by Peter Darman
The column rode out the gates in the perimeter wall and swung left to ride east towards the snow-covered quarry that was now dormant until the spring came. They trotted along the track until they had ridden halfway through a forest of pine and spruce, then left the trail to head into the trees, all the while being led by the mysterious stranger swathed in furs. No one spoke, the only sound being the breathing of the ponies, the crunching of their hooves in the snow and the jangling of their bits. Of the brother knights, Lukas had stayed behind at Wenden to assume command of the garrison. Walter also remained at the castle, Conrad hearing a rumour that he would not approve of the expedition, though he did not know what this meant.
For two days they travelled through forests, by the side of frozen lakes and across snow-covered meadows between gently rolling hills, the guide leading the column through a land empty of people. Wolves snarled at them from the treeline and occasionally a lynx or fox would be seen scurrying through the deep snow. At night Master Berthold and Rudolf could be seen huddling round a fire in the company of the guide, who had shoulder-length fair hair and wore a gold torc around his neck. Conrad asked about him but Henke gave him short shrift, telling him to attend to his duties and keep his nose out of the order’s business. So he and the other boys sat outside their tent guessing who the man was and what they were doing in this bleak land.
‘Perhaps we are going to kill Lembit,’ offered Anton.
‘We are too few to fight the leader of the Estonians,’ said Conrad.
‘What did Henke say when you asked him?’ queried Hans.
‘He’s like a bear with a sore head. You won’t get anything out of him.’
‘This must be a raid of some sort,’ suggested Johann, though when questioned about the precise nature of such an enterprise he had no answers.
They found out the next day when they were ordered to leave the tents where they were and assemble in the middle of the camp. The brother knights, sergeants and crossbowmen also gathered around Master Berthold, Rudolf and the mysterious stranger standing behind him.
‘I will make this short,’ said the castellan of Wenden. ‘Today we assault an Estonian village. Our intention is to take prisoners: women, girls and young boys. Kill all those capable of bearing arms but do not harm the rest.’ He pointed at the crossbowmen, some of whom were rubbing their hands in anticipation of loot. ‘Any plunder of value will be surrendered to me after the assault. Anyone who indulges in rape will be hanged.’
Leather face wore a hurt expression. ‘No rape?’
Berthold looked at him contemptuously. ‘The women, young girls, infants and young boys are to be captured unharmed and unsullied. I will personally behead anyone I see acting in a depraved manner.’
‘What about the old women?’ asked leather face.
Master Berthold looked at him as though he was attempting levity. ‘The old women?’
‘Yes,’ replied leather face, deadly serious, ‘can we rape them as you don’t want them?’
There was a ripple of laughter among his comrades.
‘Silence!’ shouted Berthold. ‘There will be no raping. Obey your orders and pray to God that He may forgive you for your depravity.’
‘Pray that He keeps my aim true, more like,’ sneered leather face.
Master Berthold glowered at him but thereafter ignored him as he gave the orders for the raid. The mounted brother knights were to attack the village, which was an hour’s walk away, to create a diversion while the sergeants and crossbowmen would assault on foot.
‘Brother Henke will take charge of the novices,’ said Master Berthold in conclusion.
Though they knew how to shoot a crossbow Conrad and his companions were armed with their swords and shields for the raid. They left their cloaks in camp as they walked with Henke in the rear of the column of sergeants and crossbowmen. The packhorses and ponies in camp were tethered to branches with several fires having been lit around its perimeter to keep predators away, two crossbowmen being left behind just to make sure.
Henke was in a foul mood as he walked through the snow, not only because he was not mounted like the rest of the brother knights but because he also objected to being a nursemaid to the novices. The riders took a wide detour to the village, which was located in the middle of a broad valley between two great woods. A frozen lake lay south of the settlement and to the north lay another large expanse of evergreen trees.
After less than an hour the party on foot was approaching the lake and Henke gave the order to deploy into line and to stay silent. Conrad took the shield off his back and slid his left arm through the leather straps and gripped the last one. He drew his sword, crouched low and began to walk forward. He glanced left at Hans who nodded, then right at Anton and Johann, both of them staring ahead. The crossbowmen formed a thin vanguard in front of the sergeants, the boys being on the left flank of the line, nearest to the lake.
Their approach was silent as they stepped through the snow. Ahead Conrad could see no movement in the snow-covered village. It was two hours after dawn. Perhaps the villagers were still asleep. They were around five hundred paces away when dogs suddenly started barking.
‘Move,’ shouted Henke.
Shouts were heard coming from the village and then, further away, the sound of drums. Conrad looked at a perplexed Hans. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he broke into a brisk walk. It was impossible to run in the snow that came up to his ankles, and he noticed the sergeants and crossbowmen were still walking but were talking longer and higher steps to avoid toppling over. They had closed to within three hundred paces of the village now and it appeared to comprise many huts of varying size. The biggest was a tall longhouse with an arched roof that seemed to be in the centre of the settlement.
The mounted brother knights had made a wide diversion through the trees so they could assault the village from the north. Two of their number carried drums of stretched skinheads that had a brass hook so they could be hung from their belts. They began banging the drums as they approached the village, the riders extending into a line with pennants fluttering from their lances. The noise had the desired effect: the menfolk of the village poured from their huts and deployed into a small shield wall in front of the village. And all the while the foot soldiers approached silently and unseen from the south.
The crossbowmen had been members of the garrison for a long time and they knew the tactics of the Sword Brothers. Henke gave the signal and the sergeants divided into small groups, each one accompanied by two crossbowmen as they entered the village.
‘You stay close to me,’ Henke hissed to the boys as they reached the first hut. Ahead Conrad could hear the shouts of the village’s warriors as they rallied around their chief in the shield wall. The drums were still sounding as the horses of brother knights continued to approach the village at a slow walk.
The foot soldiers moved stealthily through the huts that had their doors fastened shut. They reached the chief’s great hut and swept around it to head for the northern end of the village. Conrad estimated that the settlement must have numbered fifty huts at least. He hoped they had enough soldiers to fight the villagers. He followed Henke along frozen muddy paths, past squat sheds and empty animal pens, the occupants having long since been slaughtered to proved food for the inhabitants. Then they were at the northern extend of the settlement, beyond which stood a group of warriors standing with their backs to the village, shields locked as they waited to receive the charge of the brother knights, who had now halted some three hundred paces from them. The drummers continued to hit the skins of their instruments to keep the Estonians focused on them as the crossbowmen reformed into a line with the sergeants behind them. Henke fell in at the extreme left of the line of sergeants, Conrad and the other boys behind him.
In the rear of the Estonian shield wall, which must have numbered at least sixty men, were dogs held on leashes that would be released at the riders when they made their charge. But now the beasts began barking at
the foot soldiers that had appeared behind them, causing their masters to turn round and spot Henke’s party. Then the crossbowmen began shooting.
In thirty seconds they shot twenty quarrels before the Estonians had a chance to respond. In the next thirty seconds they shot a further twenty bolts that killed the dogs and also their owners. Some of the warriors broke ranks and ran at the crossbowmen, tripping in the snow and falling over. When they jumped up they were hit by quarrels and collapsed again. Conrad watched leather face load, shoot his crossbow and then reload it again, untroubled by the enraged warriors who had now turned around and locked shields. Bolts slammed into wooden shields. The crossbowmen stopped shooting and retired behind the sergeants, who now walked forward with swords drawn, shields held in front of them.
The Estonians, armed with a variety of axes, spears, clubs and only a few swords, had forgotten about the mounted knights as they shuffled forward to give battle to the footmen who had appeared behind them. But now Master Berthold and his men dug their spurs into the ponies and charged forward. They never achieved more than a quick trot in the snow but within no time they were at the rear of the shield wall, plunging their lances into Estonian backs and then drawing their swords to hack at the enemy.
‘Now!’ screamed Henke as he and sergeants charged at the shield wall. The Estonians, their shields overlapping as they inched forward, had not expected the outnumbered men in mail and white surcoats to attack but that is what they now did.
Conrad screamed and ran after Henke as cries came from the rear of the shield wall as the brother knights began cutting down Estonians. The latter might have included a few men who had battle experience but most were poor farmers who spent their lives toiling on the land. Attacked from the front and rear, what little discipline and order they might have possessed evaporated in the face of the Sword Brother assault.
The Estonian shield wall fell apart as Henke and the sergeants ran at it, held their shields in front of them to block axe blows and spear thrusts and then plunged their swords into faces and necks. Only a few villagers wore helmets, the rest either fighting bare headed or wearing leather skullcaps for protection. But they offered little defence, particularly from the downward strikes of the brother knights.
A warrior ran at Conrad, a man in a shirt and leggings with no headgear and armed with only a spear. He jumped to the right, brushed away the spear with his shield and then cut down with his sword to slice open the man’s left calf. The Estonian howled in pain and collapsed on the ground. He was silenced as Hans thrust his sword down to sever his spinal cord.
The fight had now degenerated into a series of single combats, Henke being surrounded by three men wielding axes determined to hack him to pieces. He killed the man facing him when he chopped the shaft of his adversary’s axe with his sword and then rammed the end of his cross guard into the man’s eye. Spinning round, the other two ran at him, axes raised above their heads. He jumped to the right and swung his sword as they passed, cutting into the skull of one. He ignored him and ran at the last villager, barging into him with his shield and driving the point of his sword forward with such force that it went through the man’s shield and into his guts. He released the hilt and the Estonian collapsed to the ground, blood oozing from his belly. Henke placed a foot on the pierced shield on top of his body and yanked his sword free, then walked over to the man with the gashed head. He sheathed his sword, drew his dagger and slit his throat.
The fighting was over now. The last to fall was the village chief with a few loyal men around him, cut down by the crossbowmen. Sergeants went among the dead and wounded and dispatched the latter with their daggers. The riders did not enter the village but rather hunted down those men who tried to reach the safety of the trees, circling the settlement and heading off the fleeing warriors.
Henke pointed at Conrad and the other boys.
‘You are with me.’
He walked back into the village and began banging on doors, ordering the occupants to show themselves. Or at least that is what Conrad thought as he was speaking in Estonian. He pointed at Conrad and Hans.
‘You two make yourself useful and turf out those inside the huts. And keep alert. Just because their menfolk are dead doesn’t mean that the women are not dangerous.’
He then pointed at Anton and Johann. ‘You two as well. Get moving.’
Obviously his bout of slaughter had not improved Henke’s humour as he went inside a hut and hauled out the occupants – a young woman and an old hag – and threw them to the ground. Anton kicked in a door and fell back as he was hit in the face by a wooden stool. A plumpish woman stood in the doorway with the seat in her hand.
‘Stupid bitch.’ Anton ran his sword through her body and kicked her back inside the hut.
Henke saw what had happened as Johann went to the side of his friend with his shield raised and sword at the ready.
‘What did I tell you?’ Henke said to Anton.
‘She hit me, brother.’
Henke sheathed his sword and struck Anton across the face with the back of his hand. ‘I want them all alive.’
He grabbed Anton by the scruff of the neck and threw him into the hut. He turned to Johann. ‘Move, idiot.’
Conrad went into the hut and saw a terrified young woman huddled in the corner holding two infants. Tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking with fear. He looked at Hans.
‘This is wrong.’
‘We have our orders, Conrad.’ His fear of Henke was overriding any doubts he may have had regarding the right or wrong of his actions. Conrad sighed and pointed at the woman, sheathing his sword and gesturing her to come forward.
‘Please.’
She did not understand what he was saying but did understand what was required of her when Henke walked in, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her outside. She was still clutching the babies who began to wail as their mother was taken to the open space in front of the chief’s hut where the other villagers were being gathered. There were about seventy of them, all in various stages of distress. Young, terrified children clinging to their mothers and elderly couples seeking solace in each other’s arms. They huddled together as crossbowmen and sergeants stood guard over them.
Conrad stood by the young mother and her two screeching babies, his shield over his back, his sword in its scabbard.
Henke pointed at her. ‘Shut her up.’
Conrad knew that something very wrong was occurring and resented having to be a part of it. He was just a novice but the sermons he had listened to in the chapel every week had made a deep impression upon him, particularly the notion of Christian charity.
‘Do it yourself,’ he heard himself say.
Hans, Anton and Johann looked aghast at him as Henke stomped over.
‘What did you say?’
Conrad, though nervous, stood his ground. ‘Threatening babies will have no effect.’
Henke moved closer, his sneering face inches from Conrad’s. ‘Are you disobeying me, boy?’
‘No, brother,’ replied Conrad, ‘it is just that…’
Henke slapped Conrad’s face hard with the back of his hand, nearly knocking him over. Rage flowed through Conrad and without thinking he stepped back and drew his sword. Henke laughed and drew his blade and Conrad prepared to die.
‘Henke!
Rudolf jumped from his saddle and walked over to place himself between Henke and Conrad, facing the former.
‘Put away your swords. Both of you.’
Conrad did so instantly but for a few seconds Henke hesitated before sniffing and sheathing his blade.
Master Berthold frowned and then announced to the Estonians in their own tongue that they would not be harmed but that they had to leave with him. There were wails and more outbreaks of crying but Berthold shouted at them to be quiet and ordered them to leave the village immediately. The women and children did not have their hands bound as it was unlikely that they would attempt to escape, especially the ones carry
ing infants, though the five boys aged ten and over were tethered. Then the captives were herded away to the south, towards the Sword Brother camp. The brother knights gave up their ponies for the youngest children to save them having to trek through the snow. Henke was the last to leave, keeping Conrad and the other boys behind to guard the score of elderly Estonians who had been captured in the village.
‘What shall we do with them?’ he asked Rudolf brusquely
‘What do you suggest?’
Henke looked at Conrad with an evil grin. ‘Lock them in a hut and burn them.’
‘I think not,’ said Rudolf. ‘We will leave them here.’
Henke curled his lip. ‘You are getting soft. The Rudolf of old would not have batted an eyelid at killing them.’
Rudolf sighed. ‘We are warriors of Christ now, Henke, so do as you are told.’
Henke turned to the boys. ‘Move!’
Two hours later Conrad was cooking porridge to feed the captives, who had been placed in the spare tents that the raiding party had brought. The temperature was dropping rapidly and Master Berthold was most insistent that the prisoners be fed and issued with blankets. Conrad went among the morose Estonians, offering them bowls of hot porridge. The women took the food but avoided his eyes as they fed their children and wrapped the blankets around them. He felt utterly miserable.
Later, when he was standing guard duty, his cloak wrapped around him and his breath misting in the icy night air, he encountered Rudolf making his rounds. In the distance wolves were howling, their mournful cries causing the infants in camp to cry. But there was no movement among the trees, though Conrad knew the beasts were studying the camp from afar.
‘All is well?’ enquired Rudolf. Conrad nodded.