by Peter Darman
Leather face laughed and whooped with joy as Hugo jumped back, pain shooting through his face. His cheeks were purple with rage and he made to advance but Lukas placed himself in front of him and Kaja.
‘Return to your positions.’
Hugo glowered at Kaja but reluctantly wandered back to his place in the line, his cheek reddening with a bruise, as Kaja skipped back to her position. She grinned at Conrad who smiled back at her and ignored leather face.
‘This is not a spectator sport,’ Lukas said to the mercenary and Conrad.
Taking the hint they departed as Lukas berated his charges.
‘You think that just because you are men you have an advantage. You do not. Underestimating an enemy is one of the worst crimes that a swordsman can commit. Any enemy you face must be accorded the utmost respect for only by doing so can you prevail. But if you become over-confident or arrogant you will lose and if you lose you will die. Fighting stances!’
‘What are you going to do with her?’ said leather face.
‘Nothing,’ replied Conrad. ‘She is free to make her own destiny.’
‘Dangerous thing, a woman who can use a sword,’ sniffed the mercenary. ‘It ain’t right.’
‘You mean that she will able to defend herself against soldiers intent on rape and murder,’ said Conrad.
‘The sooner she’s married and bearing children the better,’ was all that leather face would say on the matter.
Ilona gave him a plentiful supply of gloves for his toothache and the next day he stood next to his heavily loaded horse along with the other crossbowmen in the castle courtyard as Otto said prayers. The priest asked for God’s protection and His help in overcoming the pagan hordes they would face, his deep voice filling the courtyard. Outside the master’s hall were Rudolf and his brother knights, including Conrad, Hans and Anton, each one holding the reins of his palfrey. In front of the storerooms on the northern side of the courtyard were the novices holding their own horses and the knights’ warhorses, each one covered in a white caparison. The horses of the sergeants were also equipped with caparisons, their owners standing in a line outside the dormitory on the western side of the courtyard. The crossbowmen were deployed to their right, outside the stables.
Rudolf stopped praying, Walter rose from his knees and the master gave the order to mount. Over a hundred men rode from the courtyard to join the eight hundred Estonians who waited on their ponies outside Wenden’s outer perimeter. The sun shone from a sky containing few clouds and a gentle breeze ruffled the banner held by Walter and the pennants on the ends of the Sword Brothers’ lances. Despite Rudolf’s desire to leave wheeled transport behind the Army of the Wolf brought along its two-wheeled carts that carried its tents and supplies. But the expedition still managed an average of fifteen miles a day, the riders taking advantage of the long days to wind their way through dense pine and fir forests and skirt peat bogs and lakes. Tonis and his Saccalians acted as guides, Conrad, Hans and Anton often accompanying the leader of the wolf shields. Despite Conrad’s efforts to persuade her to stay at Wenden with Ilona, Kaja insisted on accompanying the army.
‘What are you going to do with her, Susi?’ asked Tonis as they rode through a wood of birch trees.
‘You are the second person to ask me that in as many days,’ said Conrad. ‘I will give you the same answer that I did him: she is free to choose her own destiny. Do your men object to her being with the army?’
‘No, Susi,’ replied Tonis. ‘They like having her among them. They believe she is Aiatar in human form.’
‘Who?’ asked Hans.
‘A female demon,’ answered Tonis. ‘They think it is better to have her on their side as opposed to aiding the enemy.’
‘You should not encourage such thoughts, Tonis,’ said Conrad. ‘This is a Christian army not a band of pagans.’
‘Besides, Kaja will probably marry Rameke,’ said Anton, changing the subject.
‘Kaja is Saccalian, she will never marry a Liv,’ scoffed Tonis.
‘They like each other,’ remarked Anton.
‘I like Rameke,’ said Tonis, ‘but it does not mean that I will marry him.’
Hans laughed but Conrad was intrigued by Tonis’ attitude.
‘Why are you so opposed to the notion of a Liv and Saccalian marrying?’
‘I myself have no objection, Susi,’ replied Tonis, ‘but there is much bad blood between my people and Rameke’s. Also, the issue from such a union would be outcasts, belonging to neither tribe. What sort of future would they have?’
‘If we are talking about the children of Rameke, one of privilege I would have thought,’ said Hans.
On the eighth day the expedition reached the Pala to find Sir Richard’s soldiers camped in the dry floodplain that flanked the river. The English lord’s large pavilion was pitched in the centre of the camp with the smaller pavilions of his knights around it and the cone-type tents of the lesser knights formed an outer circle. The felt shelters of his Saccalians were pitched on the right flank, long lines of tethered ponies beside them. Sir Richard himself rode to greet Master Rudolf and Conrad as they approached his camp, the lord accompanied by his dour squire and Peeter. As usual Sir Richard’s head was completely bald and his face clean-shaven as a sign of his penance for the remorse he felt concerning the deaths of his closest friend and the woman he was going to marry who had taken her own life. The lord, who had become besotted with her, had blamed himself for causing their deaths and had renounced his title and his home to crusade in Livonia.
Conrad and Rudolf bowed their heads to Sir Richard and Peeter.
Rudolf reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a leather tube and held it out to Sir Richard.
‘A gift from a grateful Bishop of Riga, your grace.’
Sir Richard looked perplexed as he took the tube from the Master of Wenden.
‘What is it?’
‘A signed document from His Holiness Pope Honorius himself confirming your appointment as Duke of Saccalia, with all privileges and responsibilities attendant upon said position. My congratulations, your grace.’
‘And mine too, your grace,’ said Conrad.
Sir Richard removed the top cover on the tube and pulled out the vellum document that was embossed with the arms of the Bishop of Riga and the Papacy. He looked pleased as he read the Latin words.
‘I did not expect this.’
‘You have been our northern shield, your grace’ Rudolf told him. ‘Without your courage and steadfastness Bishop Albert would not have been able to campaign in Lithuania, and before that you and Brother Conrad faced down the Danes. So you see, your grace, your new position has been well earned.’
Rudolf reached into the saddlebag once more and extracted a second leather tube, this time holding it out to Peeter.
‘Bishop Albert is also mindful of the contribution of the brave warriors of Saccalia,’ said Rudolf, ‘and therefore appoints you Count of Fellin, a position also approved by His Holiness.’
Peeter appeared impressed and took the leather case, removing the top and taking out the vellum document. He unrolled it and stared blankly at the words as he could not read or write, and had certainly never seen a Latin document before.
‘What does this mean?’ asked Peeter.
‘It means that you are lord of Fellin and all its surrounding lands and villages,’ said Sir Richard, ‘free to do with them as you please. Your are now your own lord, Peeter, beholden to no man.’
Peeter seemed to find the prospect agreeable. Up to now he had been the headman of a village and its nearby small hill fort only, and though he commanded great respect as a warlord throughout Saccalia, to be given the lordship of Fellin was a great honour.
‘The appointment is conditional on you receiving baptism into the Holy Church,’ added Rudolf.
Peeter wiped his nose. ‘To have my head forced under the water?’
‘Only if you wish, lord,’ said Rudolf. ‘There is no compulsion, and should you wish n
ot to do so you would still retain the friendship and gratitude of Bishop Albert. But honours bestowed by His Holiness in Rome can only be conferred upon Christians.’
Peeter looked at Sir Richard.
‘It is up to you, my friend. It will change nothing between us or your position in this land.’
Peeter looked back at Rudolf. ‘And I will be lord of Fellin?’
‘It and the lands and villages around it will belong to you to pass down to your heir and he to his eldest son until the end of time,’ replied Rudolf.
Peeter stared at the document for a minute or so before rolling it up and slotting it back in its case. ‘Very well, let it be so.’
Rudolf offered his hand to Peeter, a wide grin on his face. He had every reason to be delighted because he knew that if Peeter was baptised then all the inhabitants of his village would follow their lord and renounce their pagan ways. Not all of them, of course, for he knew that many among the Livs still observed pagan rituals, such as the mid-summer ceremony of ligo. But if they fought as Christians beside the Sword Brothers and their children were baptised into the Holy Church then slowly the power and influence of the latter would spread throughout Livonia. And now, with the impending baptism of Peeter, it would be the same in Saccalia, and after that Jerwen and Rotalia.
It was Otto who pushed Peeter’s head under the cool, meandering waters of the Pala the next day, the riverbanks filled with Christian and pagan observers, mostly soldiers and warriors but also villagers from the settlements around nearby Lehola. Conrad stood with Hans, Anton and his Estonian commanders, with Kaja alongside him. He had never mentioned the matter of baptism to Hillar, Tonis and Andres but he knew that Tonis would now probably follow his lord and renounce his paganism. And if the Sword Brothers liberated Rotalia and Jerwen then he had no doubt that a grateful Hillar and Andres would readily accept baptism. In an ironic way the Danes were aiding the process: by invading northern Estonia they had thrown the native peoples into the arms of the Sword Brothers, who were now viewed as defenders and liberators rather than conquerors.
The next day he attended a council of war in Sir Richard’s pavilion where the new Duke of Saccalia informed the attendees that a courier pigeon had arrived at Lehola with news that the Bishop of Riga had left Riga.
‘It will take him around a month to get here,’ said Rudolf, ‘weighed down as his army is with a multitude of wagons and carts. In the meantime I intend to occupy Jerwen so that the bishop’s progress to Reval is uninterrupted.’
Out of courtesy Wenden’s master spoke Estonian so Andres, who Conrad had invited to attend, could understand what was being spoken at the table they sat at. Peeter was now almost fluent in German but appreciated the gesture. He sat next to Sir Richard, opposite Walter and Rudolf, while Conrad sat with Andres. Squire Paul served the commanders honey mead from an earthenware jug, spilling some on the table as he slopped drink into their plain wooden cups.
‘With my new title I may get a new squire,’ said Sir Richard. ‘The current one leaves much to be desired.’
Paul stopped and looked at him. ‘I can speak the local language too, lord. By the way, does your new rank mean I will see an increase in my wages?’
‘You do not get any wages,’ replied Sir Richard.
‘Precisely.’
Sir Richard waved a hand at him. ‘Go and fetch some more mead, damn your eyes.’
His squire ambled out of the pavilion as Rudolf took a sip of his drink and looked at Andres.
‘I asked Brother Conrad to bring you to this council of war, Andres, because I need your help. Before we advance into Jerwen I wish to know if there are any Danish or Oeselian garrisons located there and, if so, their location and strength.’
Andres nodded. ‘That will be easy enough, lord, but it will take time.’
‘You have a week,’ said Rudolf. ‘If your men have not returned by then we will cross the Pala anyway.’
Andres drained his cup, rose and bowed his head to Rudolf and Conrad. ‘Then I will organise parties to be sent across the river today. With your permission, Susi.’
Conrad nodded and Andres took his leave.
‘Good,’ said Rudolf. ‘I do not wish to enter Jerwen blind.’
He looked at Conrad. ‘I would ask a favour of you, Conrad. I need you to ride to Odenpah to convince Kalju to join our expedition, or at least send a detachment of Ungannians to show the Danes that the Estonians support our cause and not theirs.’
‘He still feels the loss of his son keenly,’ remarked Sir Richard. ‘Out of courtesy and because I have stood beside him in battle I have kept Kalju fully abreast of all developments in Livonia and his replies are polite. But he says nothing of aiding Bishop Albert.’
Rudolf sighed. ‘Ungannia must be brought under the bishop’s protection. It will not be able to withstand Novgorod alone if Mstislav decides to send his barbarian hordes west once more.’
‘Ungannia is under the protection of the Sword Brothers,’ said Walter sternly.
‘Unfortunately, Brother Walter,’ said Conrad, ‘it was the Sword Brothers who were responsible for his son’s death, or at least one in particular.’
‘Take Hans and Anton with you,’ Rudolf said to Conrad. ‘I know that Kalju holds you and them in high regard. We may need his warriors if the Danes decide to contest the bishop’s claim to Estonia.’
‘Yes, master,’ said Conrad.
‘I cannot believe that we will draw swords against the Danes, fellow servants of the Holy Church,’ remarked a distressed Walter.
To a virtuous and pious individual like Walter the idea of Catholics fighting each other was appalling, but Conrad prayed that they would come to blows with the Danes so he could exact revenge on the loathsome Count Henry.
*****
The Oeselians had raided the coasts of Estonia and the Livs for generations. Their navigators and captains were familiar with every isle, inlet, estuary and bay, knowledge that was passed down from generation to generation. They knew how the tides facilitated access to shallow waters and how to navigate at night using the stars. They could steer their ships safely through narrow channels flanked by vicious cliffs and containing underwater rocks and knew when to furl sails and rely on oar power alone to reach their destination. How easy it was, therefore, for Olaf’s fleet to glide into Matsalu Bay on a moonlit night, the sails of the longships furled and their crews pulling silently on their oars. They landed in the large reeds beds that hugged the bay’s shoreline, just a mile west of the beached vessels of the Swedes, and disgorged hundreds of warriors.
Olaf led the advance east, flanked by Stark and Kalf, the first time the latter had been allowed to participate in a raid. Behind the king the giant Bothvar was also accompanied by his sons, all of them tall and broad like their father and carrying large war axes in their hands. There were no horn blasts to sound the charge as the Oeselian host reached the Swedish ships and their guards. Only a sudden rush that overwhelmed the sentries and engulfed the tents containing sleeping soldiers. Within minutes a hundred Swedes had been slaughtered, their screams greeting the first rays of the sun that were lancing the eastern skyline.
After the last Swedes had been dragged before him to have their throats slit Olaf ordered the crusader ships to be fired. The earth brightened as the sun climbed into the sky, and thick black plumes of smoke billowed into the air. Sentries on the walls of nearby Leal spread the alarm among the garrison and the soldiers camped around its walls. There were a hundred horsemen and two hundred foot soldiers at Leal and all but fifty of them marched towards their burning ships as Olaf led his Oeselians towards the hill fort. He outnumbered the Swedes two to one but it was not numbers that gave him victory but a clever ruse. For as the Swedes formed up on the great inshore pasture that filled the ground north of the fort and advanced in a line with the foot in the centre and horsemen on the flanks, Sigurd gave the signal for his warriors to break cover.
The Oeselians had been hiding in a wood of birch trees, having
marched through the night to reach the cover of the trees. After returning from Oesel, Sigurd had gathered his scattered garrisons in Rotalia to create a force of three hundred men. While the Swedes were busy strengthening Leal and venturing only a short distance from the fort, Olaf sailed from Oesel and Sigurd mustered his men. And now he led them towards the fort as his father advanced from the north.
The wood was a mile from the fort and it took Sigurd’s men less than ten minutes to cover the distance, running across the lush pasture in three widely spaced ranks. The garrison of Leal saw then coming and closed the gates of the fort but Olaf’s son was not interested in the stronghold. Instead his men skirted the empty tents and untended fires in the Swedish camp and headed for the rear of the slowly advancing crusader army.
The latter’s crossbowmen were standing immediately behind the front rank of spearmen as Olaf’s Oeselians approached them, banging their shafts of their spears on the insides of their shields to keep the Swedes’ attention. But it was the spears of Sigurd’s warriors that caught the Swedes unawares. Swedish spearmen carried only one type of pole arm but Oeselians were trained to use two categories of spear: throwing and thrusting. Both types had blades that were ribbed and socketed but throwing spears had narrow blades and slim shafts. In contrast thrusting spears had broad, leaf-shaped blades and thicker, iron-shod shafts.
Sigurd’s front rank hurled their throwing spears at the now-stationary Swedish foot soldiers that were desperately trying to rearrange their formation to fight the pagans that had suddenly appeared in their rear. But their efforts were in vain as the Oeselian missiles landed among them, killing at least a score of men and wounding as many more. Sigurd’s men then formed a circular shield wall, the chiefs screaming at their men as the Swedish mailed horsemen about-faced and prepared to charge. However, the horsemen advanced only a short distance before their signallers ordered them to about-face once more. For Olaf had unleashed his men.