Army of the Wolf

by Peter Darman

  ‘Father.’

  He embraced his younger brother Kalf who stood next to his father, slapping him hard on the back.

  ‘How is my young wolf?’

  ‘Thirsting to be the captain of a longship,’ said Olaf.

  Stark smiled at Kalf. ‘We will need all the longship captains we can lay our hands on soon. A great Christian fleet sails to the north.’

  Olaf turned and walked back into the settlement, his sons following. He said nothing at first, deep in thought as he walked past barns, animal pens, smiths hammering tools and weapons on anvils and shopkeepers bartering with customers.

  ‘The Bishop of Riga goes to make war against the Estonians by sea instead of land,’ Olaf said at last.

  Stark shook his head. ‘No, father, the ships I saw did not have sails bearing the emblems of Riga or the Sword Brothers.’

  Olaf stopped. ‘Who, then?’

  ‘I do not know, father,’ replied Stark, ‘only that many of the sails were painted with the cross of the Christians.’

  ‘How many sails?’ growled Olaf.

  ‘Dozens,’ answered Stark.

  ‘An Oeselian fleet is worth tent times its number of enemy vessels,’ boasted Kalf but Olaf was showing no such bravado.

  He had been the ruler of the Oeselians for nearly twenty years and in that time the Livs and Letts had been conquered and the Estonians comprehensively defeated by the Sword Brothers. Now it appeared that the Christians were going to eradicate the last vestiges of Estonian power, but when they did they would turn their eyes towards the island of Oesel. In an effort to halt the seemingly inexorable Christian advance he had forged an alliance with Lembit, the Estonian warlord who had united his people’s tribes. But Lembit had been defeated and killed by the Sword Brothers and now his eldest son, Sigurd, ruled Rotalia, one of the former Estonian kingdoms. Only Wierland and Harrien were still free of foreign warriors. But now it appeared that a crusader army was sailing to crush those two kingdoms.

  ‘Will we aid the Estonians as we did when Lembit was alive, father?’ asked Stark.

  Olaf shook his head. ‘We must look to the defence of Oesel. It is only a matter of time before the Bishop of Riga sends troops north to link up with these new crusaders who have come across the Baltic.’

  ‘The bishop campaigns in Lithuania,’ said Stark.

  ‘But he has garrisons in Saccalia and they helped turn back the Russians last year. Sigurd sends me regular reports from the mainland. If these new crusaders intend to conquer Harrien and Wierland then the bishop will wish to seize Jerwen and perhaps Rotalia. Or perhaps these new crusaders are the servants of the bishop. Either way the Estonians are finished.’

  Stark was shocked. ‘Should we not aid the Estonians, father? Better that war is fought on the mainland, away from Oesel.’

  ‘No,’ said Olaf softly. ‘Lembit united the six kingdoms of Estonia but even he failed to turn back the crusader tide. The Estonians are finished.’

  He sighed and began walking towards the centre of the settlement. ‘Come, your mother is waiting.’

  His heart was heavy as he walked through the capital of his people. A sense of doom had hung over him of late, and every piece of news that reached his ears seemed to increase his sense of foreboding. He looked at the happy, handsome faces of his people and envied them their ignorance of the increasing threat that lay across the water in Estonia. The Bishop of Riga had broken the power of the Estonians and now a new army came to finish them off. And after the crusaders had conquered the mainland they would look toward Oesel. Of that he was sure.

  *****

  It was early June when the Danish fleet made landfall on the northern coast of the Kingdom of Harrien. It had followed an ancient trading route across the Baltic to arrive at a bay on the coast of the ancient county of Revala called Lyndanise, a place where salt, furs and weapons had been traded for over six hundred years. There had always been a trading settlement in the bay and a few rickety jetties to accommodate the mostly small trading vessels that docked there. A short distance inland from the settlement was a timber fort located on an oblong-shaped limestone hill called Toompea. The fort was mostly empty except when Oeselian longships were spotted on the horizon, whereupon the inhabitants and traders would flee to the sanctuary of its wooden walls. There they would wait until the Oeselian warriors ransacked the settlement, raided the surrounding countryside in their search for livestock and anyone unfortunate enough not to have escaped to the sanctuary of the nearest hill fort or a forest hideaway, and generally laid waste inland villages. But they never destroyed the jetties to which they moored their longships or set fire to the buildings of Revala because it was a port that they too made frequent use of. Oeselian raiding parties numbered half a dozen longships at most but the size of the Danish fleet was huge.

  Once the ships had been sighted the alarm had been sounded and everyone had fled to the hill fort. From there they watched as the vessels of different shapes and sizes slowly sailed into the bay. The shore waters of the bay itself are shallow which meant that the large cogs could not approach the jetties but had to drop anchor some distance from the shore. The Danish boats that resembled longships, however, were able to row to the jetties to disgorge their crews, while others landed along the long sandy beach that flanked the settlement.

  The first to set foot on Harrien territory was Valdemar himself, who had transferred from his royal cog to a troop vessel that was steered to one of the jetties to allow the king to jump on to it. He was followed by fifty of his knights who followed their liege lord as he raced along the planks clutching his standard. He sprang from the jetty, ran a few paces and then plunged the spike on the end of the shaft of his flagpole into the ground. Thus did King Valdemar of Denmark claim northern Estonia for the Holy Church, as well as himself.

  Count Henry landed moments later, his crossbowmen and spearmen alighting from boats to secure the settlement. On the beach shallow-draught boats disgorged Valdemar’s spearmen and axe men who formed up on the sand and moved inland to form a defensive perimeter around the empty settlement.

  The count wandered over to the king as his men searched the buildings. A mangy dog arched its back and growled at him as he bowed his head to the king.

  ‘Well,’ he said, looking at the dog that was baring its teeth at them, ‘at least no one can say our landing was unopposed.’

  ‘Where are the people?’ said the king.

  The count pointed at the fort atop the hill half a mile away. ‘In there, most likely. Do you want it stormed and burned, majesty?’

  Valdemar was horrified. ‘Certainly not. I intend to build a great castle on that hill and a major trading port on this ground. We do God’s work, Henry, and come to write a new page in the history of the Holy Church. We should not sully this day with unnecessary bloodshed.’

  Notwithstanding the king’s vision the count turned his attention to more practical matters and immediately ordered the fort to be surrounded. As more and more soldiers came ashore he arrayed the knights, squires and foot soldiers around the stronghold and demanded its surrender, promising the lives of all those inside. There were perhaps sixty warriors inside the stronghold and upwards of four hundred women, children and merchants, with little food or water. They therefore were only too glad to accept the count’s generous terms. Valdemar sat on his horse that had recently been brought ashore and smiled as a long line of bedraggled, frightened women and children filed past him, his soldiers insisting that the warriors discard their weapons as they left the fort. Count Henry had all the men detained in a barn while the women and children were sent on their way.

  The huts in the settlement were allocated to the dignitaries among the crusader army. The king was lodged in the largest hut with his bodyguard billeted in buildings around it. Lodgings were also found for the Archbishop of Lund, the Bishops of Schleswig and Estonia, Count Henry and his brother and the king’s most senior knights. The fort was garrisoned and the settlement surrounded by a hos
t of tents and a strong guard as the Danes and Germans spent their first night on Estonian soil.

  The next few days were an anti-climax for Valdemar as the Estonian captives were escorted into the nearby forest to fell trees in order that two of the jetties could be lengthened into deeper water to allow the cogs to unload their cargoes. As this was going on a large party of non-combatants came ashore to maintain the proper functioning of a royal army: servants, smiths, farriers, carpenters, surgeons, priests, minstrels, cooks, shoemakers, engineers, armourers and stone masons. The latter immediately made plans to build a stone fort on Toompea to replace the ancient timber stronghold, while the captives were put to work to cut down more timber for a wooden wall to surround the settlement. The king informed his nobles and prelates that this new settlement would be called Reval and would be forever Danish. After a service of thanksgiving he sent one of his fastest boats, which bore a close resemblance to an Oeselian longship, to Riga to inform Bishop Albert that his army had landed successfully in northern Estonia and would soon be marching south.

  *****

  A man on a horse could ride from the new Danish site of Reval to Varbola, the stronghold of Alva, in a single day. But it took the wretched, hungry women and children who had been ejected from the trading settlement by Count Henry three days to reach the great hill fort. Fortunately it was summer and so the days were warm and largely dry, the refugees being fed along the way by kindly villagers who also allowed them to sleep in their halls and barns. But when they finally arrived at Varbola at the end of their journey many of the children were pale and ill and most of the women had holes in their shoes, matted hair and filthy clothes. They presented a pitiful sight, though pity was not the emotion that stirred in Alva’s chest as he sat in his high chair in his great hall listening to their tale of woe, his thin face seemingly narrowing by the minute.

  Torches flickered in brackets on the walls and on thick oak pillars that supported the ceiling, streams of light pouring through smoke vents in the roof helping to illuminate the great feasting hall that smelt of smoke and the reeds that covered the floor. Those women with infants had been housed in some of the stone huts within the great fort where they were provided with food and bedding for their children. Those with older children now stood behind an elderly man who had been elected to speak for them.

  ‘These raiders, were they Oeselians?’ asked Alva.

  ‘No, lord,’ answered the man with a quivering voice. ‘I have been unfortunate to have seen Oeselians many times during my life.’

  ‘Then who?’ snapped one of the chief’s warlords standing by his lord’s side.

  The women and children were startled by his tone and began huddling together.

  ‘It must be the Bishop of Riga and the Sword Brothers,’ said another bearded warlord beside him.

  Alva looked at the white-haired old man. ‘These raiders, were they dressed in mail and white tunics?’

  ‘Some wore white, lord, yes.’

  Alva strolled his long chin. ‘And did they wear a device on their tunics, a red cross above a red sword?’

  The old man shook his head, as did several of the women. ‘No, lord. I saw no such symbol.’

  ‘It must be the Sword Brothers,’ snapped the warlord standing next to Alva. Two of the smaller children in the hall began weeping and others buried their heads in their mother’s torn skirts. Alva raised his hand to silence his impatient subordinate.

  ‘They kept the younger men as slaves, lord,’ whispered the old man in shame.

  Alva nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then we shall have to get them back.’

  He rose from his chair and looked at the refugees. ‘You may go.’

  They bowed their heads and shuffled from the hall. Alva waved over the steward of the hall. ‘Ensure they are fed and housed. And provide them with fresh clothes. They are pitiful to behold.’

  The man bowed and followed the ragged pack of humanity leaving the hall. Alva looked at his warlords.

  ‘Send word to all the district chiefs to muster their men and bring them here as speedily as they can. We must throw back the invaders into the sea before they have time to fortify their position.’

  ‘They must be the Bishop of Riga’s soldiers,’ stated one of the warlords.

  Alva shrugged. ‘Most likely. But it doesn’t matter. They must be destroyed quickly to demonstrate that Harrien is strong. Go!’

  They bowed their heads and walked from the hall. One stopped and turned.

  ‘What about Jaak, lord?’

  ‘What about him?’ replied Alva.

  ‘His warriors could be useful against the invaders, lord.’

  ‘Three hundred men led by a drunkard,’ mused Alva. ‘For all I know they might all be drinking themselves to death. If they are how useful do you think they will be?’

  The warlord looked confused but stayed silent.

  ‘Very well,’ said Alva. ‘Send a message to my Jerwen ally that his presence is requested here.’

  After they had departed Alva sent a courier to Edvin explaining that his kingdom had been invaded by what appeared to be crusaders and that he was assembling his army. He politely requested the presence of Wierland’s warriors to increase the chances of destroying the invading army. He knew that Edvin would come. If Harrien fell then Wierland would be the next kingdom to fall.

  Alva had taken fifteen hundred warriors to fight beside Lembit at Wolf Rock and after ten days had passed there were upwards of two thousand camped outside Varbola. Every village and hamlet had answered his call and had sent fighting men, each contingent led by the district chiefs. His best soldiers, those who garrisoned Varbola on a permanent basis, were all equipped with helmets, mail armour and shields and armed with spears and swords. Their large round shields carried Alva’s lynx symbol, as did the banners that hung from Varbola’s towers and the standards carried by his warriors.

  The chiefs, wealthy farmers and village headmen arrived on ponies, small, hardy beasts with low legs and long bodies that had inexhaustible stamina. Their riders wore mail armour and sported red, green or brown cloaks around their shoulders. They all wore swords at their hips that years before had been used by their fathers and grandfathers. In battle they would dismount and fight beside those they led: hardy farmers with long blonde hair and blue eyes who were armed with a variety of spears, axes, knives and swords. A few, too few, were huntsmen who came with their bows slung over their shoulders and quivers filled with arrows.

  Fifteen days after he had sent a courier east to Wierland riders arrived at the fort to inform Alva that Edvin was marching to him with twelve hundred men. He had this news circulated among his own troops to stiffen morale, which had been dented somewhat when Jaak and his men had appeared. As usual the Jerwen leader descended into intoxication after he had arrived. His men seemed to have lost much of their discipline and enthusiasm and most nights engaged in drunken revelry that often ended in violence. Everyone soon learned to avoid the Jerwen camp and its occupants.

  It was the middle of June according to the Christian calendar when two thousand Harrien, twelve hundred Wierlanders and three hundred Jerwen marched from Varbola northeast towards the settlement of Lyndanise. As a long line of men on ponies and more on foot tramped along the dusty track Alva turned and looked at his stronghold, now filled with hundreds of women and children who had left their homes to seek the sanctuary of its mighty ramparts. The timber walls had been erected on an earth rampart fronted by limestone rocks and the dry moat that surrounded the whole fort was thirty-feet wide. Built on a knoll in the shadow of a great forest, Varbola had never been taken by an enemy. It was the strongest fortress in the whole of Estonia, perhaps in the whole world. As Alva admired its many towers and timber palisade he did not know that this was the last time he would set eyes upon it.

  Chapter 7

  The Estonians were spotted as soon as they exited the trees, hundreds of men forming up into ragged lines behind their chiefs. Normally they would lock shields and
advance in a great shield wall, the better-armed and armoured men in the front ranks and those without armour or helmets behind them. But this time there was no shield wall, only a brief halt to organise the warriors behind their leaders.

  Jaak and his three hundred men from Jerwen formed a small left wing, their objective being the hill fort on top of Toompea Hill to the northwest. In the centre of the Estonian line stood Alva and his Harrien, while on the right were the Wierlanders under Edvin. The three leaders simultaneously drew their swords and then began to run forward. There was a great blast of horns, the air was filled with war cries and then twenty-four hundred warriors followed them.

  There was no attempt to maintain order just a desperate desire to get to grips with the enemy as soon as possible. From the crusader camp came the blast of trumpets, the ringing of bells and the banging of drums as the alarm was raised. Lyndanise itself hugged the shore of the bay, the hill fort on Toompea being around a thousand yards southwest of the settlement. In between was the crusader camp, a sprawling collection of different-sized tents, makeshift stabling areas and wagon parks. The latter were grouped close to the shore after being unloaded from the cogs. The tents began at the edges of the settlement and extended outwards in a great semi-circle. The majority were simple shelters comprising a rectangle of fabric draped over a ridgepole that was rested on two vertical poles, the fabric being staked to the ground to create an open-ended tent for two men. They were the quarters of King Valdemar’s Danish spearmen, axe men and archers. The foot soldiers of Count Henry and the non-combatants fared marginally better, being housed in conical tents that at least had a flap for entry that could be closed in inclement weather. The larger round and oval tents with their walls and conical roofs were the quarters of the knights, sergeants and lesser knights. The larger pavilions were reserved for the priests and minor nobles among the army. The king, his high priest and the richest nobles were housed in the settlement itself, along with their guards.