by Peter Darman
All eyes focused on Conrad.
‘We are going to Oesel,’ he announced.
There was a stunned silence. Hillar, who already knew this, cast his eyes down to avoid the others’ gazes.
Tonis, the Saccalian leader, laughed. ‘What is there on Oesel for us?’
‘We go to rescue the Danish king who has allowed himself to be surrounded by the Oeselians on the island.’
They all burst out laughing.
Riki pointed at the cup Conrad was holding. ‘You have been drinking too much beer, Susi, it has deadened your mind.’
‘Muster your warriors and lead them to Wenden tomorrow. Then we will ride north. No carts; we travel light and fast.’
Andres, the stout commander of the Jerwen, was now totally confused.
‘The Danish king wanted you dead, Susi. Why would you raise a hand to help him?’
Conrad drained his cup. ‘My friends, I understand why you think this order is strange. But I too obey orders and it is the desire of Master Rudolf that we should ride to save the Danish king.’
‘Many of my men will not be happy, Susi,’ said Riki. ‘My people have suffered greatly at the hands of the Danes.’
Hillar looked up. ‘As have my people. But I took an oath to serve Susi and will not break it.’
Riki looked at Tonis and then at Andres. The Rotalian leader was not only physically large; his voice held great sway in the Army of the Wolf.
‘The Jerwen are with you, Susi,’ said Andres, nodding at Hillar.
Riki and Tonis also voiced their support, which silenced the mumblings of the chiefs behind them.
‘I know that what we are about to do makes little sense,’ said Conrad. ‘In truth it makes little sense to me. But I tell you that we will not be spilling blood in vain. The Danes will be held to account for what they have done in Estonia, that I promise.’
The Estonian leaders and their chiefs filed out of the hall, their muted spirits in contrast to the faces full of expectation that awaited them outside. They announced that the Army of the Wolf would be marching north the next day, which was greeted with rapturous cheering. The men were told to gather round their chiefs who would appoint quartermasters for the allocation of supplies for the ride north.
‘They will be less happy later when they discover they ride north to save Valdemar’s hide,’ said Anton glumly.
‘What did you mean when you said that the Danes will be held to account?’ Hans asked Conrad.
‘I have yet to work that out,’ his friend answered.
‘Perhaps Count Henry is with Valdemar,’ said Anton.
Conrad’s eyes lit up. ‘I do hope so, as I trust that the Oeselians have not killed him.’
‘So you can kill him instead?’ said Hans.
Conrad grinned. ‘Precisely.’
The brother knights arrived back at Wenden in time for Sext Mass at midday, one of seven services that delineated a brother knight’s day. Immediately afterwards the knights and sergeants were expected to repair their armour and equipment and do other necessary tasks. However, as the castle was fully staffed with armourers and blacksmiths, who took a dim view of brother knights infringing on their responsibilities, there was little to do before lunch in the dining hall, save for guard duty that every bother knight and sergeant had to perform. Master Rudolf was insistent only members of the order should stand guard over the castle, arguing that mercenaries were more likely to fall asleep at their posts. Leatherface took great exception to this, telling the master that if they did they would be hanged as punishment. Rudolf retorted that it was of no benefit hanging a man if his negligence had allowed an enemy to infiltrate the castle.
Lunch was eaten in the dining hall, with the brother knights fed at the first sitting, the sergeants afterwards. Lukas’ young novices served the brother knights at table. Meals were always eaten in silence; the food first being blessed by Father Otto and then a clerk would read from a Bible during the meal. According to the rules of the Sword Brothers meat – mutton, goat, beef, veal – was eaten three days a week and fish was consumed on Fridays. All other meals contained only vegetables, usually in the form of broths, though there were always ample portions of bread, fruit when available, and cheese to accompany the main dishes, washed down with water.
The Cistercian order of monks that had given birth to the Sword Brothers through Bishop Albert ate no meat and partook of sparse meals. But Grand Master Volquin and his castellans quickly discovered that the knights and sergeants of their order needed to be fed like fighting cocks if they were to defeat their enemies in battle. As usual before going on campaign, Hans, the former starving beggar from Lübeck, attempted to empty the castle storerooms of food before he departed Wenden.
The new day dawned bright and cool, the fields around the castle white with frost and the air crisp. After Prime Mass and breakfast the three friends donned their armour in preparation for their departure. Soon the Army of the Wolf would be arriving at the castle, hundreds of men on hardy ponies that had greater stamina than the horses the order imported from Germany.
Rudolf came to see them as they were changing into their martial attire on the first floor of the great dormitory where the brother knights slept. They all stood when he appeared among them.
‘Please continue with your preparations,’ he commanded.
Just as the order believed that its soldiers should have good food so it spared no cost when it came to their weapons and armour. They may have been poor, pious knights but their equipment was among the best in all Christendom. Next to the skin were worn cotton breeches and a vest, over which was worn a quilted cotton-covered aketon that protected the vest and skin beneath from the long-sleeved mail hauberk that covered the arms, hands, torso and thighs. The mittens had soft leather palms so the wearer could grip his weapons with ease.
‘So,’ Rudolf said to Conrad, ‘you ride north today. How many men does the Army of the Wolf number?’
Conrad put on the linen-covered, quilted sleeveless gambeson over his mail armour. The garment could defeat a glancing sword or axe blow and lessen the penetrating power of an arrow, though not a crossbow bolt.
‘Just under nine hundred men, master, including the Wolf Shields I will collect at Lehola.’
Rudolf nodded in admiration. ‘The largest force that Livonia can currently muster. You are to be congratulated, Conrad.’
Conrad adjusted the mail chausses that protected his legs, beneath which was linen hose to prevent chafing.
‘The Estonians do not understand why they march to assist King Valdemar, master,’ said Conrad.
Rudolf picked up Conrad’s sword belt and drew the weapon.
‘Estonia will benefit from our expedition,’ remarked Rudolf, ‘in the long term. But at present I must ask you, all of all, to refrain from unleashing your base instincts.’
‘Base instincts, master?’ said Anton innocently.
‘I am well aware that Valdemar was responsible for the death of Brother Johann,’ replied Rudolf, ‘and indeed would probably have burned Conrad at the stake had it not have been for the timely arrival of Kalju at Reval.’
He handed the sword to Conrad. ‘Remember the great knight who gave you this sword and the principles it and he represent. I would not blame you for wanting revenge upon Valdemar. I too have entertained such thoughts. But I would remind you that the very future of Livonia may be at stake in the next few weeks and our actions will determine what that future will be.’
‘Perhaps King Valdemar is already dead, master,’ offered Hans.
Conrad laid the sword on his bed and pulled on his boots. ‘Pray God.’
Rudolf shook his head. ‘You would like that, wouldn’t you? But if he is dead then his son will become king and Livonia will still be under blockade.’
‘And if we rescue him, master,’ asked Conrad, ‘what then? He despises the Sword Brothers and most likely will use the opportunity to attack us.’
‘We should let the Oeselians kill him
before we assault Oesel,’ said Anton.
‘Kill two birds with one stone,’ smiled Hans.
Rudolf sighed. ‘Like I said, you all must resist your base instincts. Keep your men and your emotions under control. God will not forgive you if you wreck my plans.’
He began to walk towards the door to the dormitory.
‘What plans, master?’ Conrad called after him.
‘You will soon see,’ answered Rudolf as he disappeared from the chamber.
‘The master is worried that you will try to kill Valdemar, Conrad,’ said Anton.
‘If a Sword Brother killed a king appointed by God then that would surely be the end not only of Livonia but also our order,’ replied Conrad. ‘And that I do not desire.’
‘The master said nothing about his father, Count Henry,’ mused Hans.
‘He probably wants to forget him,’ said Conrad. ‘With a father like that so would I.’
A sergeant appeared at the door.
‘Brother Conrad, the Estonians are gathering beyond the outer perimeter.’
Conrad raised his hand in acknowledgment and put on his white surcoat emblazoned with the emblem of the Sword Brothers. He tied the straps of his linen coif under his chin, pulled the mail coif over it and then placed the padded leather headband on his head. The headband made the wearing of a helm more bearable. He then buckled his sword belt around his waist, the others doing the same.
‘Time to visit the armourers,’ said Conrad.
At the armoury they were issued with their helms and shields, plus Conrad’s axe and Hans’ and Anton’s maces.
‘We will need crossbows as well,’ Conrad told the armourer, who like most of his comrades was a squat, ugly fellow with huge forearms and a condescending manner.
‘Brother knights aren’t issued with crossbows,’ he answered curtly.
‘Three full quivers each as well,’ said Conrad, ignoring him.
The armourer grunted and disappeared into the dim interior of the squat stone building housing a multitude of weapons, armour and crossbows. When he returned, with another man who was uglier than he, they slammed the crossbows on the wooden counter, the full quivers alongside them.
‘Spare bowstrings,’ added Conrad.
The armourer grinned and pulled the rolled-up strings from the pocket of the leather apron covering his thick chest and huge gut. He threw them on the counter.
‘Make sure you don’t let your heathen bastards anywhere near these crossbows. They’re only for God-fearing soldiers.’
The brother knights tucked the axe and maces into their belts and picked up the crossbows and quivers.
‘That heathen bitch was in here earlier,’ the armourer called after them as they walked from the counter. ‘She’s getting too high and mighty for my liking. If Ilona wasn’t with her I would have given her a slap.’
‘I often think that the armoury provides a vision of what hell must look like,’ remarked Hans as the three walked back into the courtyard.
The ‘heathen bitch’ was Kaja, a Saccalian orphan whom Conrad had taken under his wing when he had led the relief of Lehola four years before. The bedraggled girl had been only sixteen then but now she was an attractive, determined woman of twenty who knew her own mind. She was not actually a heathen, having been baptised into the Christian faith. But she had retained her fierce Saccalian nature and backed it up with an intricate knowledge of swordplay, for Conrad and Brother Lukas had taught her to use a blade, which she had strapped to her waist as she sauntered over to the three brother knights. Her blonde hair had been tied into a ponytail and her leggings hugged her shapely legs. She carried an iron helmet with a nasal guard in the crook of her arm. Beside her walked Ilona, the raven-haired beauty, a Liv healer revered for her skill with herbs and potions who had saved Master Rudolf from the flames of Holm many years before.
‘This looks ominous,’ remarked Anton as the two beauties approached.
‘You ride to Oesel, Brother Conrad,’ said Kaja.
Hans and Anton laughed.
‘You are remarkably well informed,’ replied Conrad.
‘I’m coming with you,’ she declared.
‘It would be better if you stayed here,’ Conrad told her.
‘The Army of the Wolf has never been defeated when Kaja has ridden with it,’ said Ilona.
‘That’s true,’ agreed Hans.
Conrad glared at his friend. ‘We are going to war, Kaja. I cannot guarantee your safety if you come with us.’
She grasped the hilt of her sword. ‘I can do that.’
‘The Estonians believe Kaja to be a lucky mascot, Conrad,’ Ilona told him. ‘Men fight better if they believe luck is on their side.’
‘That’s true,’ said Hans.
‘You are not helping,’ Conrad told him. ‘I’m sorry, Kaja, but you cannot come with us.’
Her blue eyes hardened. ‘Am I not free?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I choose to accompany you north.’
Stables hands were leading out their palfreys with sacks of fodder fastened to their saddles. Conrad noticed that there were four.
‘Besides,’ said Ilona casually, ‘who will carry your banner if Kaja does not accompany you?’
‘That’s true,’ said Hans.
‘Shut up,’ Conrad told him.
He was about to reply to Ilona when he saw Rudolf, Walter and Otto approaching, the latter carrying a standard.
Ilona smiled kindly at Conrad. ‘Rudolf thought the same.’
Conrad realised he had been out-manoeuvred as the group halted and the severe Otto handed Kaja the standard that Conrad had carried into Estonia four years before. Like the standard carried by the garrison when it went to war, it was stored near the altar in the chapel, for it was a sacred banner.
‘Kaja is reckoned a lucky mascot by your men, I believe,’ Rudolf said to Conrad. Conrad nodded.
‘Well, then,’ continued the master, ‘I have been persuaded that her presence will aid your cause, which in turn will aid the order’s cause.’
‘Kneel!’ Otto commanded.
Conrad smiled wryly as he knelt on the cobblestones, a beaming Kaja already on her knees with her head down as she clutched the haft of the standard wrapped around the wood and tied in place with ribbons. He had forgotten how manipulative women could be.
Otto asked God to protect them and give them victory, his deep voice filling the courtyard. After he had finished Rudolf and Ilona wished the three brother knights and Kaja luck as they walked to their horses and rode from the castle to lead the Army of the Wolf north.
And far to the south a chest of clothes was spirited out of Riga under cover of darkness and loaded on a cart for transportation to Odenpah.
Chapter 2
King Valdemar’s march to Varbola and then to the coast of Rotalia was not so much a military campaign more a procession. The column extended over many miles as it made its way slowly to the coast where it would rendezvous with the boats that would transport it to the northern coast of Oesel. Among the greenery of the countryside it presented a dazzling spectacle, a garish display of red, blue, yellow and orange. Leading the army had been the knights and squires of Count Albert of Orlamunde and Holstein, the caparisons of his knights’ destriers bearing his coat of arms: a white nettle leaf on a red background. Their shields, pennants and surcoats carried the same device, and the count had also insisted that the shields of his lesser knights, those men who had the money to purchase their own horses and weapons, should also display his emblem. The count had brought fifty knights, fifty squires and fifty lesser knights to Estonia to subjugate the enemies of the Danes.
Valdemar’s bodyguard numbered a hundred mounted knights, men attired in the finest armour and riding the best destriers that money could buy. Added to Count Albert’s horsemen it gave the king two hundred and fifty horsemen, more than enough to charge straight through a pagan shield wall.
The king’s foot soldiers were all drawn from hi
s Danish and Swedish lands. The largest contingent was the axe men, rough-hewn men wearing conical helmets with nasal guards, mail hauberks and gaiters around their lower leggings. Like the Oeselians they carried a round wooden shield for protection and a large-bladed war axe as their primary weapon. The hundred Danish sergeants were likewise armed with axes and equipped with hauberks, though they also carried swords, wore kettle helmets and carried almond-shaped shields. The spearmen’s shields were the same shape as those carried by the sergeants, though larger, and in addition to their spears they were armed with broad slashing swords with a tapering blade. They numbered three hundred and fifty.
Valdemar’s best non-mounted troops were his Danish foot knights. These men wore segmented iron helmets with fixed face guards, beneath which was worn a mail coif. Their mail hauberks had integral mail mittens and their yellow surcoats were very broad and had long sleeves. On their legs they wore mail chausses and a thickly padded gambeson beneath their hauberks. Their principal weapon was a sword. The almond-shaped shields they carried were reinforced with slender iron crosspieces held in place by a small iron boss. There were two hundred of these élite foot soldiers.
Valdemar’s only missile troops were two hundred Swedish archers, the crossbowmen having been left behind at Reval for the defence of the town. The king gave orders that the archers were to be sent out every day to kill game to be served each evening in the royal pavilion. Thus did the royal army number two thousand, one hundred fighting men, plus a substantial entourage that accompanied Valdemar to ensure that his spiritual and physical needs were attended to at all times.
As befitting his status as one of Europe’s most powerful monarchs the king was accompanied by the portly Bishop of Roskilde, a brace of abbots and deans and half a dozen scribes tasked with recording every detail of what would be Valdemar’s conquest of Oesel. In attendance were also the court chamberlain, treasurer, justiciar – head of the royal judicial system and the king’s viceroy, keeper of the royal seal and master of the horse. To serve him at table were cupbearers and dapifers – servants that brought meat to those seated. To entertain the royal party were jesters, minstrels and bards. Then there were falconers, stewards and heralds. They all amounted to a grand total of three hundred men and boys responsible for making the king’s journey and accommodation in the field as comfortable as possible. There were also two hundred Estonians that had been impressed to perform manual duties for the royal procession, such as digging latrines, preparing fires and collecting firewood, though not chopping it as they were not trusted with weapons.