The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  ‘I asked for this meeting because both our kingdoms face a great peril. Every year the Bishop of Riga brings more crusaders to Livonia and they advance ever further east. Once the principalities of Kokenhusen and Gerzika paid homage to Polotsk but now they are garrisoned by the Sword Brothers. The banners of the church of Rome now fly less than fifty miles from the walls of my city.’

  ‘What has this to do with Novgorod?’ said Mstislav.

  ‘A great deal,’ replied Boris. ‘My spies inform me that Lembit raises the banner of rebellion among the Estonian tribes and hopes to maintain the independence of his people, while the Oeselians also fight the crusaders.’

  ‘You wish to join Lembit and the pirates against the bishop?’ asked Mstislav, unsure of where the conversation was going.

  Boris shook his head and batted away a group of midges as a servant poured wine into silver cups.

  ‘I propose that Novgorod seizes Ungannia to halt the eastward expansion of the crusaders. You have fought the Ungannians before, I believe.’

  ‘Many times,’ said Domash, ‘they provide good targets for our spears.’

  ‘Why don’t you conquer it?’ said Mstislav bluntly.

  ‘For one thing,’ said Boris calmly, ‘it is over a hundred miles from Polotsk and to conquer and hold it would require a great many soldiers. Soldiers that I will need to face the crusaders when they continue their march along the Dvina. But Ungannia lies next to Novgorod.’

  He smiled at Domash. ‘Just a short distance from Pskov.’

  ‘I have no interest in Ungannia,’ said Mstislav.

  Boris swatted away more midges that were entering the tent in greater numbers. ‘You will when Lembit is crushed by the bishop and you discover the Sword Brothers building stone castles on your border. Then, my lord, it will be too late.’

  ‘The bishop would not dare attack Novgorod,’ declared Domash, crushing a midge on the lip of his cup.

  ‘They would not have to,’ answered Boris. ‘If they control the Gauja and Dvina then they also control the trade of both our kingdoms. In such circumstances they could stop goods being transported along both rivers or impose such heavy tolls upon them that Livonia would grow rich as we were impoverished.’

  Mstislav sat back in his chair and looked at Boris. He may have been half his age and slight of build but he obviously had a brain and had given this matter a great deal of thought.

  ‘What you say is only half true,’ said Mstislav at length. ‘You are right that if the crusaders control both the Dvina and Gauja then they can impose sanctions upon our goods. But you seem to forget that if they halt trade then they too will suffer. Riga itself will wither and die and in turn Livonia will be harmed.’

  ‘The bishop cares not for riches or great cities,’ answered Boris. ‘He fights a religious war, lord, against those that his church has deemed pagans and heretics. The Orthodox Church that we love is viewed as heretical by the bishop and the Sword Brothers. They will not rest until it is erased from the earth.’

  ‘It is as my prince states,’ said the priest, his brow creased into a frown.

  ‘And you would know about erasing religions,’ Gleb shot at him.

  ‘Polotsk did away with the Skomorokhs many years ago,’ sneered the priest. ‘They are the servants of the devil.’

  Gleb laughed. ‘And when the crusaders do away with you I shall be in Polotsk’s city square to see you burn.’

  The two officers seated either side of Boris jumped up and swore at Gleb, threatening him with death. Domash also rose and looked at them menacingly.

  ‘Gleb is under my protection and I will have words with any man who threatens his life.’

  Boris ordered his two officers to sit down as Mstislav indicated that Domash should do likewise.

  ‘When you did away with my kind did you also get rid of the man who knew where the best place was to pitch tents?’ remarked Gleb mischievously. ‘I’m being eaten alive by these midges.’

  ‘Silence, Gleb,’ barked Mstislav as the priest glared at the imp who toyed with his golden moustache.

  ‘If I was the Bishop of Riga,’ said Boris calmly, ‘I would be smiling at two of my enemies squabbling like small children.’

  ‘Perhaps Lembit will defeat the crusaders and save us all the trouble,’ suggested Mstislav.

  ‘Do you really believe that, lord?’ said Boris.

  Mstislav did not, and nor did he believe that the crusaders would stop with the conquest of Estonia.

  ‘If Novgorod makes war against Ungannia what will Polotsk do to support it?’

  ‘I will give you two thousand horsemen as a sign of my goodwill, to serve under your command as you see fit,’ said Boris.

  Mstislav rubbed his beard. ‘Five thousand.’

  The two officers flanking Boris protested but he waved their remonstrations away.

  ‘Very well, five thousand horsemen. When will you begin your campaign?’

  ‘In two months,’ answered Mstislav.

  The journey back to Pskov was uneventful, Mstislav and Domash making plans for the forthcoming attack against the Estonians.

  ‘As soon as Boris’ horsemen reach Pskov,’ Mstislav said to Domash, ‘we will march west. This time we go to conquer, not to raid. So no burning villages. We will need the native population. Where is the Ungannian stronghold?’

  ‘Odenpah,’ answered Domash. ‘Take that and Ungannia will fall into our laps like a ripe apple.’

  ‘He is clever,’ remarked Gleb idly.

  ‘Who?’ said Domash.

  ‘The ruler of Polotsk. He gets you two to fight his battles for him.’

  ‘I thought that at first,’ replied Mstislav, ‘but what he said about the crusaders was true. If we do nothing then they will be at Novgorod’s borders so we might as well take the opportunity presented to us while the bishop is preoccupied with Lembit.’

  ‘At least we will have an additional five thousand horsemen to assist us,’ said Domash.

  ‘You will need them,’ remarked Gleb casually. ‘The conquest of Ungannia will not be as easy as you think.’

  ‘Did you see that in a vision?’ enquired Mstislav.

  Gleb cast him a sly look. ‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’

  *****

  That summer war was visited upon the Estonian people. Bishop Albert was delayed in his journey back to Riga, but when he did land at the head of a great flotilla of cogs he was possessed of a great fury when Archdeacon Stefan and Grand Master Volquin informed him that Lembit had treacherously renounced the Christian faith and returned to his pagan ways. In a surprising move he had ejected the priests who had gone into Saccalia to preach the word of God rather than having them executed. Perhaps he thought that by doing so he would win the bishop’s forgiveness but in this he was wrong. Lembit gathered his forces at Lehola and called upon the other chiefs to rally to him there. But Grand Master Volquin was above all a strategist and counselled deception against Lembit the deceiver. Troops were sent to Wenden and patrols were despatched from the castle north to give the illusion of a gathering army, but the real army was forming at Treiden. Reinforced by Caupo’s warriors, the bishop and grand master marched directly north into western Saccalia, Rotalia and then into Harrien, plundering the countryside of its supplies and livestock. Alva and his warriors, gathered at Lehola, found out too late that their homes were being destroyed and by the time they returned home Harrien had been devastated. Nigul had not even bothered to acknowledge Lembit’s summons but had instead mustered his warriors to meet the bishop. It did him little good, he and his men being brushed aside with ease by the men of iron and Nigul and half his men falling in battle. Afterwards Rotalia ceased to exist as an independent kingdom.

  To the west Kalju and his people felt the full wrath of the Novgorodians as ten thousand Russians marching from Pskov assaulted Ungannia. They swept through Ungannia like a plague of rats, torching villages and crops in the fields, carrying off women and children and butchering livestock. To Domash it w
as like his raids of plunder years before when he and his horsemen had ridden through the lands of the Estonians and Livs at will, spreading terror and misery over the land, even crossing the Dvina to butcher Lithuanians. Then he had led but two hundred men at most but this time he commanded ten thousand. He cut a swathe of destruction through Kalju’s kingdom but when he finally came before the great timber walls of Odenpah he found its battlements crowded with warriors and the banner of the golden eagle flying from its towers.

  He rode up and down in front of the walls as his horsemen surrounded the fort in an impressive display of strength. But he had no siege engines to batter the Ungannians into submission and his men had destroyed all the food supplies and livestock in the area instead of capturing them. After a week of surrounding the fort he was forced to send foraging parties far and wide so he could feed his men. After three weeks his men grew mutinous at having to live off berries and what they could catch in the rivers and lakes or hunt in the woods, and so he gave the order to withdraw back to Pskov. He felt satisfied that he had cowered the Ungannians but Mstislav was furious at his mishandling of the campaign.

  The Prince of Novgorod had achieved far more with but a tenth of the number of men under Domash’s command. He had ridden west from the city to raid Wierland, the purpose of his expedition being to distract the Estonians and make Domash’s capture of Odenpah easier. In the event Domash failed and Mstislav retreated but his incursion did cause Edvin to abandon Lembit at Lehola and take his warriors back to Wierland. As autumn approached Saccalia was largely undisturbed but at Lehola only Jaak’s warriors still remained camped outside its walls, though a few others did appear at the end of September.

  The ‘rock’ was tired and irritable when he slid off his pony in front of Lembit’s great hall at Lehola. It had been a long ride and his pony cast its head down as it was led away to the stables, the beasts of his bodyguard similarly being led away.

  ‘Treat them well,’ he called after the stable hands, ‘they’ve earned it.’

  ‘Greetings, brother.’ He turned to see Lembit, Rusticus and Jaak walk from the hall, their tidy, clean appearance contrasting to the dirt that covered his cloak, smeared his face and caked his boots.

  ‘A hard ride?’ asked Jaak.

  ‘Hard enough,’ snapped Kalju.

  He looked at Lembit. ‘I need warriors to ride back with me to Odenpah.’

  Lembit smiled and placed an arm around his shoulder. ‘Come, take refreshment with me.’

  He led Kalju back into the hall, ordering Rusticus to see to the needs of the fifteen Ungannian warriors who had accompanied their leader. But a wash and a hearty meal did nothing to sweeten Kalju’s mood as he paced up and down in front of Lembit as the latter sat in his chair listening to his words.

  ‘Ungannia is a wasteland, Lembit, laid low by the Russians while I sat on my arse here waiting for an attack that never came.’

  He stopped pacing and faced Lembit. ‘They will return, of that I am certain. Therefore I ask you for a thousand men so I can strengthen my border forts to meet the next assault from Pskov.’

  ‘A thousand men?’ scoffed Rusticus. ‘Do you think that we grow warriors in the fields?’

  Kalju looked at Lembit’s hefty subordinate. ‘I think that the warriors of Saccalia drink and eat well while others battle Estonia’s foes.’

  Rusticus’ nostrils flared at the insult but Lembit waved him away.

  ‘I sympathise with your predicament, Kalju, but you must understand that Saccalia is also in peril. My scouts report a great army mustering at Wenden. I need every warrior here.’

  ‘What of you, Jaak,’ said Kalju, ‘will you lend me some of your men?’

  ‘Jerwen must stand with Saccalia,’ the chief replied, his sly eyes narrowing.

  ‘And who will stand with Ungannia?’ said Kalju.

  He received no reply to his question. Lembit continued to profess sympathy but reminded Kalju that the Russians had also attacked Wierland and that the Bishop of Riga had killed Nigul, scattered his army and had also ravaged Harrien and Rotalia. Kalju pointed out that not even the bishop could be in two places at once and the fact that he had campaigned in the west indicated that the forces at Wenden would probably not march against him, especially since autumn was here.

  At this Lembit let his calm demeanour slip. ‘Autumn? My fort at Fellin was assaulted by the crusaders in the depth of winter. And do you not remember that we battled the Russians with snow on our boots? It is a risk I cannot take.’

  ‘And that is your final word on the subject?’ fumed Kalju.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Then there is nothing left to say.’

  The Ungannian chief left the next morning, a keen easterly wind ruffling his cloak as he mounted his pony and trotted from the compound, his men following. He did not bother looking back to acknowledge Lembit and Jaak standing in the doors of the great hall.

  ‘What will he do now?’ asked a concerned Jaak.

  ‘What can he do?’ replied Lembit. ‘He will sit and sulk in his hall and in the spring will bring his warriors to fight by our side, as will the other chiefs.’

  Chapter 22

  The days were getting cooler and the sky was filled with migratory birds flocking together as they embarked on their quest for warmer places to see out the winter. The leaves were turning pink and yellow and falling from the trees, the forests resounding to the mating calls of elk and red deer. Conrad pulled up his horse and surveyed the scene. It was quiet and peaceful – not the ideal conditions for a knight of the Sword Brothers who thirsted for Estonian blood.

  ‘What is the matter?’ asked Hans beside him who also halted his horse, the four sergeants behind doing likewise.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Conrad.

  ‘Then why have you stopped, we still have two more miles to go before we head back?’

  ‘Every day we go out on patrol and every day we see nothing except trees and lakes. Autumn is here and all we have done this year is wear out horse shoes.’

  Hans shrugged. ‘We obey orders, my friend.’

  ‘And Lembit still lives,’ hissed Conrad.

  Hans said nothing. He and the others had been delighted when Conrad had decided to become a brother knight, but he never spoke of Daina or Dietmar and they never raised the subject. They knew he tended to their grave and laid fresh flowers upon it but he never mentioned it to anyone and his friends respected his privacy. They also knew that he longed to exact revenge on Lembit, even though Master Berthold and Walter told him that only God could decide who was worthy of life and death.

  Because they were on patrol their horses were not wearing caparisons and Conrad and Hans were wearing kettle helmets instead of the fully enclosed helms traditionally worn by brother knights. Vital in battle, both found them restrictive and uncomfortable for patrolling. They did, however, wear full mail armour and white surcoats and cloaks bearing the insignia of the Sword Brothers, the pennants on their lances and those of the sergeants also sporting the symbol of the order.

  ‘The sooner we finish our patrol the sooner I can get some food inside me,’ said Hans. ‘I feel hungry.’

  Conrad smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re always hungry.’ He nudged his horse forward and signalled to the sergeants behind to follow.

  ‘So would you be if you had spent your childhood starving.’

  ‘You were not a very good thief, then?’

  ‘I only stole to stay alive,’ said Hans, ‘bread, mostly. They were going to hang me for a loaf of bread.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘They hanged some of my beggar friends. I watched them standing around, the fine people of Lübeck, stuffing their fat faces with food and expensive wine as my friend was hoisted up and dangled in front of them.’

  He turned to look at Conrad, his eyes moist. ‘He was eight years old, Conrad.’

  ‘There are many wrongs committed in this world, my friend. But it is my belief that the Sword Brothers exist to create justic
e and peace in Livonia. There are still many good men in the world, Hans.’

  ‘I never want to go back,’ said Hans.

  ‘Where?’

  He spat to the side. ‘Lübeck.’

  ‘Brothers!’

  Conrad heard the call of the commanding sergeant and then saw them: a group of riders approaching, around four hundred paces away. Their round shields, green cloaks, brown leggings, helmets and spears told him they were not crusaders. They were now around seven miles east of Wenden and there were no Liv settlements nearby, certainly not one large enough to support a dozen or more heavily armed warriors.

  ‘Ready,’ ordered Conrad, lowering his lance and halting his horse. They had been riding through a long, thin strip of land between two great forests that was around fifty paces wide. The sergeants moved right and left to form line either side of Conrad and Hans. The warriors in front of them slowed but remained in their column formation as the sergeants closed in so as to present a solid wall of horseflesh when they charged. Conrad gripped the strap on the inside of his shield as one of the warriors broke ranks and began riding towards them.

  ‘He must be tired of living,’ opined Hans.

  Conrad was about to signal the charge when he noticed that the warrior riding towards them was not holding a spear but a piece of evergreen. He was also shouting. Conrad heard the words; they were Estonian.

  ‘We come in peace,’ the man was shouting.

  He was now two hundred paces away.

  ‘That is far enough,’ shouted Conrad in the warrior’s native tongue.

  He turned to Hans. ‘Stay here. If he tries to kill me charge them.’

  Conrad spurred his horse forward.

  ‘Make sure you kill him first,’ Hans called after him.

  The warrior waited as Conrad approached, the sprig of evergreen still in his right hand. Conrad brought his horse to a halt ten paces in front of the warrior, who threw the sprig away and removed his helmet to reveal a middle-aged man with a hard expression, brown beard and long, thick hair. He wore a mail shirt, sword at his hip with a shield hanging from his saddle, upon which was painted an eagle insignia.