by Peter Darman
Henke was unimpressed. ‘It was only a matter of time before Valdemar decided to conquer Oesel. It does not help us.’
Conrad nodded at Hillar. ‘Tell them how the great King Valdemar fared on the island.’
Hillar reached over to grasp the wine jug and poured himself another drink.
‘When the Danes arrived on the island the first thing they did was to start building a fort.’
‘Sensible,’ said Lukas. ‘Oesel is a big island and any conqueror would need a base for operations.’
Hillar took a mouthful of wine. ‘Bad mistake. Olaf has the fort surrounded so the Danes cannot escape the island.’
‘The garrison of Reval will send ships to aid Valdemar,’ said Walter.
Hillar finished his wine. ‘The Oeselian fleet has Danish ships trapped in Reval’s harbour like sheep in a pen.’
Henke clapped his hands together. ‘Excellent. Valdemar will die and the blockade of Livonia will end.’
‘No, Henke,’ said Rudolf, ‘if Valdemar is killed then his son will become Danish king and the blockade will continue.’
Walter was most upset. ‘As Christian knights we should help Valdemar in his hour of trial.’
Henke was unimpressed. ‘Why should the Sword Brothers help the man who tried to have one of our own executed like a common criminal?’
Conrad smiled. ‘Brother Henke, I had not realised until this moment that you cared so much for me.’
Henke looked daggers at Conrad. ‘I don’t, I was just making a point.’
‘That’s enough,’ ordered Rudolf. ‘Hillar, what do your scouts tell you about the Danish fort on Oesel?’
‘The Danes spent a week landing supplies and building a stone fort just inland from the beach they landed on. A fort surrounded by a ditch and earth rampart.’
‘How many Danish soldiers landed on the island?’ asked Walter.
Hillar scratched his beard. ‘Two, three thousand, perhaps.’
‘I say let the bastard get killed or captured by the Oeselians,’ insisted Henke. ‘He’s no friend of the Sword Brothers.’
Walter’s face wore a deep frown but most of the brother knights were unconcerned. It was well known that Valdemar had denounced the order after the savaging it had given his army at Reval. If he died it was one less enemy for the Sword Brothers to worry about. But Rudolf was thinking ahead and sniffed an opportunity. He stood and began walking around the table, speaking to himself rather than anyone in particular.
‘Valdemar is besieged on Oesel, the Oeselians lie outside the harbour of Reval, thus making it impossible for the garrison to send ships and reinforcements to relieve their king.’
‘The Danes could march overland towards Oesel, Master Rudolf,’ offered Conrad, ‘though they would have to find boats to transport them to the island.’
Rudolf stopped and shook his head. ‘Just as Hillar has scouts in Rotalia I am sure the Oeselians have eyes watching Reval. If the garrison sent a relief party overland I am sure Olaf’s ships outside the harbour would assault Reval.’
‘Alas for Valdemar,’ said Henke, smirking.
‘The Oeselians will kill all the Danes eventually,’ stated Hillar without emotion.
‘Notwithstanding that he has declared himself an enemy of our order,’ remarked Walter, ‘the death of a king appointed by God is no cause for celebration.’
Conrad begged to differ but held his counsel. Perhaps God was punishing Valdemar for the injustices he had inflicted on Estonia and the blockade he had imposed on Livonia.
Rudolf returned to his chair and smashed his fist on the table, startling everyone.
‘Valdemar will not die on Oesel because the Sword Brothers are going to rescue him.’
Those around the table looked at each other in confusion, aside from Walter who was nodding piously.
‘It takes a noble nature to ignore the slights our order has endured at the hands of King Valdemar, master, and you have proved yourself a worthy knight of Christ.’
Lukas, who had known Rudolf for many years, since they had been part of the same mercenary band that had terrorised Germany, was more reflective.
‘Very noble, Rudolf. Too noble, in fact.’
‘Are you insane?’ was Henke’s only comment.
Rudolf ignored them and pointed at Conrad.
‘Muster your army at the Saccalian border, Conrad. We will meet you there once I have summoned the garrisons of Kremon and Segewold.’
‘Surely only the grand master can issue orders to summon a muster, master?’ said Walter, ever a stickler for protocol.
‘In normal circumstances you would be right, Walter,’ agreed Rudolf, ‘but these are not normal circumstances. Riga is cut off from the outside world until the pox is gone, and therefore no communication is possible with Grand Master Volquin. As deputy commander of the order I am using my authority to assist both the order and Bishop Albert.’
Normally courier pigeons flew between Riga and the order’s castles along the Dvina and Gauja. However, fear of infection had resulted in any form of communication between Riga and the outside world being prohibited.
‘Send riders to Kremon and Segewold,’ Rudolf told Lukas, ‘I will draw up orders for Master Bertram and Master Mathias. The meeting is over.’
The brother knights stood and bowed their heads as Rudolf walked from the hall to his private office at the rear of the main chamber.
Conrad walked with Hans, Anton and Hillar into Wenden’s great courtyard. It was the first time the Rotalian had seen the three brother knights in their non-martial apparel. The pagan was wearing leather boots, a thick leather cuirass and leather wristbands, with a sword and dagger strapped to his waist.
‘Are you and your knights being punished, Susi?’ he asked Conrad.
The name had been bestowed on Conrad because the Estonians who fought for him believed him to be the reincarnation of the ancient wolf spirit of the forest in human form.
‘No, why?’
‘Then why are you dressed like women?’
For the meeting all the brother knights wore long dark tunics reaching to the ankles, belted at the waist with tight-fitting sleeves. On their feet they wore plain shoes instead of boots and under their tunics woollen shirts and woollen breeches, as there was still a nip in the air. The only indications that they were members of the Sword Brothers were their mantles, lightweight white cloaks to signify purity, each bearing the symbol of the order on the left shoulder.
‘This is our attire when we are not wearing our armour,’ Hans told him.
‘Sitting in mail, gambesons and aketons for long periods indoors can be most uncomfortable,’ added Anton.
‘I must ask you to ride north immediately,’ Conrad said to Hillar. ‘Wait for me at the Pala. Inform Sir Richard, I am sure he will want to join us on our campaign.’
Anton screwed up his face. ‘It will take at least two weeks to reach Oesel. Valdemar might be dead by then.’
‘If he is, he is,’ replied Conrad. ‘But Master Rudolf is determined to attempt to save his hide.’
‘To what end?’ asked Hillar.
‘I have no idea,’ said Conrad.
They walked from the master’s hall across the cobbled courtyard towards the stables on the western side on the castle. Wenden had once been a pagan hill fort but had been captured from the Livs fourteen years before. Since that time a great building programme had been undertaken to turn the stronghold that sat atop an escarpment with sheer northern and western sides into a stone citadel. And now that work was all but complete. A host of workers had been brought from Germany during those years to build the stone castle, now the strongest in all Livonia. Along the eastern wall were sited the chapel, master’s hall, dining hall, armoury and smithy. Opposite was the longer western wall; for Wenden was an irregular-shaped castle to fit the escarpment. There were but two buildings along this wall: the two-storey dormitory where the brother knights and sergeants were accommodated and the expansive stables block. The
destriers, palfreys, packhorses and mules all had to be sheltered from the elements, especially the prized, pampered destriers that were treated better than the brother knights.
A small army of servants, stable hands and blacksmiths worked in the castle, many of them either living within the castle’s outer perimeter defences immediately south of the massive gatehouse, or in the steadily growing village below the castle’s northern ramparts. When Conrad had first come to Wenden ten years before there had been no village and the land around the castle was largely dense forest. But now many of the trees near the castle had been felled to provide material for the outer perimeter wall. Huts and buildings filled the area inside it and the village that had sprung up on the opposite side of the escarpment. It too had a wooden wall for it was not so long ago that it had been burnt to the ground during a Cuman attack.
Hillar’s horse was tethered to one of the rails outside the stable block but Conrad, Hans and Anton went inside the wooden office sited outside the block. There an officious individual with a pointed nose sat at a sloping desk equipped with inkhorns examining a parchment made from goatskin. It was unfortunate that as Wenden grew in size and importance so the number of officials employed there increased. They were all under the control of Master Thaddeus, the white-haired quartermaster general of Livonia who was now in his early seventies.
The official looked up.
‘Ah, brothers Conrad, Hans and Anton. How can I be of assistance?’
‘We need three palfreys saddled immediately,’ replied Conrad.
‘And fodder for at least two weeks,’ added Hans.
‘Which we will collect later, after we have returned from a more immediate errand,’ said Conrad.
The official raised an eyebrow. ‘You are going on campaign, brothers?’
‘We are,’ said Conrad, ‘though first we are riding south to the Estonians’ village.’
The official turned the quill he was holding through his fingers.
‘If you are absent for longer than two days I will need authorisation from Master Rudolf. Standard procedure, you understand.’
‘We’ve just come from the master’s hall,’ stated Conrad, ‘and are here on the orders of Master Rudolf.’
The official looked at the three fearsome brother knights, all with well-earned reputations for being skilled killers, especially Conrad, the man who had slain Lembit and tried to kill the Danish king at Reval, or so he had been told. He drummed his fingers on the desk as the brother knights became visibly annoyed with this nondescript scribe.
‘Well,’ the official said, ‘if it is on the master’s business then I suppose I can authorise the issue.’
‘You are too kind,’ said Anton.
‘Of course you will all have to sign for the horses and supplies,’ insisted the official.
They nodded curtly whereupon the official barked an order to one of the stable hands, who went to collect the horses. As the three brother knights made their signatures on a separate parchment, Hans making an ‘x’ as he could not write, three young stable hands led three saddled palfreys into the courtyard.
‘You should learn to read, Hans,’ said Conrad, shaking his head at the official who had returned to his records. ‘The world is changing and you need to change with it.’
His friend was not convinced. ‘I am a soldier not a scribe. I have no need of it.’
Conrad asked Hillar to accompany them on the ride south to the village that had sprung up on the site of Thalibald’s settlement, some five miles south of Wenden. When the Army of the Wolf had arrived at Wenden following the battle against the Danes it had originally made camp on the large meadow south of the outer perimeter gates. But Master Thaddeus had suggested that rather than enduring months or longer in tents, the Estonians should construct their own village. Rudolf agreed but was desirous that they should build it away from Wenden, which had suddenly become home to an additional six hundred souls. Hillar’s Rotalians had stayed near the border of their homeland and seventy Saccalians had been sent to Lehola to reinforce Sir Richard’s garrison in case the Danes decided to march south in pursuit of Conrad. But the rest had followed the Marshal of Estonia back to Wenden.
Thaddeus had suggested that the village be built on the site of Thalibald’s settlement, Conrad’s former father-in-law who had been killed during a raid conducted by Lembit’s wolf shields. Overgrown and desolate, there were hardly any traces of what had been the village of Caupo’s chief warlord. Thaddeus had asked Conrad if he had any objection to the site being re-occupied but the brother knight had none. His wife and child were buried in the cemetery at Wenden. The site was close to fresh water and surrounded by land that had been cleared for fields, though now overgrown. So the Army of the Wolf had set about building its new home.
The largest contingent was Andres’ four hundred Jerwen warriors, with Riki mustering only fifty Harrien men capable of bearing arms and Tonis, the former Wolf Shield, retaining the same number of Saccalian fighters. There were in addition a hundred women and children who had attached themselves to the crusader army during its retreat south from Reval.
The four riders trotted from the courtyard, through the gatehouse and across the drawbridge that spanned the deep, dry moat. They rode down the track bisecting the area within the outer perimeter defences; to the left the well-tended, walled cemetery and beyond it the huts that housed the civilian workers who worked in the castle. On the right stood the huts where Wenden’s mercenaries slept and the training fields where the dogs of war perfected their skills along with the brother knights and sergeants. The grounds were a hive of activity, children playing among the huts, crossbowmen testing their weapons against straw targets and spearmen drilling under the watchful eye of sergeants. Conrad doubted whether any spearmen would travel north: Rudolf would want to cover as much ground as possible each day and that meant every soldier would have to be mounted.
They cantered along the dirt track leading south to the village, the other track from the castle diverting west to reach the jetties that projected into the waters of the Gauja two miles away. During the previous spring and summer months, before the pox had blighted Riga, there had been much traffic to and from the city. But now that had dried up completely. Fortunately the Gauja was still full of perch, bream, roach, dace and chub that were caught to feed Wenden’s expanding population.
Soon ploughs pulled by oxen would be going into the fields to prepare the ground for sowing the spring crops: barley, oats, peas, beans and vetches. It was fortunate for the villagers that Master Rudolf allocated them a portion of the boar, deer, duck and goose that were hunted in autumn by the garrison’s crossbowmen, the meat being salted in preparation for the winter months. When the snow lay thick on the ground the master sent his hunters into the forests to kill wolves, both for their meat and fur.
But now the land was bursting with life as the spring sun warmed the land, bushes and flowers blossoming along with bird cherry, lilac and apple trees. The rivers and streams were filled with ice-cool water and the air was filled with the twittering of birds. It was still fresh in the mornings and evenings, and frosts could last until June. But the iron grip of winter had been broken and villagers looked forward to bountiful harvests, new additions to their families and peace throughout Livonia.
Like countless villages throughout Estonia the settlement Conrad and his comrades rode to had a meeting hall, huts, barns, smithies and animal pens holding pigs, goats and chickens. Pig farming was a very popular Estonian practice so the village contained many grunting and squealing animals occupying fenced-off areas on its outskirts. Though in the winter the livestock was brought into the buildings to save them being taken by wolves and the cold.
Thalibald’s village had been strongly defended by a ditch and wooden wall. The Estonians had cleared the ditch of weeds and deepened it, constructing a fresh wooden palisade behind it. There were also crude watchtowers at the gates that gave those on guard views of the surrounding terrain. Sentries in
the towers spotted their approach, and so when they trotted over the stout bridge across the ditch a reception party was waiting for them. The six Jerwen warriors were armed with spears and carried round shields that sported the bear symbol of Jaak, once leader of their people but now dead. They raised their weapons in salute as Conrad and the others dismounted.
‘Greetings, Susi,’ said their commander.
Conrad acknowledged him. ‘I am here to see the tribal leaders.’
‘They are expecting you,’ the warrior replied.
Conrad was surprised. ‘They are?’
He pointed up at the guards on the top platforms of the watchtowers.
‘As soon as you were identified a message was sent alerting them to your impending arrival.’
He clasped his fist to his chest. ‘They will be pleased to see you. Lord Hillar.’
‘Well, then,’ said Conrad, ‘let’s be on our way.’
When they arrived at the meeting hall in the centre of the settlement a large crowd of mostly warriors had gathered, word having quickly spread that Susi was among them. When Conrad caught men’s eyes they nodded purposely and the air tingled with excitement. The fact that he was with his comrades Hans and Anton, plus Hillar, who had remained in Estonia, could mean only one thing. They were going to war.
Only the three commanders and their senior chiefs were allowed in the hall. Girls served those present with large wooden cups filled with beer as a trestle table was hastily set up in the middle of the chamber. Riki, Andres and Tonis greeted the brother knights and Hillar then looked at Conrad. He took a large gulp of the cool beer as they sat around the table, the chiefs standing behind their leaders.
‘Muster your men. We are marching north immediately.’
The chiefs grinned broadly and slapped each other on the back as those Estonians at the table nodded thoughtfully. Marching north meant only one thing: the liberation of their homeland.
‘You should tell them why we are marching north,’ said Hans.