Army of the Wolf

by Peter Darman

  His words did not comfort Conrad as he rode back to where Tonis, Andres and Hillar stood in a group in front of their shield walls. The Rotalians formed the left flank of the Estonian warriors, with the Jerwen massed in the centre and Tonis’ wolf shields on their right. The Estonians had fallen into silence, concern etched on their faces as they stared across the meadow at the old, women and children staked out like bait.

  Conrad slid off his horse. ‘Master Rudolf and Sir Richard are intent on attacking, regardless of the captives.

  Tonis was unsurprised but Andres was most distressed.

  ‘I have to tell you, Susi, that many of my men will not attack knowing that by doing so they will condemn their loved ones to death.’

  ‘I have no words that will give you comfort,’ said Conrad, ‘but I am willing to listen to any suggestions any of you may have.’

  ‘There is one way we might be able to save the hostages,’ said Hillar, who then fell silent, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Go on,’ ordered Conrad.

  ‘Demand that the Oeselian leader fight a duel according to the holmganga,’ said Hillar.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘A duel of honour to resolve an argument between two individuals. The Oeselians accord the holmganga great reverence, the rules of which are strict and binding.’

  Andres was unconvinced. ‘We are not Oeselians, why should their commander accept such a challenge from foreigners?’

  But Conrad was intrigued. ‘They might if it was worth their while. Their lives, for example.’

  ‘The Oeselians think differently to us, Susi,’ said Tonis dismissively. ‘They believe that the gods predetermine every man and woman’s death before birth.’ He pointed at the locked shields of the enemy. ‘That they face certain death will not concern them because they believe that it is their destiny and a man cannot escape his destiny.’

  ‘And yet,’ said Conrad, undeterred, ‘any commander would want to save the lives of his men if he could, rather than consign them to a needless death. Hillar, you will escort me. Andres, please ride to Master Rudolf and Sir Richard and inform them that I go to negotiate with the enemy.’

  He lifted himself into the saddle as Andres ordered that a pony be brought for him. Andres ran across the front of the Estonian shield wall in the direction of the mounted knights on the right flank as a lull descended over the battlefield. The captives were mostly quiet now, mothers having managed to hush their infants and most of them having sat on the ground, wondering what was going to befall them.

  Kaja arrived on a pony pulling another behind her. She grinned at Conrad.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I was ordered to bring a mount for Lord Andres,’ she replied.

  Andres took the reins from her and jumped into the saddle. Conrad pointed at Kaja.

  ‘Get back to the reserve. I have more important things to worry about than your safety.’

  She grinned, wheeled her pony around and trotted back to the rear. Many of the warriors recognised her and began banging on their shields with their spears as she passed them. They all knew her and believed her to be a lucky talisman. They also believed that she would be the wife of Susi, notwithstanding his vow of chastity that most believed was hilarious.

  Conrad and Andres trotted forward through the line of crossbowmen.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ shouted leather face.

  ‘To talk to the enemy,’ replied Conrad.

  ‘I’ll try to ensure that you get a decent burial,’ said the mercenary, shaking his head.

  Conrad turned to look at him. ‘You are most generous.’

  ‘If the heathens haven’t chopped your body to pieces, that is.’

  The two rode across the grass towards the ragged line of captives, many of them standing up when they saw them approaching. The Oeselians remained impassive in their ranks. Conrad slowed his horse to a halt some twenty paces from the wall of captives, who looked at him warily.

  ‘Do the Oeselians have a knowledge of your language?’ he asked Hillar.

  ‘An intimate one, Susi, on account of them having visited our shores for generations.’

  Conrad stood up in his saddle. ‘I am here to issue a challenge to the commander of the Oeselian host according to the rules of the holmganga.’

  He sat back down and looked at the brightly coloured shields of the enemy, behind them rows of hardened faces and iron helmets, long fair hair poking out from under them.

  ‘Perhaps they did not understand me,’ Conrad remarked to Andres.

  ‘They understood you,’ replied Andres.

  Conrad was about to give up and return to his own lines when the Oeselian shield wall suddenly parted. A warrior wearing a magnificent short-sleeved mail corselet that reached to just above the knee walked forward, his shield bearing the design of a red dragon coiling around the central iron boss. His helmet was a simple conical type with a nasal guard, though with an eyebrow ridge decorated with silver. His silver inlaid leather scabbard and rich sword belt suggested he was a man of some importance. Two similarly well-equipped warriors followed him, drawing their swords as they walked to where the captives were tethered.

  ‘What do you know of the holmganga?’ shouted the man with the dragon shield.

  ‘I know that no Oeselian who has honour can refuse a formal challenge to a personal duel,’ answered Conrad.

  The dragon shield laughed. ‘You are correct, crusader, but the man issuing the challenge also has to possess honour. That is what the holmganga states.’

  Conrad dismounted and began to walk towards the Oeselians.

  ‘Careful Susi,’ warned Andres but Conrad waved away his caution.

  The captives parted nervously as Conrad walked through them towards the dragon shield. The two warriors moved to stand before their lord as Conrad opened his arms to indicate he intended nothing nefarious.

  ‘I am Conrad Wolff, Brother Knight of the Sword Brothers and appointed by the Bishop of Riga Marshal of Estonia, the land you have invaded.’

  He halted two paces from the two warriors. Their commander ordered them to stand down as he removed his helmet and passed it to one of them. Conrad was surprised to see that his round face was clean-shaven, in contrast to the full beards of his two bodyguards.

  ‘I am Prince Sigurd, son of King Olaf, ruler of all Oesel and lord of all the seas.’ He regarded Conrad for a moment.

  ‘I have heard your name before, Sword Brother. I remember now. You are the one who killed Lembit.’

  Conrad nodded.

  Sigurd flashed a smile at him. ‘And now you seek to kill me.’

  ‘These are my terms, prince. If you accept my challenge and you prevail then you, your men and your captives may return unimpeded to Oesel.’

  ‘And if you prevail?’ probed Sigurd.

  ‘Then your men may return to Oesel but your captives will be surrendered to my care.’

  Sigurd nodded towards the mounted knights of Rudolf and Sir Richard. ‘Will they abide by your decision, Marshal of Estonia?’

  ‘They will.’

  ‘Why are so concerned about the lives of these slaves, marshal?’

  ‘Because, prince,’ replied Conrad, ‘they are my subjects and I am therefore responsible for their welfare. But if you refuse my offer then we will destroy your army.’

  ‘And seal the fate of these slaves,’ said Sigurd.

  ‘But if you accept my challenge then your warriors will live.’

  ‘You think they fear death?’

  ‘I think, prince,’ said Conrad, ‘that your king would desire the return of hundreds of his men to Oesel rather than being slaughtered for no reason aside from his son’s vanity.’

  The words stung Sigurd. ‘I accept your challenge, Sword Brother.’

  Sir Richard and Rudolf were surprised to say the least when Conrad informed them of his challenge and Sigurd’s acceptance. But it was Henke who put into words what many of the knights thought a
bout the duel.

  ‘We kill pagans, we don’t bargain with them.’

  ‘This way the captives at least stand a chance of staying alive,’ said Conrad.

  Henke shrugged. ‘As I have said, what are the lives of a few pagans to the Sword Brothers?’

  There were murmurings of agreement around him.

  ‘Silence!’ barked Rudolf. ‘Brother Conrad is the Marshal of Estonia and you will all respect his rank.’

  ‘Do we?’ sneered Henke.

  ‘You are an idiot, Henke,’ said Conrad, loud enough for everyone around him to hear. ‘If we allow the captives to die needlessly then word will spread of the callousness of the Sword Brothers towards ordinary Estonians. But if we save them then we will win the people’s hearts and that will win us their land.’

  Henke flicked a dismissive hand at him. Conrad’s anger rose.

  ‘But if you feel that I have deprived you of some sport, Henke, then I will gladly fight you after I have dealt with this Oeselian.’

  Henke’s eyes flashes venom. ‘Gladly.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Rudolf sternly. He smiled at Conrad. ‘I think, lord marshal, that you had better attend to your appointment with the Oeselian lest he thinks you have changed your mind.’

  ‘Yes, master. I would have brothers Hans and Anton attend me.’

  Rudolf ordered them to accompany Conrad back to no-man’s land where a group of Oeselians were laying what looked like a large blanket on the ground. Conrad nudged his horse forward as his friends left the front rank of Sword Brothers.

  ‘God go with you, Conrad,’ said Walter.

  ‘And don’t forget what I taught you,’ added Lukas.

  All three rode to where the Oeselians were nailing pegs into the ground to fix the large blanket in place. It measured approximately ten feet square, and around it were pegged ropes to make three additional squares around the cloak. On the outer of these rope squares were four poles at each corner that were hammered into the ground. The Oeselians stopped when they saw the three white-clad knights approaching, but continued with their duties when the Sword Brothers dismounted and led their horses over to where Andres was talking with an elderly warrior with a thick white beard. Conrad also saw Sigurd with his two bodyguards a short distance from them.

  Andres ambled over to the three brother knights, waving to one of his men in the shield wall to come over.

  ‘I will have your horses taken to the rear. According to the holmganga there can be no means of escape near the hazel field.’

  ‘Hazel field?’ said Conrad.

  Andres pointed to the four poles at each corner of the outside rope square. ‘Those are called hoslur, meaning “hazel poles”, which designates the area within the hazel field.’

  As a man ran forward to take the three horses away the white-haired warrior called the two parties to him.

  ‘Are you sure you wish to do this, Conrad?’ said a concerned Hans.

  ‘It is the only way to save the captives,’ replied his friend.

  They walked to where the white-haired warrior stood with his arms folded, examining the three Sword Brothers as they neared him. He also regarded Sigurd and his two bodyguards. He gave a cursory nod to Andres as the two duelling parties halted before him.

  ‘Though the holmganga is an ancient Oeselian ritual I will speak of it in Estonian so both parties may understand the rules. First of all, those who will fight within the hazel field will remove their armour and weapons. Tunic, trousers and boots are the only attire that may be worn inside the hoslur.’

  Hoots and whistles greeted Conrad and Sigurd as they took off their mail armour, Conrad also removing his gambeson. He handed Hans his sword belt and scabbard and Anton his new helm and patched-up surcoat.

  ‘If I am killed ensure that I am laid beside Daina and Dietmar,’ he told them.

  Hans held out his arm and Anton placed his palm over his friend’s hand, in a pre-battle ritual they had long observed. Conrad did likewise and uttered the words.

  ‘As dust to the wind.’

  The old Oeselian clapped his hands to indicate haste and beckoned Conrad and Sigurd to follow him onto the pegged blanket.

  ‘You two as well,’ Andres told Hans and Anton, who gave Conrad’s armour and weapons to the Jerwen leader for safekeeping. From the Oeselian ranks, which were now widely spaced and full of men who had removed their helmets and tucked their axes back in their belts, came two men carrying shields and axes.

  ‘Hurry up!’ the old warrior scolded them.

  They laid three shields on one side of the hazel field, three on the opposite side and then placed the axes at the feet of the old warrior, who now looked at Conrad.

  ‘Prince Sigurd is acquainted with rules of the hazel field but you are not, therefore I will explain them to you.’

  He pointed at the axes at his feet, each one a single-handed weapon with a haft just over two feet in length and an iron head with a curved blade.

  ‘As Prince Sigurd was challenged it was his right to choose weapons. As you can see his choice was the axe. Each combatant is allowed three shields in the duel, which can be passed to him by one of his assistants. However, once the duel begins you must not step beyond the hazel poles. To do so means that you are a coward and have lost the duel.’

  ‘When I kill you it also means that you have lost the duel,’ boasted Sigurd.

  The old warrior cleared his throat to show his disapproval but Sigurd merely curled his lip at Conrad.

  ‘You may pick up your weapons,’ said the old warrior.

  Conrad did so and was unsurprised to discover that the axe was light and well balanced. Sigurd swung his axe menacingly in Conrad’s direction but the Sword Brother was well acquainted with these pagan shows of bravado. He was more concerned about the small area in which he would fight, that would restrict his manoeuvrability considerably.

  ‘Remember,’ said the old warrior, ‘on no account step beyond the hazel poles. When I thrust a spear into the ground that will be the signal to commence.’

  While these instructions were being relayed the captives were being untethered and herded behind the Oeselian shield wall so the warriors could have an uninterrupted view of the duel. Whatever happened they were going home, though they would take the civilians with them if Conrad lost. The latter walked to the edge of the hazel field and took a shield from Hans.

  ‘Kill him quickly,’ his friend told him.

  He stepped up to face Sigurd, the two men holding their red-painted shields before them.

  ‘You are a fool, Sword Brother,’ said Sigurd as the old warrior thrust a spear into the earth.

  The Oeselians broke into wild cheering and shouting as Sigurd swung his axe over his head and shattered part of Conrad’s shield as the blade bit into the uncovered wood. He made a sideways swing with his own weapon that chipped the edge of Sigurd’s shield as the Oeselian thrust the latter forward with his weight behind it. He hoped to barge Conrad over but the brother knight was more muscular than his opponent so his tactic failed. Sigurd was forced to leap back as Conrad swung his axe at his lower legs.

  Now the Estonians and Christian knights began cheering and shouting encouragement as Conrad whipped his axe forward to embed the blade into the wood of Sigurd’s shield, simultaneously smashing his shield boss into the Oeselian’s right arm and trapping his axe between his body and Conrad’s shield. Sigurd let go of his shield’s handgrip and punched Conrad in the nose, not a heavy blow but had enough to send a stinging sensation shooting through his nose.

  Conrad staggered back as Sigurd launched his axe forward, the blade smashing into the former’s shield and missing his hand by inches. Conrad saw his chance. He twisted his shield so as to wrench the axe from Sigurd’s grip, a tactic that succeeded but was nullified when the Oeselian delivered a sharp, stinging kick to his left shin with his boot. The flare of pain caused Conrad to loosen the grip on his shield, allowing Sigurd to yank back his axe and shield attached. He freed the weapon by rest
ing the shield on the ground, placing a foot on it and working the axe free.

  Both fighters had lost a shield and both retrieved a replacement from their assistants. Then they came at each other again, once more accompanied by a wall of noise and encouragement from both sides. An Oeselian shield was large enough to protect the area from the neck to the knees, but it left the head and lower legs vulnerable. And these were targets that the two duellists aimed at. But both were too well trained and alert to allow an attack to reach these body parts and the only result of a further bout of blows was the destruction of two more shields.

  Then Sigurd tried to force Conrad out of the hazel field, aiming a series of well-aimed strikes at his lower legs and head that the brother knight countered easily enough but only by stepping back. The roar of the Oeselian warriors reached a new intensity as Sigurd screamed in triumph and swung his axe at Conrad. The latter was now at the edge of the final rope square and saw the two poles that marked the corners of the hazel field. He swung his axe, the blow deflecting off the prince’s shield, Sigurd then crouching and swinging low at his extended left leg. If Conrad stepped back he would step outside the field so he thrust his shield down to drive Sigurd’s axe down to the ground. He swung at the Oeselian’s head and then whipped the axe back hard to strike Sigurd’s head with the blunt end of the iron head. The blow knocked the prince into unconsciousness and he crumpled to the ground, causing the Oeselians to fall silent.

  The Estonian ranks erupted into wild cheering as Conrad breathed a sigh of relief and threw his shield aside. He stood astride Sigurd’s body and raised his axe as the Estonians stopped their display of triumph.

  ‘Warriors of Oesel,’ Conrad shouted at them, ‘as the winner of the duel I order you to immediately free your prisoners.’

  The old warrior came forward as Sigurd’s two assistants looked at each other apprehensively and then at their unconscious lord. There was sorrow in the old man’s eyes and he spoke with a quivering voice as he addressed Conrad.

  ‘According to the rules of the holmganga you may slay your prostrate opponent.’