Teutonic Knights (14 page)

Even before Herman Balk’s arrival in Livonia, the crusade there was taking an unexpected turn: a combination of events suddenly made the entire Orthodox world seem vulnerable to conversion.

Orthodoxy had been on the defensive ever since the later decades of the eleventh century, when the Turks had suddenly invaded Asia Minor and crushed the Byzantine army. In fact, it was the near collapse of the Byzantine empire that had provoked the call for help that ultimately became the First Crusade. Although the resultant crusader armies had smashed the Turkish forces sufficiently to relieve the immediate pressure on Constantinople, they had moved on toward Jerusalem rather than eliminating the nearest Moslem threat altogether. In time the Turks recovered and became even stronger, while during the same period Byzantines and Westerners became ever more suspicious of one another. This mutual fear and resentment ultimately combined with internal turmoil in the Byzantine state to result in the Fourth Crusade being diverted from Egypt against Constantinople. From 1205 to 1261 Constantinople was ruled by Roman Catholics, and several of Byzantium’s most important island possessions were seized by Italian city-states.

Rus’ was the next Orthodox state to be hit by an onslaught of eastern horsemen. This time it was the Mongols, sent west by Genghis Khan. Although their principal goal was the conquest of Turkestan, one army went after the steppe peoples south of Kievan Rus’. The Rus’ian princes led their armies of mounted infantry onto the steppe in1223, only to be overwhelmed by the unexpected tactics of the new enemy – sudden rushes and retreats, showers of arrows, and then the final deadly encirclement. Fortunately for the surviving princes, the Mongol army withdrew to the east as silently and mysteriously as it had come. The death of Genghis Khan in 1227 might have persuaded some princes that the danger was past, but there is little evidence that they were well informed on Mongolian affairs, and the new grand khan was very ambitious. The Mongols returned in 1237 with new fury, and this time they did not go home at the end of the campaigning season; by 1240 they had conquered every Rus’ian state except Novgorod. Orthodoxy was reeling. Rus’ians sent appeals for help to their Western neighbours, Poland and Hungary, to the pope, and even to the pagans in Lithuania. Only Mindaugas of Lithuania offered help, and that was under stiff conditions – he would respect the Orthodox religion as long as the Rus’ian merchants and boyars paid well for his services. They paid. It was the beginning of the great expansion that would eventually make the grand duchy of Lithuania into the largest state in Europe.

At this moment Livonian crusaders moved against Novgorod – a town so wealthy and powerful that it was called Lord Novgorod the Great. Compared to the cities of Byzantium and the Moslem world, this was a considerable exaggeration. To anyone who knew Constantinople, Samarkand, or even Venice, every northern city was small and poor. Still, to those who had only seen Lübeck or Kiev, Novgorod was impressive enough. Although Eisenstein’s inspired movie,
Alexander Nevsky
, places the Teutonic Knights at the centre of this attack, apparently the order had little to do with the ensuing ‘Battle on the Ice’ at all. Instead, the attacking army comprised a loose coalition of forces brought together by the papal legate, William of Modena, who had returned west before any fighting actually started. He seems to have believed that if a crusade against Novgorod could be mounted successfully, it would overthrow the last Rus’ian citadel of Orthodoxy and thus reunite Christendom; if the attack was a failure, it would rid the region of some malcontents.

The malcontents were mostly German knights. Some were former Swordbrothers, unresigned to the fate ordained by the papacy. Some were secular knights who had settled in Estonia at the invitation of an earlier papal legate or the Swordbrothers who on one hand feared that King Waldemar might confiscate their estates and on the other lusted for larger holdings. But there was also King Eric XI of Sweden (1222 – 50), whose forces were moving east along the northern coast of the Gulf of Finland, subduing the local tribes and threatening to extend royal authority over the entire region that supplied the finest furs to the European trade. Lastly, there were crusaders. Most likely some of these were from North German cities, burghers who knew Novgorod and would have liked to dictate more favourable conditions of trade.

At first all went well. In early 1240 the Swedes occupied the mouth of the Neva River, the waterway flowing from Lake Ladoga, whence ships could continue sailing up the Volkhov River to Novgorod. Meanwhile, crusaders from Livonia moved across the Narva River; others attacked Pskov. The Swedish invasion, led by Karl Birger and a Finnish prelate, Bishop Thomas, threatened to prevent the Rus’ians from purchasing Western grain. (Novgorod was dependent on food supplies from the West as long as southern Rus’ was in Mongol hands.) Since the merchants from Lübeck and Visby would not voluntarily sacrifice their commerce for royal benefit, the only way a Swedish blockade could be imposed was by controlling the river mouths. The Novgorod merchants, understanding the seriousness of the threat, called back their young duke, Alexander, who had just left the quarrelsome city, and pleaded with him to drive the Swedes away from their lifeline to the West. Alexander swallowed his anger and brought his skilled archers to Novgorod. A Rus’ian chronicler in Novgorod recounted the ensuing events thus:

Novgorod was saved from Swedish economic blackmail by this battle on the Neva, and Novgorod’s duke, Alexander, was thereafter known by the sobriquet derived from his victory: Alexander Nevsky.

Bishop Thomas resigned in 1245, certain that he had failed in his life’s mission of converting the Finns and Karelians. But he was too pessimistic. Four years later Karl Birger led what Swedes called ‘the Second Crusade’ to the region around modern Helsinki. In subsequent years Swedish immigration to this ‘New Land’ reached significant proportions and permanently changed the ethnic composition of the region. In future years some Swedish fishermen would find their way across the gulf to Estonia, where they established themselves in small villages along the coast.

The Livonian threat to Novgorod was more dangerous than the Swedish one had been. A combined force of former Swordbrothers, petty knights from Estonia, Danes under princes Canute and Abel, Germans under the bishop of Dorpat, Hermann von Buxhoevden (Bishop Albert’s brother), and Rus’ians under Prince Jaroslav (then in exile from Pskov) pushed into Novgorodian territory from the west. In September 1240 this army captured Isborg (Izborsk) and smashed a relief force from Pskov. After a week’s siege of Pskov, they obtained its surrender on terms. Apparently relying upon allies inside the city (probably friends of Prince Jaroslav who gave their children as hostages) the crusaders placed a garrison of two knights and their retinues in the citadel – probably thirty to fifty men in all. The crusader leaders must have spent the winter dreaming about the likelihood of closing Novgorod’s trade routes in the next campaign, especially after hearing the news that Duke Alexander had quarrelled with the burghers of Novgorod, who favoured peace with the Germans (probably because they considered trade with the West to be essential to the city’s survival), and had withdrawn to distant Perejaslavl, where his father Jaroslav ruled.

When Waldemar II of Denmark died in March and his sons remained home in case civil war erupted, the former Swordbrothers saw in this succession crisis not the loss of an ally but rather an opportunity to reclaim Estonia for themselves. They had already been conspiring with Danish vassals in Estonia who were willing to violate the 1238 Treaty of Stensby and simultaneously attempt the conquest of Novgorod. The records are too sparse to tell us absolutely to what extent former Swordbrothers were providing the leadership and men for this attack on Novgorod, acting without official permission and without the money and reinforcements the Teutonic Knights could have provided, but one of the ringleaders of the coup against Master Volquin that had forced him to occupy Estonia against his will seems to have been prominent among the leaders of the invasion.

Before April 1241 an army of Teutonic Knights, former Swordbrothers, Danish vassals, and native Estonians had occupied the Karelian lands east of Narva. From the castle they constructed at Kopore, they made daring raids to the south-east, at one time approaching within twenty miles of Novgorod, and they drove away so many horses that farmers were unable to plough their fields for the coming year.

These successes made the allies so confident of victory that they sent Bishop Heinrich of Oesel-Wiek hurrying to Rome with a request that Pope Gregory name him bishop of the regions to be conquered. Probably they had in mind an offer of Western military aid against the Mongols in return for Orthodox acceptance of church union under Roman leadership. Certainly, there were Rus’ians in Pskov and other cities who had indicated their willingness to agree to these terms, just as the Rus’ian dukes in Galicia were doing at that very moment (while the Mongol hordes were storming through their lands). And clearly, it was the military support from Pskov which made the attacks on Novgorod so devastating, since the Westerners could not have mustered sufficiently numerous warriors on their own to overawe Novgorodian resistance. The pope, too, signalled his approval by ordering the archbishop of Lund and his suffragan bishops to call upon their people ‘like Moses to buckle a sword upon his thigh . . . and put on the armour of the Lord’ to defend the converts in Estonia.

The presence of the papal legate, William of Modena, cannot be determined for the period between February 1241 and February 1242. In the years 1239 and 1240 he had been in Prussia, Lübeck and Denmark, attempting to reconcile every dispute which might interfere with the prosecution of the crusade. Knowing his itinerary for the missing year would answer the critical question: was William in Estonia organising the offensive against Novgorod or was he in Germany, Bohemia and Poland attempting to co-ordinate a common defensive strategy against the oncoming Mongols?

Similarly, the activities of the Livonian master, Dietrich von Grüningen, cannot be absolutely determined. He was one of the knights who had entered the order with Conrad of Thuringia in 1234 and had actually been named Livonian master in 1237 before it was apparently decided that he needed more experience – experience he certainly got in later years. He was Hermann Balk’s successor in 1238, but was absent during the critical months of 1241 when plans were made for the attack on Novgorod. He returned some time in 1242, probably after the seas opened that summer. He remained in Livonia till 1245 – 6, when he took over the duties of the German master temporarily, and was then named Prussian master. Andreas von Felben was acting-master in Dietrich’s absence. Since his later career was to be brilliant, we may conclude that he performed his duties effectively in 1241 – 2. It is unlikely that his name was connected with the failed enterprise in Rus’.

Certainly, the Teutonic Knights in Prussia were concerned about the Mongol threat. Even though a legend concerning the Prussian master, Poppo, has been repeatedly demonstrated to be false, popular historians continue to revive the story that he met his death at the battle of Liegnitz under a hail of Tatar arrows. The kernel of truth to this myth is based on the order’s responsibility to defend Christendom against all its armed foes, and perhaps Poppo had been present at the battle and wounded. Direct evidence is lacking. Poppo did die at Liegnitz and was buried there, but that was many years later, when he was visiting his wife’s convent.

In any event, the current moment was not a good one for Andreas to risk Livonian knights who might be needed elsewhere. Andreas was aware also that the knights most eager to attack Novgorod were rebels who were determined to annul the Treaty of Stensby and plunge his order into war with Denmark. Perhaps the temporary nature of his authority, that of acting-master, limited his confidence to offer bold leadership. Whatever his reasons, Andreas does not seem to have been committed to the crusade after the spring of 1241.

More importantly, Andreas von Felben had a more pressing problem to deal with than assisting crusaders in an attack on Novgorod. That was to subdue an uprising on Oesel, which he accomplished that winter by leading an army across the ice and overawing the rebels. The peace treaty survives, providing us with valuable insight into the crusaders’ demands on their subjects. First of all, anyone performing pagan ceremonies was to be fined and whipped. Second, farmers were to convey their taxes by ship either to Riga or the bishop. Third, anyone who was guilty of infanticide was to be fined, and the mother was to be taken to the cemetery nine successive Sundays, stripped, and whipped. Fourth, once a year, at the time the taxes were paid, the advocate would hold court, rendering justice as advised by the elders of the land. Lastly, murderers were to pay a
wergild
of ten marks for homicides committed on strangers or among themselves, a heavy penalty which could be paid only with the help of one’s clansmen. In short, the treaty dealt with a variety of concerns – religious, financial and social – which presumably were not covered by existing agreements. The treaty also demonstrates that the Oeselian Estonians were by no means powerless serfs. A master does not sign a formal treaty requiring the presence of priests, friars, vassals, his marshal and numerous knights and
multorum aliorum fidelium, Theutonicorum et Estonum
, unless the
seniores de Estonibus Maritimae et alii quam plures
were men of power and substance.

Meanwhile, Duke Alexander had been invited to return to Novgorod. The abased citizens, now persuaded that they could not fight the German-Pskov forces alone, apparently conceded all the points over which they had quarrelled. Late in 1241 Alexander overwhelmed the German-Danish garrisons east of Narva. Significantly, he spared the Westerners for ransom but hanged the Estonians as rebels and traitors. He thus demonstrated his limited aim: to retain control of the vital border territories. He had no intention of driving the crusaders into the sea; his attention was directed more to the south – where the Mongols held sway – than to the west. His intent was merely to guarantee that he would not be attacked from the rear while he was engaged with the Tatars. His move against the Western garrison in Pskov on 5 March 1242 was described by a German chronicler in these terms:

The corresponding account in the
Chronicle of Novgorod
is very short: ‘Prince Alexander occupied all the roads right up to [Pskov], seized the Germans and the Chud men, and having bound them in chains, sent them to be imprisoned in Novgorod’.

Alexander led a relatively small force into the diocese of Dorpat, only to turn back after Bishop Hermann’s men routed his scouts at a bridge. Perhaps a small number of Teutonic Knights joined in the pursuit of Alexander’s retreating forces, making the order’s total contribution more respectable. The Orthodox and Catholic armies then met at Lake Peipus – the famous Battle on the Ice. Neither army was large. The Westerners had perhaps 2,000 men, the Russians perhaps 6,000, but these numbers were, in effect, balanced by the superior armament of the crusaders

The battle has become undeservedly famous, having been endowed – for twentieth-century political considerations – with much more significance than it merited in itself, through Sergei Eisenstein’s 1938 film
Alexander Nevsky
, and the stirring music of Sergei Prokoviev. Indeed, although this movie is a reasonably accurate portrayal of some aspects of the battle, especially the costumes and tactics, and gives us an impressive sense of the drama of medieval combat, other aspects are pure propaganda. Certainly the ancestors of today’s Estonians and Latvians were not dwarfs, as the movie suggests, nor were they serfs. Master Andreas was in Riga, and thus could not have been taken prisoner by Alexander himself and ransomed for soap. The Russian forces were mainly professionals, not pre-Lenin Communist peasants and workers facing the equivalent of German armoured columns; the Germans were not proto-Nazis, blonde giants who burned babies alive. In short, many scenes in
Alexander Nevsky
tell us much more about the Soviet Union just before Hitler’s invasion than about medieval history. On the other hand, it is just possible that the crusaders did possess a portable organ – Henry of Livonia had mentioned an incident in an earlier combat in which the playing of a musical instrument caused the two armies to stop fighting momentarily to listen in wonder, and records from the end of the century list organs among the religious objects destroyed by Lithuanian pagans. Certainly Lake Peipus is far enough inland that the last days of cold weather might have preserved sufficient ice along the shores to support the weight of men on horseback.

Spring had not yet come on 5 April as the crusader army proceeded across the lake or, more likely, along the shore to meet the Russian forces that were massed in a solid body. Although some of the fighting probably took place on the ice, it is unlikely that the cavalry forces ventured onto it in significant numbers. The heavily armed Western knights formed the spearhead of a column followed by light cavalry and foot soldiers, which charged into the Russian infantry.
The Livonian Rhymed Chronicle
summarised the battle tersely:

The battle, of course, had repercussions beyond the Livonian-Rus’ian border region: revolts broke out in Kurland and Prussia which threatened to involve the Teutonic Knights on so many fronts that they could not cope with their enemies. Alexander Nevsky, however, had no interest in destroying the crusader states in Livonia. First of all, the former Swordbrothers and Teutonic Knights who were represented at the battle lost only half as many knights as had perished at Saule. When one considers that these would be quickly reinforced by troops that the master held in reserve, the Teutonic Order remained a formidable foe; moreover, the crusaders would be fighting on the defensive in well-constructed wooden forts, and Alexander Nevsky had not equipped his forces for sieges. Moreover, the Mongol threat was so immediate that the prince could not afford to postpone attending to it. Consequently he offered generous terms to the Roman Christians, which the crusaders immediately accepted: Novgorod withdrew from Pskov and other border territories, Alexander freed his prisoners, and the Germans released their hostages. Three years later Alexander defeated a Lithuanian effort to exploit Novgorod’s weakened condition. In the end, however, like the other Russian princes, he acknowledged the authority of the Golden Horde and performed military service for the Mongol khan. For the next twenty years there was no war between Rus’ians and Germans.

It had been a dangerous moment for Novgorod, but perhaps less dangerous than is sometimes thought. If Novgorod had been occupied by the Westerners, the Rus’ian state might indeed have shared the fate of Byzantium after the Fourth Crusade, to be dominated temporarily by foreigners, perhaps so permanently lamed in political and economic terms that it would be unable to ward off the more dangerous enemy advancing from the East. Nevertheless, it is difficult to imagine the crusaders permanently suppressing Russian culture, the Russian Orthodox Church, and the Russian nobility. If the Golden Horde could not do this, could the Westerners, whose capacity vis-à-vis the Mongols’ pales into insignificance? It is easy to exaggerate the importance of the Battle on the Ice. In the short term, it was more important for the crusaders, in that it put an end to the eastward drive of the armed mission; in the long term it gave Russians a memory of a glorious victory over formidable foes, a victory that stood out so brightly because of its rarity.