Sword for Hire

by Griff Hosker

  The baby was born a week after our return and was a boy. He was named Rafe after his father. Ridley the Giant, a man who could hold a shield wall together on his own, became almost maternal. He held the young babe in the palm of one hand and made plaintive noises. Jack son of Harold had said, “The baby is too young to know what you do, Ridley.”

  Ridley handed the baby back to Anya, the mother and said, “He knows. He will remember me.”

  Over the next month Ridley spent more and more time with Anya and Rafe. It came as no surprise when they were wed. I think that they married for different reasons. Anya was a young and frightened woman and she needed a man. Ridley was just smitten with the baby. It was a better arrangement than many marriages.

  William and Margarite were also married and he was knighted at Christmas. It brightened the gloom of perpetual night. We still had no manor for William but Lady Brigida had had a home built for them. She was kind. The Swedes knew how to celebrate. I suspect it was their Viking past and the feast which followed was a lively one. William and Margarite retired early and I slipped away too. I was happy for William and his bride. I was delighted that my men were enjoying the celebrations but something nagged within me. I went, wrapped in my cloak, to the gatehouse. It was a clear cold night and my breath appeared before me as I walked. The sentries knew me and moved so that I could stand, alone, in the right-hand guard tower. I stared south and west as though I could see all the way to England.

  I was aware of the smell of roses behind me and Lady Brigida appeared, “Lady, it is cold and the steps are slippery.”

  She laughed, “I am not an old woman yet, Thomas, and I saw that you were troubled. You have much to celebrate and yet you are here alone. I know that you are happy for William. What ails your heart?”

  I pointed, “England. Two of my men died and I am here instead of there. King John is doing great harm to my land and I am helpless to stop it.”

  “Precisely. You are helpless. Take my advice and bide your time. You are young. I know, from my husband, that you have great skills as a warrior and a leader. He told me that you are actually improving day by day. You are not yet the leader you will become. Bishop Albert did not offer you the Brothers of the Swords out of sympathy. It was because you, despite your youth, were the best man to lead it. This king of yours cannot last long. Tyrants never do. Return when the time is right. Return with men behind you and with the knowledge that you can defeat him.”

  She was right. If I went back now I would lose and our time here would have been wasted.

  “Come, rejoin the feast. Your men look for you.” She took my arm and we descended.

  The winter passed slowly. There would be no ship from England until the ice had gone. We were trapped in a sea of ice and white. William was besotted with his new bride and that just exacerbated my malaise. Skuldsdotter gave me my only relief. I groomed her and began to school her as well as I could. It would be a year or two before I could ride her to war. It was in my mind that I would do so in England. A warhorse was needed when you fought other knights or men mounted in mail. The heathens we fought here were just as likely to kill a horse as a man. The Livonian Brothers of the Sword had discovered that. In the first battle, the Estonians who had swum over the river had used viciously sharp knives to hamstring the horses.

  Hugh and Henry became fathers too. I wondered if my married men would be tempted to stay here in Sweden. They had roots. I noticed that many of my men did not seem concerned about our extended sojourn in Sweden. I had expected to return to England before now. I could not foresee a time when I would return. I would not return as a young man.

  ‘Swan of Stockton’ arrived when there was still a sheen of ice on the water. The sails and shrouds had a film of ice upon them as she tied up at the empty quay. Half a dozen men carrying chests followed Henry down the gangplank. Its unexpected arrival drew my men from the warmth of their hall and homes. The exception was William!

  “This is unexpected, Henry.”

  He nodded, “Aye lord. I was sent.” He handed me a letter and gestured behind him. “These are men who have asked to join you. Your friend in England vouches for them.” He lowered his voice. “Things are bad in England, lord. King John has almost lost Normandy. The land which remains to him cannot last o’er long. All that King Richard recovered is gone.”

  I nodded and put the letter in my belt. “I have no letter ready yet. Will you be staying long?”

  “Aye lord. I have to arrange a cargo. It will take some days to do that.”

  “Good.” I turned to the men. “I am Sir Thomas of Stockton and these,” I waved a hand at my men behind me, “are my men. You wish to join us?”

  One man, slightly older than the others nodded and, after looking at their faces to see that he had their approval, he began to speak, “All of us have been called outlaw by King John. None of us are outlaws, lord but we have been branded thus. Hunted from our homes we all found our way north. We heard of a sanctuary called Wulfestun. There, noble ladies with kind hearts sheltered and hid us. All of us had heard of your family. We had heard of your deeds and we wished to join you. I am Harry Longsword. I served under King Richard in Normandy. When I returned after the wars the Sherriff of Gloucester had taken my lands and declared me outlaw and traitor.”

  A younger man stepped forward, “I am Peter son of Richard. I was a warrior too. I fought against the Welsh. After the war I returned to find a new lord had been given the manor of Barton. He had had my father executed for hunting. I killed him, lord.” He said it simply but I knew that there had to be more to that story. To kill a lord of the manor was not an easy thing.

  The next two men stepped forward together to give me their stories, “I am Hamlin the Archer and this is John Wayfarer. Our families needed food and we hunted the deer in Sherwood. The Sherriff could not get to us and so he took our families and imprisoned them. They died of starvation.”

  I looked at the last two who had remained silent, “And you two?”

  “My story is much the same as the others, lord. I am Godfrey of Lancaster. I came back from the wars and there was nothing for me. I can use a sword but I do not know how to farm. I served some lords but there was no honour in what we did. I left.”

  “I cannot promise you honour here.”

  “No, that is true but you offer the hope of some and that is enough. We all heard of your heroism at Arsuf. The warrior who defended his father, his squire and his standard, is a man to follow.”

  The last warrior nodded. He was a huge man and almost the size of Ridley. “I am Godwin of Battle. I come from a long line of warriors. One of my forebears fought at Hastings with King Harold. We had served the lord of the manor at Battle since then. I was with our lord in Normandy when he fell fighting for King Richard. When we returned home King John had given the manor to another and we were thrown out. There were five of us. I am the last left alive. Drink, disease, hunger, they are not the death a warrior should endure. If I am to die I would do it serving a lord such as you.”

  “Then I welcome you all. My men have a pact. We share equally in the treasure we take. If a man dies then his wealth is shared by the others. What say you to that?”

  Harry Longsword smiled, “We came not for coin but if there is some then this seems an amicable arrangement. Aye.”

  I turned, “Edward, get them surcoats, mail and helmets. We have new warriors, it seems.”

  I returned to my chamber to read the letter. It had been almost a year since I had received such a missive.

  Y ou know who you are and I hope you know that I think of you every day! Each night you are in my prayers.

  T he men that have come are all good men. There were more of them originally but their journey north was hard and some succumbed to hunger and disease. Many suffer such deaths in this land. Our valley used to be prosperous but no longer. The Bishop of Durham extracts every coin that he can. It is little better in the lands ruled by King John. He uses the excuse of the disastrous w
ar in Normandy. He needs to address the war here. The Scots have grown bold. Our home has not suffered but Gainford was sacked as was Piercebridge. My father will not be sleeping easy in his grave.

  T here is some good news. A ship came from La Flèche. Your manor there is still loyal to you. Sir Phillip, the grandson of Sir Leofric, holds it for you. I sent a message back, telling him that you are still alive. Have you not thought of returning to Anjou? There you could start again. King John holds no sway there.

  I am always here for you.

  Xxx

  I did wonder at that. I had forgotten the manor which had been given to my great grandfather. There was another in the Welsh Marches too. If the situation in England did not improve then I would take ship to Anjou. My aunt was right. A new start might be the answer. I wrote a letter informing my aunt of our success and of the offer made by the bishop. I told her that I had atoned for my crime.

  The arrival of ‘Swan of Stockton’ heralded the arrival of other ships. As soon as she left for England her berth was taken by one of the many ships which would take the crusaders back to Estonia. With more men and the need to find horses for them all I was too busy to brood.

  Sir William now had a squire. Margarite’s younger brother, Harald, was keen to serve. He was thirteen years old and could ride. That was his only skill. William would have his work cut out training him. Fótr helped. My squire seemed to have put his family’s manor from his mind. We had visited once to bring back anything which the raiders had left. There was little. The Jarl Birger Brosa told Fótr that the manor would be his whenever he chose to return. I think that my squire wanted to be a better knight and able to defend his own land before he took on that responsibility. I hoped that he might stay with me and return to England. He had developed into a good knight with many skills. The new men fitted in well. Their stories were so similar to those of my veterans that it was an easy adjustment to make.

  We sailed on Easter Day. It was seen as propitious and, certainly, the voyage was trouble free. As we approached Riga I saw that they had not been idle in the winter. There was still little evidence of stonework but the church was finished and there were wooden towers ringing the wooden wall. The quays were also full. We later learned that Bishop Albert had opened a market. Goods still came down the river from deep in the land of the Rus and from as far afield as Constantinople. Our ship was the first to dock. My men disembarked with the horses and led them to the stables. I went with Sir William to meet with the Master and Bishop Albert.

  “Ah the hero of Ādaži is here! I hope you are ready to smite the heathen!”

  I smiled, “I am, Bishop Albert. I have knighted William and we have new men who are fresh and wish to strike a blow for God.”

  Hermann Balk said, “And we shall need them. As you can see Bishop Albert now has a market.”

  Bishop Albert shook his head, “We have ships arriving with goods to trade but the journey down the river is still fraught with danger. It was not much of a problem in the winter. The river was frozen and there was little travel. Now we need to discourage the heathens from attacking the traders.”

  “Their king has broken the peace?”

  Hermann shook his head, “He says he has not and that it is the work of rogue clans. I do not believe him. When our army arrives, we will drive down the two rivers in two columns. The rivers are the life blood of this land. Our mission this battle season is to secure the rivers. We will build castles to guard strategic points.”

  “And I will have stone brought to make Riga the strongest castle this side of the Baltic!”

  There was a great deal of enthusiasm. I hoped it was justified. The Jarl Birger Brosa and Jarl Birger Persson were also optimistic. The winter had seen their retinues increased. Only Petr was less happy. He had left a pregnant wife at Kastelholm. The thought of a summer fighting heathens did not appeal. One evening I found him by the river looking wistfully west. I knew what he was thinking. I sat next to him on the wooden mooring bollard.

  “Sir Thomas, may I speak with you in confidence?”

  “Of course. You and I have been through much together. You are as much a brother to me as any man.”

  “And I you. Would it be dishonourable if I made this my last raiding season? I know that my brother will stay until this is Christian land but each time I leave I worry about my wife at home. I do not want my child growing up not knowing his father.”

  “Bishop Albert has said that his Brothers of the Sword are the ones who will rule this land. The rest of us are here for a season. If we return then that is good and if not then we have each done our part to bring God to this Godless country. Your brother would understand. When he has a wife he too will wish to stay home. I know William does.”

  “And you, Sir Thomas, will you take a wife?”

  “Perhaps. However, I would marry an English woman and there are precious few of those here.” I saw the worry in the young knight’s face. He did not wish to let his brother down. “Your brother will understand. You have done more than enough already for the bishop.”

  As week passed and more men had arrived. We headed south in two columns. Hermann Balk led one and The Jarl Birger Brosa the other. I had my new men paired up with an old hand. The new ones did not know the language and they did not know the country. The first two days were easy. The Estonians were not expecting us and the few warriors that we found, fled. This time we had no infantry with us. Hermann Balk wished to move quickly. It appeared to be a good strategy for we made seventy miles in two days. We had riders keeping us in touch with each other. It was unlikely that the Estonians would be able to mobilise great numbers but if they did then we would join up to face them.

  Spring and early summer were the best times to campaign. As soon as it neared autumn then we would be plagued with flies and flying insects. Those of us who had been here for some time appreciated the cooler mornings.

  We received a message from Hermann Balk that the Estonians had gathered an army before the town of Preiļi. I say town but it was just a smattering of huts around which many of the Estonians had settled with their animals. As we discovered it had little structure. However, their king had chosen it to be a rallying point for his people. During the winter Bishop Albert had converted some of the smaller settlements which were close to Riga. Some of the Estonians regarded Bishop Albert as some sort of wizard. Consequently, many had fled south. They had gathered, to make a stand, at Preiļi.

  The Jarl Birger Brosa led our company of two hundred mounted men to join the Livonian Brothers of the Sword. Hermann Balk now had over a hundred knights and almost eighty sergeants at arms. The only archers were my handful of mounted ones. When we reached his camp, he took the three of us with him to survey the enemy lines and defences.

  “As you can see they have made it difficult for us. They have used their wagons and carts as barriers to our horses and filled the gaps with stakes. If we charge them then they will slaughter our horses.”

  Jarl Birger Persson said, “Sir Thomas has shown you the way.”

  “How?”

  “Do as he did last year. Fight on foot.”

  “But we are knights!”

  “And knights can fight just as well on foot, lord.” I pointed to the enemy wagons. “They are a barrier to us but they could be a weapon we use against them.”

  “How?”

  “They are made of wood. They have, in them, men defending them. We burn them. Have your sergeants make pots of fire. Get close and they can whirl around and throw them. We used them against ships at Kastelholm and they worked there. They can work here too. I have seen them thrown thirty, even forty paces. I have two men who could throw them fifty paces. We advance with our knights. You and I know how poor their arrows are against shields and mail. We stop thirty paces from them.”

  “Suppose they attack us?”

  The Jarl Birger Brosa laughed, “Then we will have won for that is exactly what we wish them to do. They are strongest in a defensive line where we
have to attack. It costs us a hundred pots of fire. If it does not work then we try something else.”

  We had him convinced. That night he sent his sergeant to scour the area for pots. His men gathered more than a hundred. They tied ropes around the necks of the pots. As they were doing it David of Wales said, “Lord, when we were in the Holy Land the Saracens often used oil and pig fat to burn us when we attacked their castles. If we used the spare pots to hold oil then they would make the fires burn faster.” He waved an arm. “They eat pig around here and use seal oil.”

  “Take the archers and find as much as you can.”

  My men were eager to try this out and they rode further afield than the sergeant of the order of the Brothers of the Sword did.

  I think the Estonians expected a night attack for they stood to all night. They would be exhausted when we did attack. It was our knights who first moved into position. We wanted them to believe that we would attack in the way they expected. The sergeants who would be throwing the pots walked behind, leading their horses. I was confident that Ridley and Godwin of Battle would be able to send their pots further than the others. For that reason, they had the pots of seal oil and pig fat ready to launch.

  We had with us the two brothers and Bishop Albert’s standard. We marched behind them for we had learned that the Estonians feared their magic. Goswin von Spanheim gave them a chance to surrender, reminding them that their king had broken the peace. His words were met by jeers. We knew that our words would fall on deaf ears. As soon as Goswin and Hermann returned then we dismounted and handed our reins to our squires. We had a line of one hundred and twenty knights. Behind us were a hundred and twenty squires. They were still mounted. I saw that we had confused the Estonians. What were we doing? We began to march and, as we did so, we banged our spears against our shields. Each bang took us a step closer. It was important that they concentrated on us and not the sergeant and men at arms who trudged behind. Tendrils of smoke rose from their hot projectiles.