The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  The fighting in the spring had depleted the garrisons of the respective castles and so Wenden mustered only nine brother knights, twenty-eight sergeants and four novices for the journey to the Dvina. Master Bertram brought ten brother knights and fifteen sergeants from Segewold, while the men of Kremon numbered only six brother knights and ten sergeants. Due to the need for haste it had been decided that only horsemen would make the journey south, the mercenaries remaining at Wenden under the command of Master Thaddeus to ensure the castle and its civilian occupants were safe. The brother knights rode palfreys and led their warhorses and the sergeants and novices led ponies loaded with spare weapons, armour, fodder and food.

  Caupo came with a hundred of his mounted warriors and Rameke brought a score of his own men plus half a dozen scouts who would lead the way to the Dvina. He told Conrad that it would take five or six days to reach the river. The castle courtyard was crammed with men and horses as the three masters conferred and brother knights and sergeants sweated in their armour under a clear blue sky.

  ‘I hope the Lithuanians do not flee across the river,’ he said to his friend on the morning they left Wenden. ‘I have a score to settle with those who killed my father and brother.’

  ‘Perhaps we will invade Lithuania,’ said Conrad hopefully, not really knowing where Lithuania was.

  ‘The king has said that the bishop wishes to complete the conquest of Estonia before he converts the Lithuanians,’ replied Rameke.

  ‘How is Daina?’ enquired Conrad casually.

  Rameke was unimpressed by his friend’s interest in his sister. He shrugged. ‘Like all women, fussing around and getting in the way.’

  ‘Any suitors?’

  ‘I will tell you now what I told you before,’ said Rameke dismissively. ‘Who would want to marry my sister? She will no doubt be a tiresome burden on my household. Just one more problem that I have to deal with now I am chief.’

  Conrad was seized by joy and began whistling as Master Berthold gave the order to mount up and the Sword Brothers trotted from the courtyard and filed across the bridge over the moat to descend the track to the perimeter gatehouse. Conrad was still whistling cheerily as Rameke left him to ride beside Caupo and the three masters at the head of the column. The sun was shining and the Lithuanian threat had been dealt with. All that now remained was to destroy those pagans still besieging Kokenhusen, after which the bishop would lead a retributive raid into Lithuania itself to deal the unbelievers a heavy blow.

  But the Lithuanians were about to spring a nasty surprise.

  Chapter 17

  Five miles north of the Dvina the Sword Brothers encountered a patrol of crusaders riding towards them. They were led by a knight in a full-face helmet whose horse was covered by a magnificent red caparison and whose shield bore the emblem of a silver unicorn. Behind him were a dozen other knights wearing yellow, blue and green surcoats over their mail armour. They instantly rode up to the head of the column where the castellans of Wenden, Segewold and Kremon were located. Rameke, having found their conversation boring, had taken his leave of the masters to ride beside Conrad and the other novices, finding their company much more agreeable.

  ‘Those are crusaders from Germany,’ remarked Anton, ‘we must be near the river.’

  ‘And nearer the Lithuanians,’ said Rameke. ‘I pray that they have not fled back to their homeland.’

  ‘It does not matter,’ said Johann. ‘I have heard the brother knights talking of the bishop leading a crusade against Lithuania to make it Christian.’

  In front of them the brother knights sat on their horses and chatted to each other as the crusaders exchanged information with the masters. Conrad saw Master Berthold gesticulating with his arms before wheeling his horse around and riding back down the column. He was surprised when he halted his horse in front of Rameke.

  ‘Joyous news, Rameke. I have just been informed that your father and brother are alive and are but a mile away, in the camp of Sir Helmold of Plesse who leads the crusaders.’

  Rameke said nothing but closed his eyes and gave thanks to God, while Conrad slapped him on the back and Anton, Hans and Johann cheered, earning them a glare from Master Berthold.

  ‘Come,’ he said, ‘we shall ride to the camp together so you can see the father and brother you thought dead and I can greet an old friend.’

  News quickly spread among the Sword Brothers that Thalibald and Waribule were alive and when the march recommenced everyone was in high spirits. Walter said that it was truly a miracle and that God had protected the two Livs just as surely as he had watched over Daniel in the lion’s den. Conrad was ecstatic, not least because when she heard that her father and brother were alive Daina would be beside herself with joy, and if she was happy then he was happy.

  It took but a short ride to reach the crusader camp, a sprawling collection of tents of varying sizes, a few pavilions and a myriad of carts. Squires as young as ten sat by tents cleaning helmets and armour, while others came carrying firewood from the forest next to which the camp had been sited. Horses stood flicking their tails as farriers examined their hooves and knights practised with their swords. The camp had been pitched in a large meadow between the forest and a lake that was used for watering the horses of the knights and their squires and the oxen and mules that hauled the wagons and carts. Though the camp was relatively small and contained none of the usual whores, women and children who followed armies like a plague of rats, the air already stank of horse dung, leather and sweat and a permanent pall of smoke hung in the air from the multitude of campfires that burned day and night.

  The track that the Sword Brothers had ridden along continued to wend its way south through the trees and by the sides of lakes until it eventually reached the Dvina. It was an ancient route, perhaps hundreds of years old, that had linked the settlement of Kokenhusen with those in the north near the Gauja, but was now used to link the crusader castles in the north and south of Livonia. Master Berthold, following discussions with Bertram and Mathias, decided to pitch their tents directly south of the crusader camp, on the eastern side of the track where the trees were less dense and where there was access to the fresh water of a stream. The order was given – ‘Make camp, lord brothers, on God’s behalf’ – and then the novices and sergeants went to work erecting the tents while the masters and Rameke rode away to the pavilion of Sir Helmold to pay their respects to the commander of the army and embrace Thalibald and Waribule. Conrad would have liked to have accompanied them but he and the other novices had much to do: erecting the chapel tent in the middle of the camp, together with the tents of the masters and the tent where the meals would be served. The tents of the brother knights were pitched around these, with those of the sergeants and novices forming a third, outer circle. Then the horses had to be unsaddled, fed and watered, after which they were groomed and examined for any wounds. To be fair the brother knights assisted the sergeants in their tasks and soon the camp was assembled and the banner of the Sword Brothers was flying from a flagpole erected outside the chapel tent.

  It was late afternoon by the time they had finished. Conrad lay on the ground outside the small tent he would share with Hans, Anton and Johann, the other three also resting on the ground and staring up at the puffy white clouds in the sky.

  ‘What’s this? Don’t you know that the devil makes work for idle hands?’

  Conrad groaned when he heard Henke’s voice, and his heart sank when he saw the grinning brother knight carrying shovels.

  ‘On your feet,’ he smirked, throwing the shovels on the ground, ‘there are latrine pits that need digging. Shouldn’t take you more than two hours.’

  Conrad jumped to his feet and picked up one of the tools.

  ‘Have you heard anything about Thalibald, Brother Henke?’ he enquired.

  ‘Your future father-in-law, you mean?’ replied Henke with an evil glint in his eye. ‘He is well, which is a minor miracle considering he was a guest of the Lithuanians. He was lucky th
ey didn’t slice his balls off.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’ said Hans, horrified.

  Henke threw him a spade as Anton and Johann picked up their shovels.

  ‘Why?’ replied Henke, ‘because that is what pagans do, though to be fair the armies in Germany I fought in did much the same and worse.’

  ‘Surely Christian armies would not do such things?’ said Johann.

  Henke laughed. ‘Christian, pagan or Saracen, it doesn’t matter once the killing starts. When we get back to Wenden ask Master Thaddeus to tell you about the antics of King Richard of England in the Holy Land. Now there was a godly monarch, had over two thousand Saracen women and children executed at a place called Acre.’

  Conrad was shocked. ‘Surely not?’

  ‘King Richard wasn’t like you, Conrad,’ said Henke, ‘he didn’t object to killing women and children or selling them as slaves for the greater good.’

  ‘Which was what?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘To take Jerusalem back from the Saracens, of course,’ said Henke.

  ‘But Jerusalem is still held by the Saracens,’ replied Conrad, ‘Master Thaddeus told me.’

  A wicked smile crept over Henke’s face. ‘King Richard obviously didn’t kill enough Saracens otherwise God would have given him victory.’

  ‘Where is King Richard now?’ asked Hans.

  ‘Dead,’ answered Henke, ‘stupid bastard got himself killed in a siege in France, or so I heard.’

  ‘God rest his soul,’ said Anton.

  ‘Had the Sword Brothers been in the Holy Land with Richard,’ said Henke, ‘then he would have taken Jerusalem because God loves the Sword Brothers. And do you know why that is?’

  They looked at him with blank expressions. Henke shook his head and tutted.

  ‘Because the Sword Brothers fill hell with the souls of dead pagans. Now get digging those latrine pits, and not too close to the stream. We don’t want half the brethren falling ill with bad guts before the rout of the Lithuanians.’

  He sauntered away to leave the novices to their burdensome task. Conrad began walking towards where they would dig the latrines. They had dug so many in their short time with the order that they knew the rules off by heart: latrines should be dug downhill of the camp, away from the water supply to avoid drinking filthy water and downwind if possible.

  ‘Henke is in an unusually good mood,’ commented Hans.

  ‘The prospect of imminent slaughter always seems to cheer him,’ remarked Conrad dryly.

  ‘Next year we will be brother knights,’ said Anton.

  ‘And then no more digging latrine pits,’ opined Johann.

  They all laughed but Conrad did not believe that he would ever wear the white surcoat of the Sword Brothers. He believed more than ever that his destiny was to be with Daina and he began to whistle as he waded through the stream with the others to dig the pits a safe distance from it.

  Later, after they had finished their back-breaking work and lay, exhausted on the ground, Rameke visited them. He looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he kept grinning like a small child so happy was he.

  ‘My father and brother are well,’ he told them. ‘They were unharmed by the Lithuanians though nearly killed by Sir Helmold’s men.’

  ‘Where is the bishop?’ said Conrad.

  Rameke crouched down beside him. ‘He marches east along the Dvina with the bulk of the crusader army, relieving the besieged castles as he does so. When he has relieved Kokenhusen he will send word to Sir Helmold and then we will strike south at the same time as the bishop attacks from the west. The Lithuanians will be crushed.’

  ‘When will the bishop arrive?’ queried Hans.

  Rameke shrugged. ‘I do not know, but Sir Helmold says that a great number of knights and foot accompanies him.’ He looked sheepishly at them. ‘He is giving a great feast in his pavilion tonight in celebration of my father’s deliverance. I wish you could all attend.’

  ‘We are but lowly novices,’ said Johann.

  ‘Fit only to dig latrine pits,’ added Conrad, stretching his back.

  Rameke stood. ‘It will not always be so. Soon you too will be knights and then we shall have great feasts together where we shall boast of our victories over the pagans.’

  Conrad hauled himself up and offered his hand to Rameke. ‘Enjoy the feast.’

  They all shook his hand before he regained his saddle and rode back to the crusader camp.

  ‘What are we eating tonight?’ asked Hans, the talk of food arousing his ever-present hunger.

  ‘Deer if Brother Lukas allows me to take a crossbow into the woods,’ said Anton.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Conrad, ‘let us go and find him so we can fill the great space that is Hans’ belly.’

  Lukas gave his permission for the boys to mount a hunting party and that night they ate well after killing a roe deer that they skinned and butchered, roasting its flesh over a fire as darkness descended over the land. Their meal was not as grand as the feast given by Sir Helmold where squires in his livery served guests game that the crusader knights had hunted – wild boar, deer, elk and black grouse – washed down by copious quantities of wine that the lord had brought from his estates in Germany. It was a most enjoyable banquet and went on long into the night, becoming noisier as the guests became more inebriated.

  *****

  In Livonia in spring darkness came four hours before midnight. Sir Helmold’s feast had begun just as the sun was sinking in the west and two hours later the noise coming from his pavilion could be heard hundreds of paces away. Stecse knelt beside Vetseke among the trees and observed the flicker of campfires between the trunks. He had decided to trust the Liv prince who had agreed to lead him into the forest that stretched from the Dvina for miles inland, the green canopy only being interrupted by lakes, meadows, settlements and smaller rivers that dotted the landscape.

  He had brought a hundred of his most trusted men with him, which, together with the equal number of Vetseke’s soldiers, made for a raiding party that was both manageable but also strong enough to inflict damage on the crusaders. Vetseke had reported that the crusaders had made camp and shown no indication that they would move until the bishop arrived. Stecse had decided that if they would not visit him then he would call upon them.

  The hands and faces of the raiders were blackened with soot, they wore no mail or metal armour or helmets, being equipped with leather breastplates, caps and boots. They carried blackened shields and spears and axes in their hands so there were no jangling belts or scabbards. Not that it mattered: the noise coming from the pavilion in the centre of the camp was enough to wake the dead.

  ‘The crusaders are celebrating their victory already,’ hissed Vetseke.

  ‘Then we should avail ourselves of their hospitality,’ whispered Stecse. ‘The gods be with you.’

  ‘And you,’ replied Vetseke.

  Stecse tapped his subordinate next to him on the arm and got to his feet. He and Vetseke then began moving slowly towards the fires and noise ahead, carefully feeling their way in the blackness of the forest. Their men had been ordered to remain silent until they reached the enemy camp, after which they were to kill and burn quickly before withdrawing back into the forest. They had also been told that the wounded would be left behind and the same went for those who were foolish enough to be captured. As the volume of noise coming from Sir Helmold’s pavilion increased, two hundred men silently crept towards the crusader camp.

  *****

  The riotous laughter coming from the pavilion seemed louder as night fell and quiet descended over the land. Guards had been posted around the Sword Brother camp and sergeants and brother knights gathered round campfires to talk in muted conversations. Conrad, tired from the exertions of pitching the tents, tending to the horses and digging the latrine trenches, tried to get some sleep but the noise of the celebrations kept him awake.

  ‘Are you awake, Conrad?’ said Hans.

  ‘Yes
.’

  ‘Sounds as though the feast is going well.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  There was a great cheer from the pavilion.

  Anton sat up. ‘This is no good. I’m on guard duty in an hour anyway.’

  He reached over to his boots, a single candle burning in a lantern hanging on the tent pole providing illumination. He looked at Johann beside him who was snoring soundly.

  ‘I sometimes think that a herd of elk could stampede through camp and Johann would sleep through it all.’

  Conrad and Hans laughed as another bout of riotous laughter came from Sir Helmold’s tent. Then Conrad heard a different sound, a high-pitched scream that he had heard many times on the battlefield. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up and a shiver went down his spine.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ he said.

  Anton pulled on his boots. ‘Hear what?’

  There was another scream, fainter but still discernible.

  Hans jumped up. ‘I heard that.’

  Conrad did likewise and kicked Johann.

  ‘Get up, Johann, we are under attack.’

  They pulled on their boots, grabbed their swords, shields and helmets and rushed outside. Henke stood beside the campfire outside their tent, along with Rudolf and Lukas. Henke saw them.

  ‘We heard it too.’

  He and the others had drawn their swords and were looking towards the crusader camp. Suddenly the alarm bell outside the chapel tent began ringing and men began running from their tents or racing to their shelters to gather their weapons. And in the crusader camp there was a plethora of shouts and screams. Instead of racing wildly towards the source of the tumult the brethren and sergeants were trained to rally at the chapel tent to receive their orders. They did so now where Rudolf, in the absence of the castellans of Wenden, Segewold and Kremon, who were at the feast and perhaps already dead, bellowed orders.

  ‘We march to save the masters of our order. Secure Sir Helmold’s pavilion. God with us!’

  Eighty voices shouted ‘God with us’ and followed Rudolf as he ran through the Sword Brother camp and then stood at its northern end as shouts and war cries came from the crusader tents immediately to the north. Some of the tents were on fire, illuminating figures running and fighting and horses and mules bolting. It was chaos.