Anton was on the right of Conrad and he speared the first enemy rider at the rear of the captives, who had first wheeled his pony around to face the white-clad knights but had then changed his mind and decided to flee when they approached him in line with their lances levelled. He frantically tugged on his reins but his beast reared up and nearly threw him. It would have been better for him if it had for as the pony’s front feet came down Anton drove the point of his lance through his side, releasing the shaft as it embedded itself in the Oeselian’s guts.
Conrad and Hans wheeled right to attack three enemy riders that had come to the aid of their now dead comrade. The Oeselians were armed with thrusting spears that did not have the reach of the longer lances of the Sword Brothers. The latter were able to skewer their opponents with relative ease, driving the points through the Oeselian shields and into the men’s torsos. Conrad pulled his axe from its case on his saddle and Hans gripped his mace as they prepared to battle the third enemy. And then the captives panicked and scattered.
Already terrified, the villagers ran in all directions as fighting broke out all around them. Some fled across the barley field and others ran towards the burning buildings but their flight interrupted the attackers’ momentum. Suddenly there were women and children between Conrad and Hans and the Oeselian, who used the opportunity to wheel about and depart. Likewise Andres and his Jerwen had to pull up their mounts as villagers ran in front of them.
The Oeselians saw their chance and desperately tried to ride away from the village, towards the woods on the settlement’s eastern boundary. Conrad, Hans and Anton carefully steered their horses around distraught villagers as the Oeselians thrust their spears into any who got in their way. One old man flung himself at a raider, clutching at his leg in a determined effort to halt his escape. The Oeselian dropped his spear, pulled an axe from his belt and split the old man’s skull, but the delay allowed Hans to reach him. The Oeselian sensed a presence on his left side and turned his head to allow Hans to crush his nose and cheekbones with a swing of his mace. The man emitted a high-pitched scream and fell from his saddle as Conrad and Anton galloped past.
Andres and his Jerwen had managed to intercept three Oeselians trying to reach the woods. They managed to kill them with their spears and axes, but that still left three raiders alive. These were the targets of Conrad and Anton as they dug their spurs into the sides of their horses. They crashed through the golden barley surrounding the village and reached the first Oeselian who turned in the saddle as the Sword Brothers flanked him. He thrust right with his spear at Conrad and missed. But Anton on his left did not miss with his mace that he swung into the warrior’s helmet, knocking him from his saddle. Conrad dug his spurs into his horse to reach the second Oeselian, leaned forward and swung his axe to lacerate the beast’s loins. It screeched and collapsed to the ground, throwing its rider. Conrad left him for Anton to finish off and went after the last surviving raider. He whooped with joy as the man’s pony stumbled and collapsed as it tripped over a log or branch at the treeline and the warrior sprawled on the ground.
The man got up and walked into the trees, limping from having hurt his left leg in the fall. Conrad rode to the edge of the forest as the Oeselian hobbled into the trees. He dismounted, tied the horse’s reins to a low-lying branch and followed him. He heard breaking twigs and saw the warrior desperately trying to disappear into the interior of the forest. Conrad gripped his axe and ran after him, closing the gap between them in less than a minute. The Oeselian, knowing he could not outrun his pursuer, turned and faced him. He must have been the commander, Conrad surmised, judging by his mail armour, blue tunic underneath with hems of the same coloured silk and the sword he held in his hand. Conrad also noticed his leather scabbard with bronze decorations. In contrast his helmet was a simple conical headpiece with a nasal guard. He held out his shield before him and brought up his sword but Conrad knew he would be fighting an injured man and smiled to himself. This would be easy.
He barely heard the roar to his left before seeing the bear run at him, a brown mountain of muscle charging directly at him. His heart missed a beat as the creature, all seven hundred pounds of it, came racing through the trees towards him. It covered the ground faster than a galloping horse and Conrad just had time to change his stance and then jump out of the way as the hulking brute passed close by him.
Brown bears usually tried to avoid contact with people but on the few occasions when they did attack it was usually because they were either starving or had been startled. Conrad though the latter likely as the enormous bear stopped, turned and ran at him again. He thrust his shield at the beast in an effort to face it down but it merely took a swipe at it with its immensely strong forearm, the claws tearing a chunk out of the top of the shield. It roared and swiped with its paw again, this time shredding it completely as Conrad let go of the straps before his left arm was mangled along with it. A brown bear used its front paws with their enormous claws to rip open logs to get at insects inside so it had no problem destroying a Sword Brother shield.
Conrad swung his axe three times at its neck, the razor-sharp blade digging deep into the beast’s muscles. His heart sank as it swung its head from side to side a few times, pawed at the ground, roared and charged him again. He heard the voice of leather face in his head.
‘Bears are godless killing machines. You can’t outrun them so if you get into a scrape with them your only hope is to stab them in the eyes, nose or throat.’
He pulled his dagger from its sheath with his left hand as the bear came at him again and once more he chopped his axe at the creatures throat, the fur around which was now smeared with blood from his initial strikes. The blade made contact with fur and flesh again but the enraged bear swiped at it and knocked the axe out of his hand. It swung its other paw and made contact with his helmet, knocking him to the ground. If he had not been wearing his helm and mail coif the blow would have crushed his skull but as it was he lived, though he had a terrible ringing in his ears. He was breathing heavily as he picked himself up and thrust his dagger forward into the bear’s chest. He whipped the blade back but was unsure whether the bear had even felt it!
But it had felt the axe blows and was now even more enraged, lashing out with its front paws and catching Conrad in the belly, the blows ripping open his gambeson and mail hauberk. Fortunately they did not rip his flesh but they did throw him against a tree, further winding him. He managed to struggle to his feet as the bear rose up on its hind legs and walked towards him, ready to embrace and crush him with his forelegs. He had only one option.
He dropped his axe, drew his sword and ran at the closing bear, driving the blade into its belly. The beast grunted and continued to walk forward, the blade disappearing into its body at it forced him back against the tree and twisted its head to bite into his helm. The animal must have thought it was his face as its massive jaws closed and began to crush the helmet. Conrad smelt its stinking hot breath and the press of his massive bulk against his rib cage. He was helpless and waited to either have his skull crushed or his ribs broken. The bear groaned, let go of his helmet and collapsed at his feet, fortunately away from him as it died with his sword in its heart.
He managed to pull his now misshapen helm off his head and threw it aside, staggering a few feet before sitting down with his back against a tree. He looked at his ripped surcoat, gambeson and mail armour and said a silent prayer of thanks to God for his miraculous escape. He tried to rise but his legs had turned to mush. So he sat there and waited until his strength returned and his heart rate calmed. The Oeselian had long gone.
He walked back to the edge of the forest, collected his horse and walked it back to the charred remains of the village, carrying his dented helmet in his hand. As he crossed the field of barley he saw others coming from the surrounding woods to return to their destroyed homes. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air and as he approached the settlement he heard sobbing and anguished screams as women found the bodies of their slain loved ones. Hans saw his friend slowly approach and was shocked by his appearance.
‘What happened to you?’
‘I ran into a bear.’
Anton laughed. ‘A bear? They usually avoid people.’
‘This one was determined to make my acquaintance,’ remarked Conrad, ‘but while we were exchanging courtesies the Oeselian escaped. How many villagers did they kill?’
‘At least a score, perhaps more,’ said Hans. ‘But at least we saved the others from slavery.’
Andres also noticed Conrad’s dishevelled appearance but did not remark on it when he made his report.
‘The villagers have lost all their food supplies,
Susi
, and are frightened that the Oeselians will return.’
‘We will stay here tonight and escort them to the nearest village in the morning.’
But the surrounding villages had suffered a similar fate and so those of their inhabitants who were still alive were collected and escorted back to the main army that was advancing north. They presented a dismal sight: their clothes ragged and their faces full of despair. They trudged along with heads bowed and listless eyes, their infants no longer crying but in a dazed state as a result of the traumas they had endured. They numbered only three score from over a dozen villages, the rest having either been taken as slaves by the Oeselians or killed by the raider’s weapons. Some among Andres’ warriors recognised the refugees for they had left the same villages to seek sanctuary with the Army of the Wolf. They were enraged by what had happened and wanted revenge.
‘My men speak of similar atrocities committed by the Oeselians in Rotalia,’ said Hillar as he sat on a stool in Sir Richard’s pavilion after the army had camped near a small river named the Esna.
Despite travelling unencumbered by dozens of four-wheeled wagons the Duke of Saccalia had commandeered a number of lighter Estonian two-wheeled carts to carry his personal tent, spare weapons and armour and fodder for his warhorses, in addition to a few luxuries such as stools to sit on. Earlier Conrad and Andres had brought into camp the villagers they had collected, the former still wearing his ripped surcoat and mail armour. He gave it to Kaja to sew while he sat on a stool and toyed with his shredded gambeson as he listened to Hillar.
‘Just as they have done for centuries the Oeselians take Estonians as slaves to either work for them or to be sold on to the Russians.’
A warrior entered the tent to interrupt the conversation. He bowed to Andres and Conrad and bent down to whisper into the former’s ear. Andres nodded and dismissed him.
‘My scouts report that the Oeselian army is at Kareda, a village less than ten miles northeast of here.’
‘They will have to fight, then,’ said Sir Richard, glancing at Conrad’s torn armour, ‘unless they intend to flee east to Novgorod territory.’
‘Or south to Ungannia,’ added Rudolf.
Conrad shook his head. ‘They will not go south. Kalju would never tolerate Oeselian raiders in his kingdom.’
‘Would Mstislav give them sanctuary?’ asked Rudolf.
‘He might,’ said Conrad, ‘if only to spite the Sword Brothers and the Bishop of Riga.’
‘We can catch them easily enough,’ said Rudolf. ‘Armies with large numbers of slaves in tow move slowly.’
He looked at Andres. ‘What do your scouts say concerning the whereabouts of the Danes?’
‘They are not in Jerwen, lord,’ replied Andres. ‘My men have ridden to the borders of Harrien and Wierland and have seen no signs of them.’
‘Seems straightforward, then,’ said Sir Richard, ‘we pursue and destroy the Oeselians prior to linking up with the bishop’s army when it arrives.’
Rudolf nodded. ‘Agreed. But the decision rests with Estonia’s marshal. What say you, Conrad?’
Conrad stopped picking at the threads of his torn gambeson. ‘We destroy the Oeselians.’
Tonis, Andres and Hillar looked delighted and all three wore broad grins at this decision.
Sir Richard pointed at Conrad’s armour. ‘What happened to you?’
‘I had a disagreement with a bear.’
Rudolf stared at him in disbelief. ‘A bear? I am glad to discover that you had time to hunt as well as track the Oeselians.’
‘I was pursuing an Oeselian, master,’ Conrad corrected him, ‘when a bear decided to pursue me.’
‘They can be aggressive when cornered,’ agreed Sir Richard.
‘And even more aggressive when not cornered,’ said Conrad. ‘The Oeselian escaped.’
‘And has no doubt notified his commanders of our presence,’ said Rudolf.
‘What about the civilians,
Susi
?’ asked Andres. ‘They are weak and will not be able to keep up with horsemen.’
‘They can travel on the carts,’ suggested Sir Richard. ‘At least that way their strength will not be sapped further.’
So the next morning the villagers were fed porridge and loaded onto carts as the camp was dismantled and the army moved north along the Esna towards Kareda. Once again Andres sent scouts ahead to keep watch for the enemy. There was no need for them to reconnoitre the ground as they were from this region and knew the tracks and trails intimately. Conrad rode in the company of Hans, Anton, his Estonian chiefs and Kaja in the vanguard. Behind them came Wenden’s brother knights and sergeants, all wearing full armour with their warhorses covered in white caparisons. Leather face and his mounted crossbowmen had been assigned to guard the carts and their cargoes of supplies and refugees. In the rear of the column rode Sir Richard and his knights, squires and lesser knights. Behind them and on the flanks were patrols of Jerwen warriors riding far into the woods and through the rolling hills to guard against an Oeselian surprise attack. Once again the day was sunny and warm, a few puffy white clouds in the sky and a gentle southerly breeze ruffling the pennants on the ends of lances.