by Peter Darman
The next day Canute and Abel led a large mounted party out of camp to hunt down the raiders. But after four hours they returned empty handed and frustrated.
That night the Russians attacked again, destroying more tents and wagons and again melting back into the forest. A foolhardy group of Danish foot knights followed them failing to return. In the morning the two princes rode out again to hunt Russians but returned with news that the foot knights had been butchered to a man.
The Russians attacked three more times during the succeeding week, each time aiming to destroying tents and wagons. The crusaders responded by felling all the trees near the camp’s edge to extend the open space between it and the tree line. It would take the enemy longer to reach Koporye from the forest. The work on the timber wall around the settlement was also speeded up. In this way Koporye was strengthened. Men stood to arms all through the night and fires were lit all around the perimeter to deny the enemy the cover of darkness.
After a week the Russians gave up but they had succeeded in stalling the advance on Novgorod. Bishop Hermann, ill, irritable, demoralised and tired of the Livonian Master, ordered a withdrawal back to Dorpat. Canute and Abel left a garrison of two hundred foot soldiers at Koporye, along with a score of horsemen and half the remaining food supplies. The timber wall had been completed and watchtowers guarded all four corners of the compound.
As the army marched west back to Narva Conrad halted his horse and looked back at the outpost perched on the hill in the bleak landscape. He wondered if the poor wretches inside would see the spring.
Chapter 10
In the spring Livonia and Estonia burst into life. The rivers were in full spate and many meadows and woods were flooded as waterways burst their banks and soaked the land. But as the waters receded and temperatures rose the hitherto bleak and desolate landscape was transformed. Meadows filled with buttercups and the skies were alive with corncrakes, great snipes, grouse and white-tailed eagles. Bears came out of hibernation, hares peeked above cotton grass and elk and deer roamed the forests. The mighty Dvina, released from ice, once again became a route for dozens of riverboats journeying west and east. And because of the hostilities between Dorpat, Denmark and Novgorod the southern waterway became even more crowded and pivotal as Novgorod sent its goods south to Pskov and on to the Dvina rather than to Reval, which was now denied to the Russians.
Andreas von Felben’s mood contrasted sharply to the warm sunshine bathing Livonia. His mood darkened as he neared Riga, the great city on the Dvina. Lukas noticed his melancholy.
‘Cheer up, Andreas. Anyone would think you are going to your own execution instead of being an envoy of Bishop Hermann.’
The Landmeister looked at the man over twice his age riding beside him. Behind them trotted a dozen sergeants carrying lances and banners of the Teutonic Order.
‘I’m not a fool, Lukas.’
‘No one said you were.’
‘I am quite aware I am on a fool’s errand,’ said Andreas forlornly.
Lukas tried to reassure him but he also knew the mission to Riga had as much chance of succeeding as snow falling on midsummer’s day. The Livonian Master had been summoned back to Germany as soon as the snows had melted. The Papacy had issued an urgent summons to all the military orders and the kings of Latin Christendom to rally in support of the Hungarians whose lands had been invaded by a Mongol army. In the absence of von Grüningen, Bishop Hermann had tried to convince Master Rudolf to travel to Riga but he had ignored the bishop’s pleas. Master Conrad had flatly refused so the Landmeister had been selected. The bishop had sent Lukas along to give the younger man moral support.
‘What is he like?’ asked Andreas as they neared Riga’s imposing stone walls.
‘The archdeacon? A fat child molester.’
Andres wore an expression of horror. ‘How can such a reprobate attain high office?’
Lukas shrugged. ‘How? By being a member of Saxony’s most powerful family, that and having the most devious mind in all Livonia. Do not underestimate him, Andres.’
‘Surely the bishop will listen to reason.’
‘For some unexplained reason the archdeacon is the power behind the throne in Riga,’ Lukas told him.
He looked at the fair-haired younger man. ‘Mm, you might be his type. A little old, perhaps. But still, try flattery and if that fails offer to sit on his lap.’
Andreas said no more as the party manoeuvred its way through the city’s narrow, crowded streets to the castle where the Teutonic Order had its offices. After light refreshments he and Lukas walked to the Bishop’s Palace a short distance away where Gunter met them at the gates. The commander of the garrison looked like Andreas felt. Answering to the archdeacon had thoroughly demoralised him.
The Landmeister was shocked when he finally met Archdeacon Stefan. The churchman reeked of wine, his face was red and blotchy and his nose bulbous, purple at the end. He had always been overweight but was now very obese, hardly being able to fit in the high-backed chair he occupied on the rostrum in the reception chamber. Gunter took his place beside the wooden platform as the two knights stood and bowed to Stefan.
‘So, you are here on the business of my uncle, I am told.’
Andreas clutched the letter Hermann had written before he and Lukas had left Dorpat. It was to be handed to the archdeacon and not Bishop Nicholas, Hermann being very aware of the power his nephew exercised over the Bishop of Riga. Andreas walked forward to hand Stefan the letter but the archdeacon flicked a hand at him.
‘Gunter.’
The commander stepped forward, took the letter and broke the wax seal before handing it to Stefan. The latter’s piggy eyes read the words, curling his lip as he finished and tossing the document to the floor.
‘My uncle desires Riga closes its port and markets to Russian goods.’
He looked at the two Teutonic brother knights.
‘Your campaign having failed you now wish to impoverish this city and the whole of Livonia. Well you can inform my uncle that as governor of Riga I will not close its gates to Russian merchants, or prevent their ships from docking at its quays.’
Andreas made his first mistake. ‘I must protest, archdeacon.’
Stefan was astounded. ‘Protest? The Bishop of Dorpat has not even the good manners to travel to Riga himself, instead sending two of his lackeys to do his begging for him. And now that I have seen fit to refuse his ridiculous demands you protest.’
Andreas made his second mistake. ‘The crusade against Novgorod is God’s work, archdeacon.’
Stefan sneered at the handsome Landmeister. ‘If God had truly been on your side then would not my dear uncle be now sitting in Novgorod? Do not speak to me of God, I have been doing His work for thirty years in this miserable rain-soaked land.’
Stefan turned his contemptuous gaze to Lukas.
‘Your face is familiar.’
Gunter walked forward and whispered into Stefan’s ear.
‘Ah, the Master of Dorpat. A former Sword Brother.’
Lukas nodded. ‘And former governor of Reval before we were forced to give it up.’
‘According to the terms of the Treaty of Stensby,’ said Stefan, ‘I remember. And tell me, Master Lukas, do you also remember Grand Master Volquin?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I am surprised that you are a party to this sad affair.’
‘In what way, archdeacon?’
Stefan gave him a sly smile. ‘Twelve years ago Grand Master Volquin was a signatory to a treaty between the Bishop of Riga, the merchants of this city, the Sword Brothers and the princes of Smolensk, Polotsk and Vitebsk. The treaty gave licence to German merchants to sell their goods in the territories of those Russian princes and for Russian merchants to do the same in Riga and various other towns in Germany and Gotland.
‘It is an arrangement that has worked very well and to everyone’s mutual benefit over the succeeding years. Surely you do not wish to endanger an agreement that was su
pported by Grand Master Volquin himself, may his soul rest in peace.’
Lukas shrugged. ‘I am just following orders, archdeacon.’
Stefan looked down his nose at him. ‘The excuse of every miserable lowborn soldier.’
He switched his attention back to Andreas. ‘Should I decide to change my mind and endeavour to convince the burgomasters of this great city that they should cut off their noses to spite their faces, will the Teutonic Order reimburse those fine gentlemen for the loss of revenues that would surely follow from such an action?’
‘I, I am not in a position to promise that, archdeacon,’ replied Andreas.
‘Let me enlighten you, then,’ said Stefan. ‘The Teutonic Order does not have the resources to preserve itself let alone other institutions. Its holdings in the Holy Land are diminishing year on year and it has yet to subdue the heathen Prussians. Like the Sword Brothers it has proved a huge disappointment.’
Andreas went to protest but Stefan held a hand up to him.
‘Spare me your platitudes. The request of the Bishop of Dorpat is refused. Go back to your master and tell him he will have to shift for himself.’
Andreas and Lukas saluted half-heartedly and marched from the chamber. Andreas was ashen faced after the audience, hardly believing the words coming out of the archdeacon’s mouth. Lukas was more sanguine.
‘Nice to know some things have not changed. He’s still an arrogant, nasty little bastard.’
*****
Conrad had taken up residence at Wenden because, in an act of spitefulness, Master Dietrich had forbidden him assuming his old command at Odenpah. Not that Conrad wanted his old command back. Jaan was castellan there now and together with Arri was doing a fine job. Both had returned safely from the abortive crusade against Novgorod, as had most of the garrison. He returned with them as part of his onward journey to Wenden, taking time to pay his respects to Lady Maarja. He may have been master of Odenpah at one time but only Wenden now felt like home. In between attending masses, assisting with the training of novices and riding out on patrol he was able to spend time visiting the graves of his family and friends. With the coming of spring he was the happiest he had been in an age and hoped that he could remain at the castle. He even harboured thoughts of retiring there but knew it was an illusion.
His dream was shattered by the arrival of Lukas and Andreas, fresh from their abortive trip to Riga. Rudolf was in his office chuckling as they told him of their encounter with the archdeacon. He had asked Conrad to join him and the four of them sat drinking wine as they pondered the coming year.
‘Well, Andreas,’ said Rudolf, ‘what are you going to do?’
‘I have no idea, master,’ came the sad reply.
But Rudolf did have an idea and he now voiced it. Andreas may have been Landmeister but he was more than willing to defer to the man who had ruled Wenden for many years.
‘I don’t see any possibility of us taking Novgorod,’ he began, ‘but there might be a way to strangle the city without having to assault it?’
‘Strangle it?’ queried Andreas.
Rudolf nodded. ‘Novgorod cannot ship its goods via Reval so it can only use the southern route to Riga. But what if that route was also cut off?’
‘You mean Pskov,’ said Conrad.
Rudolf had a glint in his eye. ‘Exactly. Take Pskov and Novgorod will have no alternative but to come to an agreement with Bishop Hermann, just as it was forced to do with the Mongols.’
‘But the Mongols do not occupy Novgorod, Rudolf,’ said Lukas.
‘No indeed, but they are paid a yearly tribute to keep it so.’
‘The bishop wishes to occupy Novgorod,’ remarked Conrad.
Rudolf dismissed such a notion. ‘He can forget that. Even if he managed to raise an army large enough to do so, which he could not, I think he would then face a war against the Mongols, a war which he would lose.’
‘Such talk could get you burnt at the stake,’ said Lukas jokingly.
‘That would not change reality, Lukas,’ replied Rudolf. ‘I have talked to many men who have either faced these Mongols or spoken to those who have had the misfortune of crossing them. In any case Novgorod serves as a buffer between Estonia and Livonia and the Mongols.’
‘I do not understand,’ said Andreas.
‘It’s quite simple,’ Lukas told him, ‘Rudolf means to extort money from Novgorod.’
‘Bishop Hermann wishes Dorpat to rival Riga in regards to wealth and grandeur. My plan will enable him to do just that.’
‘What about his archbishopric?’ enquired Conrad.
‘What about it?’ replied Rudolf. ‘Unless the bishop can muster an army of ten thousand crusaders from Germany I see no possibility of taking Novgorod with the resources we can call upon.’
‘All Christendom will be rallying to Hungary’s side to repel the Mongol invasion,’ Andreas informed them.
‘There you have it,’ said Rudolf, ‘we are on our own and should cut our cloth accordingly.’
He turned to Conrad. ‘We will need your army, of course, plus any troops you can persuade King Rameke to loan you. Perhaps you could persuade him to join us on our enterprise, for old time’s sake.’
Conrad raised an eyebrow. ‘For old time’s sake?’
Lukas laughed. ‘Rudolf is getting sentimental in his old age.’
Rameke, Kaja and their sons wintered at their fortified manor house near Wenden but when the snows melted they took themselves off to Treiden, the official residence of the king of the Livs. Years of peace had transformed Livonia. Around Riga new villages had sprung up among the forests and meadows, populated by settlers from Germany who came to work the land and escape the internecine wars plaguing their homeland. Rameke and his chiefs meanwhile, landowners in their own rights, supplied Riga with hides, livestock and timber, making a tidy profit in the process. The king was reluctant to take any action that might jeopardise his subjects’ steadily growing prosperity.
He was a year older than Conrad now in his mid-forties. His thick, shoulder length hair was still free of grey but his features were more careworn. He was conscientious when it came to caring for his people and the great responsibility showed in his features. When Rudolf and Conrad arrived at Treiden he was inspecting the new church being built after the old one had burned down. Kaja, resplendent in a blue dress and leather shoes, was by his side. She no longer wore a sword and her blonde locks were plaited. She certainly looked regal, long gone was the wild-eyed girl that had fought with the Army of the Wolf.
‘I consider Bishop Hermann’s crusade against Novgorod ill-conceived,’ stated Rameke bluntly.
Carpenters were planing wood nearby, the pleasing aroma of freshly shaved timber reaching the group.
‘I am also aware that Riga is not sending any warriors to assist him,’ continued Rameke. ‘Why then should I?’
Conrad thought it a fair question and made no attempt to answer.
‘Those who take part will benefit in the aftermath,’ said Rudolf.
‘How so?’ demanded Rameke.
Rudolf explained how he intended to seize Pskov and force Novgorod to pay a tribute to Dorpat in return for guaranteeing access to the Dvina and Riga. He promised Rameke that the Livs would also be the beneficiary from such a peace treaty.
‘If you win,’ said Kaja.
Rudolf’s eyes narrowed. He remembered Kaja as a half-starved Estonian orphan who trailed after Conrad like an abandoned puppy. It was only the Marshal of Estonia’s pity that had allowed her to gain her present lofty position, which in his eyes she did not deserve.
‘We will win.’
Rameke looked at Conrad. ‘And you, my brother, you will take part in the coming campaign?’
Conrad nodded. ‘I took an oath to serve my order.’
‘Which no longer exists,’ said Kaja.
She was really beginning to annoy Rudolf.
Conrad smiled at her. ‘I also took an oath to defend my friends, among them is Rudolf.’
‘And where you go the Army of the Wolf follows,’ said Rameke. ‘You are clever, Rudolf.’
Rudolf wore an innocent expression. ‘Me, sire? I’m just an ordinary soldier.’
‘The price will be silver,’ stated Rameke.
Rudolf was surprised. ‘Majesty?’
‘You will have your Liv spears, Rudolf,’ Rameke told him, ‘but the price will be silver, which the Bishop of Dorpat will pay before the campaign commences. My council of elders will determine the exact amount. I too can be clever when the occasion warrants.’
Rudolf’s mood darkened when he returned to Wenden to learn an uprising had broken out on Oesel. Led by a chief named Hastein the rebels had killed priests and burned property with abandon. Bishop Nicholas demanded Rudolf lead an expedition to crush the pagans, but if he did so then the campaign against Pskov would have to be delayed for at least a year.
He threw the letter down on the table in his office.
‘I cannot be in two places at the same time. I am torn between the demands of two bishops.’
‘I remember Hastein,’ said Conrad casually, ‘he was the one who surrendered to us when we defeated the Oeselians.’
‘Only partially surrendered, it would seem.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘What?’ exclaimed Rudolf.
A sergeant entered and saluted. ‘There is a Kur who wishes to speak with you, master.’
Rudolf looked at Conrad who was none the wiser.
‘What in the name of the saints is a Kur doing in these parts?’
The sergeant wore a blank look. ‘He says it concerns his king, master.’
‘Perhaps the Kurs are also in revolt and I will have to be in three places at once,’ said Rudolf despairingly. ‘Well show him in. My day can’t get any worse.’
The Kur was dressed all in black: black leggings, tunic, leather back and breast plates, a black sword belt and scabbard. His helmet was burnished steel with a thick nasal guard hiding most of his face. He went down on one knee in front of Rudolf.
‘My master, Ambassador Torolf, sends his compliments, Master Rudolf and requests an audience with you.’