Castellan (52 page)
Kristjan poured some beer into a cup and handed it to Indrek.
‘Here, you look terrible.’
‘Lack of sleep will do that, lord.’
Kristjan picked up his dagger and began turning it in his hand.
‘It is important to bring in all the people from the surrounding villages before the crusaders arrived.’
Indrek did not bother to tell him that the villagers had fled days ago, a few to Dorpat; most to secret hiding places deep in the forest.
‘Send soldiers to burn the villages,’ ordered Kristjan.
Indrek spat out his beer. ‘Lord?’
‘I do not wish to provide the bishop with lodgings for his soldiers. See to it.’
Indrek would disregard that order. Kristjan spent most of his time in the fort, hardly bothering to venture down the hill into the town.
‘What about your sister, lord?’
‘My sister?’
‘She is vulnerable at Odenpah now that it no longer has a garrison.’
Maarja’s face had been terribly scarred by the pestilence that had killed her sisters and parents and people believed that Odenpah was cursed. As a result she lived there with only a small number of loyal servants. The garrison had deserted long ago, along with most of the slaves and workers. Kristjan waved the dagger in the air.
‘I have more pressing matters to think about than the welfare of my diseased sister. She can lock Odenpah’s gates if she feels threatened.’
Indrek sighed. ‘With your permission, lord, I must get back to the town.’
A guard entered the ill-lit hall, saluted to Indrek and reported to Kristjan.
‘Prince Vetseke has returned, lord.’
Kristjan’s face lit up. ‘Show him in.’
The Liv entered the chamber moments later, immaculate in a pair of new leather boots, spotless green cloak, mail shirt, his sword in its red scabbard. He gave Indrek a friendly smile and bowed his head to Kristjan.
‘Greetings, lord, I bring reinforcements from the Kingdom of Novgorod. Three hundred archers, a gift from Prince Mikhail and the Mayor of Pskov.’
Kristjan clapped his hands together. ‘You are most welcome, prince. Tonight I will feast you and your Russians in this hall to celebrate your and their arrival. Indrek, see that the prince’s men are allotted quarters. They must be tired after their journey.’
‘If you would follow me, lord prince,’ said Indrek.
Vetseke bowed again to Kristjan. ‘Until later, lord.’
Kristjan wore a broad smile as Indrek walked with Vetseke from the hall.
‘So, you came back.’
‘As I said I would.’
Indrek gave him a wry smile. ‘Just in time for the inferno that is about to engulf us.’
The great crusade against Dorpat commenced in the middle of July, the army that had landed at Riga finally moving northeast after an interminable delay caused by Master Thaddeus insisting that the siege engines that were to be used against the pagan town were constructed before the march. He set his engineers to work at Wenden, Kremon and Segewold organising the collection of timber and construction of mangonels and trebuchets that would join the army on its way to Dorpat. Once built they then had to be disassembled and their component parts loaded on to four-wheeled wagons, though some of the mangonels, the smaller ones, were fitted with solid wooden wheels so they could be towed by teams of oxen.
There was a great service in Riga’s cathedral on the day before the army’s departure, the stone building packed with knights, squires and priests who knelt with heads bowed as Bishop Albert asked God to bless their forthcoming campaign.
Because the Lithuanian kingdoms were embroiled in a civil war Grand Master Volquin decided that it was safe for the order’s castles along the Dvina to each contribute twelve brother knights, thirty sergeants, forty crossbowmen and the same number of spearmen to the undertaking. The same number was to be provided by the castles of Kremon, Segewold and Wenden so that the Sword Brother complement for the campaign totalled just over eight hundred and sixty men. The castles along the Dvina still retained garrisons to deter any Lithuanian incursions, which was considered highly unlikely.
Conrad received a request to march the Army of the Wolf towards Dorpat from Master Rudolf, who also made the same request of Sir Richard at Lehola. Conrad had moved back to Varbola with Andres and his men following the curious encounter with Rustic, which had cheered his Jerwen commander enormously.
‘So let me get this right,’ said Leatherface, one leg impertinently draped over the arm of his chair, ‘if you beat Kristjan then you get the keys to your kingdom, so to speak.’
‘That is correct,’ answered Andres.
Leatherface grinned impishly. ‘Looks like you will be sitting in your hill fort before autumn comes, then, for as sure as a bear shits in the woods Dorpat won’t be able to withstand the army that is marching against it.’
Conrad winced at his inappropriate words and made an apologetic face at Bishop Bernhard, who waved away his silent atonement. He had convened a council of war to decide the army’s course of action as it mustered at Varbola. The hall was hot and smelt of leather and sweat. Young servant girls ferried beer and water from the kitchens, in addition to bread, cheese and apples, though only Hans had an appetite. The warlords sat around the table on which food and drinks were piled, occasionally swatting away a fly that landed on sweating cheese. Technically Leatherface should not have been in attendance but his humour, vast experience and blunt tongue had endeared him to the Estonian leaders who had known him for years. For his part Bishop Bernhard found the mercenary’s flippancy refreshing.
‘Because of our commitments in Rotalia and Harrien,’ said Conrad, ‘I intend to take only two hundred Rotalians and the same number of Harrien to Dorpat.’
He looked at Riki. ‘I assume you will stay here, at Varbola, to administer your new kingdom, my friend.’
Riki shook his head. ‘I have had a gut-full of listening to complaints. It makes my head throb so I will be coming with you. But I shall leave Varbola well garrisoned.’
Conrad looked at Hillar. ‘And you, my friend, will you go back to Rotalia?’
He smiled. ‘Like Riki I feel the need to wield my sword before it becomes rusty through lack of use. Besides, Koit has affairs well under control at Leal.’
‘That’s the thing when you stand at the back of a shield wall, Hillar,’ smiled Tonis, ‘you never get a chance to use your weapons. You should stand with me in the front rank with the rest of my Saccalians.’
Hillar threw a chunk of bread at him.
Conrad looked at Bishop Bernhard. ‘I assume your eminence will turn over command of your soldiers to Ulric for the forthcoming campaign?’
‘Why?’ asked the bishop. ‘Do you think I am unfit to lead them?’
‘No, lord bishop,’ said Conrad, ‘not at all, but the fight for Dorpat will be a hard one and in view of your eminence’s great age I would…’
‘If you mention my age again,’ growled Bernhard, ‘I will excommunicate you.’
‘That’s you told,’ said Leatherface.
‘I would not worry, Conrad,’ said Hans, ‘Master Thaddeus’ siege engines will probably batter Dorpat into submission so we won’t need to storm the place.’
Bernhard looked unhappy. ‘I hope not. There is little point in gathering an army if it is not going to be used.’
‘Very well,’ said Conrad, ‘we move out in two days.’
Just over fourteen hundred men left for Dorpat, four hundred of which were led by Bishop Bernhard and the grim-faced Ulric. Aside from a small number of mounted scouts and horses to carry the commanders they marched on foot, accompanied by ponies loaded with tents and others pulling carts containing spare weapons, ammunition and armour. For their part the commanders walked on foot leading their mounts most of the time, Conrad insisting that the bishop ride at all times. So he did, riding up and down the column shouting encouragement, threats and obscene jokes.
‘I wonder why he became a priest,’ said Conrad. ‘He is the most unholy man I have ever encountered.’
‘I heard he was appointed by the pope himself to preach the word of God in Livonia,’ Anton told him. ‘But eschewed the opportunity to become a bishop straight away, preferring instead to enter a monastery as a monk.’
‘To start at the bottom,’ said Hans.
Anton nodded. ‘Can you imagine it? To be a humble monk at the age of sixty; incredible.’
‘And now he is over eighty and I am responsible for him,’ added Conrad glumly.
A warrior wearing a leather cuirass and carrying the bear symbol of Jerwen on his shield ran up to them.
‘We have apprehended a boy,
Susi
, a Harrien, who was following us. He is demanding to see you, says you know him. Do you wish me to break one of his ankles so he cannot follow us?’
‘No,’ said Conrad, ‘I will at least see him before you break one of his limbs. It would be impolite not to do so.’
‘Especially as you know him,’ grinned Hans.
Conrad handed his friend the reins of his horse and walked back with the warrior to where two of his comrades were holding the arms of a teenage boy.
‘Well, Jaan,’ Conrad said to him, ‘you are lucky that I am in a good mood otherwise these men would have broken your leg. Let him go.’
He shook his arms free and pointed at one of the warriors.
‘He has my sword.’
‘He has my sword,
sir
,’ Conrad rebuked him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wish to avenge my father.’
The warrior thrust his father’s sword into the boy’s arms. Conrad nodded to their commander who walked back with his men to the Jerwen column.
‘Follow me,’ Conrad said to the boy as he turned and made his way back to Hans and Anton. The day was warm and he had pulled his mail coif off his head. Even so he was still sweating as he walked back up the column, warriors raising their spears in salute as he did so.
‘This is not a game, Jaan,’ he said, ‘we go to war.’
‘I want to fight,’ came the voice behind him.
Conrad shook his head. ‘We will see if you can.’
The army marched ten miles that day, where possible keeping to forest tracks in an effort to avoid the swarms of midges that inhabited the meadows, especially the ones that contained lakes or flanked rivers and streams.
That night, as hundreds of two-man tents were pitched beside a forest of spruce and the early night air was filled with the sounds of chopping as men collected wood for temporary stables and lean-tos, Conrad ordered Jaan to erect the tent of the three Sword Brothers and then make a fire.
‘After that you can cook our meal and then we will see if you can use the sword you carry around with you.
‘I got tired of mucking out stables and did not leave Varbola just to pitch tents and cook meals.’
Conrad pulled his axe from his belt, gripped the shaft near the blade and gave Jaan a hefty whack on his upper arm with the other end of the haft.
‘Don’t be impertinent,’ Conrad told him. ‘This is an army not a camping expedition. Everyone obeys orders here.’
Jaan rubbed his arm. ‘You don’t,
Susi
.’
Conrad laughed. ‘You think I am taking this army to Dorpat because I feel like it? I obey orders like everyone else; like you will if you wish to stay with us.’
‘Who gives you orders,
Susi
?’
‘The Bishop of Riga.’
‘And who gives him orders?’
‘His Holiness the Pope. Now get that fire started. Brother Hans gets very angry if his meal is not prepared on time.’
He caught sight of Jaan staring admiringly at the red insignia on his surcoat.
‘Perhaps you wish to become a brother knight of our order.’
Jaan’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes,
Susi
.’
‘It will take you seven years. Seven years of hard work, dedication and obeying orders. There is no mystery to becoming a knight, Jaan, it just takes time and a desire to earn the insignia I wear. If you feel you are up to it then stay with us. If not, then return to Varbola in the morning. The decision is entirely yours. But while you are making your decision get that fire started and the meal cooked.’
The boy was very quiet that evening, and after he had cooked what Hans described as an excellent stew he fell asleep in the brother knights’ tent as the three friends sat around the fire. The night was cool and cloudless, the sky filled with a myriad of twinkling stars.
‘Do you realise it is fourteen years since we arrived in Livonia,’ reflected Anton. He saw Hans eating an apple. ‘And after all that time Hans still looks half starved.’
Hans threw the apple core at him.
Conrad peered into the flickering flames. ‘Sometimes it seems like yesterday and at other times my life before Livonia is like a dream.’
‘A good or bad one?’ asked Hans.
‘Good,’ answered his friend, ‘though not at the end.’
They heard the rustle of boots on the ground and saw three figures approaching: Bishop Bernhard, Ulric and Leatherface. The Sword Brothers stood as the trio stopped in front of the fire.
‘Just doing the rounds,’ grinned the mercenary.
‘Your men are well trained, lord marshal,’ said Ulric. ‘Ponies stabled, carts placed in a wagon park, tents pitched and guards posted in no time at all.’
‘They have had lots of practice,’ Conrad informed him.
‘My bastards are catching up, though,’ grinned the bishop. ‘This campaign should see them become more like fighting men than civilians dressed up as soldiers.’
‘It is very late, lord bishop,’ said Conrad, ‘you should get your rest before tomorrow’s march.’
Bernhard pointed a bony finger at him. ‘One more word from you about my supposed infirmity, lord marshal, and I will write personally to the pope requesting that you are placed in charge of the Curia’s latrines.’
‘The bishop fancies a spot of scouting tomorrow,’ said Leatherface. ‘Ain’t that right, your holiness?’
‘Just to blow the cobwebs from my mind,’ stated the bishop.
Conrad sighed. ‘I would prefer you to stay with the army, lord bishop.’
‘And I would prefer if you stopped trying to deprive an old man of a bit of fun.’
Knowing that he would not win the argument Conrad gave up.
‘After Dorpat falls,’ Bernhard said to him, ‘you will take your army north?’
‘I will,’ replied Conrad. ‘The only kingdom left to be freed will be Wierland, which is currently ravaged by the Danes and the Russians.’
‘Those two powers might have something to say about your plans, Conrad,’ said Bernhard.
The Sword Brother smiled grimly. ‘It will be to their detriment if they do.’
But the immediate concern was Dorpat and over the following four days the army continued its march towards the town. The Jerwen enjoyed marching through their homeland and Andres directed the army on a route that took it close to many villages. Scouts, including the bishop, rode ahead to announce the forthcoming arrival of Andres and his men, so that when the army passed villagers stood by the side of tracks waving and cheering. Attractive young girls placed garlands of wild flowers around the necks of handsome warriors and ruddy faced children ran alongside the column cheering and screaming at the men carrying spears with whetted points and wearing burnished helmets.
There was no sign of Kristjan’s soldiers as the Army of the Wolf moved towards the River Emajogi, the waterway that marked the border between Ungannia and Jerwen. The army reached the northern bank of the river on a humid day at the end of July, approximately five miles from Dorpat. Scouts were sent splashing across a ford of the slow-moving river to ascertain the whereabouts of Bishop Albert’s army. A camp was established and parties on foot sent east along the river to gather information from the villages along the Emajogi concerning the availability of boats and barges that could transport men across the river. The mounted scouts returned with the news that a great army composed of Livs, Sword Brothers and crusaders surrounded Dorpat. On hearing this news Conrad, Hans, Anton and Bishop Bernhard immediately rode south to report to Bishop Albert.
