by Peter Darman
‘Yes, they will,’ added Rameke.
‘Wenden will join the king’s attack,’ said Berthold. ‘You can tell him that. I grow tired of looking at enemy campfires encircling my castle.’
Valdis smiled and drained his cup. He rose. ‘Then by your leave, I must be away before the dawn breaks.’
‘Do you wish for an escort?’ enquired Berthold.
‘No, master, I can move quicker and unseen on my own.’
‘Conrad,’ said Lukas, ‘take Chief Valdis to the kitchens and wake the cooks. You will find your wits are sharper with some food in your belly, my friend.’
Valdis smiled and thanked those present as Conrad waited at the door to escort the Liv to the kitchens. He caught Daina’s eye one last time, who tilted her head and smiled at him before Valdis walked past him into the courtyard and he followed.
The next day, after he had slept, attended mass and eaten, Conrad stood with Hans, Anton and Johann at the grave of Bruno in Wenden’s cemetery. Their friend had a gravestone now and although it was not as grand as the one for Sir Frederick in the adjacent plot, it was a fine dolostone piece that had been carved with care and affection. A gardener from Lübeck maintained the cemetery and he kept the graves in an immaculate condition.
It was a beautiful spring day with a gentle breeze that blew from the east and brought air that was not tainted with the odour of rotting bodies.
‘It seems so long ago when Bruno died,’ said Hans sadly.
Conrad looked at the grave of Sir Frederick and then touched the hilt of his sword. ‘He is in good company here.’
Anton looked up at the castle. ‘I would like to be buried here.’
‘That is a morbid thought,’ remarked Johann.
Anton looked at him. ‘We might all die tomorrow.’
‘You should not say such things,’ Hans rebuked him. ‘Sometimes saying them can make them happen.’
‘It is all in God’s hands,’ said Conrad. ‘But at least we will die fighting rather than being starved to death.’
Hans shuddered. ‘No, indeed. Infinitely preferable.’
‘Do you think we will all meet again, when we are dead, I mean?’ said Anton.
‘Of course,’ replied Johann, ‘for are we not brothers?’
He held out an arm over Bruno’s grave. ‘Brothers.’
Anton extended his right arm and placed his palm over Johann’s hand. ‘Brothers.’
Conrad and Hans did the same and uttered the same pledge as the breeze blew and the Sword Brother banner flying over Wenden stirred.
*****
Grand Duke Daugerutis had addressed the Semgallians earlier and had told them that though their duke was dead, he would lead them to victory, glory and riches. They had cheered when he stated that he was now the ruler of Livonia and that the Christians were finished, cowering as they did behind their walls while the flower of Lithuanian manhood was free to plunder the land and enslave the local population. He had elicited more cheering when he informed them that their victory over Caupo was just a foretaste of things to come. He had retired to his tent most satisfied that he had won them over, notwithstanding the bribe he had paid them.
He knew that the other dukes would withdraw their men who were laying siege to Lennewarden, Holm and Uexkull, but he comforted himself with the fact that their garrisons were small and even if they combined would be unable to halt his advance to Riga. He had a thousand of his own men besieging Segewold and would leave five hundred to starve Wenden into surrender. But he would still march with nearly twelve thousand men, more than enough to take Riga. The town was only fifty miles away and even moving along dirt tracks and through dense forests he would be before its walls in around ten days. He had given orders that the army would march tomorrow, breaking camp just after dawn to begin the part of the campaign that would see him made grand duke of Lithuania and Livonia. Afterwards he would crush the other dukes, conquer Estonia and take the city of Novgorod. The screams of its citizens being roasted to death would be a fitting end to his campaign.
And yet, unknown to him, it was all an illusion.
Chapter 16
Conrad was in the saddle before the eastern sky was filled with the first rays of the sun. He and sixty-six other horsemen – twelve brother knights, thirty sergeants, three novices, Rameke and his score of warriors – waited at the gates, ready to ride out against the Lithuanians. Otto went along the line of horsemen, administering the blessing given to those on the eve of battle. He looked even more severe in the pale pre-dawn light, his battle-scarred bald scalp and glaring eyes giving him the appearance of an avenging angel. He halted beside Conrad and fixed him with his deranged, black eyes.
‘Bow your heads, sinners,’ he hissed to Conrad and Hans beside him.
They took off their helmets and lowered their heads as Otto made the sign of the cross with his hand and administered the blessing.
‘God of power and mercy, maker and lover of peace, to know you is to live, and to serve you is to reign. Through the intercession of St Michael, the archangel, be our protection in battle against all evil. Help us to overcome war and violence and to establish your law of love and justice. Grant this through Christ our Lord.’
Conrad and Hans said ‘amen’ as Otto glared at them both and then moved on to Anton and Johann sitting in front of them.
‘He frightens me more than the enemy,’ Hans whispered to his friend.
‘I know,’ agreed Conrad, ‘it is a pity that priests cannot shed blood because then we could send him against the Lithuanians.’
Fortunately there had been no need to slaughter the horses and so everyone was suitably mounted, the brother knights sitting on the great warhorses that were bred for battle. All the warhorses wore mail over a padded cover, the white cloth completing the caparison that was emblazoned with the insignia of the Sword Brothers. The horses of the sergeants, the coursers, did not have chainmail protection but did wear thick padding that could deflect arrow strikes at least. Conrad and the other novices rode palfreys, which in theory were inferior to the other two classes of horses but suited the youths well enough. They too were protected by thick padding and white caparisons that bore the red sword and cross insignia. Conrad and the other three novices wore mail over their gambesons and white surcoats, though the latter bore no insignia as they were not yet brother knights. And like the sergeants they wore kettle helmets rather than the full-face helms worn by Rudolf, Henke and the others.
It was cool as the first glimmers of red and orange light began to appear on the horizon. Conrad shivered, though he was unsure whether it was because of the cold or through fear. He comforted himself by thinking it was the former. Aside from the stern blessings being issued by Otto there was little sound. Horses grunted and scraped at the ground and men sneezed and coughed, but Master Berthold had ordered that there would be no war cries or trumpet calls. The column would ride from the castle grounds, deploy into line and then assault their objective: the tent of Grand Duke Daugerutis where his great bear banner was pitched. The mercenaries were left to guard the perimeter wall and the castle, though if Caupo’s attack failed then the chances of the horsemen returning to Wenden were slim and the castle would undoubtedly fall. Conrad closed his eyes and prayed to God that He spare Daina if He saw fit.
Spearmen lifted the oak beam from its brackets and then opened the gates to allow Master Berthold to lead the horsemen out from the castle grounds. As the banner of the Sword Brothers carried behind the master exited the gates the sound of thousands of men cheering and horn blasts came from the west – Caupo’s attack.
The horses trotted a hundred paces from the gates and then the brother knights deployed into line, closing up and couching their lances as they moved forward. As though they were on the training field the two files of sergeants behind them divided into two: the left-hand column peeling off to deploy into a single line on the left flank of the brother knights; the right-hand column to form line on the brother knights’ right f
lank. Conrad and the other three novices had been ordered to deploy on the extreme left of the battle line. Rameke and his men, though not trained to fight in the style of the Sword Brothers, were allocated the extreme right of the line – accorded the place of honour in battle.
Once everyone was in line the formation broke into a canter, the riders moving forward knee to knee against a mass of brown shapes ahead who appeared to be running around in confusion as the Lithuanians rose from their slumber and grabbed weapons in response to the alarms being sounded. There was no wind and the banner of Daugerutis hung limply on its flagpole but it and the tent were still visible as the rays of the sun lit up the new morning.
The sounds of battle were coming from the west as Caupo’s men attacked from the river, Lithuanians running in that direction to meet the threat. Conrad glanced right and saw, in the distance, other brown shapes moving south, parallel to the riders – Lithuanians who had been camped to the west of Wenden and who were now being recalled to the main camp that was being assaulted. He smiled. Thus far the line of three score of horsemen had been unnoticed by the enemy.
Then, ahead, he saw enemy horsemen carrying long spears and strange square-like shields, dozens of them. They were riding in an east-west direction, no doubt to reinforce the foot soldiers battling Caupo’s Livs. Master Berthold’s horse broke into a slow gallop and everyone followed his lead. The enemy horsemen, seemingly oblivious to the white-clad threat bearing down on them, continued to ride towards the river, only halting when horns were blown among them to signal danger on their right flank, just at the moment the Sword Brothers struck them.
There was a succession of loud thuds as the Christian lances struck their targets, the points driving through mail and lamellar armour to skewer their owners. Conrad thrust his lance into the belly of a warrior wearing mail on his body, arms and legs, the Lithuanian turning his head and opening his mouth in alarm just as his belly was ripped open. Conrad released the shaft and slid his right hand through the leather strap of the axe that hung on the right side of saddle, in its specially designed leather scabbard, and gripped the handle.
After their heroics at Riga the previous summer Lukas had cautioned them on using swords when in the saddle.
‘Cutting down ill-armed villagers with swords is fine, but in a mêlée with other armoured horsemen the last thing you want to be doing is blunting expensive swords. Weapons that can deliver heavy blows are more preferable.’
And so they had trained using axes and maces when in the saddle. Conrad preferred his axe: a short-hafted weapon just under two feet in length that had a steel blade just over six inches long. It had a metal spike on the opposite side of the blade to enable it to pierce armour and another spike on top of the haft. Along the latter were riveted metal strips called langlets to protect against cuts to the wood. Weighing only two and half pounds, it could be wielded easily from the saddle.
He passed the rider he had just lanced to hack at another horseman behind, standing up in his stirrups to deliver a blow that split the man’s helmet open. He caught a lance blow on his shield and swung his axe left to shatter the arm that had been holding the spisa. The Lithuanian screamed and let go of the weapon, his right arm hanging limply. He tried to manoeuvre his horse away from Conrad’s but in vain as his nose was split open by the novice’s axe, toppling him from the saddle.
Surprise and shock action resulted in the Sword Brothers driving deep into the Lithuanians and killing the enemy at a rate of sixty a minute before the momentum of their assault was halted and a general mêlée ensued. But the pagans were leaderless and demoralised and suddenly began fleeing in all directions, some rallying to the grand duke’s side. Daugerutis had managed to gain his saddle and lead a countercharge against the Sword Brothers, but he led no more than a dozen men and soon found himself alone and surrounded.
His skills as a warrior were formidable though, and he killed two of Rameke’s warriors and wounded two brother knights before Henke caved in his skull with his mace, reducing the grand duke’s head to a bloody pulp atop his torso as he stood in his stirrups and delivered a torrent of blows with his weapon. He had to be ordered to stop by Berthold himself, Henke’s surcoat being painted red with the grand duke’s blood. Thus died Daugerutis and his dream of ruling all the lands north of the River Dvina.
Master Berthold rallied his men around his banner, Rameke also answering his call. The Liv had lost five of his men but he had killed more of the enemy himself, his sword greasy with their blood. Conrad, sweat pouring down his face and neck, nodded to him as they formed into line behind the master. He grinned at Hans, Anton and Johann who all appeared to be unhurt.
Berthold raised his sword and pointed it to the west where a great battle was still raging between Caupo’s Livs and the Lithuanians. The latter had the numerical superiority but they had been surprised, their soldiers were scattered over a wide area and their leader was now dead. Conrad could see groups of men battling other formations but he had no idea who was winning or losing.
‘See ahead,’ shouted Berthold, his helmet in the crook of his left arm, ‘the banner of the brethren of Kremon. We must link up with Master Mathias and his men. God with us!’
Everyone responded by shouting ‘God with us!’ The master replaced his helmet on his head and spurred his horse forward, the brother knights, sergeants, novices and Livs once again forming into line alongside him. The pace was slower now, riders saving the strength of their horses as the sun climbed into the sky and the temperature rose. Conrad did not know how many of the garrison had been killed in the first fight but as he cantered forward, axe in hand and battered shield clutched to his left side, he saw a mass of enemy foot soldiers ahead. And beyond them the white-attired garrison of Kremon was hacking at their ranks. He could see brother knights standing tall in their saddles scything at the enemy with maces and axes like farmers cutting corn, the sun catching the steel edges of the weapons as they chopped left and right.
The Lithuanians appeared to have lost all semblance of order and discipline, their ranks widely spaced and some men already fleeing from the fight. Conrad was now around two hundred paces from the rear ranks of the enemy mass and could see the banners of the Livs who were fighting beside Master Mathias’ men – the symbols of Jumis, Mara and Laima – and above them all a great standard bearing the Christian cross – the flag of Caupo himself.
As Berthold and his men broke into a slow gallop the rear ranks of the Lithuanians turned and saw in horror the riders bearing down on them. Some rammed the butts of their spears in the ground, the points towards the horsemen, but they were too few and did not form a continuous, unbroken line. And so the Sword Brothers guided their horses around them as they smashed into the enemy. The better-armed and armoured Lithuanians were battling the Livs and horsemen of Kremon at the front of the formation. Those with few weapons and no armour were in the rear ranks and felt the full force of Master Berthold’s attack.
Once more Conrad swung left and right with his axe, but this time he was aiming at bare heads and men wearing only tunics as his blade easily found flesh and bone. The horsemen drove deep into the Lithuanians, cutting down dozens for no loss as they slowed their horses and methodically cut down men who appeared to their left and right. A few Lithuanians endeavoured to fight back but most, already disheartened and disorientated by Caupo’s assault, ran for their lives, fleeing in any direction to get away from the dreadful armoured horsemen in their midst. And then the entire Lithuanian formation dissolved into chaos as Caupo’s men pressed forward and the shield wall of their enemy broke.
Several brother knights and sergeants were unhorsed as frightened men barged into their horses in their eagerness to flee, causing the animals to rear up in panic and throw their riders. Master Berthold gave the order for the signaller to sound assembly in an effort to rally his men. Conrad swung his axe at a man running by his right side, who skidded on a piece of churned-up earth and avoided having his head cleaved in two. He was mo
ving so fast that Conrad had no chance to aim another blow at him. He then had to grab his reins and attempt to steady his mount as a flood of unarmed men ran past him. He saw Wenden’s standard and spurred his horse towards it, Hans following.
‘Are you hurt?’ Conrad called to him.
‘No. I still have all my limbs,’ came the reply.
At the banner Henke had thrown off his helmet and was shouting in frustration at the fleeing enemy.
‘Come back and fight, you cowards! We are few and you are many. Come back and fight!’
His mace, arm and surcoat were covered in blood. It was as if he had been dipped in a vat of red paint.
‘Calm yourself, Brother Henke,’ ordered Berthold. ‘And pick your helmet up.’
Henke glared at him but Rudolf at his side gestured with his hand that he should lower his weapon. Henke spat towards the south, the direction in which the bulk of the Lithuanians were fleeing, dismounted and retrieved his helmet.
‘Still alive, then.’
Conrad turned and saw Anton and Johann ride up to him. All four shook hands and congratulated each other, boyish grins on their faces. They were glad to have won a great victory but even gladder to be still breathing. And then a strange silence descended on the battlefield as the killing stopped and the sounds of clashing steel, screams and cries were replaced by the sobs and moans of the wounded.
Master Mathias and what was left of the garrison of Kremon arrived, the caparisons of their horses cut and splattered with blood. Conrad counted only six men with full-face helmets, meaning half the brother knights had been killed or wounded. Mathias and Berthold dismounted and embraced each other, then ordered that everyone dismount and kneel to give thanks to God for their victory and deliverance. Rudolf wanted to organise a pursuit of the Lithuanians but Berthold would have none of it. And so the brother knights, sergeants, novices, Rameke and his warriors knelt on the ground around the banners of Wenden and Kremon and gave thanks to God.