Because of the heat the brother knights had discarded their mail armour, being attired in long tunics of dark cloth, belted at the waist and reaching down to the ankles. Under this each man wore a linen shirt, a concession to the summer heat as shirts were usually woollen, woollen leggings on their legs and woollen breeches. Instead of boots they were all wearing ordinary shoes, though all of them retained their sword belts. Their white mantles, their lightweight summer cloaks that bore the insignia of the Sword Brothers on the left shoulder, were irreverently draped over the back of their chairs. All except for Walter’s that was still around the shoulders of its owner.
‘Estonia belongs to the Sword Brothers,’ stated Rudolf. ‘For nearly twenty years our order has shed blood subduing the pagans and the grand master does not intend the Danes to reap the benefits of all our hard work.’
He looked at Conrad. ‘He believes that the Army of the Wolf was created by God to further the interests of our order. Therefore Conrad, Grand Master Volquin requests that you unleash your young wolves north, into Jerwen and Rotalia before the Danes decide to occupy those two places.’
Walter was most troubled. ‘Master, His Holiness himself has granted the whole of Estonia to King Valdemar. We cannot go against the orders of Rome.’
‘The Bishop of Riga is a prince of the Holy Church, Walter,’ replied Rudolf, ‘who has the ear of His Holiness. If we take Jerwen and Rotalia Rome will send an envoy to mediate between Bishop and King Valdemar. But in the meantime it will be the knights and sergeants of the Sword Brothers who will rule them, not the Danes.’
‘Of course if the Danes offer battle and Valdemar is killed then there will be no need for any mediation,’ said Henke, trying to be helpful. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and began balancing its point on the end of a finger.
The other brother knights laughed but Walter frowned and shook his head.
‘King Valdemar is appointed by God to rule.’
‘To rule Denmark, yes,’ said Rudolf, ‘but not Estonia. The bishop initially requested his aid to support his crusade but now Valdemar covets the whole of Estonia for himself. And as we all know, avarice is a sin.’
‘When do wish me to leave, master?’ asked Conrad, barely able to contain his excitement.
‘We will all be leaving in the next two days,’ answered Rudolf. ‘The garrison of Wenden will be marching with you so your men will have armoured horsemen to support them. We will be rendezvousing with Sir Richard and his men at the Pala prior to advancing into Jerwen.’
‘What about the Oeselians?’ enquired Lukas. ‘They occupy Rotalia, do they not?’
Rudolf gave his comrade a wry look. ‘While we have been amusing ourselves in Semgallia, Sir Richard at Lehola has not been idle. He has been sending scouts into Rotalia and Jerwen and his courier pigeons have provided me with up-to-date information regarding events north of the Pala. At the moment the Oeselians are occupied with dealing with the Swedes.’
Henke stopped playing with his dagger. ‘The Swedes?’
Rudolf nodded. ‘It would appear that King John of Sweden also has designs on Estonia and landed with a fleet at Matsalu Bay. He killed the garrison at a place called Leal and is currently engaged in strengthening it.’
‘Olaf will not take that kindly,’ said Lukas.
‘That is what I am hoping for,’ agreed Rudolf. ‘If the Oeselians and Swedes fight each other then it will make our task easier.’
‘Which is, master?’ asked Walter.
‘To ask the Swedes to depart Estonia. They have no business here.’
‘What if the Swedes ally themselves with the Danes?’ said Walter.
‘Let us hope that they do,’ offered Henke, ‘along with the Oeselians. Then we can kill them all in one great battle.’
Walter was appalled but the other brother knights banged on the tables to sound their support for the idea. Rudolf waved a hand at them.
‘That’s enough. We will seek battle with the Oeselians for they are pagans but we do not go to fight fellow Christians. We march to reinforce our rightful claim to Jerwen and Rotalia, which God Himself made clear belongs to the Sword Brothers by virtue of his granting us victory at St Matthew’s Day.’
‘What of the Danes, master?’ asked Conrad. ‘When they learn that we have entered Jerwen they will surely march to intercept us.’
‘Sir Richard informs me that because of their heavy handedness the Danes are at this moment fully occupied with subduing rebellious elements in Wierland and Harrien.’
Rudolf stood. ‘The bishop will be leaving Riga in the next few days. By the time he reaches the Pala I want Jerwen and Rotalia to be in our hands so that he can advance unmolested to the gates of Reval itself. There he and King Valdemar can discuss the partition of Estonia between them. Thank you brothers, back to your duties.’
After the meeting Conrad walked with Hans and Anton across the courtyard towards the gatehouse.
‘So we get another chance to kill that bastard Count Henry,’ said Conrad.
‘This time he will not escape,’ promised Hans.
‘What if the Danes do not offer battle?’ said Anton.
‘They will offer battle,’ answered Conrad grimly. ‘Our presence in Jerwen will be a provocation that will not be able to be ignored and then we will get our chance.’
He stopped and faced them.
‘I have a favour to ask.’
‘Name it,’ said Hans.
‘I want to be the one who kills Count Henry.’
Anton and Hans held out their arms, Hans placing his palm on top of Anton’s hand. Conrad laid a palm on Hans’ hand and all three uttered their prayer and promise.
‘As dust to the wind.’
The next day there was heightened activity in and around the castle as men made ready to leave Wenden to go north. Rudolf had given orders that the whole expedition was to be mounted to increase the rate of advance. The Army of the Wolf had its hardy ponies and the brother knights and sergeants had their palfreys but the foot soldiers had no horses. It was therefore decided to leave all the spearmen behind and take the garrison’s crossbowmen: sixty men who were mounted on draught horses and who carried sacks of fodder and food in addition to spare quivers filled with bolts.
Leather face was most unhappy about the arrangement.
‘My men and me are treated like mules. I’ll warrant that the pampered warhorses won’t be loaded down with supplies.’
‘We will all be loaded down with supplies,’ Conrad reassured him. ‘Better that than hauling wagons over rutted tracks.’
The crossbowman curled his lip but said nothing as he and Conrad left the massive stable block that was packed with horses, grooms, stable hands and farriers and walked into the courtyard. Rudolf always liked to keep it clear and clean, the novices having the onerous duty of sweeping it each morning after early morning prayers and breakfast. Now that the gatehouse had been completed the enormous courtyard was enclosed on all four sides by stone buildings and towers.
Leather face looked around as he peered across at the squat armoury. ‘I always feel like a dwarf when I step into this courtyard.’
‘I think that is the idea,’ said Conrad. ‘The castle had been designed to awe those who observe it, both within and without.’
‘Very poetic.’
He rubbed his cheek.
‘Are you ill?’ enquired Conrad.
‘Just a bit of toothache. I need some more cloves from Ilona. Better get them before we set off. Don’t want my teeth aching when I’m killing Danes.’
He strode off in the direction of the gatehouse. Conrad accompanied him on his way to the Estonian camp beyond the outer perimeter. They passed under the two portcullises that would be dropped if an enemy breached the outer walls and then walked across the great oak drawbridge that would also be raised if an enemy approached. Below the bridge was a deep dry moat, its sheer sides faced with stone and its bottom decorated with rows of iron spikes.
‘It is a curious thing,’ considered the mercenary. ‘In Germany Ilona would probably be burned as a witch for creating her healing concoctions. But here, in a Christian kingdom, she is treated like a queen.’
Conrad remembered the injustice committed against his family. ‘There are many things wrong with Germany.’
They walked down the track that led to the outer gates, wooden huts on either side that housed the mercenaries and the workers and their families who worked on and in the castle. Beyond them lay the training fields where the novices were practising with their wasters: wooden swords made to replicate the weight and feel of their metal equivalents. Conrad saw the long hair of Kaja on the end of the line and smiled.
‘That’s your girl, isn’t it?’ remarked leather face.
‘She is not my girl,’ Conrad corrected him.
‘She would be if you asked her,’ said leather face mischievously.
They walked between the huts to appear at the edge of the grass field and near to where the novices were receiving instruction from Lukas. The brother knight nodded at Conrad when he saw him.
‘This takes me back,’ said Conrad. ‘It seems only yesterday when I was standing holding my waster in front of Brother Lukas.’
The latter suddenly held his head in his hands and instructed his charges to stop what they were doing.
‘No, no, no,’ he shouted. ‘What I have I always told you? Swordsmanship is not about brute strength, it is about knowledge, dexterity and cunning.’
He pointed at a tall, broad-shouldered youth standing in the middle of the line.
‘Hugo, step forward five paces.’
The novice did as he was told.
Lukas pointed at Kaja. ‘Kaja, do the same.’
When she had done so Lukas instructed them to face each other.
‘When I give the command you will fight each other until I tell you to desist.’
Kaja immediately placed her left arm behind her back and adopted a crouching stance, her waster extended towards Hugo. But the latter ignored her and looked at Lukas imploringly.
‘Is there something wrong, Hugo?’
‘I must protest, Brother Lukas. It is demeaning fighting a girl.’
‘Then I suggest you get it over as quickly as possible,’ remarked Lukas, ‘to lessen your embarrassment.’
‘He’ll break every bone in her nubile young body,’ said leather face. ‘Such a waste.’
Conrad did not reply but an initial observation seemed to support the lecherous old mercenary’s opinion. Kaja was slimmer and shorter than her powerful opponent, who held his waster firmly in his over-sized hand. A waster was a faithful replica of a real sword, complete with contoured grip, pommel and cross-guard. If Hugo caught her with the waster’s blade the blow would certainly hurt and might indeed break a bone.
‘Begin,’ shouted Lukas.
But Hugo did not land a blow. Kaja was amazingly light on her feet, passing, turning, feinting, advancing and retreating to avoid Hugo’s strikes and dancing round him like a spirit of the forest. The other novices shouted encouragement to Hugo who Conrad had to admit wielded his waster with an admirable deftness. But he became angry as he tried to strike Kaja with a vertical cut to her head, a diagonal cut to her neck and a horizontal swipe at her belly. He screamed in frustration as she either dodged his blows or deflecting them. Conrad smiled to himself. Every day for months she had practised with either a waster or with his own sword, in all weathers and temperatures. Her thirst to learn was like a raging fire inside her and it now bore fruit as Hugo whipped down his waster to make a low cut to her exposed right knee. If it had made contact it would had shattered her kneecap but Kaja had anticipated his strike. Her waster moved in a blur as she warded off Hugo’s strike with a forceful downward counter-strike, and then flicked her wrist to bring her own weapon up to strike Hugo’s right cheek with the flat of her waster’s blade.
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.