by Peter Darman
Henke smiled. ‘If that is a challenge, Lord Marshal, I accept.’
‘Enough!’ snapped Rudolf. ‘Henke, you will arrange for these bodies to be taken down and organise burial parties. After which you will burn the crosses. Get on with it.’
That afternoon Sir Richard arrived from Lehola with a party of horsemen. The Duke of Saccalia stood with Conrad and Rudolf as his friend and deputy Peeter, Count of Fellin, together with the others who had met cruel deaths, was given a decent burial. Afterwards he said little as he retreated to his pavilion that had been erected during the funeral service. Grand Master Volquin ordered that the garrison would not be given the option of surrendering.
The core of the army that set up camp to the south of the fort comprised the brother knights, sergeants, spearmen and crossbowmen drawn from the garrisons of Wenden, Segewold, Kremon, Holm, Uexkull, Lennewarden, Kokenhusen and Gerzika. Those castles had not been denuded of their garrisons, as the reduction of Fellin was not considered a task worthy of mustering all of the order’s soldiers. Nevertheless, ninety-six brother knights, a hundred and fifty sergeants, two hundred crossbowmen and the same number of spearmen had marched north behind the grand master’s banner.
The largest contingent was the crusaders enlisted in Germany by Bishop Albert and now under the command of Bishop Bernhard. They numbered two thousand and were all foot soldiers, almost all recruited from towns and the city of Lübeck and mostly spearmen wearing either mail armour or gambesons or no armour at all. The best among them were the two hundred mercenary crossbowmen that had been hired in Saxony.
Sir Richard had brought with him from Lehola forty knights, the same number of squires, fifty lesser knights and two hundred loyal Saccalians. The defence of the fort was left in the hands of Tonis and over a hundred wolf shields.
Nearly three thousand fighting men surrounded Fellin with dozens more non-combatants and support personnel. These included priests, monks, the order’s novices, surgeons, farriers, blacksmiths, wagon drivers, engineers, stable hands, cooks, armourers, servants and shoe makers. For ease of administration they were all placed under the command of Master Thaddeus, now reprising his position as quartermaster general of all Livonia.
He was now in his seventies and his thin build and deathly pale skin gave him the appearance of a man that could be snapped in two like a twig. But his mental capacity still towered over those around him, his voice calm and assured as he did not so much inform those gathered in Sir Richard’s pavilion what should be their strategy as instruct them. The Duke of Saccalia sat at a bench covered with a white cloth to make it into a table, brooding over the loss of his friend Peeter, whose body now lay in the newly established cemetery south of the fort. Conrad kept glancing at him as Thaddeus stood and gave his opinion to the assembled grand master, masters, Sir Richard and Bishop Bernhard. Outside three thousand men and more than that number of horses, mules, oxen and ponies churned up the earth to create a giant ring of mud that encircled Fellin.
‘I assume that,’ said Thaddeus, smiling at Sir Richard, ‘your grace does not wish the fort reduced to ashes?’
Sir Richard raised his eyes and gave a slight nod.
‘I thought as much,’ continued Thaddeus, ‘that is why I did not bring the mangonels or trebuchets.’
‘You took a bit of a risk there, Thaddeus,’ joked Master Mathias.
Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. ‘Risk, Master Mathias? I am not in the habit of taking risks. My calculations are based on probability and mathematics. I remember a period during the siege of Acre…’
‘Thank you, Master Thaddeus,’ interrupted Volquin, ‘perhaps you could enlighten us on how we are to take Fellin without knocking down its walls.’
‘A siege tower,’ replied Thaddeus, ‘the dimensions of which I took the liberty of working out before I left Wenden.’
He held out a bony hand to one of his engineers who held a rolled piece of vellum. He handed it to Thaddeus who placed it on the table and unrolled it. He placed small lead weights on each corner to hold it in place. Everyone stood to examine his handiwork.
‘It is six storeys high to take into account not only the height of the timber walls but also the mound the fort is sited on,’ said Thaddeus with satisfaction.
‘Very thorough,’ admitted Volquin. ‘How long will it take to build?’
‘A week,’ stated Thaddeus.
‘That long?’ said Master Friedhelm.
‘I take it you do not want it to collapse while you and your men are inside it?’ asked Thaddeus irritably. ‘It is a feat of engineering, Master Friedhelm, not something dreamed up after a night in an alehouse.’
‘You can use the soldiers that arrived from Germany,’ Bernhard told him. ‘I want them to be occupied in the days ahead rather than indulging in drinking, gambling and robbing.’
‘You should hang a few for good measure, bishop,’ Rudolf suggested, ‘just to keep the rest in line.’
‘It may come to that, Rudolf,’ sighed Bernhard, ‘they are a rough bunch.’
‘I will also require them to fashion scaling ladders and cats,’ said Thaddeus.
‘Cats?’ asked Conrad.
‘Wooden sheds mounted on wheels that have sloped sides covered in hides so that missiles will bounce off them,’ explained Thaddeus, ‘and they will be fireproof. The men inside them can work filling the moat to allow the tower to be moved against the walls. The mound will also have to be dug away as well.’
‘I congratulate you, Master Thaddeus,’ said Volquin. ‘Your calculations and preparations are as thorough as ever.’
The grand master looked at the unhappy Sir Richard.
‘We will soon have your stronghold back, Sir Richard, and after that Ungannia will pay for its treachery. That I swear.’
The others mumbled their agreement. Volquin turned to Conrad.
‘Lord Marshal, what can you inform us of events in the north?’
They had all sat back in their chairs so Conrad immediately stood and cleared his throat.
‘Sit down Conrad,’ Rudolf told him, ‘you are Marshal of Estonia not some errant novice.’
Sir Richard managed a smile at this and nodded at Conrad who had sent Riki north with his Harrien to liaise with Hillar and send back news of the location of Kristjan and the moves of the Oeselians. A party of Rotalians had returned to him two days ago with the information he desired.
‘The Oeselians have occupied the hill fort of Varbola, grand master, but aside from that my men inform me that all is quiet in southern Harrien and along the coast of Rotalia. Kristjan has joined the Russian army under Prince Mstislav that is besieging Reval. Rumours have reached the Harrien and Jerwen among my men that the besiegers have lost many men in attacks on the walls.’
‘That suits us,’ said Rudolf. ‘If the Russians and Kristjan are amusing themselves banging their heads against Reval’s walls then we have a free hand here.’
‘Have any more of your men deserted your army, Conrad?’ asked Sir Richard bluntly.
‘No, your grace,’ answered Conrad, ‘though a few have deserted Murk.’
Master Arnold of Lennewarden was confused. ‘Who?’
‘The name that Kristjan has taken for himself,’ said Conrad. ‘Apparently it is the name that Taara, the Estonian God of War, has bestowed on him. In this way Kristjan portrays himself as the one the gods have chosen to liberate Estonia from foreign rule.’
‘Another Lembit,’ said Master Jacob.
Conrad nodded. ‘It would seem so.’
‘And what do your Estonians think of this, Conrad,’ queried Master Griswold.
‘They are loyal to me, master,’ stated Conrad.
‘Besides,’ said Rudolf, ‘after getting a bloody nose at the Sedde, Kristjan’s credibility will have taken a blow. And it will be reduced further when we take Fellin.’
‘To which end, gentlemen,’ said Volquin, rising from his chair, ‘I suggest we all become servants of Master Thaddeus’ engineers.’
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sp; Those men who had agreed to take the cross in Livonia may have fancied themselves as heroes battling armies of pagans. Even the basest and most impoverished among them – and there were many – would have at least hoped that they would have spent their days defeating pagans and their nights feasting in celebration of their victories. What they did not bargain on were days filled with back-breaking work swinging picks, digging earth or felling trees. But in the July heat that is what they did, they and the soldiers of the order as Thaddeus’ siege tower took shape in front of the fort’s southern wall.
The forests were filled with the sounds of branches being chopped and trunks being felled, along with men’s curses and shouts as trees crashed to the ground. The warriors of the garrison had filled the walls and towers of the fort when the crusader army had first appeared. Archers had loosed a few arrows that had fallen harmlessly short, whereupon they had desisted their shooting. Thereafter the walls were largely deserted, the only warriors being posted in the towers as a ring of siege works was established around Fellin. Mantlets were first constructed and placed in front of the walls, from which crossbowmen could take shots at those in the towers. After a few of the garrison were killed with bolts in eye sockets the rest learned to keep their heads down. Archers shot a few arrows at the crossbowmen sheltering behind the mantlets in reply, to no effect. However, they did manage to kill a dozen careless crusaders that wandered too close to the walls. But most days there was a distinct lack of activity in and around the fort.
Sir Richard sent his Saccalians north and east to give prior warning of the approach of any relief force. They sent back daily reports noting no enemy activity. Conrad, Hans and Anton spent most days hunting deer, not only for their meat but also to provide hides to cover the surface of the siege tower and the cats. Most of the order’s brother knights did the same, both to relieve the boredom and escape the smell of the camp, which began to resemble a slaughterhouse as the horsemen returned with dead animals to be skinned and gutted.
Fifteen days after the crusader army had arrived before Fellin the moat had been filled in and the siege tower finished. The latter had elicited much interest among the garrison when the base and first two storeys had been built. Grand Master Volquin had been worried that the Ungannians might sally forth from the gates in the fort’s eastern wall in an effort to destroy it. He therefore ordered the crusaders and order’s crossbowmen to deploy in front of the gates, reinforced by a thousand spearmen. But no sally came and so the men were stood down, though their tents were moved to be near the fort’s entrance so they could muster at a moment’s notice.
As the tower took shape Conrad wondered why the garrison had been content to sit and watch the obvious preparations for an assault.
‘Most strange,’ he said as he and his two friends walked their horses back to Wenden’s stabling area.
‘They must believe that Kristjan will attempt to relieve them,’ suggested Anton.
‘Or perhaps they believe that they can defeat all attempts to storm the fort,’ said Hans.
‘More likely they believe that we will offer terms if they surrender,’ mused Conrad.
Anton stopped and looked at the fort, smoke arching into the sky from campfires inside the compound. In the summer sun it looked peaceful, even serene, its garrison unaware of the horror that was about to engulf it. They led their horses past smiths hammering horseshoes on anvils and armourers mending swords and armour. The pleasing smell of field kitchens aroused Hans’ interest and the not-so-pleasing aroma of field stables filled their nostrils as they arrived at their destination. Each castle of the order had its own stable block made up of rows of stables with wooden cross bars dividing the individual stalls and fitted with mangers for feed. The roofing above the stables comprised thick canvas. They led the horses into the stalls, unsaddled them and then proceeded to rub them down, the beasts having cooled down by being walked through the camp. The pampered destriers were being checked over by farriers and novices were mucking out the stalls and shovelling dung into wheelbarrows.
Hans stopped brushing and looked at them.
‘That was us twelve years ago, do you remember?’
‘I remember the ground was covered with snow then,’ said Anton.
‘And Bruno and Johann were with us,’ added Conrad.
Hans was in a reflective mood. ‘Twelve years. Where does the time go?’
‘Fighting enemies,’ replied Anton.
‘Brother Conrad.’
He turned to see young Manfred holding the handles of a wheelbarrow piled high with horse dung.
‘Enjoying your first siege, Manfred?’
The novice put down the wheelbarrow, his eyes afire with enthusiasm.
‘Yes, Brother Conrad. The siege tower is almost ready. Some say that the novices will be allowed to take part in the assault.’
Conrad knew that they would not.
‘Your time will come, Manfred, have no fear.’
The boy’s face suddenly became a mask of disappointment.
‘What if I am still a novice when the war has ended, though?’
Hans laughed. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, Manfred. The Sword Brothers have a long list of enemies.’
Manfred’s eyes sparkled with relish. ‘Excellent. One day I hope to fight beside the three of you if I am worthy.’
Anton laughed. ‘We also had to shovel dung, Manfred, so don’t trouble yourself about being worthy.’
‘You had better attend to your duties, Manfred,’ Conrad told him, ‘else you will incur Brother Lukas’ wrath.’
‘Yes, brother,’ said Manfred, who gripped the wheelbarrow and pushed it away.
‘I’m glad he won’t be taking part in the attack on the fort,’ said Conrad. ‘It will be a messy business.’
Fellin was an ancient and solid stronghold built on a great earth mound. Massive tree trunks sunk in the ground provided vertical support for the framework of interlocking horizontal timbers that comprised the walls and towers. The latter, positioned at each corner of the fort and along the walls, had shingle roofs for protection against missiles and the weather. And from those towers flew banners sporting the golden eagle of Ungannia.
Master Thaddeus and his engineers had finished the siege tower on the eve of the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in mid-August. The heat had steadily risen and from inside the fort came a stench that overpowered the strong aroma produced by the crusader army. And as the heat of the days increased the wind dropped so the two stinks competed with each other over the fort and siege works.
The day of the attack dawned dry and bright, men sating their thirsts in preparation for the long day ahead. Prime Mass was held in the chapel tent as the eastern skyline changed from orange to yellow, the sergeants kneeling outside the tent as priests went among them. Afterwards Conrad and his friends took breakfast in the eating tent as the Army of the Wolf was not present, Hans taking the opportunity to eat as much bread, porridge, cheese and fruit as possible.
‘Fighting is hungry work,’ he told his friends.
‘You don’t want to go to heaven on an empty stomach,’ Anton told him.
‘Funny you should say that,’ said Conrad. ‘This is Assumption Day when the Virgin Mary was accepted into heaven by God after her death. I wonder how many others will be dying today.’
Anton shoved a piece of cheese into his mouth and stood. ‘Not us.’
Around them the brother knights were hastily finishing their meals to allow the sergeants to be fed in the second sitting. Conrad and Anton grabbed Hans by the arms and hauled him to his feet.
‘Come on,’ said Conrad, ‘leave some food for others.’
They assembled behind the siege tower that was around two hundred paces from the log-filled ditch and cut-away section of the mound beyond. The crusaders had done their job well thanks to the cats that Thaddeus had built for them. The brother knights and sergeants gathered in their respective garrisons, the mood being relaxed as men chatted to ea
ch other. Around them commanders barked orders at the crusader foot soldiers to get organised into their companies, scaling ladders resting on the ground beside them. Their assault would be made against three sides of the fort, a covering force being positioned opposite the gates in the eastern wall, which was heavily defended by additional towers either side of the gates.
Crusaders, attired in a wide variety of colours ranging from yellow and red to black and green, marched to their starting positions, priests and monks carrying wooden crosses shouting encouragement and damning the occupants of the fort. Sir Richard came from his pavilion in the company of his knights, squires and lesser knights, all wearing surcoats emblazoned with his newly acquired boar’s head symbol. Like the soldiers of the order they carried weapons ideally suited to close-quarter bludgeoning work: axes and maces.
‘Well, Conrad,’ said Sir Richard, ‘today I get my fort back.’
He nodded to Hans and Anton. ‘God be with you both today.’
‘And you, your grace,’ they replied.
‘As I have the honour of leading the assault,’ Sir Richard said to them, ‘I would like you three beside me. Men should fight beside those they like and trust.’
He turned to his men. ‘What do you say, boys, shall we have Conrad, Hans and Anton with us this day?’
They gave a hearty cheer and raised their weapons in the air.
‘That’s settled, then,’ barked Sir Richard.
He walked off to inform Rudolf, who smiled and offered his hand to the English knight and Livonian lord. Sir Richard, his followers and the three brother knights walked forward to stand immediately behind the siege tower looming above them. Beside it, looking very pleased with himself, stood Master Thaddeus.
Sir Richard stared up at the wooden structure, its sides and front covered with hides that had been immersed in water until they had been nailed to the boards the night before.
‘I hope it is not going to topple over.’
Thaddeus was not amused. ‘Topple over?’ This tower has been constructed according to mathematical principles, your grace. The chances of it toppling over, as you quaintly put it, are remote to non-existent.’