As Dust to the Wind

by Peter Darman

  *****

  Alexander Nevsky sat in his tent in a state of shock. His commanders and brother told him that he had won a great victory but all he could think about was how would he inform Hella that Kristjan was dead?

  Andrey, having cut the Danish militia to pieces with his horse archers, tried to convince his brother to march to the walls of Dorpat to demand its surrender. But the army had lost too many men, Bishop Hermann had made good his escape and he had no stomach for more bloodshed. Instead he agreed to meet an envoy sent by the bishop the next day and listened to the churchman’s plea that the bodies of the nobles and senior commanders among the fallen should be taken off the ice for a decent and proper burial. Alexander agreed provided the bishop pledged not to make any more war on Novgorod. The envoy left and returned the next day with a letter bearing Bishop Hermann’s seal promising never again to crusade against Novgorod.

  Alexander Nevsky returned to Novgorod a hero. He took the body of his fallen friend back to the mansion of Dmitry Hoidja. He and his brother and father stood with Hella and Hoidja and watched Kristjan’s body be cremated on a huge pyre outside the city walls, the ramparts thronged with onlookers with hats removed and heads bowed. In death Kristjan had achieved what in life had evaded him: the respect of the city of Novgorod.

  Epilogue

  Late spring was always beautiful in Livonia, the lush meadows filled with hares and the forests teeming with deer, wolf, boar and bears. The combination of sunshine and rain made ideal growing conditions for crops and provided good grazing for livestock. It was a fertile land akin to the Promised Land for the poor settlers who arrived from Germany. Trade between Novgorod and Dorpat and Riga not only continued but increased, both Catholic and Orthodox merchants eager to banish the recent, regrettable hostilities from their minds. Though not everyone forgot.

  The meadow in front of Wenden Castle, usually used by the goats, sheep and cattle serving the garrison and the families of its civilian workers, had been cleared to make room for the many tents, pavilions and wagons occupying it. A service of thanksgiving was being held in the castle’s small chapel, the sermon being read by Bishop Hermann himself. The stone place of worship had never seen so many dignitaries. King Rameke and Queen Kaja had come from Treiden and King Lamekins and Queen Rasa had travelled from Talsi. Gunter, commander of Riga’s garrison, represented Bishop Nicholas and accompanying him were two of the city’s burgomasters. From Estonia had come the dukes of Rotalia, Jerwen and Harrien. Tonis, Count of Fellin, was also in attendance, standing between Ulric and Anu.

  The service was a commemoration of the lives of those who had served Livonia and Estonia and who had fallen at the Battle of Lake Peipus. The bishop spoke fulsomely about the masters who had given their lives so that those two lands could prosper – Rudolf, Arnold, Bertram, Franz, Lukas, Jaan and Mathias. His voice faltered when he mentioned the Marshal of Estonia, the man who had been the friend of many in the congregation.

  After the service, a gentle breeze ruffling the banners on the gatehouse, many strolled across the courtyard and down into the castle’s outer perimeter, to the cemetery. A team of full-time gardeners now worked there, ensuring the low stone surrounding it was clean and well dressed, the paths inside swept and maintained, and the graves well tended. Always peaceful and calm, the neat rows of dolostone headstones were testimony to the blood spilt subduing the enemies of the Sword Brothers and, latterly, the Teutonic Knights. The guests studied the graves, individuals stopping when they recognised the name of a fallen friend. Eventually they gravitated towards one grave in particular, the mound slightly larger than the others and with a new headstone.

  Lamekins, looking more a Christian lord than most Christian nobles with his neatly cropped beard, expensive sword and rich attire, studied the headstone. His striking wife, red hair shining in the sun, did not read or write German, though she understood a smattering of the language, and so looked at those who standing around her. She had never met Queen Kaja but she had often heard her husband speak admiringly of the fierce blonde-haired Estonian who carried a sword and knew how to use it. But she was not fierce today as she bent down and laid a white rose on the grave, Rameke holding her tightly afterwards as she wept quietly.

  ‘We all miss him, princess.’

  She looked at the dishevelled man next to him and kissed Leatherface tenderly on the cheek.

  ‘I should have gone with him,’ lamented Leatherface, ‘I let him down.’

  ‘We all let him down,’ said Hillar opposite, ‘and that is something that can never be put right.’

  Riki looked distraught, Andres was close to tears and Ulric, who looked morose at the best of times, appeared inconsolable.

  ‘You should not rebuke yourselves,’ Lamekins told them, ‘Bishop Hermann informed me that Master Conrad sacrificed himself so this land could continue to prosper. You obeyed his last orders to the letter and you should all be proud of that.’

  ‘I don’t feel very proud,’ said Hillar bluntly.

  ‘Nor me,’ added Riki.

  ‘Now then,’ said Leatherface, ‘don’t start getting morose. You are all lords now, not bare-arsed warriors without a pot to piss in.’

  He pointed at the grave. ‘He made you what you are today and just because he’s dead don’t mean that you no longer serve him. You have a responsibility to safeguard your people and your lands, and keep your sword blades sharp.’

  ‘Well said,’ agreed Maarja beside him.

  ‘I once thought you a jester,’ said Lamekins to Leatherface, ‘but you have proved yourself a great thinker, albeit one in need of a new suit of clothes.’

  ‘There is no point in reproaching ourselves,’ said Rameke, ‘let us instead celebrate Conrad’s life.’

  They said no more but looked at the headstone carved with such care.

  Here lies Conrad Wolff, brother knight of the Order of Sword Brothers, Master of Odenpah Castle, Marshal of Estonia and commander of the Army of the Wolf.

  He lies here with his beloved wife Daina and their son Dietmar, all now united for all eternity in the Kingdom of Heaven.

  Historical notes

  The Battle of Lake Peipus, fought on 5th April 1242, signalled the end of the Papacy’s efforts to subdue the Russian Orthodox Church by military means. In the negotiations following the battle Bishop Hermann was forced to hand back all the territory won during the previous year, including the fortress of Izborsk. The bishop lived for another six years after the battle, founding Dorpat Cathedral and continuing to promote Dorpat itself, making it a flourishing trade and craft centre. In the succeeding decades there was continual friction between the bishopric and the Russians, often leading to conflict. In 1262, for example, a Russian army led by Dmitri of Pereslavl, son of Alexander Nevsky, attacked the town and destroyed it, though he failed to capture the fortress on Toome Hill.

  Not only did Lake Peipus end the Papacy’s expansion east it also saw the demise of the surviving members of the Sword Brothers. Half had been killed at the Battle of Saule in 1236 and the rest fell on Lake Peipus, including Rudolf Kassel. Almost nothing is known of the castellan of Wenden Castle except that he was a notorious troublemaker. As such he is a storyteller’s dream but he must have at least been a good soldier and competent commander to be given control of Wenden, one of the strongest fortresses in Livonia, eventually becoming the headquarters of the Livonian Order. Its impressive ruins can still be seen, though the layout reflects the alterations carried out at the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries. Odenpah remained a timber stronghold and today is just a tree-covered mound of earth in southern Estonia.

  The Teutonic Knights were as unsuccessful in subduing the Lithuanians as the Sword Brothers had been. A combination of lack of resources and the size of the Lithuanian kingdoms meant they resisted all attempts to conquer them. That said the Teutonic Knights did make inroads into Grand Duke Mindaugas’ lands in the late 1240s to such an extent that the grand duke accepted Christian bapti
sm in 1250 or 1251 to relieve the western advance of the knights. This allowed him to concentrate on his own eastward expansion against the Russians, which won him much territory. However, conflict with the Teutonic Knights erupted again in the late 1250s, whereupon he reverted back to paganism. Ironically Mindaugas and his two sons were murdered by pagan Samogitians in 1263; perhaps the culmination of the antipathy that had begun between him and Duke Ykintas many years before.

  Little is known of Lamekins, the leader of the Kurs, apart from the fact that he was a king and reached a separate agreement with the Papacy after he had converted to Christianity. After the Battle of Lake Peipus he must have antagonised the Teutonic Order because it is recorded that Dietrich von Grüningen (who became Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights in 1254) commenced the military conquest of Kurland. They defeated the Kurs and established the fortress of Kuldiga to retain their control over Kurland. But the Kurs were not so easily vanquished and rose up in revolt, joining with the Samogitians to defeat the Teutonic Knights at the Battle of Durbe in 1260. The knights fought back but it was another seven years of fighting before the hardy followers of Lamekins were finally conquered.

  Riga continued to grow in the years after the Battle of Lake Peipus, becoming one of the leading cities in the Hanseatic League, the trading organisation founded by north German towns and German merchant communities in northern Europe in the Middle Ages. The league dominated commercial activity in northern Europe and the Baltic from the second half of the thirteenth century. Even when the Hanseatic League faded Riga continued to grow, becoming the largest port in the Swedish Empire during the seventeenth century and a major port when it was part of the Russian Empire in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

  Despite the Danes regaining control of Reval and northern Estonia after the Battle of Saule, Danish power in the Baltic had been much weakened by its earlier defeats at the hands of the north German nobles. As a result the Danes were never able to fully subdue the Estonians, who were often aided and abetted in their rebelliousness by German nobles in Livonia. Danish power was gradually eroded, to such an extent that by 1346 the Teutonic Knights, encouraged by the same German nobles in Livonia, had taken over all the former Danish territories in Estonia.

  Alexander Nevsky (1220–63) became something of Mongol puppet after the Battle of Lake Peipus, though in becoming so he undoubtedly saved the towns and cities of northern Russia from being devastated by Mongol armies. As a result the image of him as a great soldier and defender of Orthodoxy began in Russian literature.

  Novgorod itself continued to supply furs, especially grey squirrel pelts, to northern Europe, making its merchants rich. This trade would continue until the end of the fourteenth century when squirrel fur became so widely available in Europe that its price collapsed.

  What of the legacy of the Sword Brothers? There is no doubt that their campaigns against the pagan Livs and Estonians in the early thirteenth century laid the foundations of Livonia and the growth of Riga. But their success also laid the seeds for the order’s ultimate demise. Livonia and Estonia were essentially heavily forested lands with few natural resources apart from timber. Riga was to become a great trading port but it was never under the control of the Sword Brothers who struggled to maintain their garrisons along the River Dvina and River Gauja and, later, in Estonia and Lithuania. Always one defeat away from a crisis the order never recovered from the disaster at Saule in 1236, being taken over by the Teutonic Order afterwards. It is also true that the Sword Brothers had few friends. Fighting on what were the fringes of Latin Christendom its castellans became accustomed to acting as semi-independent warlords as opposed to obeying the orders of far-off Rome. Bishop Albert, having created the order, was able to impose his personal authority on the Sword Brothers. But after his death Grand Master Volquin and his masters became more difficult to control, taking exception to outsiders ordering them around. The Papacy tried and failed to suppress them by military means but the victory of the Sword Brothers over what was in effect their supreme commander, the Pope, signalled the beginning of their end.

  Having alienated the Papacy, running short of funds and having no powerful allies in Europe it was inevitable that the Sword Brothers would be de facto disbanded after their defeat at Saule. The Teutonic Order, which was also to experience problems regarding finances and a paucity of military resources, could not disband those Sword Brothers who still garrisoned the castles in northern Livonia and Estonia after Saule because it needed their skills and knowledge. But it did begin to stamp its authority over the rebellious former Sword Brothers. In many ways defeat at Lake Peipus speeded this process up because the remaining Sword Brothers fell in the battle. Thus could Teutonic Knights be imported from Germany and the Middle East to replace them.

  But it was not the Teutonic Knights that had carved out the crusader states of Livonia and Estonia. That honour belongs to the Sword Brothers whose influence can still be seen in the modern Baltic states of Latvia and Estonia. Both nations are Catholic instead of Russian Orthodox and their cultures reflect Western rather than Eastern influences. And eight hundred years later there is still friction between Russia and Latvia and Estonia.