by Peter Darman
‘Then let us march to this place,’ said the duke, ‘and storm it while Thaddeus plays with his machines.’
His dark-haired companion nodded in agreement but Nordheim shook his head.
‘Tervete is very strong, my lord, I have been there. It will take siege engines to storm it.’
‘And it will divert us from our task,’ said the bishop, ‘which is to destroy Mesoten.’
‘It would be better if your horsemen were to ravage the area to the west, my lord,’ said Volquin, ‘and keep Viesthard’s attention focused on your activities instead of the siege here.’
‘Commander Nordheim will escort you,’ said the bishop, ‘as he is acquainted with the area.’
Volquin looked at Conrad. ‘The Marshal of Estonia will take his mounted warriors and reconnoitre the area to the east to guard against a surprise pagan attack from that direction.’
‘Yes, grand master,’ said Conrad.
Fricis looked alarmed. ‘Lord bishop, if you send a thousand horsemen west and eight hundred more east then you will weaken our position here.’
The bishop looked at Volquin.
‘We will still have over six thousand soldiers in camp, lord, including over twelve hundred crossbowmen.’
The Duke of Saxony pointed at Nordheim. ‘How many warriors does this Viesthard have left after his mauling at the Dvina?’
Nordheim stroked his chin. ‘Perhaps eight thousand, but they would include all men of every age in the kingdom capable of carrying a spear.’
The duke smashed a fist into his palm. ‘Then let us ride to this fort, this Tervete, and invite the enemy to embrace us on the field of honour.’
‘Have a care, my lord,’ said Volquin, staring at Nordheim, ‘remember that the Semgallians still have two hundred crossbows in their possession.’
‘A most unfortunate oversight,’ remarked Thaddeus.
After the meeting Rameke walked with Conrad through the Sword Brothers’ camp, the ground already turning to mud.
‘I have a mind to ride with you,’ he said.
‘You would be most welcome,’ said Conrad. ‘How is your arm?’
Rameke held up his limb. ‘Just about fully healed. Your Estonian princess was right. I am in her debt.’
‘You should tell her that.’
And he did when he arrived at Conrad’s camp the next day in the company of fifty mounted warriors of his bodyguard. They looked identical to the Estonian warriors in the Army of the Wolf in their mail armour, green cloaks and large round shields attached to their saddles. But the symbols on the shields were different: the zigzag line of the sign of Mara, the Morning Star, the sign of the Thunder Cross, the fir twig that denoted the sign of Laima and, the most popular of all, the Sign of the Moon. All were pagan symbols that were from a time when the Church of Rome had never been heard of in Livonia and Estonia. But the Livs saw no contradiction in retaining vestiges of their old religion while embracing the Holy Church. For his part the Bishop of Riga needed the Livs to fight in his armies and so did not insist that they sever all ties with their pagan past. Accompanying Rameke were fifty of the order’s crossbowmen led by leather face, who informed Conrad that Master Rudolf thought it advisable to reinforce the Army of the Wolf with missile support. The crossbowmen were all mounted on horses, though leather face was far from happy.
‘All packhorses,’ he complained, ‘nags who will probably collapse at any moment.’
Conrad was checking the saddle straps on his own horse. ‘He looks fine to me.’
‘He’s old and bad tempered,’ retorted leather face.
Conrad hauled himself into his saddle. ‘Then you should get along fine with him.’
The tents had been packed on two-wheeled carts that also carried food, fodder, spare clothing, tools and weapons. The crossbowmen and Livs brought their own supplies with them, along with one of Nordheim’s officers, a man who had served in Semgallia when Vincentas had been an ally of the bishop. He rode at the head of the column of riders in the company of the army’s commanders as it headed east, following the course of the River Lielupe. Hans and Anton chatted to Andres, Tonis and Hillar while Rameke discussed his healed arm with Kaja who was dressed in her mail shirt, her helmet and shield dangling from her saddle. The land was a vivid green, the grass lush and the air thick with the scent of pine.
‘There are no Semgallians in the part of the kingdom we are heading towards,’ said the officer. ‘They moved out long ago when the Selonians and Nalsen began raiding them.’
‘Who?’ queried Conrad.
‘Lithuanian tribes that were fighting the Semgallians. They are ruled by Prince Vsevolod who used to rule Gerzika until the Sword Brothers captured it.’
‘He is a Russian, is he not?’ said Conrad.
The officer nodded.
‘And the Lithuanians accept him as their ruler?’
‘Not really, but his wife is Princess Rasa who was the daughter of Grand Duke Daugerutis, who for a time was the ruler of all the Lithuanian kingdoms. He was the warlord who crossed the Dvina to invade Livonia.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well,’ continued the officer, ‘after his death the various kingdoms went their separate ways. But Vsevolod forged an alliance with the Northern Kurs to carve up Semgallia between them. That’s when Riga offered the hand of friendship to Duke Vincentas. But now he is dead and we are at war with the Lithuanians.’
‘It is our duty to spread the word of God,’ said Conrad. ‘What do you know of this Viesthard?’
‘He is a fine warlord, not to be underestimated. Hopefully he died at the Dvina because if not then the bishop can look forward to a long war.’
*****
When the Kriviu Krivaitis had declared a holy war against the Christian invaders Mindaugas had insisted that he be in the vanguard of the army being assembled to fight the crusaders. He was now twenty years of age and was fast becoming a leading figure among the Selonians and Nalsen. This was what Vsevolod intended and why he had married his eldest daughter to the son of Stecse. But Mindaugas was hot-headed, difficult to control and his popularity required him to be handled carefully. So Vsevolod had allowed him to ride west with a thousand heavily armed horsemen, but had also sent Aras with him to ensure that the young prince did not get himself killed. Around Panemunis, meanwhile, an army of foot and more horse assembled to do battle with the Bishop of Riga’s invaders. Vsevolod insisted that it would march only when all the chiefs had arrived with their men, which meant that it could remain in and around his stronghold for weeks as warriors on foot made their way from the far corners of his kingdom.
Mindaugas’ column was a sight to behold, each rider encased in either lamellar or mail armour, with shining helmets, mail aventails and mail armour covering their thighs. Each man carried a large rectangular shield and two spisas in addition to a sword and either an axe or mace. Behind Mindaugas and Aras two standard bearers carried the banners of Vsevolod – a winged silver griffin on a blue background – and the late grand duke’s: a black boar on a red background.
Mindaugas had insisted that no wagons accompany the horsemen so they could travel more speedily, though Aras organised wide sweeps of the area they moved through to collect food from local villages and also delay the rate of advance. After a week they still had not reached the Semgallian frontier.
‘We are too tardy in our progress,’ complained Mindaugas.
‘There is no harm in showing ourselves to the locals,’ replied Aras. ‘It gives them heart.’
‘We are not here to raise villagers’ spirits, Aras,’ snapped Mindaugas, ‘but to battle the Sword Brothers.’
‘You need to temper your wrath, young prince. A good commander assesses the situation first and then acts accordingly.’
‘We are on a holy crusade, Aras. The gods are with us.’
Aras sighed. ‘Priests and virgins in white dresses won’t be much use in a battle with the enemy. As for the gods, who knows what they think?’
Mindaugas’ face was a mask of grim determination as the column of horsemen entered the fertile land of the Lielupe Plain, the waters of the river a rich blue under a largely cloudless sky.
‘The Kriviu Krivaitis has the ear of the gods, Aras, that is why he was chosen to be head priest of our religion.’
‘I hope so, prince. I sincerely hope so.’
*****
Two days after leaving Mesoten the Army of the Wolf had moved twenty miles east of the besieged hill fort. The days were increasing in length and getting warmer as the midpoint of May was reached, the flooded meadows at last beginning to thaw out to make the air humid and thick with the aroma of meadow grass. The army’s ponies ate well on the lush foliage and when camp had been pitched many warriors tried their luck at fishing from the low slopes of the Lielupe, or waded into the cool water to try to spear the large catfish, pike and vimba that swam in it. Many succeeded and cooked their catches on campfires. Conrad sent out scouts every day but they returned to report that they had seen no one. He had given orders that any homes or settlements were to be left unmolested. He did not think that the best way to win over a people was by burning their homes.
‘Why should we want to win over the Semgallians?’ enquired Hans as he sat on his stool holding a large bowl of stew.
Kaja handed a bowl to Rameke, smiling as she did so. Ever since leaving Mesoten they had talked incessantly, though about what Conrad did not know. But he was pleased that they appeared to have settled their differences. He reflected on their having much in common, not least both being orphans whose families had been killed by enemies. But then he realised that Estonians had killed Rameke’s family. But then he had lost his family to the same people but he loved Kaja like a sister.
Conrad looked around at the dense fir forest that bordered the meadow they were camped on.
‘This land is very fertile, Hans. The bishop may have revenge on his mind at the moment but when this year’s campaigning is done he will think about bringing settlers here to make it his own.’
‘You think he will try to subdue all the Lithuanian kingdoms?’ said the officer from Riga, a cagey individual named Gunter.
‘Of course,’ Anton answered for Conrad. ‘Sword Brother business in Livonia is nearly concluded. What use are crusaders with no pagans to fight?’
Gunter raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
‘You think it is a task beyond the Sword Brothers’ powers?’ Conrad asked him.
‘There are a lot of Lithuanians, sir,’ said Gunter.
‘All the more for us to kill,’ boasted Anton.
‘You sound like Henke,’ Hans told him.
‘A most unpleasant thought,’ said Conrad dryly.
After she had served everyone Kaja filled her own bowl with stew and sat beside Rameke as leather face appeared, rubbing his hands and sniffing the air.
‘Just done the rounds to make sure the pagans don’t slit our throats while we are sleeping. That smells good, looks like I have arrived just in time.’
He leered at Kaja.
‘Be a good girl and fill me a bowl.’
‘There are no slaves in this camp,’ Conrad said to him, ‘help yourself.’
‘Not too much, mind,’ said a concerned Hans, ‘we are on campaign and food is strictly rationed.’
Leather face ladled stew into his bowl and began eating it with his fingers.
‘So,’ he said to Gunter with a mouth full of food, ‘where are all these Semgallians?’
Gunter squinted up at him. ‘In their sacred groves and hill forts, most likely.’
‘Not much point in us being here, then,’ said leather face. ‘Still, there is good hunting in these parts. Some of my boys killed a few elk and stags today. They are roasting them now.’
Hans stopped eating and looked up. ‘Venison?’
Leather face pushed more stew into his mouth. ‘That’s right, Brother Hans.’ He nodded towards Kaja. ‘Send over your slave girl and we’ll send her back with some. After we’ve entertained her.’
Kaja put down her bowl and stood up. ‘I am not a slave.’
He winked at her. ‘Harlot, then.’
Rameke jumped up. ‘You must apologise, wretch.’
He hand went to the hilt of his sword and his eyes flashed with anger. Leather face held up a stew-covered hand and smiled.
‘I meant no offence, Lord Rameke. I did not realise that you had feelings for her. Please accept my apologies.’
Conrad also stood and placed an arm around the mercenary’s shoulders.
‘Perhaps you should take your leave before you cause more distress.’
Leather face scooped out the bowl with his fingers, licked them and slapped him on the chest.
‘Until tomorrow, then.’
He tossed the bowl on the ground and strode away, whistling to himself. Rameke sneered at him as he walked back to his mercenaries but Kaja was delighted and kissed Rameke on the cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
The Liv blushed and cleared his throat.
‘You should requisition the game that the mercenaries caught today, Conrad,’ said Hans, ‘as a punishment for insulting Kaja.’
‘How convenient,’ remarked Anton.
‘It is comforting to know that you are so concerned with the many injustices in this world, Hans,’ said Conrad. ‘But in this instance I think I will allow the mercenaries to retain their kills. Besides, as Sword Brothers we are supposed to defend all Christians, which includes the mercenaries and their commander.’
‘What about the Danes?’ asked Anton. ‘They are Christians.’
‘That’s entirely different,’ said Conrad.
The next day they continued to ride east on the fertile Semgallian Plain, past hillocks covered by white birch, by the side of glittering blue lakes and through forests filled with oak, ash, limes and maples. The trunks of the trees were covered with honeysuckle, red-barked dogwood and black elder. Occasionally they would see a herd of wild horses that lived in this part of Semgallia, who subsisted on the abundance of grass, reed and tree bark. They disturbed corncrakes, black terns, and kestrels and occasionally spotted a lumbering elk on the edge of a forest, but of the Semgallians they saw nothing.
At midday the sun was warming men and ponies as the column moved into a long stretch of grassland bordered by thick woods with the meandering Lielupe on the army’s right flank. There was little wind and men sweated in their armour and helmets as the humidity began to rise. Conrad pulled down his mail coif in an attempt to prevent his head over-heating at the same time as he spotted two scouts galloping towards the column. Beyond them he saw a back mass of riders filling the far end of the plain, sun glinting off spear points and helmets.
The enemy had shown his hand at last.
Tonis, Andres and Hillar saw them too and immediately rode to Conrad’s side. He saw two great banners fluttering in front of the enemy horsemen but they were too far away to identify.
He looked behind him at Gunter.
‘Are they Semgallians?’
He squinted at the banners that were flapping in front of a rapidly expanding enemy line.
‘A blue and red flag. I do not recognise them, sir.’
‘Whoever they are they intend to fight,’ said Tonis.
Conrad pointed to where the plain narrowed around a hundred paces in front of them.
‘We will form a shield wall ahead from the edge of the trees to the river. Prepare to defend against horsemen.’
The three Estonian leaders raised their hands in acknowledgement and wheeled their ponies to the rear. Within seconds horns were being sounded as the Army of the Wolf prepared to fend off a mounted attack. The weeks spent at Wenden had not been wasted, far from it. Just as the brother knights and sergeants trained and practised drills and formations so had the Estonians honed their skills. Within minutes the whole army had advanced to the edge of the thick woods where the men dismounted, every tenth warrior collecting his own and nine oth
er ponies and leading them to the rear. The other seven hundred and eighty men formed a shield wall three ranks deep with a frontage of nearly eight hundred feet.
Conrad dismounted and called Kaja over.
‘Take my horse to the rear.’
‘I wish to fight, Susi,’ she complained.
‘And I want you to obey orders.’
Hans and Anton galloped up and leapt from their saddles.
‘Take their horses too,’ Conrad said to Kaja.
Anton removed his helmet from the saddle and passed the reins to an unhappy Kaja.
‘Do not worry,’ said Hans as he too passed his horse’s reins to her. ‘If the enemy breaks through our thin line you will have plenty of fighting to occupy yourself.’
Conrad pointed to her. ‘If the enemy breaks through get on my horse and ride west as fast as you can. Now go. I have a battle to fight.’
She spun on her heels and led her pony and three horses away as the three Estonian leaders, Rameke and leather face gathered around the Sword Brothers for an impromptu council of war. Their men were now standing shoulder to shoulder, the front rank levelling their spears to present a line of iron-tipped points to the enemy.
‘Let us take a look at the enemy,’ said Conrad who began striding towards the right flank of the shield wall. He reached the end of the line and walked beyond it until his feet began to sink in the soft mud. He changed direction to walk forward to stand in front of the warriors on the extreme right of the line.
‘Even though our right flank is seemingly hanging in the air this meadow was recently flooded and horses will sink in the mud.’ He looked at leather face. ‘Then your crossbowmen can shoot them down.’
‘There are a lot of horsemen deploying, Susi,’ said Hillar, looking towards the enemy where the horsemen were deployed in small groups.
‘Gunter,’ said Conrad, ‘why are they drawn up in small groups.’
‘So they can ride up, throw their long spears, wheel around and then withdraw. They will try to weaken your line first before they attempt a charge to rout you.’
‘Excellent,’ said Conrad. ‘We will place our crossbowmen in the shield wall to shoot them before they can throw their spears.’