The Sword Brothers (44 page)

‘The difficulties of
coordinating an assault are many and varied, father,’ replied
Vsevolod.

The grand duke looked
at the table where Prince Stecse sat with his lieutenants. ‘Not
according to Stecse.’

Vsevolod hated the
upstart prince, not because he was a simple-minded fool, though he
was that, but more because he had wormed himself into the
affections of the grand duke and thus became a direct nuisance.

‘Prince Stecse is a
brave warrior,’ said Vsevolod, ‘but perhaps does not appreciate
matters of strategy. For example, the Bishop of Riga finds himself
embroiled in a long war in the north against the Estonians. This
being the case, out of strategic necessity he desires peace along
the Dvina.’

The grand duke began
chewing on a piece of black bread dipped in
juka
. ‘Why
should I give him peace?’

Vsevolod smiled.
‘Because, my lord, he offers something that you desire.’

The grand duke pushed
the bread into his mouth. ‘What?’

‘To cross the Dvina to
attack the Principality of Novgorod and thus avenge the many wrongs
the Russians have committed against you.’

The grand duke stopped
eating and turned to face his son-in-law. ‘He will allow me to
cross the river and march through his territory with an army?’

Vsevolod mustered his
most earnest expression. ‘He will, my lord.’

‘Why?’

‘Out of strategic
necessity, lord, as I said. He desires peace with all the
Lithuanian tribes and will accommodate your wishes to achieve that
peace.’

‘He has forgotten the
assault on Kokenhusen?’

Vsevolod spread his
hands. ‘He recognises that you are a great warlord and he is just a
priest who can muster few troops in comparison to the mighty army
you can assemble. He fears you, my lord, and wishes to appease
you.’

The grand duke toyed
with one of the silver rings on his fingers. ‘You will arrange it,
Vsevolod, and then perhaps I may forget your error at
Kokenhusen.’

Vsevolod bowed his
head. ‘Your servant, lord.’

Chapter 10

Lembit stood in his
hall at Lehola, his lieutenants assembled before him. He had
managed to evade his pursuers to get back to his homeland, most of
the men of the other tribes having deserted him during the journey
back to Estonia. The campaign had been a disaster, the only bright
spot being the return of Rusticus from the diversion at Wenden. It
was now summer and he knew that soon a vengeful crusader army led
by the newly returned Bishop Albert would be marching north into
Saccalia. He also feared that the Oeselians would revert to being
enemies instead of allies following the debacle at Treiden. But at
least most of his wolf shields were still alive and he retained the
loyalty of his Saccalians. There was absolute silence in the hall
as his men awaited his words.

‘I will not lie to
you. We suffered a reverse at Treiden and were forced to retreat.
Soon the crusaders will be marching north into our homeland, intent
on enslaving us and forcing us to kneel to their god. This I will
not allow.’

His men murmured their
defiance. He raised his hands. ‘The crusaders will gather their
forces and march as one army, but we will counter them by dividing
our forces.’

His men looked at each
other in confusion.

Lembit smirked. ‘The
crusaders cannot be everywhere at once. Just as Rusticus led a
party south, so will you lead small groups to raid the enemy’s
territory. In this way the crusaders will be unable to keep their
army together. They will be forced to send parties to hunt you
down.’

‘Make sure they don’t
catch you,’ said Rusticus. ‘Kill, burn, destroy and then melt back
into the forests.’

‘How long are we to
remain in Livonia, lord?’ asked one of the warriors.

‘Until the autumn,’
answered Lembit. ‘By then the rains will have come and the
crusaders will be unable to transport their siege engines through
the mud. You will leave in the morning. Rusticus will supply you
with details.’

His men were in good
spirits as they filed out of the hall and the guards closed the
doors behind them.

‘Excellent idea,’ said
Rusticus approvingly, ‘should keep the barbarians away.’

Lembit flopped into
his chair. ‘It will buy us time, nothing more. The chiefs of the
other tribes will no doubt be demanding a gathering where they can
air their grievances concerning the failure at Treiden.’

‘They whine like old
women,’ sneered Rusticus.

‘That may be. But I
need their continued allegiance if we are to prevail in this
war.’

‘What of the
Oeselians?’

Lembit leaned back and
closed his eyes. ‘It seems unlikely that they will wish to continue
with our alliance following the failure at Treiden. I have no doubt
that Eric will be bending his father’s ear and blaming me for the
failure to take Caupo’s stronghold.’

‘No great loss,’
sniffed Rusticus.

Lembit opened his eyes
and looked at him. ‘On the contrary. If the Oeselians become our
enemies it means their longships will be raiding the lands of the
Rotalians once more. And if that happens then we will lose their
warriors in the war against the crusaders. I will send an envoy to
Olaf requesting a meeting.’

Rusticus looked
alarmed. ‘He will kill you.’

‘He might, but
remember that it was he who made the first approach not the other
way round. Hopefully he still sees the merit of an alliance between
our two peoples.’

‘I do not trust him,’
said Rusticus.

‘You are obsessed by
the notion of trust. As I told you, trust has nothing to do with
it. Olaf knows that if Estonia becomes the domain of the Christians
then his island will be next. Self interest, pure and simple.’

‘Do you wish me to
lead one of the raiding parties?’ inquired Rusticus.

Lembit shook his head.
‘I need you at Fellin to stiffen the hearts of the garrison. I will
remain here and invite my fellow chiefs to a gathering to allay
their fears. You may go.’

Rusticus strolled
towards the doors, stopped and turned.

‘I forgot something.
You remember that boy who gave you the scar on your cheek?’

‘How could I forget
him?’ said Lembit. ‘I carry a permanent reminder of his existence.
What of him?’

‘I saw him when the
crusaders and Livs rescued the women we had taken near Wenden,’
replied Rusticus.

Lembit was
disinterested. ‘So?’

‘So that is the second
time we have encountered him. And directly afterwards I heard
wolves howling.’

Lembit rolled his
eyes. ‘Wolves?’

‘An ill omen, it means
war.’

Lembit sighed. He knew
many of his people were superstitious, seeing omens and divine
signs in the forests, lakes and rivers. But he had little time for
such nonsense and was surprised that his deputy did.

‘Wolves howl,
Rusticus, and we are already at war so I think you can calm your
fears.’

But Rusticus would not
let the matter pass. ‘Twice we have encountered that boy and twice
he has lived. It is a sign from the gods. The boy represents ill
luck. He needs to be killed to avert disaster.’

Lembit was growing
tired of this nonsense. ‘You speak of things that are
inconsequential. Concentrate on the matter to hand.’

Rusticus was mumbling
to himself as he took leave of his lord, leaving the chief alone
with his thoughts. It was nearly mid-summer now and the tracks and
roads that led north would be dry enough to bear the wagons of the
crusaders carrying their infernal siege machines. They had proved
at Fellin that they could batter down the timber walls of his hill
forts with ease. The only way to protect his strongholds was to
keep them away from Estonian soil. And so the next morning a dozen
groups left Lehola to lay waste Livonia. They rode on ponies and
scattered to take different routes into the bishop’s kingdom, each
one numbering no more that twenty warriors. Lembit stood on the
battlements and watched them go. Later Rusticus also rode south to
assume command of the garrison at Fellin. Lembit stayed on the wall
until his deputy was but a small speck on the horizon and then
disappeared altogether. Then he returned to his hall to dictate a
letter to Olaf.

*****

Conrad had never seen
such a great collection of soldiers that gathered at Wenden that
summer, led by Bishop Albert himself in his mail armour, his great
banner of Riga being pitched in the middle of the camp that
surrounded the castle like a huge besieging army. This was to be
the final campaign that was to subdue Lembit and the Estonians: to
create a Christian kingdom from the River Dvina all the way to the
Gulf of Finland. The pagans had been defeated at Treiden and now
Estonia lay prostrate before the crusaders. Caupo came with five
hundred of his Livs, supplemented by Thalibald and a hundred of his
warriors. There were knights and squires from Saxony, Thuringia,
Franconia and even Swabia and Bavaria. The banners of these lords
were planted around the standard of the bishop so that it seemed
that a new forest of silk and linen had arisen. There were dozens
of gonfalons – standards with streamers flown from a horizontal
bar, supported by a vertical pole. Gold-fringed pennons fluttered
from lances and banners hung from the trumpets of musicians in the
service of the wealthiest lords. The sun shone, the knights feasted
and boasted of the coming conquest of the pagans and Theodoric
dreamed of his new bishopric.

And it was all an
illusion.

The first indication
that the army would not be marching north was when Caupo led a
large party of his warriors east, and then a sizeable number of
crusader knights and their squires left Wenden and headed back to
Riga. As the days passed the number of knights at Wenden gradually
decreased as parties left the castle, including Bishop Albert
himself.

‘Estonian raiding
parties are destroying our farms and villages,’ said Rameke as he
helped Conrad place a stone into the back of a cart.

Now that summer was
here Conrad and the other boys were detailed to assist the
transportation of stone that was being used in the construction of
the castle from the quarry located five miles to the east.

The stone being
quarried was dolostone, a hard limestone that blunted the chisels
of the masons and the metal wedges used by the quarrymen to
separate the stone blocks from the rock face.

‘Estonians?’ Conrad
was surprised. ‘I thought they had been defeated at Treiden.’

‘They were,’ said
Rameke, exhaling loudly as he let go of the stone block. ‘But
Lembit has sent others south to raid our lands. My father has been
forced to send men back to their villages to protect the women and
the old.’

‘Including your
father’s own village I hope,’ said Conrad with concern.

Rameke smiled. ‘Do not
worry, my friend, my sister is quite safe.’

Conrad blushed and
looked away. ‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘She talks of you
often,’ Rameke continued. ‘You have a made a great impression on
her.’

‘And you two talk too
much,’ said Lukas, appearing beside the cart as if by magic. ‘There
are more stones to load before we head back to the castle. As your
father placed you under my command, Rameke, it would be remiss of
me to allow you to loiter in idle gossip.’

Rameke wiped his
sweaty brow on his shirtsleeve. ‘No chance of that, Brother
Lukas.’

The brother knight was
fully armed and accompanied by a dozen sergeants and a score of
Thalibald’s warriors, in addition to the five spearmen and five
crossbowmen who guarded the quarrymen during the day. The latter
were local Livs who also brought their weapons to work – the quarry
would be a very tempting target for an Estonian raiding party.

The sweating Anton
heaved another stone slab into the wagon. ‘Will they attack Wenden
again?’

Lukas shook his head.
‘It is too strong, but an undefended quarry is easy pickings.’

Anton looked over at
his sword and shield stacked with the weapons of the other boys
nearby.

Lukas laughed. ‘They
won’t show their faces while there are so many soldiers here. They
prefer to attack weak, undefended targets.’

‘Like a village full
of children and women,’ said Rameke.

Lukas nodded his head.
‘Precisely.’

A line of wagons stood
waiting to be loaded with stone, the quarrymen ferrying the
varyingly sized stones to them. The quarry had been in operation
for three years now, the top layer of stone, called ‘rag’ and being
of inferior quality, was used for rubble, for infill to walls or to
make lime. It would be functioning for many years yet to provide
the materials to complete Wenden, earmarked to be an impregnable
stronghold of the Sword Brothers. But it was a laborious,
time-consuming business. Every stone had to be first prised from
the cliff face and then split into a slab before being broken into
usable stone, after which it was transported to the castle and then
hauled or dragged to the top of the wall for the masons to move
into place. Slowly but inexorably the walls and towers of Wenden
were rising from the escarpment upon which the castle was
positioned.

Two days later a large
force of crusader horse and foot marched past the quarry to ensure
that there were no Estonians in the immediate vicinity. Other
parties were sent north into Ungannia and Saccalia to retaliate
against Lembit’s audacity, but the Estonian leader had succeeded in
nullifying the bishop’s efforts to conquer the pagan kingdom.

As the crusader force
gathered at Wenden slowly dissipated and then disappeared
altogether, Conrad continued to hone his weapon skills. His gangly
frame had begun to fill out now, though Hans, notwithstanding his
attempt to empty the castle’s food stores single handed, still
looked skinny. But he was no longer pale and gaunt but rosy cheeked
and hale and his sinewy frame possessed a strength that belied his
appearance. Johann and Anton likewise grew in strength and stature
as they practised day in, day out.