by Peter Darman
‘And quickly,’ added Friedhelm.
The bishop turned and handed the sheets of parchment to a clerk. ‘I will banish him, never to return to Livonia.’
Volquin sighed in exasperation. ‘You cannot let him go, lord bishop. He has openly rebelled against your rule and to let him go free will make you look weak. When you go to make peace with Lembit it would be better if the body of Vetseke was hanging from Riga’s walls.’
‘Lembit will be impressed by such a gesture,’ agreed Gerhard.
Bishop Albert held up his hands. ‘Brothers, Vetseke will be banished. That is my decision. You all seem to forget that we are but servants of God who has a plan for this land. It was He who gave us victory over the pagans and it will be He who protects Livonia in the face of their godlessness. I do not need to act cruelly in order to impress heathens, not when God himself watches over us.’
And so Vetseke was spared and the bishop prepared to meet Lembit to discuss a temporary truce.
Chapter 13
It took two days for the army of Grand Duke Daugerutis to cross over the Dvina to enter Livonia. First came the élite horsemen: men wearing mail or lamellar armour, helmets, aventails and mail on their legs and arms. These were the personal guards and men of substance of the princes who had come to march beside their duke. They wore leather boots, carried pavise-like shields and wore rich, brightly coloured cloaks around their shoulders. Prince Stecse was among them, wearing a shining helmet and armed with a sword given to him by the grand duke himself. All the élite Lithuanian horsemen wore swords but also carried axes and maces dangling from their saddles. They and the other horsemen were ferried over the river continuously until there were eight thousand horsemen and double that number of horses on the northern bank of the Dvina.
The grand duke brought only horsemen into the land of the crusaders, his army’s supplies being carried on a spare horse that followed each rider. The boats were rowed across the river by the farmers that populated the area immediately south of the Dvina: free men who were tied to their local lord by oaths of loyalty, the lord in turn owing allegiance to his prince, the latter paying homage to Grand Duke Daugerutis. It was an ancient system that had kept the Lithuanian people strong and free, able to defeat the aggression of the Russians, Kurs, crusaders and, finally, pagan Prussian tribes that lived on their southern borders.
The warlord of all the Lithuanians sat on a stool outside his tent as his men cooked a roe deer they had caught earlier, the rich aroma of roasting meat filling the late afternoon air. Stecse sat next to his lord as his son, a gangly youth of twelve summers with a long face, sat on the ground nearby cleaning his father’s sword.
The ground was covered with small two-man tents, groups of horses tethered in long lines between them. Stacks of light spears called spisas stood throughout the camp along with a multitude of campfires that produced a pall of wispy smoke that hung still in the windless air. In front of the grand duke four guards suddenly drew their swords and stood in a line. Ahead of them a group of riders wearing white surcoats was approaching, flanked by twice as many Lithuanian horsemen. The grand duke stood and a hand went to his sword hilt but as Stecse rose he reassured his lord.
‘It is Master Griswold from Kokenhusen, my lord. Coming to pay his compliments, no doubt.’
Griswold had thought it prudent to let Daugerutis know that he and his army were being observed as he made his way through Livonia to attack the Novgorodians. He had disagreed with the treaty made between Riga and the grand duke but had no option but to accept it. It was true that there had been no hostilities along the river since the agreement but he was still uneasy about letting thousands of pagans traverse Livonia freely. Griswold had brought a brother knight and two sergeants as an escort, more for company than security amid such a host.
The Sword Brothers dismounted as their mounted escort did likewise and walked alongside the Christians as they ambled towards the grand duke. The four guards barred their way and requested their weapons. Prince Stecse, all smiles, pushed his way through the guards.
‘Greetings, Master Griswold. The grand duke is most eager to meet you. Please surrender your swords. A precaution, you understand.’
Griswold nodded at him and instructed his men to stay where they were. He unbuckled his belt, handed his sword to the guard in front of him and was allowed to pass. The other Lithuanians observed the Sword Brothers warily but the latter merely stood holding the reins of their horses while their master conducted his business.
Stecse introduced the grand duke and then addressed the boy cleaning his sword.
‘Mindaugas, a stool for our guest.’
The boy jumped up and disappeared into the tent to retrieve another stool. Daugerutis held out his hand to it.
‘I am sorry my hospitality is so austere, Master Griswold.’
Griswold smiled politely and sat down on the stool. ‘The order of Sword Brothers prefers austerity over extravagance, grand duke.’
Daugerutis sat beside him. ‘So I have heard.’
Griswold decided to get straight to the point. ‘You go to attack the Russians?’
‘I do.’
‘And how long will you be this side of the river?’
Daugerutis smiled. ‘Abrupt and to the point. I like that.’
‘I am a soldier, grand duke, not a diplomat.’
The boy offered Griswold a full cup. He took it and was surprised that it was water. The grand duke noticed his shock.
‘I am a soldier too, master. I come to fight not to give banquets.’
The boy went back to cleaning the sword.
‘You bring boys to fight the Russians?’ he asked.
‘My son Mindaugas,’ said Stecse. ‘This is his first campaign.’
‘Let us hope that it is not his last,’ remarked Griswold. He addressed the grand duke. ‘I must insist that your men do not molest the Livs as you pass through their territory. It would be unfortunate if you were to breach the terms of the agreement.’
Daugerutis noticed the mild threat but did not rise to it. ‘My men are under strict orders not to pillage the land, Master Griswold. But surely the Livs are in open rebellion against the bishop?’
‘A number of misguided individuals was seduced by Prince Vetseke, former ruler of Kokenhusen, but they have been destroyed and the prince currently languishes in chains to await the bishop’s judgement on him.’
‘Vetseke,’ said Stecse. ‘I thought he was long dead.’
Griswold smiled. ‘He soon will be. The bishop’s wrath, though slow to rise, can be swift and terrible.’
Daugerutis nodded approvingly. He liked this Christian warrior who did not mince his words.
‘I will have a care not to inflame the bishop’s passions, Master Griswold.’
The Sword Brother took a sip of his water. ‘I have heard, grand duke, that the Russians frequently raided your lands.’
Daugerutis stared into the fire. ‘The Novgorodians, master, often raided as far as the Dvina and sometimes even into Lithuania itself. They are of your religion, I believe.’
‘They follow the Orthodox religion,’ Griswold corrected him, ‘not the Holy Church of Rome.’
The names meant nothing to Daugerutis. ‘They are your enemies?’
‘At the moment the Russians are content to trade with us. They covet Estonia.’
‘As does the bishop,’ said Stecse.
‘It is our duty to bring the Estonians into the Christian faith,’ said Griswold, ‘just as we have done with the Livs.’
Daugerutis continued to stare at the deer roasting over the fire. ‘And after you have subdued the Estonians, who will be next on the bishop’s list of people to be enslaved?’
‘I am not privy to the bishop’s decisions, grand duke,’ said Griswold. ‘As I said, I am merely a soldier.’
Of course both he and the grand duke knew that the pope had commanded that all the pagan peoples in the Baltic should be brought under the rule of God, which included
the Lithuanians. But the grand duke also knew that if he attacked Novgorod then the Russians would be enraged that the Bishop of Riga had allowed him free passage through his territory. This in turn might lead to the Russians waging war on Livonia, which in turn would keep conflict away from his own lands. Vsevolod had done him a great service to broker the treaty with the bishop. He would ensure that his soldiers kept well away from Gerzika’s lands so as not to embroil his son-in-law in the conflicts that might arise in the near future.
*****
Conrad rode back to Wenden in the company of the others of the garrison. Word of his saving of the bishop, aided by his three companions, had spread and he felt immensely happy. The bishop himself had given him a new horse and had promised to mention him when he wrote to the pope concerning the late battle against Prince Vetseke. The latter was still confined in Riga’s castle, though in a well-appointed room rather than a dungeon, and the Livs who had been captured during the battle had all been released to make their way back to their homes to take part in the harvest.
‘It was a bad decision,’ complained Henke.
‘No doubt you would have been more satisfied if he had been summarily executed,’ said Master Berthold.
They were riding back to Wenden along tracks that were bone dry, the air filled with the scent of pine as they made their way through the forests adjacent to the Gauja.
‘I would, master,’ replied Henke.
As a reward for their conduct during the battle Conrad and the other boys had been allowed to ride in the company of the master, his deputy, Henke and Lukas on their return journey to Wenden. Everyone’s spirits were high, not least because not one of the garrison had been killed during the battle against Vetseke.
‘Henke believes that there are only two types of people in the world,’ said Rudolf. ‘Those who are friends and those who are enemies, and the latter should always be killed as quickly as possible.’
Lukas laughed as Henke looked unconcerned.
‘Releasing Vetseke will be a mistake,’ said Henke. ‘It merely postpones the inevitable.’
‘Which is?’ enquired Master Berthold.
‘That we will have to kill him,’ replied Henke. ‘Better to kill him now before he can cause any more trouble.’
‘What do you think, Conrad?’ said Rudolf, turning in his saddle to look at him. ‘After all, you currently have the ear of the bishop.’
‘I do not know, brother,’ replied Conrad, embarrassed by the attention being given him.
‘Speak your mind,’ said Berthold, ‘never be afraid to speak your mind.’
Hans looked at Conrad and nodded, urging him to say something.
‘I think the bishop is a very wise man,’ said Conrad.
Henke guffawed loudly. ‘That is no answer at all. It’s a good job you are more forthright with a sword in your hand. You should have stuck Vetseke with your blade.’
‘I did not see him at the time, brother,’ said Conrad.
‘But if you had encountered him on the battlefield,’ said Rudolf, ‘you would have killed him?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Conrad without hesitation.
‘I must congratulate you, Brother Lukas,’ remarked Berthold, ‘you have crafted a group of fine young soldiers.’
‘They still require some polishing, master,’ said Lukas, ‘but it is pleasing to discover that they have been paying attention during their training.’
‘Where will we be campaigning next, Master Berthold?’ asked Anton.
‘Nowhere, young man,’ said Berthold. ‘We are to have peace with the Estonians.’
‘Peace? Peace is only the short interval between wars,’ spat Henke, causing everyone to smile.
The bishop arrived at Wenden two weeks later, accompanied by fifty knights and their squires, a hundred spearmen, the same number of crossbowmen, Caupo and a hundred of his warriors. Once more the area around the castle was covered with tents as the bishop took up residence in the master’s hall and couriers were despatched to Lembit requesting his presence at a conference where a two-year peace would be agreed between him and the bishop. Though the pestilence had finally passed Albert believed that a two-year suspension of hostilities was essential for the continued growth of Riga, suppression of any latent rebelliousness among the Livs and the collection of funds from Germany for the ongoing construction of the Sword Brother castles.
While he waited for Lembit’s answer the bishop attended to more pleasant tasks, such as inspecting Wenden’s growing fortifications, being introduced to Thalibald’s sons and daughter and taking a service in the castle’s chapel. He also rewarded those who had saved his life during the Battle of Riga.
Conrad stood with Hans, Johann and Anton outside the reception room of the master’s hall following a summons from the bishop. Rudolf himself had walked down to the training area and informed Lukas that their presence was required in the master’s hall. Henke had seen the boys walking across the courtyard and followed them into the hall where they waited anxiously outside the thick oak door with Lukas. Rudolf went back inside the reception room where he had spent the morning dealing with business in the company of Berthold and the bishop.
Henke had an evil grin on his face. ‘Nervous?’ he asked Conrad.
‘No, brother.’
‘You are all to be rewarded by the bishop,’ continued Henke, ‘my congratulations.’
He placed an arm around Conrad’s shoulders, who thought that most unusual as they had barely exchanged words since the affair of the Estonian female captives.
‘I should not really say anything but I have it on good authority that the bishop has decided that you shall all be castratos in his new cathedral in Riga.’
Lukas turned away and stifled a laugh as the boys looked at each other in confusion.
‘Castratos?’ said Hans.
Henke smiled. ‘Yes, indeed. The word comes from castration and is used to describe those boys who have their balls cut off so they can sing with voices that resemble the song of the nightingale. You should all consider yourselves very honoured.’
Anton was ashen faced. ‘Surely you are mistaken?’
Henke looked deadly serious. ‘Mistaken? Being a castrato is accorded one of the highest honours of the church. I both envy and admire you for this most special privilege that is about to be bestowed on you all.’
‘But, but we are to be sergeants,’ implored Johann.
Henke shook his head as Lukas bit his lip to stop himself laughing.
‘Master Berthold commented on how sweet your voices sounded in the chapel and that was that. But fear not, we will carry out the procedure here, at Wenden, to ensure that you all survive.’
He pulled his dagger from its sheath and pointed it at Conrad.
‘Daina will be here to see it.’
Conrad, now thoroughly alarmed, was actually shaking. ‘Daina?’
Henke brushed the dagger’s blade with a finger to test the sharpness. ‘Of course, plus Thalibald and his sons. To witness the ceremony of the castrato is accorded a great honour.’
Rudolf came from the reception room. ‘The bishop will see you all now.’
He noticed the pale expressions on the boys’ faces, Henke grinning like an idiot and Lukas’ face twisted as he tried to hide his mirth.
‘Is there a problem?’
Henke replaced his dagger in its sheath. ‘No problem, Rudolf.’ He smiled and walked back into the courtyard.
Rudolf frowned and instructed the boys to follow him immediately. When he took his position by the side of Berthold, who was seated beside the bishop at the end of the room under the banner of the Sword Brothers that hung on the wall behind, the boys looked as though they were about to pass out.
The bishop smiled at them as they stood before him.
‘It is one of the more pleasurable duties of my office to reward those who have excelled in their service,’ he began, then stopping as he noticed that beads of sweat were forming on Conrad’s forehead. He also n
oticed that Hans seemed to be in a state of abject terror.
‘Are you ill?’ he asked him.
‘No, lord bishop,’ replied Hans.
The bishop looked at Master Berthold who was perplexed, before continuing.
‘Well, in view of your heroism at Riga I have decided…’
Hans fell on his knees and clasped his hands together in prayer. ‘Please do not castrate us, lord bishop, I beg you,’ he implored.
The others boys began nodding frantically, resembling a row of performing dogs. The bishop looked at Master Berthold in utter confusion.
‘Castration? What nonsense is this?’
Hans was too distraught to speak so Conrad took over. ‘So we can sing in your cathedral, lord bishop. But we wish to fight not sing.’
‘Fight,’ agreed Johann.
‘No singing,’ pleaded Anton.
‘Singing, cathedral, castration? Have you been drinking?’ said the bishop accusingly.
‘I think I might be able to unravel this mystery, lord bishop,’ said Rudolf. ‘I believe the boys have been victims of a cruel joke that has led to their state of agitation. They believe that they are to be castratos in your cathedral.’
The bishop was not amused. He looked at Hans rocking to and fro before him. ‘Get up. First of all, there is no cathedral as yet in Riga so even if I wanted castratos, which I do not, they would have to wait until it was built. A long wait, I might add.’
Conrad helped Hans, who was weeping tears of relief, to his feet.
‘Perhaps you might take some time to root out the practice of innuendo and falsehoods that appears to have taken root in your castle, Master Berthold,’ said the bishop, clearly irritated.
‘I will, lord bishop,’ replied Berthold.
‘To continue,’ said the bishop. ‘I have instructed Master Berthold that when your training period ends all of you are to be given the opportunity to enter the Brothers of the Knighthood of Christ in Livonia, more commonly known as the Sword Brothers, as brother knights and not sergeants.’
The expressions on the faces of the boys changed from anxiety to pure joy in an instant. Among them only Anton, due to his noble birth, was guaranteed the mantle of brother knight. Conrad and the others were destined to be sergeants but now that had all changed. The performing dogs returned as all of them began nodding enthusiastically at the bishop, who found their behaviour even odder.