by Peter Darman
Eventually they reached the centre of the camp where the round tent of Conrad and his companions was pitched, the banner of the Sword Brothers fluttering frantically from a top pole. Its slanted sides were being battered by the wind. Two warriors were hammering additional wooden pegs into the ground and securing guy ropes to them to make the structure more secure. Two guards stood outside the sealed entrance, wreathed in cloaks and spears and shields tight to their bodies as a defence against the wind.
‘A visitor named Rameke to see Susi,’ announced one of the wolf shields to the guards, whose shields bore the image of a stag.
One of the guards nodded, turned and untied the ropes sealing the tent’s entrance before stepping inside. Seconds later he reappeared and told Rameke he could enter. The Liv leader tethered his horse to a nearby wooden rail as the wolf shields departed and he stepped inside the tent. The interior contained a simple wooden bench around which sat Conrad, Anton and Hans, the latter eating a bowl of stew with his hands. He stopped when he saw Rameke and jumped up to embrace him.
‘Conrad told us you would pay us a visit.’
‘It has been too long, my friend,’ said Anton, clasping Rameke’s forearm.
The Liv pulled his sword from its scabbard.
‘Your Estonians wanted me to surrender this at the camp’s entrance,’ he said to Conrad. ‘They thought I might kill their leader.’
‘They are very fond of Conrad,’ laughed Anton.
Rameke suddenly felt the edge of a dagger at his throat and his smile disappeared. Conrad raised his hand.
‘Put the knife down, Kaja. This is my brother.’
Rameke relaxed as the cool edge of the blade left his flesh and he spun round in anger, surprised to see an attractive young woman with blonde hair standing with a knife in her hand.
‘See what I mean,’ said Anton.
‘He is your brother, Susi?’ said Kaja.
Conrad walked forward and took the dagger from her. ‘This is Rameke, a great Liv warlord and my wife’s brother.’
Kaja’s smiled sweetly at Rameke and dissipated his anger. ‘My apologies, lord.’
‘Kaja, fetch our visitor some stew to warm his insides.’
‘Good idea,’ said Hans, rushing to the bench to pick up his empty bowl. ‘I will have some too.’
She smiled demurely at Rameke and exited the tent as Conrad invited his brother to sit. The Liv sheathed his sword and did so.
‘Are there many in your army like her?’ asked Rameke.
‘No, Kaja is rather unique,’ said Conrad.
‘Perhaps you should send her across the river to fight the Semgallians before the army crosses.’
‘No one is crossing the river until this wind drops,’ said Hans.
‘The bishop is eager to visit vengeance on those gathered on the southern bank,’ remarked Rameke grimly.
‘You were not there last year when we had to retreat with our tails between our legs,’ said Conrad.
‘It was most undignified,’ added Anton.
‘So,’ said Rameke, ‘where is Johann? Don’t tell me you have him grooming your horses in this weather.’
Anton and Hans dropped their heads as the wind battered the sides of the tent.
‘Johann was killed last year when we fought the Danes,’ said Conrad softly.
‘No,’ uttered Rameke.
‘Killed by fellow crusaders,’ remarked Anton bitterly.
‘He is buried at Wenden,’ was all that Conrad could offer as solace.
Kaja returned with bowls of stew for Rameke and Hans and they sat and ate them in silence. And outside the wind continued to blow.
Chapter 9
The wind dropped suddenly the day after Rameke’s visit. Where before there had been wild gusts and a constant howling there was now silence. The sun shone and the temperature rose as kestrels, marsh harriers and warblers swooped over the river and the crusader camp. The level of the Dvina was still high, swollen with meltwater, but at least the current was steady rather than raging and so Master Thaddeus sent out riverboats to reconnoitre the opposite side of the river, which was around two and half thousand yards away. They returned with news that the extent of the Semgallian camp had increased markedly, which meant that a bridgehead would have to be established in the face of enemy opposition.
Such an eventuality had been prepared for, however, with the stockpiling of dozens of riverboats along the northern riverbank, the vessels having been hauled inland during the winter months to save them being crushed by ice and swept away by the spring meltwaters. By the time March was drawing to a close the bishop’s army had three hundred riverboats to transport its soldiers across the river. Insufficient to convey over eight thousand soldiers in one trip but enough to land an initial six thousand men on the enemy’s shore.
Each riverboat was forty-five feet long and twelve feet wide in the middle, narrowing to points at prow and stern. Powered by up to ten oarsmen and a single square sail, the hull was constructed of overlapping oak planks. There was a side-mounted rudder at the stern on the starboard side and a completely uncluttered deck. The rowers sat on chests rather than benches, which meant that the riverboats were ideal for conveying cargoes and soldiers.
‘We don’t have enough.’
Hillar was shaking his head as he looked at the thirty boats lined up side by side on the bank a few feet from the swollen river.
‘That is all we have been allocated,’ said Conrad.
‘You should get some more,’ urged Andres, his brow furrowed like Hillar’s.
‘Master Thaddeus has worked out the allocation of boats for each contingent,’ said Conrad. ‘There are no more.’
‘The old man I saw at Wenden?’ said Tonis.
Conrad nodded.
‘He talks to himself like a madman,’ laughed Tonis.
‘He is very good at formulating plans,’ stated Anton.
Hillar pointed at the boats. ‘Thirty boats carrying a maximum of twenty crew each equals six hundred men and we have over eight hundred.’
‘And one woman,’ smiled Kaja behind them.
Hans and Anton laughed but the three Estonian leaders were far from amused.
‘A quarter of our strength will be sitting on their backsides on this side of the river, Susi,’ said Tonis.
Conrad scratched his head. ‘Actually it will be slightly more than that. You see each boat will have two crossbowmen at the prow to make our landing easier.’
The Estonians looked at each other in horror.
‘We have archers of our own,’ protested Andres.
‘But archers have to stand up to shoot,’ said Hans, ‘whereas crossbowmen can be prone when they shoot.’
‘We do not have any crossbowmen,’ said a still unhappy Hillar.
‘Now then, what’s this?’
They all turned to see leather face at the head of a file of crossbowmen, all wearing gambesons sporting the emblem of the Sword Brothers, each one shouldering his weapon and full quivers.
‘Council of war?’ grinned leather face, revealing a row of rotten teeth.
He sauntered up and slapped Kaja on the backside.
‘Be a good girl and fetch the boys and me some food. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.’
Mortified, she was about to pull her dagger when Conrad grabbed her arm to stop her.
‘I’m sure we can find you and your men something to eat. But first I will show you to your tents.’
‘The assault is going ahead tomorrow, then,’ said leather face, making no attempt to hide his leering at Kaja’s breasts.
‘It is,’ said Conrad.
The mercenary looked at Andres, Hillar and Tonis.
‘I hope your men can row. We don’t want to end up at Kokenhusen or some other place downstream and miss all the fun.’
‘Our warriors can row, old man,’ sniffed Tonis. ‘Just make sure your men do not shoot them in the back when they jump out of the boats to fight the enemy.’
Leath
er face clapped his hands together. ‘You of all people should know that my boys always hit what they aim at. Them and me were at Fellin, Lehola and that battle where Lembit was killed.’
Hans and Anton shifted uncomfortably on their feet as leather face reminded Tonis of a series of Estonian defeats, the wolf shield’s expression becoming more hostile by the second.
‘Well, enough reminiscing,’ said Conrad hurriedly. ‘Let us fill our bellies to fortify ourselves for the coming clash.’
He led leather face away as Kaja stuck her tongue out at the mercenary in disgust. He was a lecherous, foul-mouthed hired killer but Conrad was glad to have him with his army for, like the vast majority of the mercenaries in the pay of the Sword Brothers and crusaders, he knew his trade and in battle he and his men could make the difference between success and failure.
He also stayed calm in the cauldron of battle, which had a reassuring effect on those around him. Thus the next day, when warriors were buckling on belts, fastening gaiters and placing helmets on their heads prior to hauling the boats to the water’s edge, leather face was calmly walking among his men issuing his final commands in a steady and firm voice. The two crossbowmen in each boat would shoot their bolts as the vessel approached the enemy shore. Behind them eight warriors would act as oarsmen to propel the boat through the water, all the vessels having been stripped of their sails. Ten other warriors would sit between the rowers, waiting for the shallow-draught boats to run aground on the opposite bank before they leapt out to do battle.
Conrad stood near the line of boats with Anton and Hans, turning the axe in his right hand, holding his helmet with the other. They had risen before dawn, kneeling by their cots to say prayers before donning their armour in silence. For Conrad the immediate eve of battle was always a time for quiet reflection. Some men dwelt on their own mortality and knew that they may be killed in battle, but Conrad prayed that if he performed well in combat the Lord would grant his desire for death. He never confided this in anyone for it was a sin for a warrior of Christ to wish to end his life and thus deprive God of a holy soldier. But as he stared at the silver ring on his left hand he thought of Daina and Dietmar and a burning desire to be with them again welled up within him. That is why he never feared battle or death for he knew that they were ways by which he would be reunited with his loved ones again, not only his wife and son but also his mother and father whose lives had also been cut short. He stared at the ring as he continued to turn it.
‘Conrad, stop daydreaming.’
He snapped out of his musings and saw Hans frowning at him.
‘We have a battle to fight in case you had forgotten.’
‘Best not keep the enemy waiting,’ said Anton. ‘It is the height of bad manners.’
Conrad rose to his feet. ‘You’re right. We cannot have the enemy thinking that the Sword Brothers have no manners.’
He shivered in the pre-dawn light even though he was wearing cotton breeches and a vest under his quilted aketon. He rubbed his hands and put on a pair of leather shoes with thick soles and then pulled on his mail chausses to cover his legs. He took the long-sleeved mail hauberk with its integral mittens from the wooden stand beside his cot and slipped it over his head. Then he put on the linen-covered, quilted sleeveless gambeson over the hauberk to complete his body armour.
His head was protected by a linen coif next to his skull, over which he wore a mail coif and then a padded leather head band that made wearing his full-face helm bearable. He strapped on his sword belt, adjusting the buckle so his sword in its scabbard was comfortable at his left hip and the sheath holding a dagger was positioned on the opposite side. He tucked his axe into his belt and picked up his shield, using the leather strap attached to its inside to sling it on his back. Hans and Anton preferred maces as their bludgeoning weapons, which they also tucked into their belts before collecting their helmets and exiting the tent.
The morning air was sharp and frost covered the ground, but the sky was clear and the sun bright on the eastern horizon. There was no breeze and the waters of the Dvina were calm – it would be a fine day.
Conrad stood outside the tent and held out his right arm, palm down. Hans placed his right hand on top of Conrad’s, Anton’s over Hans’.
‘We remember our fallen friends, Bruno and Johann, and know that we will see them again. We go to scatter our enemies as dust to the wind.’
Hans and Anton repeated the words ‘as dust to the wind’.
‘Time to eat,’ said Hans.
They went to the nearest campfire, over which Kaja was cooking a large pot of porridge. She saw the knights approaching and picked up three bowls stacked nearby.
‘Morning Kaja,’ beamed Hans. ‘Do I smell the aroma of porridge?’
She ladled the thick stodge into a bowl and handed it and a wooden spoon to Hans, also filling bowls for Conrad and Anton.
Kaja grinned mischievously. ‘We cross the river today, Susi?’
‘We do, yes,’ he answered. ‘When we have finished eating I want you to come down to the water’s edge with us.’
She was beside herself with joy. ‘Yes, Susi.’
Once they had finished their breakfast of porridge and the previous night’s stew that Kaja had also heated they made their way to where Andres, Tonis and Hillar were mustering their warriors. The latter began banging their spears against their shields when they saw the three knights, before chanting ‘Susi, Susi’ as they passed by. Kaja, who had sprinted to her tent to collect her helmet, mail shirt, spear and shield, trailed after them, her hair tucked under her iron headwear. Conrad went to the water’s edge and looked across the Dvina towards the barely visible southern shore. He then looked west into the cloudless sky. Subconsciously he took his axe from his belt and turned it in his hand. The morning was so fresh and peaceful, the water gently lapping around the bows of the empty riverboats. Anton and Hans also looked to the west.
‘No signal yet,’ said Hans.
It had been arranged that fires would be lit along the shore, the tar-covered embers throwing thick black smoke into the sky to signal the commencement of the assault. The three Estonian leaders had all been briefed about the tactics that would be employed: each crusader contingent would assault in two waves of boats, the vessels in each wave widely separated so their oars would not become entangled with those of the boats on either side. The second-wave boats would be positioned behind the gaps between the boats in the first wave. In this way both waves would be able to run ashore and disgorge their occupants, at least that was the theory.
The Army of the Wolf was on the left wing of the crusaders’ forces. To their immediate right were the fifty boats that would transport the knights, sergeants and mercenaries of the Sword Brothers. Also in the centre of the crusader line, and on the right of the order, were the one hundred riverboats that would transport Fricis’ Livs across the Dvina. The Duke of Saxony’s crusaders made up the army’s right wing: two thousand, four hundred men carried in one hundred and twenty boats. The garrison of Riga formed a reserve to protect the bishop, the priests and the hundreds of servants and non-combatants that attended the army.
As Hillar, Andres and Tonis organised the crew of each boat Conrad gestured to one of the latter’s subordinates: a burly Saccalian with a nasty scar on his cheek and a vicious-looking axe tucked into his belt. He also beckoned Kaja over. Only five hundred and forty warriors could be initially transported across the river, which meant that nearly three hundred would be remaining behind.
Conrad smiled at Kaja who did not understand why the scarred Saccalian was standing behind her.
‘You will stay here, Kaja. And to ensure that you do not slip into any of the boats I have asked this man to watch over you.’
She took off her helmet and stared defiantly at Conrad. ‘I want to fight. You cannot stop me.’
‘This man will stop you,’ he said firmly. He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’
She angrily shrugged off his hand and stomped away.
‘Keep a close eye on her,’ Conrad said to the Saccalian, ‘make sure she doesn’t cross the river until we have returned. But do not harm her.’
The man nodded. ‘Yes, Susi.’
‘If you return.’
Conrad turned to see leather face grinning at him, crossbow resting on his shoulder. His men were walking to the boats: two to each vessel.
‘I always return,’ he told the old mercenary.
‘There is the signal,’ said Tonis, pointing to the west where columns of black smoke were rising into the sky.
‘Man your boats!’ shouted Conrad, offering his hand to Tonis and then Andres and Hillar who came to him before running to their vessels.
Conrad clambered aboard a boat, followed by Hans, Anton, leather face and one of his crossbowmen. They all went to the prow as the rest of the crew boarded, two pushing off the boat before jumping aboard. The eight rowers fed their oars through the holes made in the sides of the hull, sitting on wooden crates as they dipped their oars into the water.
It took a few minutes to align the two waves so that they formed straight lines of boats, but once achieved the vessels reached a steady speed as they moved through the calm water. Leather face placed his right foot in the metal stirrup fitted to the fore-end of his crossbow’s stock, hooked the centre of the bowstring over the double-pronged metal claw attached to the front of his belt and pushed his foot down. In this way the bowstring was drawn along the crossbow’s stock until it slipped over the catch of the lock.
‘Well,’ he said to Conrad, ‘here we are again. About to do battle with the heathens.’