by Peter Darman
‘News brought by traders is that Jaak, Edvin and Alva are dead,’ said Kalju, broth dripping on to his beard. ‘I was worried that these new invaders would attack Ungannia but it appears that they are heading this way.’
‘So the rumours about Lord Jaak are true,’ said Andres glumly.
Kalju said nothing but Conrad looking at him, realised that he was the last surviving Estonian leader. The others were dead and their kingdoms occupied by foreigners. How long would Ungannia remain free? He was about to declare that the Sword Brothers would always be the friend of his people but stopped himself. It was doubtful that Kalju wished for the friendship of the organisation that had been responsible for the death of his eldest son. And yet here he was, come to lend his support. It was a riddle.
‘Your presence here is most welcome, lord,’ said Conrad. The other brother knights uttered their agreement.
‘I came because Sir Richard sent me a message explaining that you had been made the defender of Estonia, Conrad. You, and Sir Richard, once came to fight by my side when my kingdom was threatened by Russians and Oeselians.’ He tactfully neglected to mention that Lembit had also attacked his homeland. ‘I thought it only right that I return the favour.’
He dipped a huge chunk of bread into his bowl of broth.
‘That said, I do not do it purely for honour. If these Danes take Saccalia then I have no doubt that they will also invade Ungannia. And that I desire not.’
He looked at Sir Richard. ‘You have scouts out looking for them?’
‘Some of my best wolf shields,’ replied Sir Richard.
A long line of women and children on foot, the elderly and infants in carts and an escort of warriors made its way south from Lehola after breakfast, on their way to Fellin. It had been the same for the past two days as the fort was emptied of non-combatants and prepared for a possible siege. Conrad stood on the timber wall and watched them go. A few of the children looked up and saw the mailed knight in his white surcoat and neatly trimmed beard and waved at him. His fame as Susi, the reincarnation of the ancient wolf guardian of the forest, had spread and they believed him to be invincible. He waved back. He was beginning to like these people.
He heard footsteps and turned to see Kaja coming towards him, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, her shapely figure wrapped in a green tunic and brown leggings. She had a dagger tucked into her leather belt and leather boots on her feet.
‘Hello, Kaja. Have you come to say goodbye?’
She looked quizzically at him. ‘Goodbye?’
He turned, rested his hands on the ancient wooden trunk that formed part of the wall and nodded towards the column of women and children.
‘Will you not be leaving with them to go to Fellin?’
‘No, Susi,’ she said firmly. ‘I stay here to fight.’
He smiled at her. ‘How many other women have decided to stay and fight?’
‘At least a score,’ she said, her pretty face a mask of steely boldness. ‘You mock me for wanting to defend my homeland?’
‘Why would I mock someone who saved my life?’ he answered softly. ‘But I think that perhaps you should concentrate on more womanly matters, like getting a husband.’
Her face suddenly became a veil of sadness. ‘I had a man who was going to be my husband. He was a farmer like my father and he had blue eyes and light brown hair and we loved each other. But then my village was attacked and…’
Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped and Conrad thought he heard a sob.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘you want to fight then you should be taught how to do it properly.’
He walked to the wooden steps that led down to the ground and descended them, Kaja following. Conrad picked up a stick from one of the piles of firewood stacked around the inside of the outer wall and turned to face Kaja. He drew his sword and handed it to her.
‘Have you ever handled a sword?’
‘No, Susi,’ she replied. ‘Only village headmen are rich enough to afford one.’ She grasped the black leather of the handle. ‘It is lighter than I thought it would be.’
Her eyes, moments before full of sadness, were now sparkling with excitement.
‘Now I want you to try and hit me with the sword,’ he said.
She looked horrified. ‘I could never do that, Susi.’
He gripped the stick with his right hand. ‘It is quite all right. You want to learn, do you not?’
The fire returned to her eyes. ‘Oh, yes.’
‘This is your first lesson,’ he told her, ‘the first of many. So pay attention. Now, attack.’
She swung the sword clumsily in his direction, like a farmer scything crops. He sidestepped to avoid the blow and tapped her lightly on the side of her right leg with the stick.
‘Many who use a sword concentrate too much on striking an opponent and neglect thinking about where the enemy’s blow will fall. Do you know what the first rule of combat is, Kaja?’
He lunged and struck her again on the leg, a glancing blow that annoyed her rather than hurt her.
‘Keep moving. Keep moving so you can get out of the way of an opponent’s sword.’
He moved to the left and she duplicated his manoeuvre, swinging the sword at him again. He leapt back to avoid he point and then flicked his right wrist to whip the end of the stick against her left arm. She winced with pain.
‘If your free hand isn’t holding a shield or another weapon,’ he told her, ‘then keep it behind your back. Otherwise it becomes just another target.’
Kaja was becoming more annoyed as she jabbed and swung the sword at Conrad, who always remained out of reach. Their mock duel was spotted by groups of warriors who had also been drilling and they began to drift over to take a closer look. When they saw Kaja was a woman they began to whistle and jeer at her, encouraging her to press her attack more forcefully. The result was that she grasped the handle with both hands and launched a series of downward and sideward strikes at Conrad, the result of which was to tire her out as he ducked, dodged and stepped back to avoid them, tapping her legs and arms with his stick as he did so. The circle of warriors gave a great cheer every time she attacked him but her efforts were in vain and after a few minutes she stood panting before him.
‘You cheated,’ she hissed.
The warriors laughed and pointed at him, chanting ‘cheat, cheat’ as Kaja gave Conrad a disdainful look.
‘How so?’ he asked.
‘You said you would teach me how to use a sword,’ she snapped, ‘but all you have done is humiliate me.’
‘The show is over,’ he shouted at the warriors, who grinned and laughed as they dispersed. He walked over to Kaja.
‘No one can be taught to use a sword in one lesson, Kaja. It takes years of practice to become proficient. But you have learned a valuable lesson today.’
She was unconvinced. ‘What?’
He took his sword and slid it back in its scabbard, tossing the stick back on the woodpile.
‘The lesson, Kaja, is that a fighter with a sword has to be careful, quick and utterly ruthless. Careful not to expose his body to an opponent, quick in order to land a lethal blow on an enemy and ruthless to kill as quickly as possible. A sword is not a club to batter an opponent into submission but an instrument to kill with speed. Fights should be over as quickly a possible to save your energy and reduce the chances of you getting injured.
He smiled at her. ‘You have done well.’
‘I did not do anything,’ she said.
‘Hopefully it has taught you that you have to think before you strike and above all not to let your anger rise and take over your emotions. A good fighter always keeps his mind working.’
‘Even in battle?’
‘Especially in battle, Kaja. Battles are not brawls, though some may think so and act accordingly. Before a battle a fighter thinks about the ground he is to fight on and how he can use it to his advantage. He must also think about the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy so h
e can fight to maximum effectiveness.’
‘Do you always choose the ground you fight on?’ she asked.
‘Not always, but if you can it gives you the edge and most of the time that is all you need.’
He did not intend to fight the Danes, that much was true, but he intended to have the edge over them in case events took an unexpected turn.
While they waited for King Valdemar’s army to arrive Conrad, his fellow brother knights, Sir Richard and Kalju finalised their plans. They knew the route the Danes were taking, had inspected the ground – Kalju having been shown the ford across the Pala the day after he had arrived – and agreed a strategy. The Army of the Wolf numbered just over three thousand men but the majority were Estonian warriors who were brave and hardy but would were no match for heavily armoured horsemen. If the Danes launched an assault with their knights then the Estonians would form shield walls, which would be shot to pieces by Danish crossbowmen. But they had taken measures to nullify the advantages enjoyed by the Danes.
All the non-combatants had been evacuated by the time a scout soaked to the skin arrived at Lehola on a rain lashed, windswept afternoon to inform the Marshal of Estonia that the Danes were a day’s march from the river. It had begun to rain with a monotonous regularity, signalling the arrival of autumn, which had given the defenders of Lehola more time as the Danes’ rate of advance had slowed as their wagons sank in the mud. But now their own scouts were near the Pala, no doubt riding back to their king with reports that there was an enemy camp to the south of the river. The men who occupied the small felt tents were farmers first and warriors second, all natives of Saccalia who had been working with their tools to fell a host of trees. They had been working day and night with their saws, hammers and axes to fashion hundreds of stakes, six feet long that were hammered into the ground in three rows the whole length of the meadow that ran parallel to the river. They were angled at forty-five degrees towards the water and then their ends were sharpened to a point to create a defence against knights on horseback. But there was just enough space between the individual stakes to allow a man on foot to pass through them. The Saccalians had also built fifty mantlets – easily transportable thick wooden screens that could stop a crossbow bolt and arrow – for protection against enemy missiles.
The next morning Lehola was alive well before dawn, warriors checking their helmets and armour and those that had them saddling ponies. Conrad and his friends joined Sir Richard and his knights and squires in the small church they had established inside the inner compound, in truth nothing more than a hut with a small altar with a wooden cross on top. They knelt in the cool interior as one of the nobleman’s priests said prayers and asked God for a peaceful resolution to the coming day’s events. Sir Richard, clean shaven and completely bald, was kneeling beside the stern-looking squire Paul, a man who kept his own counsel and went about his work with a calm efficiency. Conrad wondered if his stoical demeanour was a result of him being an executioner, individuals who were usually scorned by commoners and nobles alike.
All Sir Richard’s followers had volunteered to stay with the English lord as long as he remained in Livonia, as opposed to the majority of crusaders who came to Riga for a year’s crusading, in return for which they received absolution for their sins. Some of Sir Richard’s men, his retainers, had taken Estonian wives, spoke the native language and had been given farms that were worked by local villagers. Thus had they become lords in their own right. Conrad wondered if Sir Richard would ever return to England.
After the service the congregation ate a breakfast of hot porridge, bread and cheese, the slaves ferrying ample amounts of food and warm milk from the kitchens. As usual Hans ate enough for two men but Conrad had no appetite, which was noticed by Kalju.
‘You should eat, Conrad, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.’
‘Lord Kalju is right,’ agreed Hans, wiping the inside of his bowl with a chunk of bread.
‘I have no stomach for food,’ said Conrad, sipping a cup of milk.
‘The burden of command weighs you down?’ asked Kalju.
Conrad nodded and frowned as Hans pushed a huge piece of cheese into his mouth.
‘You will get used to it,’ said Kalju reassuringly. ‘Your bishop has faith in you and so do we. And remember, we are not going to fight just to talk, or so Sir Richard assures me.’
‘It is true,’ said Sir Richard. ‘We go to settle the matter of the boundary between Livonia and the territory of the Danes.’
Squire Paul sitting next to his lord curled his lip. ‘We’ll see.’
Conrad was most surprised: it was the first time he had heard the squire speak German. But his few words did nothing to settle the churning he felt in his stomach.
Kaja and the other women who dressed like men and were determined to fight were left behind at Lehola. They supplemented the skeleton garrison that was left to guard the fortress as Conrad and the others rode from the stronghold to join the army that was deploying behind the rows of stakes that had been planted just to the rear of the southern bank of the River Pala.
The horses of the brother knights were covered in their white caparisons, as was the mount of Sir Richard who wore no insignia on his shield or surcoat as part of his self-imposed penance. His knights, though, sported a variety of boars, bears, unicorns and lions on shields and surcoats coloured yellow, blue, red and orange, all of them armed with lances and equipped with full-face helms. Their imposing presence and bright colours were a sharp contrast to the drab greens, blues and browns worn by Kalju, Hillar, Andres and Peeter who rode with them on their squat ponies that had no coverings.
By the time the mounted party reached the river the various Estonian contingents had been marshalled into position by their chiefs. On the right flank stood a great rectangle of Saccalians: just over fifteen hundred men drawn up in five widely spaced ranks, the best armoured and armed warriors in the first two ranks. To the left of these men were Tonis and his wolf shields – a hundred men all in mail armour, helmets and armed with spears, swords and axes, their shields overlapping like fish scales.
There was a gap in the centre of the army where Sir Richard’s horsemen deployed, directly in front of the ford. As soon as the mounted knights arrived Peeter gave the signal for the army’s archers – two hundred men – to deploy either side of them.
The left wing of the army numbered Kalju’s five hundred Ungannians, Hillar’s three hundred Rotalians to their left and Andres and his five hundred Jerwen on the extreme left of the line. And in front of the whole army were the rows of sharpened stakes to act as a deterrent to the armoured horsemen of the Danes. Behind the army a few men tended to the ponies on which the Estonian chiefs and elders had arrived and who now stood in the middle of the shield walls of their men. The latter had been fully briefed concerning the tactics they were to adopt if hostilities broke out. As three thousand men stood in the light drizzle that began to fall they peered across the dark, meandering waters of the Pala and waited for the Danes.
‘It is as well that Livonia is covered in trees,’ remarked Sir Richard sitting next to Conrad as he looked at the forest of stakes to the left and right.
Like most of his men the English lord had taken off his helmet and rested it on his pommel, and had also rammed the end of his lance into the soft earth.
‘Hopefully our work will make the Danes think twice if they are tempted to initiate hostilities,’ said Conrad.
‘We have assembled a sizeable force here, Conrad,’ said Sir Richard.
‘Numbers alone are no deterrent, my lord,’ replied Conrad. ‘Newly arrived crusaders have a low opinion of Livs and Estonians, and after their victory at Lyndanise the Danes’ opinion of Estonian prowess will be even lower.’
‘The Danes have not encountered the Marshal of Estonia before,’ said Anton with a trace of jest.
Conrad looked at the leather tube that held his commission tied to his pommel. ‘I will show them the bishop’s commission, th
at will suffice.’
‘You are certain of that?’ queried Hans.
‘We are about to find out,’ commented Johann.
Conrad looked up and saw riders across the river, a few at first but then double and treble their number as the vanguard of the Danish army rode into the lush meadow on the other side of the Pala. Their approach was leisurely as they walked their horses forward and then stopped around two hundred paces from the riverbank. The drizzle had abated but a cool easterly wind had picked up ruffling the banners of the Danes. The mailed knights in their full-face helms on the track directly opposite the brother knights and Sir Richard wore blue surcoats, as did their horses, the banner that fluttered above them being the same colour and bearing some sort of yellow device that Conrad could not make out.
While the Danish knights sat on their horses two columns of foot soldiers began to file into the meadow either side of them: hundreds of axe men wearing conical helmets with nasal guards and what appeared to be knights on foot, their heads protected by iron helmets with fixed face guards and their bodies covered by mail hauberks. They carried no spears unlike the spearmen who took up position directly in front of the mounted knights, their long shields painted blue and adorned with a yellow motif.
‘Crossbowmen,’ said Hans, pointing towards a file of soldiers wearing blue surcoats and shouldering crossbows taking up position behind the spearmen.
More spearmen, these wearing mail shirts and conical helmets, were deploying opposite the Saccalians across the river, their shields a mixture of reds and yellows.
Sir Richard stood up in his saddle and looked left and right. ‘We seem to outnumber them. A good start.’ He looked at Conrad. ‘What do you intend to do?’
‘Ask them to withdraw, lord.’
Conrad dug his spurs into the flanks of his horse and the beast walked forward, towards the narrow gap, no more than six feet wide, that had been left in the belts of stakes so a single rider could pass through.