The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  The pyre was lit and within minutes had become a raging inferno, the sergeants standing near it sweating in their armour as the heat blasted them. The flames snaked high into the air and the wood hissed and crackled and the pyre became a huge red and yellow monster demanding to be fed.

  Grand Master Volquin crossed himself and then nodded to the commander of the two score of sergeants who had been detailed to carry out the grisly business. Theodoric brought his hands together and began praying as groups of sergeants, attired in mail but carrying no shields, seized individual Oeselians and began throwing them into the flames. The Livs erupted in wild cheering as the men who had raped and murdered their friends and families were cremated alive, the screams of Eric’s men being drowned out by the tumult of exaltation celebrating their deaths.

  The death throes of some of the Oeselians was a hideous spectacle as they thrashed around in the flames for a short period before their flesh melted and they expired. Some tried to run away before they were hurled onto the pyre, but the sergeants with swords drawn slashed their hamstrings or stabbed them in the belly. They fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Then they were hauled to their feet, dragged to the edge of the flames and thrown into the inferno.

  In twenty minutes it was all over and the crowd quickly dispersed as the sickly smell of roasting human flesh permeated the air. Grand Master Volquin dismissed the assembly and walked briskly back to the castle holding a cloth over his nose. Sir Helmold’s sons were retching and complaining about the stench but their father had seen and smelt roasting flesh before.

  ‘Will those who have been baptised stay loyal?’ he asked Thalibald walking beside him.

  ‘As long as no weapons get into their hands.’

  ‘What will happen to them?’

  ‘They will be given to the king’s chief warriors as slaves,’ said Thalibald, ‘though some might yet be killed if their new masters give them to the families of those who have lost loved ones at their hands.’

  ‘The bishop allows slavery?’ said Sir Helmold with surprise.

  Thalibald shrugged. ‘He frowns upon it but turns a blind eye, hoping it will wither and die as the new religion becomes more firmly rooted in this land.’

  ‘And you, Thalibald, do you keep slaves?’

  ‘I was a slave, or near enough one.’

  Sir Helmold was shocked.

  ‘It is true,’ continued Thalibald. ‘The chief who ruled what is now the Sword Brother stronghold at Wenden was a tyrant who treated his people as slaves. He tortured, raped and stole from his people. He was feared and despised in equal measure and demanded unquestioning obedience. But when the bishop and his Sword Brothers arrived his people turned against him.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘I killed him,’ replied Thalibald with satisfaction. ‘The bishop delivered us from an oppressor and for that he has my eternal gratitude.’

  Sir Helmold nodded and thought of the excesses he had committed during his days as a tyrant. How many women had lost their chastity to his lust and how many innocent lives had he taken? He had revelled in death and destruction and now the aroma of decay hung over him.

  ‘The smell of death,’ he said aloud.

  ‘It will soon wash off when the flames have died down,’ said Thalibald, hearing him.

  Sir Helmold smiled. ‘It will take more than water, my friend.’

  Thalibald looked at him quizzically.

  Sir Helmold gave him a rueful smile. ‘It does not matter.’

  A week later Bishop Albert arrived from Germany with twenty ships filled with crusaders. Upon hearing of the great victory at Treiden he created Theodoric Bishop of Estonia and promised that he would be able to assume control of his new bishopric within two years.

  *****

  Bruno was laid to rest in Wenden’s cemetery, the other boys having dug his grave, washed his body and buried him after Otto had said prayers over him. Conrad and the others were ashen faced as they laid their comrade and friend to rest. He had not known Bruno for long but his passing affected him deeply. For days afterwards, when he and the others had finished their early morning prayers and duties and were walking to the training ground, he found himself looking at the plot of ground that had been earmarked for the cemetery. Two things prevented him becoming too morose: training and the presence of Daina within the castle.

  It had been viewed as too dangerous for the women to return to their villages while Thalibald and his warriors were away, the more so because Lukas did not have any soldiers to spare for guarding the villages and no one knew if there were any more Estonian raiding parties in the area. It was unlikely but he was not prepared to take the risk. And so all the women were accommodated in the mercenaries’ huts until they and the others returned. The weather was getting warmer now and the days longer, the air fresh and sweet with the aroma of flowers. The forests were teeming with wild boar, bears, elk and deer, the tributaries of the Gauja filled with hunting otters. The forest floor was thick with soft, spring lichens, reindeer moss forming carpets of white in innumerable pine groves.

  Following a particularly hard morning training session with their wasters and shields, in which the four boys had paired off and fought each other to a standstill, Lukas informed them that Grand Master Volquin had won a great victory over the pagans. Lembit’s army had been destroyed, as had an Oeselian force that had rowed up the Gauja in boats.

  ‘In a few days Master Berthold will return with the soldiers of the garrison,’ Lukas told them. ‘Two of Wenden’s brother knights fell in the battle, along with three sergeants. Thalibald will also be returning. He has been elevated to become Caupo’s chief warlord and adviser and I am sure he will be delighted to learn that you all helped to save the lives of his womenfolk. God has truly smiled on us.’

  Conrad cast Hans a sideways glance and smiled with pride, Anton puffed out his chest and Johann wore a stupid grin that made Lukas shake his head.

  ‘In the short space of time that you have been here all of you have done well and have applied yourself to learning swordsmanship and the uses of other weapons. Well done.’

  Though she was in the compound Conrad saw little of Daina. Lukas ensured that they were kept apart for though he liked the chief’s daughter, he knew how tempting an attractive young woman could be to boys approaching manhood. In any case hard training was an excellent cure for lewd thoughts. He was partly thwarted in his plan when Berthold and Thalibald returned and Daina informed her father about being captured and rescued by Conrad and his friends. She specifically mentioned him and requested that he accompany her back to their village. It was a joyous day when the garrison returned and even more delightful when Conrad walked beside the pony carrying Daina the next day. The other Liv women were also riding ponies, Hans, Anton and Johann walking ahead leading more ponies. For the journey they had been issued with their swords. Rudolf and Henke rode behind Daina, having been promised a barrel of kvass each by the chief. They were both in a mischievous mood.

  ‘So, Conrad,’ said Rudolf, ‘while we were away saving the kingdom from collapse you were amusing yourself running around the forest chasing Estonians.’

  ‘Fat, useless Estonians, I have heard,’ added Henke.

  Daina turned in her saddle. ‘Conrad was very brave and rescued my mother and me, which I have told my father about. He will surely reward him.’

  ‘Reward him?’ Did you hear that, Henke? And to think when I first brought him here he was a poor wretched creature who could not even hold a sword. Now he is a hero.’

  ‘Daina,’ said Henke, ‘did you know that the sword Conrad wears once belonged to a great knight from Germany who gave it to him on his deathbed.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied Daina, ‘a knight’s sword for a knight.’

  Rudolf laughed out loud. ‘A knight, is he? Conrad, would you like to ride and I will walk, for surely it is not fitting that such a great warrior should wear out his shoe leather?’

  ‘And I will carry your
sword, lord knight,’ said Henke, ‘if it is too heavy for you.’

  Conrad felt his cheeks blushing as he stared directly ahead. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘What reward do you think your father will bestow upon young Conrad?’ Rudolf asked Daina.

  ‘A few goats, perhaps,’ suggested Henke.

  Daina pulled up her pony and looked around at Henke. ‘A few goats? Is that all you think I am worth, Brother Henke?’

  Henke winked at her. ‘All right, a cow then.’

  She stuck her tongue out at him and resumed her journey. ‘He might bestow a most precious gift, one that is dear to his heart,’ she said casually.

  Rudolf knew where this was leading. ‘You do know that Conrad is training to be a Sword Brother, Daina. To be a servant of God who forswears pleasures of the flesh. Is that not so, Conrad?’

  Daina looked down at him but Conrad continued to look ahead. ‘It is as you say, Brother Rudolf.’

  ‘What if my father asks that Conrad be released from your service?’ she teased Rudolf.

  ‘Then we will have to give him up,’ replied Rudolf. Conrad desperately wanted to be a Sword Brother but at this moment, with the delectable Daina beside him showering him with compliments, his heart was ruling his head and he wanted nothing more than to be with her always.

  ‘Poor Conrad,’ remarked Henke, ‘thus does he consider entering a life of slavery willingly.’

  ‘A veritable martyr,’ said Rudolf before they both began laughing.

  Sadly for Conrad Thalibald did not ask that Master Berthold release Conrad from his service so that he could marry his daughter. He did personally thank him and the other boys who had rescued his womenfolk and gave Henke and Rudolf their barrels to take back to Wenden.

  There was a great celebratory feast that night in Thalibald’s hall, at which Hans devoured a seemingly never-ending flow of roasted deer, wild boar, duck and goose. Spits turned over great fires, cauldrons hung over hearths and ovens baked bread. As was traditional the food was eaten in silence to show respect for those who had gathered the food – the farmers – and those who cooked and served it: the women. But as the evening wore on the level of chatter increased as drink loosened tongues.

  The radiant Daina served Conrad and the other boys piragi and filled their wooden cups with a delightful beer called medalus – honey beer – brewed from barley and hops and flavoured with honey. Thalibald sat at the top table flanked by his two sons, Rudolf and Henke, the chief in good heart notwithstanding that thirty men from the hundred he had taken to Treiden had not returned.

  ‘The bishop will take his army north into Estonia now that Lembit’s army has been crushed?’ he asked Rudolf.

  ‘Yes, lord,’ answered Wenden’s deputy commander.

  Thalibald took a gulp from his cup. ‘And will he cross the sea to assault the Oeselians?’

  ‘That may have to wait, lord,’ said Rudolf. ‘I fear it will take more than one campaign to subdue the Estonian tribes.’

  Thalibald sat back in his chair as he observed Daina flirting with Conrad. ‘Lembit’s defeat will have weakened his position among the other tribes. This will make the bishop’s task easier.’ He pointed at Conrad.

  ‘I remember that boy. He seems to be making a name for himself. What do you know of him?’

  Henke shook his head ruefully. He knew that Thalibald was expecting to hear that the boy was the son of a knight.

  ‘He was the son of a baker from Lübeck, lord,’ said Rudolf.

  ‘His parents are wealthy?’ enquired Thalibald.

  Henke emitted a low laugh. Rudolf cleared his throat. ‘His parents are dead, lord. He came to Livonia a pauper to begin a new life.’

  Thalibald’s face wore a deep frown. ‘My daughter shows too much of an interest in him, I think. He could not support a wife who is the daughter of a king.’

  ‘Have no fear on that front, lord,’ said Rudolf. ‘His destiny is to wear the white mantle of the Sword Brothers.’

  Thalibald seemed comforted by this. ‘Good. Better that he uses his sword to protect my daughter and her people rather than his body warming her bed.’

  ‘Have you informed her of that, lord?’ enquired Henke as Daina giggled girlishly sitting herself down next to Conrad.

  ‘Daughters obey their fathers, have no fear,’ said Thalibald sternly.

  *****

  Vsevolod picked at his black rye bread. Not even its heavy fragrance could restore his appetite. The fare he had been served was excellent: tender strips of wild boar, chicken legs, cooked eggs, wheat flour pies and white curd cheese. The hall was packed with Grand Duke Daugerutis’ warlords, all of whom were casting hateful stares in his direction. He felt as welcome as a fox in a chicken coop. He looked across at the fair faces of the Vaidilutes – virgins dressed all in white who guarded the sacred groves and forests of the Lithuanians and maintained the sacred fires – and was met with steely expressions and eyes filled with disdain. Even the Kriviu Krivaitis, the chief priest, was barely concealing his contempt for the ruler of Gerzika.

  ‘I admire your courage, Vsevolod,’ said Daugerutis. ‘There are many among my people who say that you should be banned from my court for your actions, or rather inaction, at Kokenhusen.’

  It was the first time that Vsevolod had crossed the Dvina since the abortive attack on the castle. He had hoped that time would calm Lithuanian wrath, which clearly it had not. However, his wife had begged him to go to her father’s stronghold of Panemunis to dispel any doubts concerning his allegiance. He loved his wife but did not tell her that his primary loyalty was to himself, not her father and certainly not to the Lithuanians. Nevertheless, he recognised that he had to keep the goodwill of the latter if he was to retain his kingdom. That said, the sea of unwelcoming faces made him think that he should have delayed his visit for a while longer.

  ‘The difficulties of coordinating an assault are many and varied, father,’ replied Vsevolod.

  The grand duke looked at the table where Prince Stecse sat with his lieutenants. ‘Not according to Stecse.’

  Vsevolod hated the upstart prince, not because he was a simple-minded fool, though he was that, but more because he had wormed himself into the affections of the grand duke and thus became a direct nuisance.

  ‘Prince Stecse is a brave warrior,’ said Vsevolod, ‘but perhaps does not appreciate matters of strategy. For example, the Bishop of Riga finds himself embroiled in a long war in the north against the Estonians. This being the case, out of strategic necessity he desires peace along the Dvina.’

  The grand duke began chewing on a piece of black bread dipped in juka. ‘Why should I give him peace?’

  Vsevolod smiled. ‘Because, my lord, he offers something that you desire.’

  The grand duke pushed the bread into his mouth. ‘What?’

  ‘To cross the Dvina to attack the Principality of Novgorod and thus avenge the many wrongs the Russians have committed against you.’

  The grand duke stopped eating and turned to face his son-in-law. ‘He will allow me to cross the river and march through his territory with an army?’

  Vsevolod mustered his most earnest expression. ‘He will, my lord.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Out of strategic necessity, lord, as I said. He desires peace with all the Lithuanian tribes and will accommodate your wishes to achieve that peace.’

  ‘He has forgotten the assault on Kokenhusen?’

  Vsevolod spread his hands. ‘He recognises that you are a great warlord and he is just a priest who can muster few troops in comparison to the mighty army you can assemble. He fears you, my lord, and wishes to appease you.’

  The grand duke toyed with one of the silver rings on his fingers. ‘You will arrange it, Vsevolod, and then perhaps I may forget your error at Kokenhusen.’

  Vsevolod bowed his head. ‘Your servant, lord.’

  Chapter 10

  Lembit stood in his hall at Lehola, his lieutenants assembled before him. He had managed to eva
de his pursuers to get back to his homeland, most of the men of the other tribes having deserted him during the journey back to Estonia. The campaign had been a disaster, the only bright spot being the return of Rusticus from the diversion at Wenden. It was now summer and he knew that soon a vengeful crusader army led by the newly returned Bishop Albert would be marching north into Saccalia. He also feared that the Oeselians would revert to being enemies instead of allies following the debacle at Treiden. But at least most of his wolf shields were still alive and he retained the loyalty of his Saccalians. There was absolute silence in the hall as his men awaited his words.

  ‘I will not lie to you. We suffered a reverse at Treiden and were forced to retreat. Soon the crusaders will be marching north into our homeland, intent on enslaving us and forcing us to kneel to their god. This I will not allow.’

  His men murmured their defiance. He raised his hands. ‘The crusaders will gather their forces and march as one army, but we will counter them by dividing our forces.’

  His men looked at each other in confusion.

  Lembit smirked. ‘The crusaders cannot be everywhere at once. Just as Rusticus led a party south, so will you lead small groups to raid the enemy’s territory. In this way the crusaders will be unable to keep their army together. They will be forced to send parties to hunt you down.’