by Peter Darman
‘They’ll live,’ said Conrad. ‘Hopefully tonight they will be sleeping in Lehola’s great hall.’
Leather face nodded approvingly. ‘You have decided on an attack plan, then?’
‘Pray it works,’ replied Conrad.
After a breakfast of hot porridge he gathered Peeter, Tonis, the other brother knights, leather face and the commanders of the Jerwen and Rotalians together to inform them of his plan. Curiously he felt no trepidation as he stood before them and spoke. On campaign he had mixed with great lords and had even conversed with the Bishop of Riga himself. He was certainly not intimidated by a few pagans. Curiously, though, he experienced a new emotion: a sense of responsibility towards all the souls in camp. Most odd. He waited for Hans to finish his apple before speaking.
‘The warriors who besiege Lehola are called Cumans and they are wild people who live on the great plains far to the east of this land. They are raiders who burn, kill and take slaves. They are predominantly horsemen and so unsuitable for siege warfare, and that will be to our advantage.
‘Peeter has informed me that the main enemy camp is located to the south of the fort.’
‘Just as it was when we laid siege to Lehola,’ said Anton before realising he was among Estonians and blushed.
‘Indeed,’ continued Conrad. ‘Today we will march to bring us near to Lehola, and tomorrow, just before dawn, we will launch our assault on the enemy camp.’
‘Our weapons will be speed and surprise. We will launch our assault from the south to take us through the enemy camp.’
‘How many enemy soldiers are there?’ asked Anton.
Conrad looked at Peeter.
‘It is impossible to give a precise answer to your question, young knight, but my scouts reckon at least five hundred.’
Anton and Johann sucked on their teeth and Hans looked troubled but Conrad shrugged off their concerns.
‘If we achieve surprise our disadvantage in numbers will not weigh as heavily against us. In addition, we will be fighting our way through the camp towards the gates. Hopefully, Sir Richard will realise what is going on and launch a sally from the fort.’
‘Why don’t we create a diversion to the north of the fort to make our journey to the gates easier?’ asked the leader of the Rotalians, a huge brute with hands like the paws of a bear.
‘Because we have to destroy the enemy,’ answered Conrad. ‘To kill as many as possible otherwise we will just swell the numbers inside the fort for no purpose.’
‘Kill as many as possible,’ mused the Rotalian brute. ‘I like that.’
Conrad nodded towards leather face. ‘The crossbowmen will kill any guards to allow us to enter the camp unseen, but after that it will be a race against time to slaughter as many of the enemy before they have time to react to our presence. You must impress upon your warriors that speed is the key.’
It was still cold and damp when the warriors began to assemble after Peeter had organised the duties of those who would remain. Those too old to carry a spear were ordered to safeguard the infants while the women and those men whose injuries meant they could not march tended to the ponies, cooked food and posted lookouts. Among the Saccalian warriors only Peeter, Tonis and a few of their subordinates had mail armour. A few of the older men had aged leather armour and many wore thick fur-lined leather caps on their heads for protection. At least every one of them now had a weapon of some sort, be it an axe, spear or long knife. Conrad prayed that it would be enough.
The Rotalians were all equipped with helmets, mail shirts, shields, spears and with axes tucked in their belts, their commander and another two also having swords. The Jerwen were a mix of well-armed warriors and ill-equipped farmers who only had a spear for a weapon. But at least they all had shields.
Hans looked at them stuffing leather pouches with food for the journey, for there would be no room for ponies to haul supplies on this trip. He pointed to the shields bearing stag and bear symbols.
‘The last time I saw those their owners were trying to kill us.’
‘It is strange, I agree,’ said Conrad. He slapped his friend on the arm. ‘Time to get ready.’
As he had done a hundred times before Conrad checked the weapons and armour he would be taking on the trip: wooden shield faced with leather, sword, axe, dagger and full-face helm. Like his companions he wore thick felt boots over the mail chausses that protected his legs. Next to his skin he wore a cotton shirt and breeches, over which he placed a quilted cotton aketon. Then came a long-sleeved mail hauberk with integral mittens, over which was worn a sleeveless, quilted gambeson and, finally, a white surcoat bearing a red cross and sword on the front. The Sword Brother emblem also adorned the white cloak that he had brought with him. A mail coif protected his neck and head, though he decided to carry his helmet rather than wear it on the march. He preferred the open kettle helmets worn by the sergeants of the order but regulations forbade brother knights wearing them, especially on campaign.
Anton and Johann, similarly attired, joined Conrad as the Estonian warriors waited in the clearing in the centre of the camp.
‘Where’s Hans?’ asked Johann.
Anton shrugged then laughed as Hans came into view with a sack over his shoulders.
‘Can’t go on campaign without any food,’ he said.
‘I hope you have left some for the women and children,’ Johann rebuked him.
The four walked to where the Estonians waited and Peeter gave the order for the scouts to lead the way out of camp. Conrad walked with his three companions, Peeter, Tonis, leather face and the leaders of the Jerwen and Rotalians at the head of the relief force. The crossbowmen fell in behind the commanders. Each man carrying three quivers, each one holding twenty bolts. The frail, wounded, women and children had gathered to watch them go, women embracing sons and fathers who might not return and infants wailing in their mothers’ arms. Conrad said a silent prayer that his plan would succeed so these wretched women would shed no more tears. He glanced behind him to see a warrior smile at him. He smiled back but then realised something was wrong.
‘Halt!’
He left his place and walked over to the warrior, a slight-framed individual wearing brown leggings and tunic and a helmet with a nasal guard. A pair of blue eyes peered at him. A slim hand held a spear while the other grasped the metal handle of a shield. Conrad, his own shield slung on his back, reached forward to grasp the helmet’s nasal guard and lifted it off the warrior’s head. Blonde locks tumbled out and he recognised the girl who had served him stew the day before. His friends, Peeter, Tonis and leather face had also ambled over to stand behind him.
‘You’re a woman,’ he said.
‘That is why he was appointed commander,’ leather face said to Peeter, ‘for his keen powers of observation. Nothing gets past Brother Conrad.’
‘I will fight by your side, Susi,’ beamed the girl, who was probably no more than sixteen years old.
Conrad turned to Peeter. ‘How many of these warriors are women?’
Peeter shrugged. ‘A few, most whose family members have been killed before their eyes.’
‘I wish to exact revenge for my mother and father,’ said the girl.
Conrad shook his head. ‘Give me your spear and return to the other women.’
The girl’s pretty expression hardened. ‘You will have to take it.’
Anton laughed. ‘This should be worth watching.’
Other warriors began to gather round, wondering why they were not moving.
‘Please disarm this girl,’ Conrad said to Peeter.
‘Why?’ answered the old warrior. ‘She wishes to avenge her murdered parents.’
‘She might be killed,’ said Conrad.
‘We all face that prospect,’ said the big Rotalian leader.
‘I say she should come,’ said Tonis. ‘We need every spear.’
Peeter faced Conrad. ‘Perhaps you have never known the despair of losing your family to enemy swords, or seeing them
carried off into slavery, knowing you will never see them again.’
Abject despair appeared on Conrad’s face when he was reminded of the deaths of his parents, and his beloved Daina and Dietmar. Those painful memories shot through him like a red-hot knife being plunged into him.
‘I see that you do know,’ said Peeter.
There was an awkward silence before Conrad tossed the girl her helmet.
‘If you cannot maintain the pace you will be left behind.’
Conrad said nothing for the rest of the morning as the column followed the scouts through the thick forest to the river they would follow to take them east. They heard buzzards overhead and the tapping of woodpeckers as they skirted meadows and kept to the trees to conceal themselves from any enemy patrols. Occasionally an elk would stop grazing at the edge of the forest and raise its large head as dozens of warriors passed by. The air remained cool but the smell of pine was pleasant and the wildflowers, mosses and grasses felt soft underfoot. Warriors bent to avoid low-lying branches and others cursed as they daydreamed and were struck in the face by a piece of foliage. Wild boars grunted and scuttled away as the column threaded its way past bogs and along ancient paths before halting in a clearing by a small stream to rest and eat.
Men sat huddled in groups chewing on berries, fruit and a few, the lucky ones, had bloodless white sausages to eat. Conrad smiled when he saw Hans pull one from his sack and devour it in seconds. It was perhaps an hour after midday and already the sun was beginning to dip in the west. Peeter came and crouched beside the Sword Brothers.
‘We are five miles west of Lehola.’
‘We need to get close to the fort before night falls,’ said Conrad. ‘Get your men on their feet.’
He stood up and picked his helmet off the ground.
‘You too,’ he said to Hans.
His friend groaned, finished his apple and rose to his feet as Peeter walked off to spread the word that rest was over. Conrad tucked his axe in his belt and caught sight of the blonde-haired girl putting on her helmet. The pace slowed as the scouts led them east towards the fort, men treading carefully to avoid tripping and falling as the light in the forest dimmed. The temperature also began to fall as the autumn night approached and mist began to appear in clearings and near water.
It rained heavily just before the last vestiges of light left the forest, water dripping down on the warriors and soaking their cloaks and leggings. When the order to halt was given everyone forlornly searched for dry spots on the forest floor, most huddling against trees with their wet cloaks wrapped around them. Conrad gave the order that no fires were to be lit before posting guards and then settling down for a thoroughly miserable night in the damp forest. As darkness came the only sounds from the two hundred and fifty individuals were the occasional cough, hushed voices and the curses of men stumbling when going to take a piss or empty their bowels.
Conrad sat with his friends, Anton and Johann managing to snatch some sleep as Hans rummaged in his sack to eat the last of his food supplies. He finished his final few berries and then placed his sack on the ground. He looked at Conrad. ‘Can’t sleep?’
‘Too many thoughts running through my mind.’
‘Such as?’
Conrad peered at his lean friend, his features framed by the moonlight that had appeared as the rain clouds dissipated and now seeped through gaps in the forest canopy.
‘If this attack fails I will have many deaths on my conscience. The thought weighs heavily on me.’
‘Then don’t think about it. Master Rudolf trusts you. We trust you. There is no reason why you should not succeed.’
Conrad chuckled. ‘With an army of Estonians?’
‘It is strange, I agree,’ said Hans. ‘They seem to bear no resentment against us.’
Conrad was confused. ‘For what?’
‘For conquering them, for killing their leader and abolishing their religion.’
‘At least we do not reduce them to slaves,’ said Conrad, ‘which is what will happen if the Russians take Estonia.’
‘I hope Kalju and his family are safe,’ said Hans. ‘I like them.’
‘As do I,’ replied Conrad. ‘Henke was an idiot doing what he did, a stupid, ignorant fool.’
‘At least he is not here to wreck your plan,’ offered Hans.
‘I am thankful for that at least.’
They fell into silence as Hans tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the damp moss and get some sleep. Conrad, propped against the trunk of a pine tree, closed his eyes but his mind was racing. He heard an owl hoot and opened his eyes. He realised what was bothering him the most and stood up. He paced away, threading his way between groups of men huddled in their cloaks, some snoring others sleeping but fitfully in the dank atmosphere. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and he avoided stepping on anyone as he searched out his quarry. He found him leaning against a tree observing the night sky through a gap in the canopy above. The temperature had dropped considerably following the rainfall and Conrad could see his breath misting. He heard the footsteps and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, then he relaxed as he recognised the Sword Brother.
Tonis nodded to him. ‘You find sleep difficult as well?’
‘I have to speak with you.’
‘About the attack?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘About your time with Lembit.’
‘I lost many friends.’
‘Fighting the Sword Brothers?’
Tonis nodded. ‘And the Livs. We lost a fair number at Treiden and Wenden.’
Conrad felt an anger swell in him. ‘Wenden?’
‘Yes, when we breached the outer wall only to be forced back. It was where Lembit received the scar on his cheek.’
‘And what about a village nearby Wenden,’ hissed Conrad, ‘which was burnt to the ground and all its inhabitants slaughtered?’
If he had taken part in the raid on Thalibald’s village Conrad would kill him, irrespective of the consequences. The seconds passed excruciatingly slowly as Tonis racked his brains.
‘I remember it now,’ he said.
Conrad’s right hand moved slowly to the hilt of his sword.
‘I was part of Fellin’s garrison at the time,’ continued Tonis. ‘I heard that Lembit was much pleased afterwards though none of us knew why.’
He looked at Conrad. ‘Why do you ask?’
The brother knight relaxed as the tension flowed out of him. ‘It does not matter.’
He turned and walked away.
‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ said Tonis.
Conrad stopped and turned. ‘You too, Saccalian.’
He turned the silver ring on a finger of his left hand as he walked away, the ring that Daina had given him when he had been truly happy. It seemed like another lifetime. Still, perhaps tomorrow he would be killed and then he would be with his wife and child in heaven and all his cares and concerns would be over. That morbid thought cheered him and he went back to his comrades in a happy mood. He always prayed for death but death never came. Perhaps tomorrow would be different.
Tomorrow came all too soon as commanders went among their men to rouse those that had managed to grab some sleep. Men rose slowly to their feet, limbs aching and mouths dry and foul tasting. It was half an hour before dawn and the still air was bitterly cold. Hans stood with teeth chattering as the four brother knights gathered in a circle for their pre-battle ritual. Conrad held out his right arm, palm down. Hans placed the palm of his right hand on top of Conrad’s hand, Anton’s on top of Hans’ and Johann’s on top of his. Conrad recited the words that were repeated by the others.
‘God protect us, God grant us victory. May He give us the strength to defeat and scatter our enemies, as dust to the wind. God with us.’
The plan, such as it was, involved nothing more than marching from the forest to strike the enemy camp sited some five hundred paces away. Leather face and his crossbowmen would form a screen in front of the warriors as they
advanced, shooting down any sentries they encountered. Then the main force would rush the camp and kill anything in its path.
‘There is nothing else left to say,’ said Conrad to the commanders who had gathered round him. ‘Wait for my signal and when you hear it launch your charges. And good luck.’
Peeter and Tonis clasped his forearm but the leaders of the Jerwen and Rotalians merely nodded before returning to their men. The Saccalians, the largest number among the Estonians, were divided into two groups, one led by Peeter, the other by Tonis. They formed the right flank and centre of the attackers. To the left of the Saccalians were the Jerwen, with the score of Rotalians on the extreme left of the line.
As men adjusted their helmets and gripped their spears or axes the crossbowmen took the waterproof covers off their weapons and quivers. They then hooked their bowstrings over the metal claws attached to the their belts, placed their feet in the metal stirrup in the fore-ends of their crossbows to slip the bowstrings over the catch of the locks. Leather face, crossbow resting on his shoulder, walked over to where Conrad stood in front of the Estonian warriors.
The veteran mercenary looked back towards the thick mist just beyond the forest’s edge.
‘See, I told you a good mist can hide an army.’
Conrad squinted in the poor light. ‘Your men have their orders?’
Leather face winked. ‘Don’t you worry about my lads; they know what they’re doing. As soon as we’ve dropped the sentries, though, it will be up to you.’
He offered his hand to Conrad. ‘Good luck.’
Conrad took it and drew his sword. Behind him Anton, Hans and Johann did likewise. He raised his weapon in the air, pointed it forward and began walking. Behind him he heard the low rustle of footsteps on soft ground as dozens of men and a few women followed. He focused on the back of leather face around ten paces ahead leading his line of crossbowmen. Conrad felt his heart pound in his chest as he stepped forward, exiting the mist-shrouded trees to enter the great meadow to the south of Lehola. He heard a man curse behind him as he tripped and stumbled in the grass. Conrad’s heartbeat increased as he peered through the vision slits of his helmet to search for any signs of the enemy. Nothing.