Master of Mayhem

by Peter Darman

  ‘I have a new home now, Ilona.’

  ‘Odenpah,’ she said. ‘Rudolf keeps me fully abreast concerning matters relating to Estonia’s favourite son.’

  Conrad spread his arms. ‘I am a master without a garrison and am at the bottom of the list when it comes to soldiers and supplies.’

  She gave him a beautiful smile. ‘You created an army out of nothing so I do not expect the lack of a few soldiers to cause you much trouble.’

  ‘And you?’

  She smiled again, this time a more resigned grin.

  ‘I am nursemaid to the garrison, its families and the villagers who live beyond its walls. Had I the time to reflect on it I believe I would consider myself over-worked.’

  ‘Why don’t you train others in your ways to share the burden?’

  ‘I have,’ she replied, ‘but the needs of a growing population are very demanding.’

  He nodded. ‘I saw how the village has grown.’

  ‘And will keep growing. I have never delivered so many babies.’

  She was still an attractive woman, her black hair showing no signs of grey. And she still retained her lithe figure. But he thought he detected sadness in her dark brown eyes. Now she was forty perhaps it had dawned on her that she would never marry or bear children. Or perhaps it was just because she was tired.

  ‘How long will you stay at Wenden?’

  ‘Only until Bishop Hermann has refreshed himself,’ he answered, ‘a couple of days.’

  ‘Then you should visit Rameke and Kaja.’

  ‘I have no time to go to Treiden.’

  She smiled. ‘They are not at Treiden, they are just five miles from here, at Thalibald’s old village.’

  So they had left Treiden. Excitement shot through him. ‘Then I must visit them before I leave for Riga. You should come with me.’

  He returned to the stables and commandeered two horses, a pair of grey palfreys that had just been saddled. After collecting a crossbow and two full quivers of bolts from the armoury, which involved enduring the usual insolent attitude from the armourers, he and Ilona rode from the castle and headed south. She looked at the crossbow dangling from his saddle and the quivers slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Expecting trouble, Conrad?’

  ‘Just a precaution.’

  They were riding at a canter along the track that led to the village, a route taken many times when Conrad had been a novice at the castle, especially during harvest time when the garrison had assisted the Livs to gather in their crops.

  ‘There has been much change here recently,’ she told him, ‘as you will soon see.’

  They had travelled barely a mile and a half when they came across a column of six carts being pulled by teams of ponies, each one driven by a Liv warrior with other Livs on ponies, all armed with spears and carrying shields bearing the sign of the moon, which resembled the letter ‘c’ – Rameke’s personal symbol.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Conrad with surprise.

  They slowed their horses as the Liv guards became aware of their presence and turned their mounts, but carried on with their escort duties when they saw the raven-haired Ilona and the white surcoat of the Sword Brother with her.

  ‘The quarry that was used to build Wenden Castle,’ she explained, ‘has been reopened to provide building materials for Rameke and Kaja’s new manor house.’

  They drew adjacent to the last cart in the column, which was filled with dolostone blocks. The Liv guards nodded to Ilona and ignored Conrad.

  ‘You were in Selonia?’ Conrad asked them.

  The elder of the pair, who had a long, thick beard, nodded.

  ‘It was a frustrating campaign,’ said Conrad.

  ‘You were there?’ asked the Liv.

  ‘This is Master Conrad, Marshal of Estonia and the commander of the Army of the Wolf,’ Ilona told them.

  The Livs looked at each other and then hard at Conrad. Their eyes widened as they recognised him.

  ‘You are the brother of Prince Rameke,’ said the other Liv.

  ‘And where is the prince?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘In the village, lord,’ replied the older Liv. ‘Do you require an escort?’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ replied Conrad. He spurred his horse forward, Ilona following, as the guards raised their spears in salute.

  When they reached the village they found a high level of activity. The settlement itself was filled with people – Livs whom Conrad assumed had travelled with Rameke from Treiden – in addition to their livestock. Guards kept sentry in the watchtowers and carts were taking stone to a building site to the immediate south of the settlement. Conrad and Ilona shouted to one of the guards in a tower to ascertain where Rameke was. The Liv shouted back that he was with the architect at the building site. There were people in the fields around the settlement, mostly women and children, while at the building site were dozens of Liv men, recognisable by their thick beards and long hair. There were also what appeared to be settlers: men who did not have blue or grey eyes and whose beards and hair were neatly cropped. Some were working with chisels and hammers to shape the dolostone blocks being unloaded from the carts. Others were directing workers on wooden scaffolding who were positioning finished stone. The scene was chaotic, dusty but at the same time inspiring.

  Conrad saw the familiar figure of Rameke, his stocky frame and his thick brown shoulder-length hair. And beside him was the lithe figure of Kaja, blonde hair shining in the sun. He and Ilona dismounted and led their horses over to the couple, who turned and broke into smiles when they saw them both. Kaja embraced Ilona and Conrad his brother.

  ‘It has been too long since we last saw you,’ said Rameke.

  Kaja embraced Conrad. ‘We have missed you, Susi.’

  Conrad pointed at the building work. ‘Are you going to build a castle to rival Wenden?’

  Rameke rolled his eyes. ‘When Master Thaddeus learned that we were moving back to my father’s village he insisted on designing a manor house for us. It looked modest when it was a plan in his office but now…’

  He opened his arms despairingly. ‘But as you can see it is a monster that has to be fed on a daily basis.’

  ‘At least you don’t have Thaddeus bending your ear,’ said Conrad. ‘He’s at Dorpat building a new castle and cathedral.’

  Rameke’s head dropped. ‘No, we have far worse.’

  ‘Master Mancini,’ said Kaja.

  ‘Who?’ asked Conrad.

  But before his brother could answer a medium sized man in red boots and leggings sauntered up. He had olive skin and a straw hat on his head to protect him from the sun, in his hand a sheet of parchment on which were architectural markings. He waved it dramatically in the air in front of Rameke.

  ‘Your highness,’ he squealed in German in a thick Italian accent, ‘Master Thaddeus’ design is very specific. I must have sandstone for the bay window.’

  Conrad laughed. ‘Bay window? What’s that?’

  Master Mancini looked appalled. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘This is my brother, Master Conrad, a great warlord who is the commander of the Army of the Wolf.’

  The eulogy meant nothing to the Italian who became exasperated.

  ‘Without sandstone there will be no bay window, highness.’

  ‘I’m sure you can do without one,’ Conrad suggested to Rameke.

  Mancini looked contemptuously at Odenpah’s master.

  ‘If you have studied architecture you would understand that the bay window is the focal point of the great hall. It is positioned behind the high table in the hall to cast extra light on said table when the prince and princess are dining at it. It is also indicates the wealth and status of the hall’s owner. The glass must be set in a sandstone surround, anything else would be a travesty.’

  ‘The sandstone has to come from Riga, Master Mancini,’ Rameke told him, ‘but rest assured it will be here.’

  The Italian mumbled something that no one heard and then caught
sight of a pallet of stone being winched up to a pair of stonemasons on the wooden scaffolding. He immediately raced over, waving his arms and parchment in the air.

  ‘No, no, not there. Take it to the northern wall.’

  ‘Where did you get him from?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘He is from Italy and a master architect, or so Master Thaddeus informed me,’ said Rameke.

  ‘When will it be finished?’ asked Ilona.

  ‘I had hoped by next spring,’ replied Rameke, ‘but that seems highly unlike now.’

  He glanced at Kaja who smiled sheepishly at him.

  ‘We wanted our first…’ then she stopped herself from saying any more.

  Ilona grinned and grabbed her arm affectionately. Conrad was none the wiser.

  ‘Tell him,’ said Rameke, bursting with pride.

  ‘We wanted our first child to be born in our new home,’ declared Kaja proudly.

  Conrad offered his hand to Rameke and they clasped forearms.

  ‘Excellent news, my brother. May it be the first of many.’

  Conrad kissed Kaja on the cheek and noticed that she appeared very radiant, her eyes a sparkling blue and her hair unusually thick and shining. Pregnancy obviously agreed with her.

  ‘We will just have to stay in the hall in the village,’ said Rameke. ‘This time next year the manor house will be finished and we will be rid of Master Mancini.’

  ‘What brings you to Wenden, Susi?’ asked Kaja.

  ‘All the masters of the order have been summoned to Riga where an envoy from the Pope awaits us.’

  ‘To what end?’ asked Rameke.

  Conrad shook his head. ‘You know as much as I do.’

  It was good to see Rameke and Kaja again and it warmed his heart that they were so happy. As the four of them walked together back to the village to take refreshments Rameke told him that King Fricis was engaged in a profitable business of supplying wood, food and leather to Riga, which currently had an insatiable desire for all three products. The land around the city had been cleared of trees to make way for villages and arable land. The fields fed the villagers and the surplus went to the church but Riga was expanding and its citizens needed feeding. So Fricis’ agents did a brisk business in the city markets selling food and hides, while the king’s lands were able to supply as much timber as the city’s builders and shipyards required.

  ‘Riga is rich and the Livs grow rich in its wake,’ Rameke told him.

  Or at least some of them did. The lives of the ordinary Liv man and woman were as they were before the Bishop of Riga and the Sword Brothers came. But at least the long years of war appeared to be over. Villages were now concerned with the survival of their crops and having enough food to see them through the winter, rather than facing marauding bands of Estonians, Oeselians, Cumans or Russians. Conrad felt sure that the papal legate had arrived in Livonia to commend the efforts of his order that had resulted in peace reigning from the River Dvina to the Gulf of the Finns.

  Two days after his happy reunion with Rameke and Kaja he set out from Wenden in the company of Bishop Hermann, Sir Richard, Rudolf and Walter for the final leg of the journey to Riga. The longest day of the year had passed and the meadows were full of bilberries, wild strawberries, cloudberries, blueberries and cornflowers. The rivers were teeming with lamprey, perch, grayling, pike, bream, roach and dace; the forests with deer, elk, boar, wolves and foxes. The waterways were also home to beavers, hunted not only for their meat but also for their fur, the pelts sold to Riga’s merchants.

  Bishop Hermann was in an ebullient mood.

  ‘Just as my brother has tamed this land so will I make the Bishopric of Dorpat a jewel whose glow rivals that of Livonia. The light of the Holy Church has banished the darkness of paganism and one day it will eradicate the apostate Orthodox religion of the Russians.’

  ‘The Holy Church exists beside the old ways, lord bishop,’ cautioned Rudolf. ‘It will take many years before paganism is eradicated in Livonia.’

  He looked at Conrad. ‘And more years yet before the Holy Church has triumphed in Estonia.’

  Hermann frowned. ‘Nonsense. The Livs are ruled by a Christian king and the one before him was given a bible by the Pope himself.’

  ‘All that is true,’ agreed Rudolf, ‘but go into any Liv village and ask the children about the old gods and they will tell you about Mara, the Great Mother; Laima, the Goddess of Fate; Saule, the Sky God; and Jumis, God of the Land. And had you come to Wenden earlier, lord bishop, you would have seen the night-time fires of Ligo burning brightly.’

  ‘Ligo?’ said Hermann.

  ‘It is a ceremony held on the longest day of the year, lord bishop,’ said Walter, ‘when villagers gather outdoors, start a fire and stay up all night.’

  ‘It is the same in Saccalia,’ added Sir Richard. ‘The locals believe that mid-summer’s night is when evil spirits walk the land and so locals protect their homes and livestock with wreaths made from branches and leaves.’

  ‘And you allow this witchcraft to flourish in your land, your grace?’ said Hermann sternly.

  ‘I have little choice, lord bishop,’ replied Sir Richard. ‘I cannot eradicate beliefs that have been held for generations and nor would I seek to.’

  Hermann was confused. ‘You would not?’

  ‘I am a newcomer to this land, lord bishop, and believe that persuasion can achieve more than the sword and whip.’

  Hermann looked at Conrad. ‘And what does the Marshal of Estonia have to say concerning pagan rituals?’

  ‘The Army of the Wolf contains both Christians and pagans, lord bishop,’ said Conrad. ‘I have never enquired after a man’s religion when he marches with me. And I would never criticise or banish any man in my army who follows the old religion.’

  Hermann was surprised. ‘You would not?’

  ‘Any man who stands with me in battle and sheds blood for the cause I fight for,’ stated Conrad, ‘is worthy of respect whatever religion he practises. Besides, what good will it serve us if we win the war but lose the peace?’

  ‘Have no fear, lord bishop,’ Rudolf reassured Hermann, ‘in time the Holy Church will triumph over the old religion, but its victory will be swifter if it is seen as being benign and merciful. Or it can take a quicker route.’

  Hermann was interested. ‘Which is?’

  ‘Kill every pagan man, woman and child in Livonia and Estonia.’

  Walter went ashen at the mere idea and Hermann waved a hand at Wenden’s master.

  ‘That is a route we will not be taking, Master Rudolf.’

  The route they were taking was far more agreeable, the well-established Liv villages giving way to newer settlements where commoners from Germany had been given land and a hut in fulfilment of a promise of a better life in Livonia. It was certainly better than the uncertainty in Germany where villages could be destroyed and their inhabitants robbed, raped and killed if they were in the path of armies or rampaging bands of mercenaries. Life in towns and cities was more secure as their walled defences deterred attackers. But the threat of crushing poverty and starvation was ever present, as was the outbreak of plague in their crowded, foetid streets. In Livonia there were no roving mercenary bands and no rampaging armies. And when they arrived settlers were given a piece of land to work, which was owned by the church, and a small, one-room hut with one door and no windows that they had to build themselves. The cabin was constructed from pine logs, the spaces between them packed with mud to keep out the cold and wind. An open fire provided warmth and a place to cook and in the spring and summer life was bearable. But Livonian winters were long and hard and many settlers, the infants especially, died of exposure in the snow and ice. But every year more and more people arrived from Germany in search of a better life in Livonia.

  When the bishop’s party reached Riga they found another Italian in residence, only this one was the representative of the Pope himself. William of Modena was forty-one years old when he sailed into Riga’s harbour on on
e of the six cogs carrying the papal legate and his entourage to Livonia. William was a cardinal and very high in the favour of Pope Honorius III, a fellow Italian who was a member of the Savelli family, a powerful Roman dynasty. In addition to the fifty crossbowmen and fifty spearmen that the Pope had assigned to protect his legate, William also brought a small army of stewards, cupbearers, chamberlains, marshals, servants, scribes, priests, monks, confessors and barber surgeons.

  Conrad did not see the legate when he and the others arrived in the city; riding straight to the castle while Bishop Hermann went to his brother’s palace. The castle was bursting with members of the garrison, the staff of the grand master’s office and the other masters of the Sword Brothers who had been ordered to attend. They crammed into Volquin’s office in the castle to hear what the grand master had to say about the papal legate.

  ‘Bishop Albert is keeping tight-lipped about why he is here, but I think we can expect trouble because two days ago the Danes arrived at Riga.’

  ‘The Danes?’ said Rudolf. ‘What business do they have in Livonia?’

  ‘None to our advantage,’ replied Volquin glumly.

  ‘I thought we were at war with the Danes,’ said Master Jacob, prompting belly laughs from the others.

  Volquin tried hard not to laugh himself. ‘Brothers, I fear that the Danes have ingratiated themselves with the Pope in some way, though to what end is yet to be determined. But I must ask you all to refrain from insulting them if you come across them on the street.’

  ‘Is Valdemar with them?’ enquired Master Bertram.

  ‘As far as I know he is still a captive in Germany,’ answered Volquin. ‘At any rate he is not here.’

  ‘We must be thankful for small mercies,’ growled Rudolf.

  The grand master and masters of the order were ordered to attend the legate in the audience chamber of the bishop’s palace the next day, which meant sleeping in a long dormitory in the castle that night. To avoid the prospect of ‘difficulties’ if any of his masters bumped into any Danes in the alehouses of the city, Volquin had arranged a banquet in the castle’s main hall. It was a pleasant enough affair with unending supplies of meat, fish, bread, cheese and beer. Some drank too much but Conrad restricted himself to water. He sat next to Rudolf who was equally modest in his drinking habits.