Castellan

by Peter Darman

  ‘You have done well, Conrad,’ said Sir Richard, ‘Narva is an important outpost. Can I take it that the Sword Brothers are intent on eventually capturing Reval itself?’

  ‘You can, your grace,’ said Conrad grimly. ‘The Danes and their allies are no friends of the Sword Brothers. Their king tried to destroy Livonia and my order and now it is time to return the favour.’

  When they arrived at the gates of Narva, the wooden stronghold on the bluff above the river framed against a brilliant blue sky, Russian foot soldiers were marching from the settlement. To one side observing the lines of spearmen, archers and carts containing their supplies was Yaroslav Nevsky, once again resplendent in his lamellar armour and burnished helmet. Today he and his men had fur-lined red cloaks around their shoulders, the material falling down to the hindquarters of their horses. It was once again a bitterly cold day and mist could be seen at the nostrils of the beasts.

  At least today Conrad and his friends were attired in pristine white surcoats, replacement helmets that had been polished until they shone by Jaan, their horses draped in white caparisons bearing the colours of the order. Sir Richard’s knights looked equally impressive in their liveries, though perhaps not as magnificent as the rich boyars of Novgorod. After the death and gore of the previous day today was all about splendour, manners and the exchange of compliments.

  Conrad noticed that the banner that had sat in a drawer at Wenden for years was not on show when he pulled up his horse before Lord Nevsky and his horsemen. No doubt it was being carried back to Novgorod in a special chest, guarded by a host of soldiers.

  Lord Nevsky held up a hand. ‘Greetings, Master Conrad. I am pleased to see that the new day sees you well and refreshed after your exertions yesterday.’

  Conrad laughed. ‘You are too kind, lord.’

  ‘And greetings to you, Sir Richard, Duke of Saccalia,’ smiled Yaroslav. ‘It is my fervent hope that you will accept my invitation for you and your friends to visit me in Novgorod where we may all hunt together.’

  Sir Richard bowed his head. ‘That would be most agreeable, my lord.’

  The Russian nudged his horse forward until he was next to Conrad.

  ‘Narva is yours, Master Conrad.’

  He extended his hand. Conrad took it.

  ‘I was at Wenden once,’ Yaroslav told him, ‘in the company of many Cumans to demand the return of the banner that you so nobly surrendered.’

  Hans and Anton exchanged glances, knowing that they had been defending Wenden’s walls during the Cuman attack, as had Conrad. But the latter now smiled.

  ‘Let us hope that our two kingdoms can now enjoy the peace they so richly deserve, lord. That is what my bishop is most desirous of.’

  ‘As is my prince,’ said Yaroslav. ‘God be with you, lord marshal.’

  Yaroslav tilted his head at Hans, Anton and Sir Richard, turned his horse and trotted away from Narva’s gates, followed by his horsemen.

  ‘And with you, lord,’ said Conrad as he watched the boyar depart.

  They remained on their horses until the last of the Russians had departed, a long line of foot soldiers and horsemen marching south towards the frozen Lake Peipus and thence east to Novgorod. When Narva was empty they spurred their horses through the gates and into the settlement of wooden buildings, riding through the dwellings and into the timber stronghold. Like most ancient fortresses it contained a feasting hall surrounded by outbuildings that functioned as stables, barracks, armouries, storerooms and forges, the whole surrounded by a timber wall and towers.

  Conrad dismounted and walked to the steps that led to ramparts, Sir Richard directing his men to conduct a search of the fort. Hans and Anton followed their friend to the battlements and stood beside him as he gazed at the River Narva below, now frozen solid until April. To the north was the Baltic and south lay Lake Peipus. Conrad turned his eyes towards the west where a long line of men on ponies was making its way towards the settlement – the Army of the Wolf. Like a boy that has discovered a great prize he grinned at his friends. He was now Castellan of Narva and Lord of all Wierland.

  Epilogue

  To His Holiness Pope Honorius III from Albert, Bishop of Riga and Commander of the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, the Holy Guardians of the Bishopric of Riga, Bishopric of Dorpat and the Catholic region of Livonia.

  ‘Holy Father,

  ‘You will be well acquainted with the great perils and trials that Livonia was subjected to during the unfortunate dispute with King Valdemar and the subsequent blockade that was imposed upon your bishopric. To add to the great discomfort that this land was subjected to the Lord seemed fit to test us further with an outbreak of the pestilence that claimed many innocent souls that He saw fit to transport to heaven.

  ‘But after the whole kingdom did penance and prayed for deliverance the Lord saw fit to reveal to the Sword Brothers a way to save the kingdom, whereby they went with joyous hearts into the black depths of paganism to deliver King Valdemar to safety.

  ‘In recognition of this, King Valdemar and the Sword Brothers, united in their love of the Holy Church, were reconciled and now share a mutual respect for each other that can only benefit our holy crusade in the Baltic.

  ‘I am compelled to draw to Your Holiness’ attention the selfless efforts of a member of the Sword Brothers whom I have alluded to in previous missives to the Curia. Brother Conrad, formerly of the garrison of Wenden, was appointed Marshal of Estonia and has worked tirelessly to ensure that the Holy Church has triumphed in that kingdom. He recently crushed a dangerous pagan insurrection and assisted in our great and victorious crusade against Dorpat. As a reward for his bravery and piety I have promoted him to Master of Odenpah, a former pagan stronghold close to Dorpat.

  ‘The joyous news that the Catholic Church now rules from the River Dvina to Reval means that I can now plan a fresh crusade south of the Dvina to reclaim the Bishopric of Semgallia from the pagan Lithuanians. I do this not only to plant the seeds of the true faith in the soil of Lithuania but also in honour of Bishop Bernhard of Semgallia who was martyred at Dorpat.

  ‘Given this twentieth day of February in the year of our Lord one thousand, two hundred and twenty-five and the ninth year of your pontificate.’