Master of Mayhem

by Peter Darman

  ‘Right,’ said Conrad, pointing to Jaan, ‘pick up that saw and help me make the final cut.’

  This was the back cut, made with a saw and which was perfectly level with the ground and on the opposite side of the trunk to the face cut. Jaan grinned as he grabbed the wooden handle of the two-handed saw and assisted Conrad making the back cut.

  ‘Not too far in,’ he warned the boy.

  The uncut wood of the trunk between the back cut and face cut formed a hinge, which got smaller and smaller as the saw’s teeth bit into the wood. Suddenly there was a straining noise and a sharp crack.

  ‘Leave it,’ Conrad shouted to Jaan as he and the others raced away from the tree. Jaan did as he was told as the tree shuddered, the hinge splintered and the tree crashed to the ground. The air was filled with flies and dust that tickled the back of Conrad’s throat. He bent down and picked up a water bottle but nothing came out when he held it to his lips.

  ‘Jaan,’ he said, ‘take the water bottles to the river and refill them.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Leatherface, throwing Jaan his canteen, ‘fill up mine as well.’

  ‘Go with him,’ Conrad told the mercenary, ‘and make sure he isn’t attacked by the enemy.’

  Jaan slung the water bottles over his shoulder and walked off towards the river, a grumbling Leatherface trailing after him. Hans and Anton picked up hand axes and went to work trimming the fallen tree.

  ‘How many trees have we cut down today?’ asked Hans, like his friends stripped to the waist and sweating in the summer heat.

  ‘Too many,’ complained Anton.

  ‘Well, you could always use nobility as an excuse to avoid honest toil like our crusader lords,’ grinned Conrad. ‘After all, you are from a noble family.’

  ‘I think my oath of poverty, chastity and obedience prohibits me from using that excuse.’

  Hans stopped chopping. ‘Remember, my friend, that we are now Deputy Masters of Odenpah and so can delegate menial work to our subordinates.’

  ‘Who are?’ asked Conrad.

  Anton and Hans looked at each other vacantly.

  ‘You should address that issue, Conrad,’ said Hans. ‘You are a master without brother knights, sergeants or mercenaries.’

  ‘Though you do have a small band of Ungannians headed by the daughter of Kalju.’

  Hans shuddered. ‘Are you going to evict them?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ replied Conrad. ‘The Lady Maarja can stay until her leper house has been completed.’

  ‘I don’t want to catch the pox,’ said Hans.

  ‘Survivors are not contagious,’ Conrad informed him, ‘so you have no need to worry.’

  But Hans had the bit between his teeth.

  ‘I have heard that she is foul to look upon.’

  ‘I have heard that people say the same about you,’ said Anton, causing much laughter.

  ‘Why do think we win so many battles, Hans?’ said Conrad. ‘It is because you put the fear of God into our enemies.’

  Hans was not amused. ‘Your attempts at humour are puerile.’

  Anton was still chuckling when he spotted a rider and horse approaching, a soldier in the livery of the garrison of Riga.

  ‘Talking of puerile,’ he said, ‘what do we have here?’

  The soldier halted his horse. ‘I seek Master Conrad of Odenpah, Marshal of Estonia.’

  ‘You have found him,’ said Conrad.

  The soldier looked appalled at the bare-chested, sweating individual with an axe in his hand.

  ‘You?’ he stuttered.

  ‘State your business,’ said Conrad sharply.

  ‘The Bishop of Riga requests your presence at his pavilion,’ answered the soldier.

  ‘Master,’ said Conrad forcefully.

  The soldier looked at him, confused.

  ‘You will address me as “master”,’ commanded Conrad.

  The soldier, magnificently attired in a pristine red surcoat bearing the cross keys emblem of Riga, his shield carrying the same motif, stared at Conrad with a degree of contempt from behind the nasal guard of his helmet. He carried a lance in his right hand and a sword at his waist and perhaps for a moment he fancied himself to be a chivalrous knight in the company of base fellows. But those fellows had the look of men who knew how to handle the axes they held in their hands, their muscular, powerful bodies, albeit one was more sinewy than powerful, earmarking them as men who were trained for war. And he and the whole of Riga had heard of Conrad Wolff, though the garrison had no liking for the name.

  ‘Apologies, Master Conrad.’

  ‘Convey my compliments to the bishop,’ said Conrad, ‘and inform him I shall be along presently.’

  The soldier nodded stiffly, wheeled his horse around and rode off. The three friends looked at each other. No words were necessary. Hans shook his head and Anton shrugged. Conrad walked over to where his arms and armour lay on the ground and began to make himself look like a Sword Brother Master. He stopped when he saw Leatherface assisting Jaan, holding a cloth to the youth’s face.

  ‘Keep your head back,’ ordered the mercenary.

  ‘What happened?’ demanded Conrad.

  ‘Slight altercation at the river,’ explained the mercenary.

  He took the cloth away to reveal Jaan’s bleeding nose. He whipped out another cloth, semi-clean, from inside his gambeson and handed it to the boy.

  ‘When I caught up with him at the river it seems he and a gentlemen on a horse had a disagreement.’

  ‘It wasn’t a disagreement,’ insisted Jaan, his voice muffled by the cloth. ‘I was filling the water bottles when he rode up behind me. I stood and turned and he just hit me with the back of his hand for no reason.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ asked Conrad, shaking his head.

  ‘Fat and ugly,’ replied Jaan.

  ‘Take him back to camp and let a surgeon examine his nose,’ said Conrad. ‘I have a meeting with the bishop.’

  He borrowed a horse from Ulric, the commander of the ‘Bishop’s Bastards’ who were labouring in the forest a short distance away, and rode to the bishop’s pavilion, which was ringed by Nordheim’s soldiers. A servant in the bishop’s livery took his horse and a tonsured secretary dressed in a white habit showed him inside.

  The bishop’s pavilion was a wondrous thing, being actually two carousel spoke-wheel pavilions connected by a hallway. Door flaps graced the opposite sides of the hallway to provide the main entrance, with large sunshades over each entrance to the hallway. And outside the pavilion was a flagpole flying the flag of Riga. Each of the pavilion’s round ends could be closed off for privacy and so it was now as Conrad was shown into the reception area where a mail-clad Bishop Albert sat at a trestle table covered with a white cloth. He sat between Grand Master Volquin and Duke Fredhelm and opposite Magnus Glueck and Master Rudolf. At one end of the table sat Fricis, who nodded at Conrad and smiled. Glueck ignored him and Fredhelm gave him a cursory acknowledgement as the bishop pointed to the seat available at the other end of the table.

  ‘Please be seated, Conrad.

  Albert raised a finger at a servant who waved forward waiting novices with trays filled with silver chalices and jugs of wine.

  ‘About time,’ said Glueck, ‘I’m dying of thirst in this heat.’

  Rudolf caught Conrad’s eye and gave a slight shake of his head as the fat rich man gulped down the first offering and then demanded his chalice be refilled. Conrad took a sip of the wine. It was delicious.

  ‘I have accomplished what I set out to achieve,’ announced Bishop Albert. ‘Mesoten is now part of Livonia and Father Segehard and Rudolph of Stotle, who were martyred here five years ago, have been avenged.’

  ‘I have asked you all here,’ continued the bishop, ‘because more mundane matters need addressing; namely, the garrisoning of the rebuilt stronghold of Mesoten and the line of stockades from here to the river that will guarantee its survival.’

  He looked at Glueck who was busy fin
ishing his second chalice of wine.

  ‘Mesoten will be a Sword Brother castle, of course, but I hope that Riga’s council will make funds available so Grand Master Volquin can garrison it.’

  Glueck nearly choked on his wine. ‘Funds?’

  ‘Soldiers are expensive,’ said Volquin. ‘I can barely garrison the castles I have let alone a new one in the middle of enemy territory.’

  The Grand Master turned to Bishop Albert. ‘And may I remind your Excellency that the garrisons of Dorpat and Odenpah are woefully deficient.’

  ‘Odenpah has no garrison, Grand Master,’ said Conrad.

  Albert raised an eyebrow. ‘No garrison?’

  ‘It is all in Semgallia, lord bishop, all three of it,’ said Conrad.

  Albert spread his hands. ‘As you can see, Magnus, the Sword Brothers are sorely stretched.’

  Glueck puffed out his porcine cheeks. ‘I thought the soldiers of the Sword Brothers worked for free, killing pagans being their reward for a place in heaven.’

  ‘My brother knights and sergeants have taken a vow to serve the Holy Church, it is true,’ replied Volquin. ‘But the spearmen and crossbowmen that comprise the majority of the order’s garrisons are mercenaries and they do not work without pay.’

  ‘The Sword Brothers control Livonia and Estonia, I believe,’ slurred Glueck, now mildly drunk, ‘so extort more money from the pagans. Use the lash if you have to.’

  Rudolf sighed very loudly. ‘Many of the pagans are our allies and your fellow Christians. They stand beside us in times of war, as King Fricis can attest to.’

  Fricis smiled at Rudolf as Bishop Albert took Glueck to task.

  ‘The Liv people are beloved of the Holy Church and their warriors valued allies of the Sword Brothers. They have helped to make what Livonia is today.’

  Glueck pointed an unsteady finger at Conrad. ‘What about the Estonians, they are a barbarous people, I have heard? Force them to surrender their wealth. You are the Marshal of Estonia, I have heard, so work your people harder so they can provide the Sword Brothers with money.’

  ‘You appear to have heard much,’ replied Conrad, ‘most of it untrue. The Estonians, the majority of them, have been liberated from oppression and tyranny. It is my intention to liberate the rest not replace one despotism with another.’

  ‘If they are such valued allies as you say,’ sneered Glueck, ‘then why don’t you use them to garrison this place instead of bothering the good citizens of Riga?’

  ‘Are there any good citizens?’ said Rudolf, earning him a rebuking stare from the bishop.

  ‘Estonia cannot be left defenceless against the Danes,’ Conrad shot back.

  ‘The Danes?’ Albert was confused. ‘We have peace with King Valdemar, why should the Danes molest Estonia?’

  Conrad realised his mistake as Volquin and Rudolf’s eyes bored into him.

  ‘Forgive me, lord bishop, I meant the Oeselians of course.’

  ‘We are getting away from the point,’ said Volquin, eager to steer the conversation away from the Sword Brothers’ secret campaign against Reval in the north. ‘Mesoten is not the responsibility of the Marshal of Estonia, it is to be a garrison of the Sword Brothers and at this present time the order’s resources are spread thinly.’

  ‘Why should that concern Riga’s council?’ asked Glueck dismissively.

  ‘Because the Sword Brothers are the shield of Riga,’ replied Volquin firmly.

  ‘Commander Nordheim’s garrison and my militia now fulfil that function, Grand Master,’ stated Glueck pompously.

  Conrad, who had downed his chalice of wine, snorted with contempt.

  ‘If their performance at the Iecava was anything to go by then the citizens of Riga have much to worry about.’

  Rudolf laughed and Volquin tried not to; even Fricis grinned. Duke Fredhelm, remembering his own losses in the battle, remained expressionless.

  Glueck’s eyebrows squeezed together and his flabby jaw jutted forward in anger.

  ‘You dare to talk to me in such a manner!’

  ‘I do,’ replied Conrad, the wine having loosened his tongue. ‘Your militia are a travesty and I admire the Kurs for being able to stifle their mirth long enough so that they could kill your men before they fell about laughing.’

  Volquin held his head in his hands as Glueck staggered to his feet.

  ‘I demand an apology.’

  He looked ridiculous; his cheeks red with emotion, his double chin quivering as his fat bulk wobbled.

  ‘Perhaps recourse to trial by combat would suffice as an apology,’ replied Conrad.

  Bishop Albert slammed his fist on the table. ‘Enough! Conrad, you will apologise for your intemperate language. Magnus, please remember that we are here not to further our own, selfish ends but to establish the Holy Church in Lithuania. The whole of Christendom is watching and I will not allow petty disputes to ruin our holy enterprise.’

  Volquin was glaring at Conrad and so Odenpah’s master stood and apologised to Glueck who, relieved that he would not have to fight him in single combat, mumbled an acceptance of his apology and flopped back down in his chair. The bishop took control of the meeting and told Volquin that he would have to take soldiers from his castles along the Dvina to garrison Mesoten. Duke Fredhelm, in an attempt to be helpful, informed Albert that he might convince some of the lesser knights who had travelled with him from northern Germany to remain on crusade to garrison the timber stockades. He and his knights would be returning to their lands when the summer ended but, in an act of generosity, he agreed to pay for the Flemish crossbowmen to remain with the bishop for another twelve months. Glueck made no offer of assistance as he sat, sulked and drank more wine.

  After the meeting, when a drunken Glueck had to be assisted back to his own pavilion so inebriated was he, Volquin and Rudolf cornered Conrad. They were far from happy.

  ‘You need to control your emotions,’ Volquin told him. ‘You may be a king in all but name in Estonia but you are still a member of the Sword Brothers, a servant of the Holy Church and Bishop Albert. You may think Magnus Glueck a fool.’

  ‘I do,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Grow up, Conrad,’ snapped Rudolf. ‘The Sword Brothers need the friendship of the rich citizens of Riga.’

  ‘If only because all our weapons, horses and recruits come through the port,’ said Volquin.

  ‘If we take Reval, Grand Master,’ said Conrad, ‘then the Sword Brothers will have their own port.’

  ‘The bishop has no knowledge of our business in the north,’ stated Volquin, ‘and we need to keep it that way, Conrad.’

  Rudolf jabbed a finger in his chest. ‘Remember that next time when your mouth is running free.’

  Conrad took their scolding in his stride. He and the Army of the Wolf had had a relatively easy campaign, the bishop had Mesoten and he would soon be returning to Estonia where he could devote his energies to solving the problem that was the Danes and their occupation of Reval.

  Chapter 4

  The problem of garrisoning Mesoten and the wooden blockhouses that stretched from the stronghold to the Dvina proved to be less of a problem than originally feared. This was because the Flemish crossbowmen agreed to remain in Semgallia as long as they were paid and Duke Fredhelm convinced all his lesser knights that service in Semgallia was much more preferable to a precarious existence in Germany. All his knights and their squires returned with him to Germany because they had estates that provided them with a living. But the lesser knights, men who had a horse, weapons and armour and little else, had no such lands to sustain them. And when Fredhelm informed them that they would not only be paid but would be granted land by Albert, they were more than happy to stay. That the land offered them by Bishop Albert happened to be in Semgallia did not deter them. They would be resident in that land after all, initially at Mesoten or in one of the timber blockhouses that maintained the hill fort’s supply line. It would be a hard life but no harder than a winter of few opportunities in Germ
any.

  Grand Master Volquin garrisoned Mesoten with men drawn from his strongholds along the Dvina. After a month of intensive labour Mesoten had a timber wall with half a dozen towers encompassing tents for the garrison and its horses. The castles of Lennewarden, Uexkull, Holm, Kokenhusen and Gerzika all donated soldiers. The deputy commander of Holm, Brother Ortwin, was promoted to master and given command of the stronghold, which like other Sword Brother castles had twelve brother knights to mirror the number of apostles that ate with Christ at the last supper. Ortwin was also given twenty sergeants, thirty crossbowmen and the same number of spearmen. Combined with the lesser knights and Flemish crossbowmen he had nearly nine hundred soldiers to hold Mesoten and its supply forts for the Holy Church.

  Conrad and the Army of the Wolf recrossed the Dvina near Riga along with the rest of the bishop’s forces. This time they used large rafts and riverboats, the bridge at Kokenhusen having been dismantled after the crusaders had crossed the river so that boats could have free passage along the waterway. Once back in Livonia the army quickly dispersed: the bishop returning to Riga with Grand Master Volquin, Magnus Glueck and Commander Nordheim, the men from the Sword Brother garrisons along the Dvina returning to their castles and Fricis and his Livs marching north. The Army of the Wolf went with them, along with Sir Richard and his soldiers. The land was bathed in summer sunshine and it was a glorious time. Conrad and his friends were feasted at Treiden, Kaja wrapping her arms around the three comrades and scolding them for not visiting her often enough. Conrad thought that she and Rameke looked very happy and wondered how long it would be before she bore her first child. Rameke told Conrad that in a year or so they would be leaving Treiden to move into their new home south of Wenden, which had been designed by Master Thaddeus.