Army of the Wolf

by Peter Darman

  ‘So, make your way to the stabling area now and take yourself and the horse to the forest and wait for the new day.’

  ‘No, master,’ said Conrad more loudly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I will give myself up to the Danes as I promised the bishop I would.’

  Rudolf was bewildered. ‘Are you mad? They will execute you, burn you most likely.’

  ‘I do not seek death,’ replied Conrad, ‘but I gave my word to the bishop. What sort of man would I be to run away like a thief in the night?’

  He clutched his surcoat. ‘I have always tried to serve our order with truth and honour. If I run now I will be running for the rest of my life. I ran once, when my parents were being murdered.’

  ‘You were just a boy,’ said Rudolf.

  ‘After that dreadful night I swore that I would never run again. It is an older oath than the one I took to the Sword Brothers but I will break neither.’

  Rudolf saw the steel in Conrad’s eyes and knew that further words would be wasted. He smiled at the brother knight, laid a hand on his shoulder and then walked away into the night.

  Chapter 14

  Conrad was standing at the entrance to his tent, Hans and Anton still asleep inside, so he could watch the first rays of the sun creep over the eastern horizon. The sky was black and then it suddenly changed to blood red as a white fireball slowly ascended into the heavens, gradually changing to yellow as the new day welcomed the sun. It was still two hours before early morning mass and so he donned his armour, strapped on his sword belt and went for a stroll among the tents of the Army of the Wolf.

  Just as the Sword Brothers arranged their tents in circles around the chapel tent and the temporary shelter of the grand master, so the Estonians pitched their tents around their chiefs and elders. The air was fresh and cold; the hint of damp pony meeting his nostrils as he walked by a group of them tethered to wooden rails. Guards, their cloaks wrapped around them, saw him out of the corner of their eyes and raised their spears in recognition. He was sad that he would be leaving them but also pleased that their lives would be spared. Valdemar might have their weapons but they would be marching south with the bishop. He smiled when he saw sentries with wolf shields, others bearing the symbols of Jerwen’s bear and Rotalia’s stag.

  ‘A strange fate indeed,’ he said to no one in particular.

  When he arrived back at his tent he found Hans and Anton standing outside, stretching their aching limbs, while a fresh-faced Kaja was heaping wood on the ashes of the campfire. She smiled at Conrad.

  ‘Hot porridge will be ready when you return from prayers, Susi.’

  She placed some tinder on the ashes and gently blew on it, causing it to ignite. She then quickly placed a few dry twigs on the flames so they would set fire to the larger pieces of firewood.

  Hans rubbed his stomach. ‘Kaja, you are truly an angel.’

  She smiled as flames began to lick the firewood.

  ‘What’s an angel?’

  ‘Messengers from God in human form,’ said Anton. ‘Have you been neglecting your bible studies, Kaja?’

  She smiled mischievously at him. ‘I have my sword skills to attend to.’

  Conrad unbuckled his sword belt. ‘Angels are powerful and dreadful, Kaja, and endowed with great wisdom and knowledge, as I hope you will be one day. They also carry drawn swords and ride on horses, as well as protecting the pious.’

  He held out his sword to her. ‘Here. A gift for you.’

  Her eyes opened wide in amazement as she beheld the gift offered to her. Hans walked to his friend’s side.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Conrad ignored him. ‘Take it,’ he ordered Kaja.

  She looked at Anton and Hans before taking the scabbard and belt.

  ‘Time for prayers,’ said Conrad, turning and marching away.

  He would say nothing to his friends about his strange gesture, despite their pestering at breakfast and during the saddling of their horses as the army prepared to march to Reval. They became angry but still he refused to explain himself as they rode at the head of the Estonians marching between hills and sandstone outcrops towards the Danish settlement.

  When the bishop’s army arrived at Reval they found Valdemar’s soldiers already arrayed before the timber walls of the town. A forest of tall pines had surrounded the original Harrien settlement, but these had been felled to provide materials for the defences and the many buildings that were being erected inside them. The former pagan trading port was now a mighty Danish citadel.

  The banners of the town’s new owner flew from the towers of the hill fort and from flagpoles that flanked the twin gates that gave access to Reval. These led to a wooden bridge across the moat that had been dug at the base of the timber wall. Impressive though the defences were, it was obvious that Valdemar intended them to be temporary as the trunks of all the trees that had been cut down had also been dug up and removed so the ground to the south of the walls was flat and open. Thus the settlement could be increased in size to become the mighty capital of Danish Estonia. But today it was not empty.

  Valdemar’s army presented an awe-inspiring sight as the vanguard of Bishop Albert’s army – Volquin and the horse and foot of the Sword Brothers – advanced between a large sandstone outcrop on their right and the pine forest that had provided wood for Reval on their left. Directly in front of the town’s open gates stood a phalanx of Danish axe men: two thousand rough-hewed warriors recruited from Jutland and southern Norway and Sweden. The front ranks wore mail hauberks and conical iron helmets with nasal guards, though the rear ranks wore no mail. All carried round shields and large-bladed war axes with knives tucked in sheaths attached to their belts.

  In front of the axe men were four hundred Danish archers, men dressed in drab short-sleeved tunics that ended just above the knee, leggings with gaiters around the lower legs and woollen hats. Their only armour was a round wooden shield faced with leather that hung low on the hip with a leather strap so as to be out of the way when shooting their bows. For close defence each archer was equipped with a spear in addition to his shield.

  On Valdemar’s left flank were four hundred of his Danish foot knights, each man fully equipped with full-face helmet, mail coif, hauberk and thickly padded gambeson. His shield was very similar to the ones carried by mounted knights in the bishop’s army, with the addition of iron reinforcing cross-pieces held in place by a small iron boss. Behind the knights stood two hundred sergeants in mail armour and kettle helmets. The cross-pieces of the knights’ shields divided the face into four quarters, which were painted alternate red and white to represent the new Danish colours. The almond-shaped shields of the three hundred spearmen that stood on the extreme left of the Danish line also carried these colours, though red and white stripes instead of quarters.

  The mounted knights who surrounded the king, Count Henry, Archbishop Lund and Bishops Nicholas and Peter wore the blue lions of their king on their shields and surcoats. There were a hundred of them, which Count Henry considered excessive, especially as his own horsemen on the right wing were lacking in numbers.

  ‘When this Sword Brother gives himself up I want him clapped in irons in the fort,’ Valdemar said to Henry.

  ‘Yes, majesty,’ replied the count flatly.

  ‘And his pagan friends, this Army of the Wolf, too,’ added the king.

  Valdemar turned to Archbishop Andrew seated on a horse behind him. ‘They shall work on building your new cathedral here at Reval.’

  ‘You are most generous, majesty,’ said the archbishop.

  Henry raised his eyes to the heavens and wished he was accompanying his brother Gunzelin who commanded his men deployed on the right wing. Arrayed directly below Toompea Hill they comprised two hundred and twenty mounted knights, squires and lesser knights. Immediately to their left were the count’s foot soldiers to provide support: three hundred crossbowmen and the same number of spearmen.

  As the bishop’s army deployed
it became apparent that Gunzelin’s horsemen were greatly outnumbered by the Duke of Saxony’s mounted crusaders. There were eleven hundred of them – two hundred and fifty knights mounted on great warhorses, the same number of squires behind them and in the rear ranks six hundred lesser knights – lance points, helmets and spurs glinting in the sun.

  In the centre of the bishop’s army were the Livs: a thousand warriors deployed in six ranks. On the right of Fricis’ men was the Army of the Wolf, just short of a thousand men and like their Liv allies drawn up in six ranks. As neither force had any missile soldiers to speak of the Duke of Saxony lent them his three hundred crossbowmen that now stood in a single line in front of the closely packed presses of long-haired warriors.

  The right wing of the bishop’s army was made up of Sir Richard’s horsemen – eighty-five men – and the mounted brother knights and sergeants of the Sword Brothers, another one hundred and twenty men commanded by Master Rudolf. Leather face commanded the order’s one hundred and forty crossbowmen that were deployed just ahead of the horsemen. The order’s spearmen were with Grand Master Volquin who attended the Bishop of Riga, as did Nordheim and his fifty horsemen. The sandstone escarpment that sloped gently down to end just ahead of where leather face’s men stood anchored Rudolf’s right flank, not that he was worried about being outflanked as they were not here to fight.

  The Livs and Estonians had left their ponies in camp, the non-combatants that accompanied the crusaders and a hundred boys from the Army of the Wolf who were too young to fight in battle being left behind to guard them, the tents, wagons and supplies. It took an hour for Bishop Albert’s men to shuffle into position, after which just over eight thousand men stared at each other across the five hundred paces of ground that constituted no-man’s land. Spearmen leaned on shields whose ends rested on the ground, knights held helmets in the crook of their arms and crossbowmen shouldered their weapons and looked bored. There were no fanfares of trumpets, no horns being blown or drums being banged. But there was some movement.

  Conrad slid off his horse and gestured to Andres, Tonis and Hillar to attend him. As usual they stood before the front ranks of their men, swords drawn and shields tight to their bodies.

  ‘I would like you two to hear this too,’ he said to Hans and Anton whom Rudolf had kindly ordered to attend their friend this day.

  They too dismounted, removed their helmets and stood with their friend, all three holding the reins of their horses. When the Estonians arrived Conrad explained the reason for the outbreak of peace that had occurred. He pointed towards the army opposite.

  ‘A few days ago, the Bishop of Riga was summoned to Reval by the Danish king. He is very angry with the bishop and demands that we withdraw from all Estonian lands.’

  Andres spat in the direction of the Danes. ‘Let him force us to do so.’

  ‘We should push this king back into the sea,’ hissed Tonis.

  ‘No!’ said Conrad. ‘If we fight then he will use his many ships to strangle Livonia and undo the great work that the bishop has achieved in this land. So the bishop agreed to withdraw from Estonia. The king also demands that the Army of the Wolf disarms and surrenders itself to him.’

  The Estonian leaders began laughing.

  ‘It is no laughing matter. I have agreed that you and your men will lay down their weapons, but after doing so you will withdraw south with the rest of the bishop’s army.’

  The Estonians were now lost for words and looked at each other, bewildered.

  ‘If you have any respect for me then you will do this thing.’

  Hillar shrugged. ‘You will see that we always obey you, Susi.’

  ‘I will not be here to see it,’ said Conrad, ‘as part of the peace agreement I am required to surrender myself to the king.’

  Hans was horrified. ‘What?’

  ‘The bishop would never order such a thing,’ said Anton.

  ‘He did not. I volunteered,’ stated Conrad.

  ‘Are you mad?’ asked Hans, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing.

  Conrad smiled. ‘No, my friend. I would rather forfeit my own life than see my friends and comrades put in danger.’

  ‘I say we fight,’ spat Anton, drawing his sword.

  ‘I am with Anton,’ said Tonis, who was joined by Andres and Hillar.

  But Conrad was adamant. ‘No. I am the Marshal of Estonia and you will all obey my orders. If not you might as well cut me down with your own swords for you will humiliate me in front of the whole army.’

  Anton shook his head but he saw that Conrad was not to be moved from his position. He slammed his sword back into its scabbard. Hans was distraught.

  ‘I will go instead.’

  Conrad placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘It is me that he wants, not someone who will eat up all his supplies.’

  The three Sword Brothers looked at each other, aware that this would be the last time they would ever see each other. Suddenly the years were stripped away and they were those frightened, lost boys who had stood on the quay at Lübeck a lifetime ago. Conrad held out an arm.

  ‘As dust to the wind.’

  Anton placed a palm on top of his hand and Hans did the same, the two of them repeating the words. They stood, rooted to the spot in wretched misery, as Conrad said farewell to his Estonian warlords. He then turned and walked towards the gates of Reval, and his doom.

  He walked slowly, taking in the air as thousands of pairs of eyes peered at him. The Danish archers that he walked towards believed he was some sort of religious fanatic intent on a glorious death and several nocked arrows in their bowstrings and raised their bows. But their officers quickly ordered them to place their arrows back in their quivers. To the right of the Army of the Wolf Sir Richard sat on his warhorse in the front rank of his knights.

  ‘What’s he doing? It’s Brother Conrad, isn’t it?’ said his squire loudly behind him.

  ‘He goes to sacrifice himself for the good of all Livonia,’ answered his lord, sadness in his voice.

  ‘And you will allow this to happen?’ said Paul irreverently.

  ‘Silence,’ snapped Sir Richard, ‘remember your position.’

  But Paul was not to be silenced and vented his fury on the Bishop of Riga, announcing loudly to any who would listen.

  ‘I say that the Bishop of Riga is an idiot and a coward to allow one of his bravest soldiers to surrender himself to the enemy. Can honourable men watch in silence as this injustice is played out before their eyes?’

  His outburst was disrespectful and the punishment for such rudeness was usually a bored tongue. But Sir Richard knew his squire spoke the truth and his stomach twisted in agony as he watched Conrad walk towards the Danish army. His knights knew it too and they sat on their destriers in silence, some glancing at their lord, hoping he would give the command to charge.

  Similar sentiments possessed Otto who walked up and down in front of the brother knights of Wenden, holding up the cross he wore around his neck.

  ‘Take a good look, sinners. Take a long look at one of your brothers who goes like Daniel into the lion’s den while you sit idle like the idolaters of Sodom and Gomorrah. Christ himself damns you for your faintheartedness. Are you Sword Brothers, oath sworn to defend the helpless and fight for the Lamb of God? Are you not ashamed of your womanly demeanour in the face of the enemy?’

  Rudolf sat, his face like a stone mask, listening to Otto’s tirade and said nothing for he knew the words to be true. For ten years Conrad had been a member of Wenden’s garrison and had won great renown with his sword. He was a brave and honourable brother knight and Rudolf felt ashamed and belittled. Next to him tears were running down Walter’s cheeks and even Henke, the merciless and cold hearted Henke, wore a pained expression.

  Leather face, standing some thirty paces ahead of the first rank of brother knights, also saw Conrad and came running over to Master Rudolf.

  ‘That’s Brother Conrad, isn’t it?’

  Rudolf looked at him wit
h wary eyes and was about to answer but was interrupted by Otto’s thundering voice.

  ‘Brother Conrad, like Christ our Lord, takes the sins of these underserving brothers upon his shoulders and seeks to wash them away with his own blood.’

  Otto’s arm shot out like a lightning bolt at Rudolf. ‘He is allowing our brother to sacrifice himself.’

  Leather face looked at Rudolf. ‘Can’t you stop the young fool?’

  Rudolf looked at the ground. ‘It has been decided. It is for the good of Livonia.’

  Conrad did not hear these discourses as he strolled to towards the Danish archers arrayed in front of the axe men, and behind them the great banners that indicated the presence of King Valdemar. He saw two knights leave the king’s entourage and gallop forward. His personal escort, no doubt. They thundered forward to skirt the axe men and then abruptly pulled up their mounts, prior to pointing towards the Sword Brothers. Then Conrad heard what he thought were shouts coming from the right. He was now in the middle of no-man’s land and looked right when the shouts became louder. He stopped when he saw a great tide of men appearing from around the sandstone outcrop that rose up on the Sword Brothers’ right flank. He saw round shields and spear points and heard the thunder of noise grow louder as the warriors swept forward before turning left towards the Danish left flank. In the centre of the black mass of warriors he saw a great banner that rippled in the summer breeze that suddenly picked up. As it billowed Conrad saw the symbol of a golden eagle and knew that Kalju had come.

  The Ungannian chief halted his warriors so they could shuffle into formation, ending almost at right angles to the spearmen on the Danes’ left flank. Conrad had halted, Kalju’s men had halted but leather face ran back to stand with his men. He glanced left at the Ungannians, right at the lonely figure of Conrad in no-man’s land and smiled.

  He sniggered to himself. ‘I’ve never started a battle before.’

  ‘Time to earn your money, boys,’ he shouted before loading his weapon. ‘Move forward. Rapid shooting.’

  A hundred and forty men ran forward as fast as they could before halting two hundred paces from the packed ranks of the Danish foot knights, men fully armed and armoured but with no missile support.