The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  ‘Do we know how many the Oeselians number?’ asked Volquin.

  He and the order’s masters and their deputies were gathered in the fort’s main hall, an austere rectangular room with a stone fireplace positioned in the centre and a wooden platform that formerly held a chief’s throne. Now an oak table sat upon it, around which were gathered the Sword Brothers, Thalibald, Theodoric and Sir Helmold.

  ‘The scouts I sent across the river estimate Oeselian numbers at over a thousand.’

  Sir Helmold studied the wild features of Thalibald, his strange dress and even stranger accent but said nothing. He wondered how loyal this former pagan and his warriors were to the Holy Church. But then, until a short while ago he took great delight in hanging Catholic priests. How strange fate was.

  ‘Numbers do not concern me,’ stated Volquin. ‘Of more immediate concern is how we are going to cross the river.’

  ‘That will be easy enough, grand master,’ said Master Bertram, the commander at Segewold. ‘Half a mile west of here the Gauja is less than two hundred feet wide. We can lash together the local fishing vessels to create a bridge that will make a crossing possible.’

  ‘Do we know if Treiden still stands?’ Theodoric asked Thalibald.

  ‘It still stands, lord,’ answered the Liv chief.

  The door opened and a guard asked for permission to admit a visitor: a soaking Rameke who had hurried to the castle as a thunderstorm broke. Volquin beckoned him in when Thalibald explained who he was. Water dripped off the boy’s cloak as he made his way to his father, nodding at Rudolf when he saw the brother knight at the table. He also bowed to Volquin before bending down and whispering into his father’s ear.

  ‘Are you certain?’ asked Thalibald.

  Rameke nodded and was waved away by his father. He brushed a strand of soaking hair from his forehead as he left and the door was closed.

  Thalibald slumped in his chair.

  ‘A scouting party has just returned from across the river. Lembit is at Treiden.’

  Shock greeted this news. ‘Lembit?’ said Volquin. ‘Are your scouts certain?’

  Thalibald nodded. ‘They saw his wolf banner. He has brought hundreds of men south.’

  ‘Who is this Lembit?’ asked Sir Helmold.

  ‘Our greatest enemy,’ answered Volquin solemnly. ‘A man who has united all the pagans in Estonia, the land to the north, against the Holy Church.’

  ‘A servant of the devil himself,’ added Theodoric.

  Master Berthold was frowning and looking at Rudolf, who was shaking his head. Volquin noticed their discomfort.

  ‘Is there something you wish to say, Master Berthold?’

  ‘Though the presence of Lembit is unwelcome news, grand master,’ said Berthold, ‘of greater importance is that he has formed some sort of alliance with the Oeselians. If they are cooperating rather than fighting each other then our task becomes much harder.’

  Volquin nodded. ‘It is as you say, Berthold.’

  ‘Do we then not attempt to relieve King Caupo?’ asked Thalibald with concern.

  Volquin smiled at him. ‘We must still cross the river and battle the heathens. To do otherwise will make us look weak and helpless.’

  Though no one said so, to attempt a river crossing and engage an enemy with a numerical advantage of at least two to one was a risky venture. But to remain inactive would mean the fall of Treiden, to say nothing of Kremon that was also surrounded. If that happened the whole of the land north of the Gauja would be in pagan hands. The thought was too horrible to contemplate.

  ‘We cross the river tomorrow,’ said Volquin.

  Theodoric brought his hands together. ‘Let us ask God for his guidance.’

  Sir Helmold did the same and caught sight of the Liv chief closing his eyes to pray. How odd was this land and its people.

  *****

  ‘We must leave this place,’ said Lembit, pacing up and down in front of Eric, who was lounging in a chair, one leg dangling over one of its arms, cup of beer in hand. Eric looked at Magnus leaning against the wall of the hut and laughed.

  ‘Leave? We have just got here. Why should we leave?’

  Lembit stopped pacing and pointed to one of his men standing near the door.

  ‘Why? I will tell you why.’

  The hut was larger than most in the settlement, with rooms leading off its central space. It was obviously the dwelling of a chief. Eric and Magnus had taken it over after the battle while Lembit had taken up residence in a nearby village, his men and their ponies occupying a wide area around the besieged fort. He had also sent men to reinforce the small force Eric had sent to encircle Kremon. The Oeselian leader had taken to siege warfare like a duck to water, his time divided between conducting tours of the siege lines and raping local women who had been captured and confined in nearby huts.

  Two of Lembit’s men brought in a man with his hands pinioned behind his back. He had a black eye, gashed cheek and blood was seeping through the arm of his shirt, which was ripped.

  Lembit pointed at him as he was violently forced onto his knees. ‘This is a Liv whom we caught trying to swim across the river.’

  Eric finished his cup and held it out to Magnus so it could be refilled. ‘So?’

  ‘He was one of a patrol that was scouting our positions. We caught three of them. The rest escaped.’

  Eric sighed with boredom. ‘Is there any point to this?’

  Lembit reached down and grabbed the Liv’s long hair, twisting it hard. ‘Tell him.’

  The Liv’s face was contorted in pain. ‘A great army is forming on the other side of the river, crusaders and Livs, who will soon cross and deliver our king.’

  Lembit let go of his hair and struck his head with the back of his hand. He looked at a bemused Eric. ‘That is why we must withdraw.’

  Eric changed from bemusement to being annoyed. ‘We stay until the fort has fallen and all inside have been enslaved or slaughtered. I did not travel all the way here in an uncomfortable boat to turn tail and run without achieving victory.’

  Lembit was shaking his head. ‘If we are to stay then at least get your boats on the river to prevent the crusaders crossing.’

  ‘Why are you so frightened of these Christians?’ asked Magnus.

  ‘I was wondering that,’ said Eric.

  ‘It is not a case of fear but prudence,’ said Lembit firmly. ‘If the crusaders get their horsemen across the river then we will not be able to withstand their charge.’

  ‘A few men on horses cannot break an Oeselian shield wall,’ boasted Magnus.

  ‘You are wrong,’ said the Liv prisoner, eyeing him defiantly. ‘The men of iron will sweep you away.’

  In one movement Lembit drew his sword and thrust it into the Liv’s back. He screamed and arched his back in a spasm of pain before collapsing in a heap on the floor. Blood began to ooze from his body.

  Eric was mortified. ‘I have to live in this hut. Guards!’

  Two spearmen rushed in. ‘Get this piece of carrion out of here before there is blood all over.’

  They hauled the body away as Eric stared at the bloodstain on the earth floor. ‘We need some mats in here to cover it.’

  ‘What about the crusaders?’ said Lembit impatiently.

  ‘What about them?’ shrugged Eric. ‘Let them come. Caupo can watch while we destroy them before his own death.’

  ‘You will not get your boats onto the river?’

  ‘I would have thought that you would welcome an opportunity to engage and defeat the crusaders,’ said Eric, suddenly showing a remarkable degree of perception. ‘Is that not the only way to prevent their conquest of your homeland: to defeat them in battle? Why else did you agree to an alliance with my father if not to destroy the crusaders?’

  Lembit said nothing.

  ‘I will take your silence as confirmation,’ said Eric smugly. ‘We destroy the crusaders, kill Caupo and then cross the river ourselves and lay waste to the crusader kingdom as agreed.’<
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  He walked over to Lembit and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Why should we turn away from a golden opportunity that presents itself?’

  Lembit thought Eric was a boorish brute but he had to accept that his words had merit. He was right that if the Estonian tribes were to remain free the crusaders had to be defeated and their kingdom destroyed. And yet he had seen the irresistible charge of the mail-clad knights on horseback, witnessed the devastating power of their crossbows and siege engines and was rightly wary of offering battle. And they were far from home. The Oeselians were confident but they could escape in their boats if need be. But to flee in the face of the enemy would risk losing the support of the other tribes when news reached Estonia that he had ordered a retreat. If that happened his people would be divided and the crusaders’ task would be made easier. In addition, this alliance with the Oeselians had not been greeted with universal approval by all the tribes, especially the Rotalians. If he fled his credibility would receive a crushing blow. He may have been a brute but Eric, son of Olaf, had left him with no choice.

  ‘Very well,’ he said to the Oeselian chief, ‘we will give battle to the crusaders.’

  *****

  The crusaders left Segewold before dawn, the vanguard being fifty crossbowmen and the hundred Liv warriors from Wenden led by Thalibald, who crossed the Gauja in boats to establish a defensive position on the northern bank of the river while a bridge of boats was constructed to allow the rest of the army to cross. It took three hours to assemble the boats, lash them together and overlay them with planks to facilitate the crossing of the horsemen. Once the pontoon bridge had been constructed the rest of the Livs, who were on foot, the crossbowmen and spearmen marched over the river. The horsemen followed, the planks having been covered with dirt to fool the horses into thinking that it was a dirt track so as not to alarm them.

  Leading the knights was Grand Master Volquin and Sir Helmold, behind them the Sword Brother masters and Sir Helmold’s sons. Then came the crusader knights from Saxony wearing their colours, followed by the brother knights of the order, all of them on great warhorses covered in caparisons matching the surcoats worn by their masters, the latter’s faces covered by their helmets. The squires of the crusaders came after, also attired in mail armour, and then the Sword Brother sergeants in their kettle helmets.

  It had rained during the night and although the temperature was warm the ground was still soft underfoot. Thalibald sent his scouts forward as soon as the horsemen were safely across the river as they were only two miles south of Treiden. It was clearly visible ahead, a great timber stronghold atop a high hill. There was a single track that ran parallel to the river leading to Caupo’s fortress and that is what the horsemen followed as they walked their mounts slowly forward. The spearmen and crossbowmen took up position on the flanks of the horsemen, moving through the trees and keeping watch for signs of the enemy. The air was fresh with the aroma of pine but the crusaders sweated in their armour and helmets. At first there was no noise save for the jangling of the horses’ bits, no birds, no wind in the trees and only occasionally the snapping of a branch as a soldier stepped on it. After a while the silence became oppressive.

  Rudolf shoved his helmet up on his head. ‘The enemy are close. I can sense them.’

  Henke beside him took off his helmet. ‘They made a mistake not trying to stop us at the river.’

  Sir Helmold in front turned in his saddle. ‘Perhaps the pagans have fled.’

  Rudolf detected the note of disappointment in his voice. ‘Have no fear, my lord, you will get your chance to smite the heathen yet.’

  Grand Master Volquin also removed his helmet. ‘We go to spread the word of God, Brother Rudolf. We fight only if compelled. We kill for necessity, not for pleasure.’

  ‘I kill for pleasure,’ remarked Henke. Sir Helmold smiled.

  The forest to their left suddenly erupted with screams and shouts, and then there were the telltale thwacks of crossbow bolts being shot. The crossbowmen marching alongside the horsemen shouldered their weapons as Volquin called a halt. Half a minute later Thalibald came running from the forest with four of his warriors to report to the grand master.

  ‘The trees end just ahead from where we have ejected enemy scouts. The enemy army is deployed half a mile from the treeline.’

  ‘How many?’ inquired Volquin.

  ‘Many foot drawn in one body, perhaps a thousand. On their right stands the Estonians.’

  Volquin nodded. ‘Thank you, Thalibald, we will deploy into battle positions once we have exited the trees.’

  The knights continued to ride along the track for another quarter of a mile until the trees on their left ended and they came into what appeared to be a large meadow, but which was actually an area of cleared forest. The trees that had grown where the hill fort now stood had been felled decades before and used to construct the stronghold, and then the surrounding forest had been cut down to provide materials for huts, fences, fishing boats and firewood. This meant that the land to the west and north of Caupo’s fort was mostly flat – ideal for horsemen.

  A hundred paces beyond the end of the forest was a small stream that Thalibald’s warriors flooded across as they chased after the Oeselian scouts, halting when they were met with a volley of arrows shot by the handful of archers standing in the rear of Eric’s shield wall. The knights and sergeants trotted over the small wooden bridge that spanned the stream before wheeling left to halt behind the Livs and the mercenary spearmen and crossbowmen. Theodoric slid off his horse and called for all the horsemen to take off their helmets and bow their heads as he said a prayer to ask God for victory in the coming battle.

  *****

  ‘Is that all they’ve got?’ sneered Eric, chewing on a piece of cooked pork as he stood in front of his men’s shield wall.

  On his left was Magnus, like him wearing helmet and mail armour and holding the grip of his shield with his left hand. Lembit stood on Eric’s right. His men were also deployed in a shield wall – nearly a thousand warriors standing shoulder to shoulder on the right flank of the Oeselians. Behind them a hundred warriors stood in reserve and also guarded the ponies that the Estonians had ridden to get here.

  Eric saw the Livs shuffling into line directly opposite his men, around four hundred paces away. Despite being a king’s son Eric wore a simple helmet comprising a single iron band that circled his head around the brow and riveted to two iron bands that crossed at the top of the head. The four openings were filled by riveted iron plates that created the bowl shape, with a nose guard riveted to the brow band itself. The large, hinged cheek guards were tied under his chin by leather straps, with a sheepskin lining to absorb both impacts from enemy blows and sweat.

  All the Oeselians wore helmets and mail armour but only the front two ranks of the Estonians were similarly equipped. The rest had no armour or head protection, such was the poverty of Lembit’s people. He also had only a paltry number or archers, though at least all his men carried light throwing spears in addition to the heavier models designed for thrusting. He saw the well-equipped Christian spearmen deploying opposite his own men, small parties of crossbowmen standing a few paces in front of them.

  ‘We must outnumber them at least two to one, perhaps more,’ said Magnus.

  ‘This won’t take long,’ boasted Eric, tossing the leg of pork to the ground. He looked at Lembit. ‘As soon as we attack the Livs direct your men against the Christian foot soldiers.’

  Lembit saw the lances and banners of the knights to the rear of the Christian army. ‘What about their horsemen?’

  ‘Once we break their foot they will flee. I count only a few dozen lances. Too few to withstand our charge.’

  Lembit was unsure but was bolstered by Eric’s certainty that he would defeat the enemy. He nodded at his ally and ran back to his wolf shields that stood in the centre of the Estonian line. Each shield wall occupied a frontage of around a hundred and sixty paces, the shields of the front rank overlapping
so there were no gaps in the line. But there was an inviting gap between the Oeselians who stood to the west of the huts of the settlement and the Estonians who were grouped to the north. This was not a conscious decision taken by their respective commanders; rather, a desire by the Oeselians to be near their boats that were beached on the banks of the Gauja and a wish by the Estonians to be close to their ponies. It would prove to be their undoing.

  The Oeselians began chanting war cries and hurling abuse at the Livs opposite, horns sounding above the din to signal the advance. The sea raiders began banging their spear shafts and axe hafts against the inside of their shields as they walked forward, arrows hissing over their heads from the archers in the rear rank. The Livs brought up their shields to deflect the missiles and then Thalibald signalled the advance. Hearing the dreadful din on his left flank Lembit turned, raised his sword in the air and then walked forward towards the Christian foot soldiers facing his Estonians. His wolf shields closed around him for the crusaders had positioned crossbowmen in front of their spearmen and these now began shooting at the packed ranks of the Estonians.

  Volquin had placed only forty crossbowmen with his spearmen, which themselves numbered only one hundred and thirty-five men in two ranks – a paper-thin defence against a thousand Estonians. But numbers are only one part of a battle.

  Shooting four bolts a minute each, the crossbowmen managed to discharge six volleys before they retired through the ranks of the spearmen. This not only killed and wounded around a hundred a fifty Estonians, it also slowed the momentum of Lembit’s men as they saw their comrades struck down by the iron-tipped bolts, their shields offering little protection as the range between the two lines closed and the missiles pierced leather and wood with ease. This gave the spearmen time to withdraw in the face of the enemy shield wall, just as Grand Master Volquin and Sir Helmold led their knights forward.

  As planned the Livs were also giving ground, albeit grudgingly, as Eric’s men hacked and slashed with their swords and axes at Thalibald’s warriors. Outnumbered two to one, the Livs maintained their cohesion as they pulled back. Then the earth shook as fifty-nine knights galloped forward, Sir Helmold with his score of crusaders, Grand Master Volquin in the front rank of the Sword Brothers riding knee to knee, lances couched, shields across chests, legs locked in stirrups and bodies braced against saddle bows. They rode forward and then veered left to take them behind the Estonians, led by Volquin holding the great banner of the Sword Brothers – a white standard edged with gold bearing a red silk cross and sword. And behind the knights rode ninety-five sergeants of the order and twenty Saxon squires, each one attired in mail armour and carrying a lance.