The Sword Brothers

by Peter Darman

  ‘Get up!’ he shouted at the figures of his three friends huddled in their capes against the wall. ‘We are under attack! Get up!’

  He kicked at the figures before taking his axe from his belt and peering over the wall where the scaling ladder was resting. He held up his shield to ward off the snow flurries and saw the top of a helmet, then a bearded face staring up at him. Then he split the man’s skull with his axe. There was a scream and the enemy fell off the ladder into the snow-filled blackness. Another figure appeared, thrusting a spear up at him as he clutched a rung with his left hand. The point narrowly missed Conrad’s face as he pulled back to avoid the blow, just as Hans and Johann pushed the top of the ladder away from the wall to send it collapsing to the ground.

  Using the cover of the blizzard the enemy had mounted an audacious assault on the fort, on every side placing scaling ladders against the walls to capture Odenpah. The Oeselians walked across the frozen lake to scale the previously unmolested northern ramparts, as the Estonians once again threw themselves against the western wall and the Russians stepped over their own dead to try to storm the southern and eastern ramparts. There was renewed fighting all along the fort’s outer wall, though the conditions that had allowed the attackers to approach the fort undetected also worked against them. Several parties of Oeselians got lost in the blizzard during their trek across the frozen lake and never reached the fort, twenty men freezing to death as they wandered around on the ice and never left the lake. Hundreds of Voi waited at the bottom of ladders as their comrades battled on the ramparts above, many, weakened from inadequate rations and deficient clothing, collapsing from exposure before they even climbed the ladders.

  A wolf shield speared a sergeant who collapsed to the floor and then toppled from the walkway. Conrad swung his axe and smashed the man’s jawbone, jumping forward to barge his shield into the legs of another of Lembit’s warriors standing on the top of the parapet. The blow toppled him backwards over the wall and to his death as Conrad waited for the next wolf shield to appear, who was promptly skewered by Henke’s spear. Conrad nodded to him and they both grabbed the top of the ladder and pushed it away from the wall.

  Conrad turned to the man with the bloody jaw and began raining axe blows on the back of his neck – one, two, six, a dozen. He severed it from the torso and kicked it into the fort below. He saw the insignia on the shield, spat on it and tossed it over the battlements.

  The fighting was over now, brother knights and sergeants standing resting on their shields and talking to each other. The wind had dropped markedly though it was still snowing heavily. The dawn broke cold and overcast, the dark grey clouds overhead ready to unload yet more snow on the earth. Visibility was once again reduced as the snow fell uninterrupted and once more men stood to arms on the battlements.

  ‘For Lembit to send his best warriors against us can mean only one thing,’ Rudolf said to Conrad as they stood looking out into the snowfall. ‘His losses must be high.’

  He looked round at the exhausted figures in their ripped surcoats and torn mail. ‘Though he is not alone in suffering casualties.’

  That morning a council of war was held in Kalju’s hall. Conrad was ordered to attend and he noticed that the men who sat round the table in the smoky room all looked drained and listless. Sir Richard had thick stubble on his dirty cheeks, Rudolf had black rings round his eyes, Bertram had a hacking cough and Mathias a heavily bandaged left arm. For the first time since he had arrived at Odenpah, Thaddeus looked uncertain. Conrad acted as his translator as he listed the dire state of the fort’s food supplies, which would last no more than two weeks.

  ‘After that.’ He spread his hands to indicate he knew not what would happen.

  Kalju said that he would order the slaughter of the pigs, goats and ponies.

  ‘I have already taken that into account, sir,’ said Thaddeus.

  ‘What about arrows and bolts?’ asked Rudolf.

  ‘We are down to twenty bolts for each crossbowman,’ reported Thaddeus.

  ‘That few?’ said a startled Mathias.

  ‘Repelling the siege towers expended a great deal of ammunition,’ replied Thaddeus flatly. He looked at Kalju.

  ‘Those of my archers still alive are in a worse condition.’

  ‘We have enough men and ammunition to defeat one more enemy assault, then,’ said Sir Richard.

  No one spoke for a few seconds. Conrad looked around at the women, children and elderly who filled the hall: tired expressions, the look of fear in their eyes, like caged animals that know there is no escape.

  Kalju looked at the Christians. ‘I know that you came here because I asked you to, but I cannot ask you to stay and die if there is no hope. This is our home but it is not yours.’

  Bertram looked kindly at him. ‘You appealed for help, lord, and the Sword Brothers answered that call. We will not abandon an ally in his hour of need.’

  ‘I’ve never run away from a fight in my life,’ announced Sir Richard, ‘and I don’t intend to start now.’

  Kalju’s hard face cracked a smile. ‘I thank you all. Let us get some rest before the next enemy attack.’

  *****

  ‘There will be no more attacks,’ sniffed Domash as he sat huddled in his tent, drinking warmed ale, ‘or at least no more Russian attacks.’

  He cast Sigurd, Jaak and Lembit glances. ‘You three may go your own way. I have lost too many men.’

  ‘That is because you have more men to lose,’ said Sigurd. ‘One more assault and the fort will fall.’

  Domash laughed. ‘One more attack and I will have lost half my men.’

  ‘We have all lost men,’ said Lembit.

  ‘We will starve them out,’ hissed Domash. ‘Not even the Sword Brothers can live without food.’

  Sigurd stood. ‘A long siege is not in Oeselian interests.’ He looked at Lembit. ‘I was led to believe that the fort would fall easily but instead I have lost a tenth of the men I brought here and stand to lose many more waiting for Odenpah to surrender. In the morning I will be marching back to Oesel. I would suggest, Lord Lembit, that you accompany me.’

  ‘Leave tonight,’ sneered Domash. ‘At least the garrison will not see you skulking away.’

  Sigurd curled his lip at Domash and nodded to Lembit before exiting the tent. Lembit looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  ‘That was unfortunate.’

  Domash refilled his cup. ‘We do not need him or his pirates. Kalju is not going anywhere and neither are the Sword Brothers. We will let hunger do our work for us.’

  What he did not tell Lembit was that he had lost two thousand men killed and the tents of his army held another thousand wounded and sick. His panje ponies were hale but the horses of the Druzhina were suffering from respiratory infections caused by lack of fresh grass. They were also eating up the supplies of fodder at an alarming rate. If the fort did not fall within a fortnight he would have to head for home and face the wrath of his prince.

  *****

  Inside Odenpah they slaughtered the pigs, chickens and goats and cooked their meat, and by doing so they put an end to the supply of eggs and milk to feed the children. The Sword Brothers went on half rations as the inner fort was filled with the anguished cries of hungry babies. Kalju gave the order to kill the Ungannian ponies, which provided only a brief respite, giving what fodder remained to the mounts of the Sword Brothers. Rudolf, Mathias and Bertram believed that they too would have to slaughter their animals, but then word came from a lookout that Christian banners had been spotted to the south.

  The masters, Sir Richard and Kalju rushed to the nearest watchtower and there, to the south, was a body of horsemen, the sun glinting off lance heads and helmets. The day was windless, bright and ice cold and visibility was excellent as they squinted in the sunlight to identify the banners that they caught glimpses of. A red cross on a white background perhaps, reds and oranges, horses covered in white and brightly coloured caparisons. They heard the alarm being sounded in
the enemy camps and knew that a relief force was heading to their rescue. Mathias and Bertram clasped their hands together and said a silent prayer of thanks.

  ‘Where are the rest of them?’ said Sir Richard.

  Bertram and Mathias looked at each other and then at Sir Richard.

  ‘There can only be a couple of hundred, if that,’ said Sir Richard.

  Kalju heard the concern in his voice but did not understand the words but the two Sword Brothers did. They looked at the column of horsemen approaching and saw that it was indeed only a small number. They also saw dozens of Russian horsemen leaving the camp to the east of the fort and knew that there was a real danger of the relief force being destroyed.

  They rushed down the steps in the tower and raised the alarm. Word had spread among the garrison that a relief force had been spotted, and Christians and pagans had climbed to the towers and ramparts to see for themselves. But now the Sword Brother masters called for the brother knights and sergeants to saddle their horses.

  Rudolf had been late arriving at the tower and he informed Kalju that those inside the fort would have to support the relief force.

  ‘You might also be cut off and destroyed,’ Kalju warned him, observing dozens of Russian horsemen in armour riding south to cut off the relief force.

  ‘We cannot stand idly by and watch our brothers be slaughtered,’ said Rudolf.

  Conrad was glad to be away from the freezing ramparts. He threw the saddle on his horse, buckled the straps and then led his mount from the stables to the assembly point behind the main gates.

  He stroked the beast’s neck. ‘Stroke of luck for you, my friend. Another two days and you would have been killed for food.’

  ‘Talking to your horse, Conrad,’ said Hans behind him. ‘First sign of madness.’

  ‘The only chance of a sensible conversation, more like.’

  Ungannian warriors were frantically moving aside the carts that had been piled up against the gates in case the enemy had used battering rams, also removing the long braces that had been place against them. Master Thaddeus had given instructions that the moat was not to be dug in front of the gates because it would only make exiting the fort inconvenient. Bertram had questioned his wisdom in this, pointing out that the first target of an enemy attack would be the fort’s gates. Thaddeus replied curtly that any idiot knew that the main gates of a stronghold were heavily defended, in Odenpah’s case with towers on either side, and so an attacker would generally avoid an initial assault against the gates. He had proved right, though Bertram had not forgiven him his insolence.

  It was Bertram who addressed the horsemen as they sat on their horses waiting to ride out to link up with the relief force. The ramparts and towers were full of soldiers and warriors, the walkway of the inner stronghold thronged with women and children, all looking down on the knights, sergeants and squires. There were just over twenty brother knights and fifty sergeants of the order, the rest being either dead or wounded. Sir Richard had entered Odenpah at the head of fifty knights and the same number of squires. Now he commanded thirty knights and twenty-five squires. Not all had been killed: several were lying in the huts in the inner compound suffering from frostbite.

  It was a minor miracle that Wenden had suffered no deaths among its brother knights, who now sat in a line before Bertram, helmets in the crook of their arms as the master spoke the words.

  ‘Holy Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who wander through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Let our lances be your holy weapons that scatter your enemies like dust to the wind. Amen.’

  The horsemen replied ‘Amen’ as Bertram raised his lance.

  ‘God with us!’

  The assembly shouted ‘God with us!’, placed their helmets on their heads and the gates were opened. The spectators cheered, Eha catching Conrad’s eye and smiling at him as he put on his headgear.

  The mail-clad horses and horsemen trotted out into the snow, avoiding the bodies of dead Russians heaped in front of the gatehouse, bolts and arrows lodged in their frozen flesh. The sounds of battle filled the air, ahead Russian horsemen attacking the relief force as it desperately battled to reach the fort.

  Once they had trotted a hundred paces from the fort a halt was called and the horsemen deployed into two lines: the knights and brother knights in the front rank, the sergeants and squires behind them. The brother knights from Wenden rode on the right flank, those of Segewold on their left and the men from Kremon next in line; Sir Richard’s knights formed the left flank – fifty-five knights with a similar number of sergeants and squires behind.

  Bertram spurred his horse forward and the two lines followed. Conrad glanced right at Hans and left at Anton and couched his lance. He peered through his vision slits at a swirling mass of horsemen wearing brightly coloured cloaks – Russians.

  The horses moved slowly through the snow, breath at their nostrils misting in the freezing conditions. They broke into a canter as they closed the distance between them and the enemy to around three hundred paces. Conrad gripped his lance and felt his heart racing as he spotted an enemy horseman directly ahead locked in a duel with a knight in a red surcoat, their swords flashing in the sunlight. Forget everything else, concentrate on the target. He felt the power of the horse beneath him as it cantered forward. His eyes never left the target as the Russian swung his sword and knocked the shield out of the knight’s hand at the moment Conrad drove the point of his lance into his side.

  He let go of the shaft, took hold of his axe and swung it to the right, into the face of another Russian as he rode into the mêlée. There was a loud grating noise as the line of horsemen struck the Russians, unhorsing at least a score in the initial impact and then more than that as they cut into the soldiers of Pskov. But there were many of the latter and they began swarming around the Christian knights, the sergeants and squires turning their horses to battle enemy horsemen.

  Conrad was between two Russians, both in full-face helmets and both trying to cut him down with their swords. He pulled his horse back to avoid the blows, deflecting some with his shield and others with his axe. He saw the banner of the Sword Brothers behind the Russians and then in front of him as the head of the relief force battled its way forward. Hans appeared at his side and ran through one of the Russians with his sword as the relief force continued to advance. As it did so the men who had ridden from the fort guarded its flanks, moving left and right in an attempt to fend off the swarms of Russian horsemen. Sir Richard moved to the left and the Sword Brothers to the right to create a gap through which the relief force could escape to the fort.

  Trumpets sounded the retreat as the relief force galloped towards the gates, some horses tripping and falling in the snow, throwing their riders. The animals got up and ran off, leaving their riders stranded. Bertram and Mathias removed their helmets and shouted orders for the stragglers to be picked up, for now groups of Russian foot soldiers were marching towards the battle, and from the north came Lembit’s Estonians. The immediate danger was Russian horsemen, though, who were reorganising themselves after the shock of the attack from the fort.

  The horsemen that had ridden from Odenpah once more formed line as they faced the Russians, the latter now numbering several hundred despite the casualties they had suffered. Christian numbers, by contrast, had been further depleted. Sir Richard had been wounded in the right arm and it now hung limply by his side as squire Paul grabbed his reins and led him back to the fort, the knight shouting obscenities at him as he did so. It might not have adhered to the knightly code but it made sense: there was no point in his master dying unnecessarily.

  Bertram and Mathias, their surcoats torn and their shields battered, gave the order to fall back to the fort once the relief force had reached safety. As the tired men and horses wheeled around and trot
ted back, the Russians charged. In the front rank were the Druzhina, encased in mail and lamellar armour, behind them the horsemen of Pskov’s militia. This time the knights spurred their horses into the gallop, knowing that if the Russians caught them they would be slaughtered. Conrad saw the open gates of the fort and the last of the relief force disappearing inside. Then he could have cried with joy as warriors poured out of the gates to form a shield wall.

  Kalju had seen his allies ride from Odenpah and engage the Russians, link up with the relief force and then cover the retreat of the latter. He now led his men out of the gates to form a wall of shields and spears to save the Christians.

  He stood, sword in hand, in the front rank as his men stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their spears levelled.

  ‘Let them through,’ he shouted as the Christian horsemen thundered towards his men.

  The warriors, who had formed a great semi-circle in front of the gates, ran left and right to create a gap through which the horsemen could pass. They brought their horses to a halt inside the fort as Kalju’s men reformed to meet the Russians. The latter had failed to reach the Christians, their horses rearing up as they faced a row of locked shields and spear points. A few riders stabbed their lances at the Ungannians and leaned forward in their saddles to hack at them with their swords. But Domash ordered his élite soldiers to withdraw, trumpet blasts calling them back as a phalanx of Pskov’s foot soldiers marched forward to get to grips with Kalju’s warriors.

  The latter were now trapped and outnumbered outside the fort as five hundred militiamen advanced in ordered ranks towards the Ungannians. Domash sat on his horse urging them on. He saw the open gates and knew that even if they were closed his men would destroy a large part of Kalju’s garrison. He had caught sight of the chief’s golden eagle standard and knew Kalju himself stood with his men. For over two weeks he had seen hundreds of his men die trying to take this miserable fort but now he stood on the brink of victory.

  ‘On, on!’ he shouted as the militia’s trumpets sounded the charge.