenties with hazel eyes, red hair and a childlike figure. She presented a spectacle of frailty and vulnerability that Walter’s sense of honour and justice obviously found irresistible. Typical of his chivalry he had given his master’s hall over to Ivanna and her ladies while he quartered in a clerk’s hut across the courtyard. He had refused to sleep in a cot in his brother knights’ dormitory because it would mean that one of his men would have to make way. Such was the character of Walter the Penitent.

  Ivanna babbled something in Russian to Walter who smiled and replied kindly to her in her own tongue. Ivanna’s eyes showed concern at Conrad’s appearance but Walter laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and talked some more to her. She smiled shyly and kissed Conrad on the cheek before scurrying away.

  ‘What did you say to her?’ enquired Conrad.

  ‘I told her that you were here to protect her because you too had taken an oath to defend defenceless women and children.’

  Conrad said nothing. The bishop had spoken and his decision was final. But unbeknown to him Walter was intent on playing one last card.

  The next day was bright and breezy, the banners of Novgorod, Pskov, Dorpat, the Sword Brothers and Kristjan’s golden eagle billowing in the wind as the two sides met to resolve the ‘matrimonial dispute’. The agreed mee
ting place was south of the town on a level piece of ground near to the River Emajogi, the great waterway that brought barges loaded with Russian goods to Dorpat. Today the wind would power the barges along the river but when there was no breeze local farmers, for a fee, towed the vessels from the riverbank by means of long ropes. It was just one example of how the Bishopric of Dorpat and the Principality of Novgorod had become inextricably linked through trade, which neither side wished to harm.

  The meeting was very formal, Bishop Hermann and Yaroslav Nevsky meeting in a huge pavilion pitched halfway between the Russian camp and Dorpat’s southern walls. Inside the humid tent two chairs had been placed a short distance apart so Bishop Hermann and the Thousandman could face each other. Yaroslav was delighted to discover that, like Walter, Hermann could converse in Russian, though out of politeness he requested that their conversation be conducted in German. Behind the Russian stood Domash, Kristjan and a very serious Alexander. Conrad and Walter stood behind Bishop Hermann. Yaroslav acknowledged Conrad, a man he had met years before during a winter campaign against Narva, before thanking Hermann for attending.

  ‘I would have preferred correspondence to an invading army,’ remarked Hermann.

  Yaroslav leaned forward. ‘Alas, my lord, the Mayor of Pskov was most insistent on getting back his betrothed and forced Novgorod’s hand. But be assured that the city’s veche wishes no harm against Dorpat or its bishop.’

  ‘That is something at least.’

  Hermann looked at Kristjan and Domash.

  ‘I assume that one of these men is the aggrieved party?’

  Yaroslav held out a hand to Domash. ‘This is Domash Tverdislavich, lord bishop, Mayor of Pskov and godfather to my eldest son Alexander. Alexander, pay your compliments to the bishop.’

  The boy walked forward, bowed deeply to Hermann and withdrew. Hermann smiled and stared at Kristjan. Yaroslav anticipated his coming question.

  ‘This is Lord Murk, a resident of Novgorod and a close friend of my family.’

  Conrad stopped himself from laughing. The bishop had not seen Kristjan before and therefore did not recognise the man standing a few paces from him. But now was not the time to reveal who Lord Murk was. There were more pressing matters to deal with. Conrad ignored the disdainful stare of Kristjan to look at the Mayor of Pskov, the man responsible for inflicting the burn scars on Master Rudolf’s body.

  Hermann introduced Walter and Conrad, Yaroslav informing him that he already knew the Marshal of Estonia and was pleased to make the acquaintance of Walter.

  ‘I believe that the Princess Ivanna has taken refuge in Dorpat,’ said the Thousandman.

  ‘That is correct,’ answered Hermann.

  ‘Novgorod requests she is handed back to her betrothed, lord bishop.’

  ‘After careful consideration I have decided that this affair has nothing to do with the Holy Church or Dorpat and will accede to your request, on condition that you and your army withdraw immediately.’

  ‘We shall be pleased to do so, lord bishop,’ smiled Yaroslav, relief in his eyes.

  ‘The princess will be staying in Dorpat,’ announced Walter. ‘I demand that the matter is decided by trial by combat.’

  Domash, who obviously could not understand German, looked confused, Kristjan looked delighted and Yaroslav appeared most discomfited.

  ‘Are you mad?’ whispered Conrad.

  ‘You will remember your place,’ snapped Hermann.

  ‘No, lord bishop,’ retorted Walter, ‘we will let God decide this business. It is my right according to the rules of the Holy Church.’

  He took off his mail mitten and tossed it to the ground before a bemused Domash.

  ‘What say you, mayor, will you accept my challenge?’

  Domash looked at the mitten, at Walter and then at Yaroslav who explained the meaning of the gesture. The mayor did not take it well, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Conrad’s went to his and the air crackled with the threat of violence. Yaroslav stood and glared at Domash, muttering something to him in Russia. Hermann was also on his feet, berating Walter for his actions and ordering Conrad to keep his sword in its scabbard. While he was doing so Kristjan was whispering to Domash who suddenly appeared appeased. Lord Murk looked smugly at Conrad.

  ‘This is highly unusual,’ said Yaroslav. ‘However, though the mayor will not demean himself with drawing his sword over what he considers to be his property, he is prepared to let another fight on his behalf.’

  ‘What other?’ asked a concerned Conrad.

  ‘It does not matter,’ said Walter. ‘It is in God’s hands now.’

  ‘What god would that be?’ sneered Kristjan.

  ‘Watch your mouth, Kristjan,’ said Conrad.

  Hermann looked at the Estonian.

  ‘Kristjan? I had been told that you were among the Russians but did not realise that you had risen so high in Novgorod’s favour. Know that the warrant for your arrest is still extant.’

  ‘Kristjan is under my protection,’ stated Yaroslav.

  ‘I will fight Kristjan,’ said Conrad, ‘so God can decide whether he should live or die.’

  ‘I accept, Sword Brother,’ replied Maarja’s brother.

  ‘Whatever quarrel exists between you both is not our concern,’ said Yaroslav.

  ‘Exactly,’ agreed Hermann. ‘Any more nonsense from you, Conrad, and I shall have you arrested and thrown into jail.’

  ‘The combat shall take place this afternoon,’ said Yaroslav.

  ‘You will abide by its outcome?’ asked Walter.

  Yaroslav spoke to Domash who nodded.

  ‘The mayor will abide by the decision.’

  A furious Bishop Hermann rode back to the town in the company of his bodyguard as Conrad tried desperately to dissuade Walter from his course of action. But he was wasting his time. Walter was convinced he would win because in trial by combat the hand of God reached out on behalf of the righteous and the innocent. Victory was seen as an indication of heavenly adjudication and Walter was convinced of the righteousness of his cause. Upon reaching the castle he went immediately to the chapel and afterwards to the princess’ quarters to explain what was going to happen. Ivanna became distraught but Walter comforted her and told her that her new life was about to begin, a life free from the carnal advances of the Mayor of Pskov.

  Father Tobias selected the venue and administered the layout of the arena for the combat, which according to legal rules laid down by the church had to be an even and level piece of ground, free of impediments that might restrict the combatants’ movements. A spot was found a short distance from the walls and within sight of the Russian camp. Because no proper lists existed Tobias instructed the carpenters to arrange four stout posts to be hammered into the ground and rope to be strung between them so a square was created. It measured sixty feet on each side and on one side a row of chairs had been arranged to seat Bishop Hermann, Yaroslav Nevsky and the ‘aggrieved party’ – Domash Tverdislavich. As she was the reason for the trial by combat, Princess Ivanna was forced to watch the dreadful spectacle. She was very pale and her red-rimmed eyes indicated that she had been weeping when the two combatants were led into the arena.

  Conrad escorted Walter from the castle into the town and then out of the southern gates, all the time urging him to reconsider.

  ‘This is madness, Walter.’

  Walter was serenely calm. ‘Is it, Conrad? Are we not Sword Brothers who both took an oath to protect the weak and defenceless? What would God think of me if I was to turn my back on one who needed my assistance?’

  ‘He would say that you have a duty to your men and to Dorpat and its bishop.’

  Walter pulled up his horse and looked at his friend.

  ‘If I was to abandon the princess I would not be able to live with my conscience, Conrad. I cannot stand by and watch a gross injustice being committed.’

  He used his spurs to move his horse forward, Conrad following. The wind had dropped somewhat and it was a f
ine late summer’s day. Corncrakes flew over the town and the air was scented with pine as they rode through the city’s gates. The bishop had forbidden anyone from the general population attending, witnesses being restricted to Conrad’s warlords, Hermann himself and a coterie of priests, brother knights and a score of the town garrison. The Russians numbered Yaroslav Nevsky, his son, Domash, Kristjan and a score or more of the Thousandman’s Druzhina. There were also a few bearded brutes around Kristjan, one of whom stepped under the rope when the bishop’s representative, the town’s chief magistrate, called for the two champions to step forward.

  Conrad embraced Walter and also ducked under the rope when summoned.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ complained Leatherface, ‘it has a bad smell about it.’

  Conrad said nothing as the two champions faced each other. One wore a white surcoat emblazoned with the motif of the Sword Brothers, the other, a lithe man with a hard face, wore mail armour over his tunic. The bishop’s representative spoke to both men, though about what Conrad could not discern. He then waved the champions back so they could wait for the signal to begin. The bishop’s man indicated that priests should come forward to examine Walter and his opponent. Two men wearing black habits, monks of the Orthodox faith, examined Walter’s clothing, shield and sword while two white-robed monks from Bishop Hermann’s household did the same to the hard-faced individual.

  ‘What in God’s name are they doing?’ asked Leatherface.

  ‘Ensuring there are no concealed charms,’ answered Sir Richard standing nearby, ‘thereby giving one the advantage of sorcery.’

  ‘That Russian looks like he’s some sort of devil,’ spat Leatherface, ‘I don’t like him or his companions.’

  Conrad caught sight of Kristjan staring at him. ‘I know how you feel.’

  The magistrate raised his arms and spoke in a loud voice.

  ‘Let all who bear witness to this ceremony know that it is a legally bound procedure and as such no one may interfere with its conduct, upon pain of death. Both parties have declined to give way and so the matter will now be decided by the sword. May God’s will be done.’