The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  ‘So it would seem,’ said Rudolf. ‘You can put your sword away now, Conrad.’

  Conrad wiped his blade on the brigandine of one of the dead men and slid it back in its scabbard. Henke stood over the man with the severed hand.

  ‘Do you want me to kill them, Rudolf?’

  Rudolf shook his head. ‘No, we take them back to Wenden. They must be tried and convicted before a court.’

  Henke was disappointed. ‘They are going to be hanged so what is the difference?’

  ‘The difference, my friend, is that justice must be seen to be done. Hans, go and fetch the cart.’

  ‘This one might bleed to death first,’ said Henke, looking at the severed hand.

  Lukas went over to one of the corpses, removed the belt around its waist and used it as a tourniquet to staunch the loss of blood from the arm that no longer had a hand.

  Henke looked around and nodded. ‘You did well, Conrad.’

  ‘Thank you, Brother Henke,’ said Conrad.

  ‘You taught him well, Lukas,’ said Ilona as Henke hauled the two wounded men to their feet and bundled them towards the meadow.

  ‘I’ve never seen his trick before.’

  Lukas raised an eyebrow. ‘Trick?’

  ‘Yes. Swapping his sword from one hand to the next and throwing his dagger at one of my attackers. Look, the dagger is still in him. Such skill.’

  Lukas folded his arms and Rudolf shook his head.

  ‘Did I teach you to throw your weapons away or treat them like juggling balls?’ said Lukas calmly.

  Conrad’s cheeks became red with embarrassment. ‘No, Brother Lukas.’

  Lukas wagged a finger at him. ‘No I did not.’ He looked at the corpse with the dagger in its throat.

  ‘You had better retrieve your dagger, unless you have learnt a trick to make it jump back into its sheath.’

  Conrad looked down and shuffled over to the dead man, pulling his dagger from his neck, wiping it and slipping it back into its sheath.

  ‘You can put the dead bodies on the back of the cart when it arrives,’ said Lukas curtly. ‘If I find out about any more tricks your sword will be confiscated. Is that understood?’

  Conrad was crestfallen. ‘Yes, Brother Lukas.’

  However, Rudolf slapped him on the arm and thanked him and Ilona kissed him on the cheek as they went back to their horses, and back at the castle Lukas had nothing but praise for him and Hans and commended their actions to Master Berthold. The two surviving attackers were hanged the next day in the middle of the Lübeck camp alongside the two corpses. Bishop Albert, who was appalled when he heard of the incident, ordered that the bodies were to be left hanging until they rotted. He assembled the great lords in the master’s hall and impressed upon them that the aim of the forthcoming campaign was to liberate the Estonians from their wicked ways and to lead them to Christ’s teachings. Theodoric had been created Bishop of Estonia and it was their solemn duty to make the bishopric a reality.

  It was mid-May when the army marched from Wenden on a sunny spring morning. The meadows were filled with buttercups, ivy and blackthorns and hares peeked above the long grass to observe the great column of horsemen, men on foot, carts and wagons that wound its way northeast towards Estonia.

  Caupo and Thalibald, together with the latter’s two sons, rode with the two bishops, Count Horton, Grand Master Volquin, Sir Helmold and Sir Jordan, the latter leading the newly arrived crusaders from Germany. Caupo provided the forward screen for the army, two hundred of his men on ponies scouting ahead to guard against Estonian attacks. Two score of Liv warriors from Thalibald’s village were moved into Wenden to garrison the castle in the absence of the Sword Brothers and mercenaries. The latter were in a good mood at the prospect of plunder.

  ‘They say that this Lembit is king of all the Estonians,’ said leather face, crossbow over his shoulder as he walked beside the wagon that held spare bolts, spare crossbows and the tents and supplies for his men.

  ‘Really?’ remarked Conrad walking beside him after having helped him and the other crossbowmen load it after striking camp, his boots splattered with mud. Livonia in spring had beautiful fresh mornings but it invariably rained in the afternoon and that meant the track along which the army travelled quickly became muddy and rutted, slowing the rate of advance to five miles a day at best.

  Leather face grinned wickedly. ‘And you know what kings have, don’t you?’

  ‘Crowns?’ offered Conrad.

  ‘Treasuries filled with gold.’

  Conrad saw the mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘There are many fine lords in this army. They will have first call on any treasure, will they not?’

  Leather face tapped his nose with a finger. ‘Rules of war, boy. Any plunder taken must be divided up, the great and the good getting the largest share, the rest divided up among the common soldiery. But taking a king’s palace means that there will be a nice share for everyone. Master Berthold will take care of us.’

  ‘Then you will be able to go back to Germany and buy your alehouse,’ said Conrad, stepping over a muddy puddle.

  ‘Perhaps.’ He looked at Conrad. ‘What about you?’

  ‘My life is here, in Livonia,’ he answered, saying nothing of his desire to marry Daina.

  ‘A life of poverty and loneliness,’ sniffed leather face.

  ‘Loneliness?’

  ‘No women. Once you take the vows of a brother knight that’s it, no women for you.’

  Conrad shrugged. ‘The Sword Brothers have been good to me.’

  ‘Ha! You’ll think differently when you are old and shivering to death in some draughty castle with no woman to warm your bed.’

  ‘If we survive this campaign,’ remarked Conrad.

  ‘No reason why we shouldn’t, not with so many knights and crossbowmen with us. The heathens will either be cut to pieces or shot down where they stand. Should be over in no time at all.’

  But he was entirely wrong concerning the tactics that would be employed by the crusaders.

  When Fellin had been attacked and captured three years before the Bishop of Riga had led just over four hundred men in the siege. Now he sent the four hundred lesser knights that had sailed with Sir Jordan from Germany, together with the entire complement of Lübeck’s foot soldiers, to besiege Fellin. They were accompanied by a hundred of Caupo’s Livs who were to act as scouts to warn of the approach of any Estonian relief force. Should such a relief force approach the fort the crusaders were ordered to immediately march the few miles north to Lehola where the main crusader army was located.

  *****

  ‘They will be here in two days, perhaps three.’

  Lembit leaned on the timber walls of Lehola and stared south, across the endless expanse of forest, lakes, rivers and meadows that filled Saccalia. The land looked so peaceful, the sky filled with white clouds and the occasional flock of corncrakes.

  ‘Send orders to the local headmen to bring their warriors here,’ he told Rusticus, ‘together with what food they can carry, their livestock as well. Tell them to burn their villages after they have escorted the women, young and old to their forest hiding places.’

  Rusticus was surprised. ‘Burn the villages?’

  Lembit continued to stare south. ‘The crusaders will either use them as stables for their horses or barracks for their soldiers. I see no reason to furnish them with accommodation.’

  The crusaders were moving slowly north, guarding their multitude of wagons that contained their infernal machines that could batter down timber walls that had stood for centuries. Their Liv allies scouted far ahead of the bishop’s army, making it almost impossible to mount a surprise attack against the men of iron.

  With the advent of spring Lembit had sent word to the other chiefs but only the Jerwen and Wierlanders had pledged troops, and his riders had informed him that they were still many miles away. Kalju of the Ungannians, alarmed that his land was between the crusaders in the west and the Novgorodians in the east, had
refused to send any warriors, informing him that he needed every man to defend his own lands. The Rotalians had been attacked during the winter and their villages raided, thus Nigul refused to leave his kingdom or allow any of his warriors to fight beside Lembit.

  ‘Where was Saccalia when my people were being raped and murdered and their homes torched?’ Nigul had written in his letter.

  For his part Alva, leader of the Harrien, sat in Varbola and trembled at the thought of the crusaders raiding his territory as they had done to Rotalia.

  Rusticus articulated his thoughts. ‘They will not arrive in time.’

  ‘I assume you mean our allies, Edvin and Jaak?’

  Rusticus spat over the ramparts. ‘If they come at all.’

  Lembit turned away from the south and walked to the steps that led to the ground level of his stronghold. ‘You should have more faith in the other tribes.’

  Rusticus trailed after him. ‘Why?’

  Lembit stopped halfway down the wooden steps and faced his deputy. ‘Because they all know that if Saccalia falls then so do they.’

  He continued down the steps and walked briskly to his hall, Rusticus following. Already Lehola was a hive if activity, his wolf shields manning the walls and towers and smiths hammering on anvils in the forge as they mended helmets and fashioned blades. The armoury was well stocked with spears, axes, shields and arrows. The menfolk of the villages would bring their own weapons and food, and together with the supplies held in the fort’s storerooms Lembit hoped that he would be able to hold out until his allies relieved him. Even though only two of the tribes were coming to his aid he reckoned on each chief marching with at least a thousand warriors. His wolf shields numbered five hundred men and he could muster at least fifteen hundred warriors from the surrounding villages. And the fort of Fellin was also manned by two hundred of his men who would be a thorn in the side of the crusaders when they came. The Christians would not be able to besiege Lehola and fight off a relief force. They would eventually be forced to retire and when that happened he would follow and harry them every step of the way back to Livonia.

  His plan rested on the crusaders’ inability to take Lehola, the strongest fortress in all Saccalia. Built on a great mound that had a dry moat surrounding its entirety, it was three times the size of Fellin. Rectangular in shape, it measured four hundred yards in length and was two hundred yards wide. Its timber walls contained thirteen towers, two of which flanked the main gates positioned in the middle of the southern wall. Inside the perimeter were storerooms, a forge, stables and huts that provided living quarters for the garrison. In the northern sector of the fortress was an inner citadel – the original stronghold – that had its own timber wall, towers in all four corners and which contained Lembit’s great hall, more storerooms, huts, stables and the armoury. No enemy had ever breached Lehola’s high walls since the first chief of the Saccalians had built it hundreds of years before.

  That afternoon Lembit led a hundred warriors south when a scout rode into the fort with news that the crusaders were less than ten miles away. With the headmen from the surrounding villages still on their way, he had to slow the bishop’s advance else the Christians would be at Lehola’s gates before they arrived.

  The Estonians rode due south for half a mile before heading west into the forest for two miles and then moving south once more. The crusaders were moving along the ancient track that led from Lehola south towards Fellin, which meandered its way through deep woods that were seldom ventured into by travellers. However, there were more ancient trails through the forest and Lembit and his men rode along one now as they journeyed south.

  They moved slowly, their ponies walking through the spruce and pine trees. No one spoke to maintain stealth, though there was little need for silence as the raucous noises on their left would have drowned out any voices. They were now parallel to the crusaders as the latter moved north, Lembit estimating the distance between them to be a quarter of a mile, perhaps less. He held up his hand to halt the column, removed his helmet and craned his neck to listen. He heard muffled shouts and chopping noises. The crusaders were collecting firewood. He smiled and replaced his helmet. He dismounted, pointed towards the noise and led his pony on foot towards it. His men did likewise, now advancing in a line towards the left flank of the crusader army. After a hundred paces the ponies were left in the care of every tenth man, Lembit leading the rest on as they moved slowly and silently through the undergrowth.

  Each man carried a shield, two javelins and a sword at his hip. Dressed in varying shades of browns and greens they blended into the background perfectly as they approached the enemy.

  *****

  Conrad threw the bundle of firewood into the back of the cart.

  ‘Any sign of the Estonians?’ he asked Rameke.

  ‘None.’

  His father had been riding in the company of the bishops, Grand Master Volquin, Caupo and the crusader lords, but he had sent his men to scout ahead and on the flanks of the crusader army as it inched its way towards Lehola. Rameke, now nineteen years old, led his own company of a hundred men, his elder brother Waribule also commanding a similar number of warriors. Conrad still felt like a boy in his friend’s presence despite their near similarity in age. Rameke had great responsibility whereas he was still a novice.

  ‘They must have locked themselves in their fort,’ said Conrad, slotting the two-handed axe into the rack fitted to the cart’s side.

  Rameke turned and looked at the wagons, carts, foot soldiers and horsemen that filled the track north and south as far as the eye could see.

  ‘The bishop’s army is too large and well armed for Lembit to risk meeting it in battle.’

  Anton threw another pile of firewood into the cart. ‘He prefers to starve to death rather than dying in battle.’

  Other carts pulled by a single mule stood at the edge of the forest, ready to receive the wood collected by other foraging parties – it was as well that Estonia was blanketed with forests otherwise the army would have no fuel for its campfires.

  Hans and Johann threw their loads into the cart, which was barely a quarter full. Warriors stood behind Rameke, their shields resting on the ground as they chatted among themselves. They and their leader had spent the whole morning patrolling the forest, cautiously moving through the undergrowth in search of the enemy. It was hot and airless among the trees and they were tired and thirsty. Even in the open the temperature was rising, Conrad and the others having taken off their helmets and mail shirts to lighten their load, leaving them on the front of the cart. They still carried their swords and daggers, of course, and had their shields slung on their backs.

  ‘I had better report to my father,’ said Rameke, ‘and inform him that I have become well acquainted with Estonia’s trees and wildlife.’ He turned to his subordinate behind him.

  ‘Give the order to the men.’

  A piece of dead wood fell from the cart and he stooped to pick it up, just at the moment when a javelin flew through the air to hit his subordinate in the chest. There was a succession of thuds as other javelins struck the standing Liv warriors. One hit the mule harnessed to the cart, causing it to stumble and collapse.

  ‘Ambush!’ screamed Conrad as he grabbed Rameke and hauled him behind the cart, Hans, Anton and Johann also making a beeline for the safety of the cart. More javelins came from the trees and then there was a mighty roar as the enemy charged.

  Rameke’s Livs were the first to suffer the full brunt of the attack, many being speared and cut down before they had time to react. But the foraging parties – foot soldiers mainly – also stood little chance as the Estonians swept from the forest.

  Rameke jumped up as the first Estonians appeared. ‘To me, to me, rally to me.’

  He drew his sword, brought up his large round shield to cover his torso and charged the enemy. Conrad and the others had no time to don their mail or helmets as they raced after him. Horns were blowing among the Livs and drums and trumpets were s
ounding up and down the column as the nearest companies became aware of the attack.

  The best form of defence is attack, that was what Lukas had taught them, so Conrad and the other novices charged the enemy as Rameke’s men formed a shield fort around their leader, fending off the Estonians with their spears as he organised a counterattack. Half a dozen Estonians diverted themselves from attacking the Livs to assault the novices, who came at them in a line. Conrad ran screaming at an opponent carrying a shield and wielding an axe above his head, no doubt hoping to split open Conrad’s exposed skull. But the blow was too obvious, Conrad barging his shield into his enemy’s and positioning his sword so that the man’s forearm would slam into its edge as he attacked with his axe. This is what happened and the bone in his arm was shattered on the steel. Conrad ducked as the man’s grip on his axe was broken and the weapon fell to the ground. He swiftly brought his sword down, flicked his wrist and drove an arm of its cross-guard into one of the Estonian’s eye sockets. It was a neat trick, for which he mentally apologised to Brother Lukas.

  The man crumpled to the ground where Conrad stepped over him. He saw another warrior coming at him, shorter than him but broader in the shoulders, long hair coming from under his gilded helmet. He saw Conrad and Conrad saw the scar on his left cheek and they both recognised each other.

  Lembit, accompanied by four other warriors who attacked Conrad’s companions, smiled at him. Conrad thought himself an accomplished swordsman but Lembit’s attacks were deft and powerful and he had difficulty in standing his ground. He leapt aside when Lembit attempted a sideswipe with his sword, the edge of his blade ripping the fabric of Conrad’s gambeson. His shield was splintered by a succession of strikes, the last of which he managed to stop with his cross-guard. He smashed his shield into Lembit’s and then unleashed a series of powerful attacks that forced the Estonian back. But Lembit was quick on his feet and he managed to sidestep, duck and dodge the blows, though the last one cut away part of his shield.

  ‘You are good, Conrad Wolff,’ he said mockingly, ‘but not that good.’