The Sword Brothers (22 page)

Ahead he could see
spearmen fighting furiously with Estonians at the top of ladders.
He then saw more enemy soldiers coming over a section of the timber
wall that was not defended. His heart pounded in his chest as he
pulled a quarrel from his quiver and placed it in the groove in the
stock. Lukas shoved his helmet back on his head.

‘Don’t shoot our own
men!’ he bellowed at them.

Moments later the
defenders, having failed to hold the wall, suddenly abandoned their
positions and ran down the sloping earth bank on which the wall
stood. Conrad was appalled – they were fleeing to leave him and his
companions to face the enemy alone. But he was wrong and seemingly
instantaneously the spearmen and sergeants formed a line in front
of him with the crossbowmen standing directly behind. Lukas waved
the boys forward to take up position behind a dozen spearmen
standing with their weapons levelled and their shields locked.

The Estonians flooded
down the bank and formed up at the bottom, hurling insults and
shouting obscenities at the Christians. Conrad saw a banner bearing
a red wolf and saw warriors clustered around a man in a gilded
helmet. Beside him, carrying a large round shield and armed with a
vicious-looking axe, was a giant of a man. Conrad stared wide-eyed
at the savage half-men who stood only a few yards away, shouting
and banging their weapons on their shields.

‘Ready!’ shouted the
commander of the mercenaries. The crossbowmen brought up their
weapons.

‘Shoot!’ he bellowed
and twenty crossbow bolts hissed through the air.

Conrad pulled his
trigger and was elated as the quarrel left his weapon. Seconds
later there was another volley as the crossbowmen expertly reloaded
and shot their missiles. Conrad likewise reloaded and released his
trigger as Estonians screamed and fell to the ground, quarrels in
their flesh.

The crossbowmen got
off two more volleys before the Estonians charged, yelling their
war cries and raising their axes above their heads. Conrad reloaded
again and shot another bolt that struck a man in the shoulder and
pitched him onto the ground, two Estonians directly behind tripping
over his prostrate body. But the rest smashed into the line of
spearmen and began hacking at them with their axes and thrusting
with their spears. Conrad saw Lukas thrust his sword forward into a
man’s face, step back to avoid an axe being swung at his head and
then bring his blade down on the arm holding the weapon, shattering
the bone.

Then the brother
knights charged.

They thundered down
the track that led from the castle between the huts that housed the
mercenaries and the civilian dwellings to the main gates in the
outer perimeter. They numbered only eleven brother knights and
Walter, all in a solid line with their lances couched, but their
appearance tipped the scales of the battle. They did not scream war
cries or hurl abuse at their foes as they rode towards where the
spearmen and crossbowmen were being forced back by the great press
of Estonians wielding their weapons. The unarmed engineers had fled
back up the track to the castle, leaving their machines to the
enemy. But now the knights charged straight into the midst of
Lembit’s warriors.

The fifty mercenaries
and thirty sergeants had managed to retain their formation but had
been pushed back towards the three mangonels that had been
positioned directly in front of the civilian huts. But while Lembit
and half of his warriors hacked and slashed at these soldiers,
forcing them back, Rusticus had assembled another group on his
chief’s left flank, ready to race up the track and storm the castle
itself. It was this group that the knights struck.

Eleven men against at
least a hundred. But they were big men attired in mail and
full-face helmets, riding big horses whose iron-shod hoofs pounded
the ground and put the fear of God into the heathens. Rusticus
screamed orders at his men to hold their ground and lock their
shields. He knew that not even the horses of the iron men could
break a solid shield wall. But his men did not have the brute
courage he possessed and so they ran. They ran back towards the
ramparts over which they had flooded, hoping to put as much
distance between them and the accursed horsemen who were galloping
towards them as possible. Rusticus hurried right to be with Lembit
as the knights rode among their fleeing foes.

They used their lances
first, skewering Estonians in the back with ease, then drew their
swords and slashed left and right to split helmets, skulls and
shoulder blades. But as they scattered one half of the Estonians
Lembit finally broke the resistance of the mercenary spearmen.

Ten lay dead or
wounded on the ground and although the crossbowmen had taken a
heavy toll of the Estonians, their ammunition was now spent.

‘Back to the castle,’
ordered Lukas, his helmet shoved back on his head as he quickly
appraised the situation. He saw the knights to his right riding
among the enemy and dealing death with their swords. But in front
of him the Estonians were literally hacking his men to pieces.

The German crossbowmen
did not need telling a second time: they turned tail and ran as
fast as their legs would carry them. The sergeants and spearmen
attempted a more disciplined withdrawal, for if they ran they would
surely be cut down by a herd of feral Estonians. Horn calls came
from the latter’s ranks and their rearmost warriors turned to see
the knights hacking down the remnants of those men who had fled
back over the ramparts. The presence of the iron men behind them
resulted in their ferocious advance faltering, which was just as
well for Conrad.

He had been standing
beside Hans shooting his crossbow, just behind a line of spearmen
who had been forlornly attempting to stop the Estonians. Then Lukas
had given the order to retreat and chaos had broken out. The
spearmen and sergeants were still thrusting at the enemy with their
spears as they shuffled back but the mercenary crossbowmen ran for
their lives. Conrad, Hans and the others looked at each other,
unsure what to do, just as the crusaders broke and Estonians came
at them.

‘Run!’ shouted Conrad.
Hans spun round and ran straight into a mangonel. He had not
realised that as the spearmen in front were forced back they had
got close to the machines. Hans sprawled on the ground and seconds
later a great mail-clad Estonian was over him, raising his axe high
in the air to split Hans’ skull. Conrad shot the man with a quarrel
that went straight into his armpit, causing him to cry out in pain
and collapse on the ground. He rushed over to Hans and hauled his
friend to his feet.

‘Move, Hans,’ he said,
his friend pointing past him, fear etched on his face.

Conrad turned to see
another Estonian running at him with an axe in his right hand. The
man swung the weapon at Conrad, who ducked at the last moment and
avoided the blade that embedded itself in the mangonel’s frame.
Hans shot the man with a quarrel as he tried to yank the axe free.
The youths withdrew a few paces as a series of individual duels
between spearmen and Estonians erupted around them. Conrad reached
into his quiver, extracted another bolt and reloaded his crossbow.
The fear that he had felt earlier had now dissipated and a strange
calm had taken possession of him. He reloaded with ease and then
looked around, seeking targets. He gestured to Hans to stay close
to him as he walked slowly backwards, ensuring there were no more
machines on his line of retreat.

They were among the
civilian huts now, some of the Estonians darting inside to see if
there were any women to be had to rape or loot. Then he saw Lukas
to his right, surrounded by five enemy warriors who were swinging
their axes at him. The brother knight was fighting with skill but
would surely fall fighting such odds.

‘Hans,’ Conrad called,
pointing at the outnumbered Lukas. Conrad brought up his crossbow
and shot it, the quarrel slamming into the back of one of the
Estonians. The man arched his back and pitched forward onto the
ground, to be joined by a second as Hans shot his weapon and slew
another Estonian. Conrad reloaded and ran over to where Lukas was
fighting, the knight slicing the hamstring of an Estonian with a
deft swing of his sword before retreating to face another of his
attackers. Hans shot that man while the fifth, realising he was now
outnumbered, backed away swiftly. The Estonian with the cut
hamstring tried to hobble away but Lukas raced forward and killed
him with a single thrust of his sword. He pointed the bloody weapon
at Conrad and Hans.

‘You two back to the
castle. Now!’

Conrad nodded and
raced off, Hans beside him. They rounded one of the huts and came
face to face with half a dozen enemy warriors carrying shields
bearing a wolf’s face, one of which was wearing a gilded helmet.
They all turned as Conrad and Hans stopped and stared at them. For
a few seconds nothing happened. And then two of the Estonians raced
at them.
Keep moving to stay alive
. Conrad heard the words
of Lukas in his head as he shot his crossbow to drop one of the
warriors and then leapt aside as the other man swung his sword at
him but cut only air. Hans’ shot hit the shield of the man with the
gilded helmet, who now turned to face Conrad’s friend. The others
made to attack Hans but the warrior with the quarrel lodged in his
shield waved them back and calmly walked towards Hans. The latter
frantically tried to reload his crossbow but in his panic he
dropped his quarrel and then had his weapon knocked out of his
hands before being barged to the ground.

Conrad dropped his
crossbow and picked up the dead warrior’s sword to face the second
man who had charged. The man carried a wolf shield and kept it
close to his body but Conrad’s training served him well and he
avoided his adversary’s clumsy strikes with ease, and then cut the
man’s sword arm with a downward stroke of his own weapon, forcing
the warrior to drop his blade as he yelped in pain. Conrad saw the
warrior with the gilded helmet standing over Hans, sword in hand,
ready to kill his friend. He sprinted over to where his crossbow
lay on the ground, bolt still in its groove, and picked it up.

‘No!’ he screamed,
causing the man to turn his head just as Conrad released the
trigger. The bolt grazed the left cheek of the man with the rich
helmet, then thudded into the eye socket of the warrior standing
behind him, who toppled over onto his back, dead. The man with the
cut cheek glared in anger at Conrad and, ignoring Hans, calmly
walked over to him just as a dozen more Estonians appeared led by a
huge ugly brute. Conrad gulped. He and Hans would surely die
now.

Rusticus grabbed
Lembit’s arm.

‘We must go, lord. The
iron men on their horses are behind us and word has reached me that
more enemies are approaching the castle.’ He saw blood oozing down
his lord’s cheek. ‘You are hurt.’

Lembit yanked his arm
free. ‘It is nothing. What enemies are approaching?’

‘Thalibald and his
men.’

Lembit pointed his
sword at Conrad, who stood with his sword held ready to defend
himself. The Estonian chief was angry that victory was slipping
from his grasp rather than with this tall boy with blue-grey eyes
who had nearly killed him. He decided to vent his fury on him
nevertheless.

‘This is not over
boy,’ he shouted at Conrad who had no knowledge of Estonian, ‘I
will see you again and then we will settle things between us.’

Lukas suddenly
appeared and rushed over to stand beside Conrad. Lembit sneered at
them both, turned and raced away, Rusticus and his men covering his
withdrawal. The Estonian chief stopped and turned to again point
his sword at Conrad.

‘Remember me, boy, for
I will surely remember you.’

And then he was gone.
Lukas took off his helmet and held it out for Conrad to take, went
over to the prostrate Hans and pulled him to his feet.

‘Conrad saved my
life,’ he stammered.

Lukas smiled. ‘I am
glad all that training I have lavished upon him has not gone to
waste.’

Conrad felt his legs
go weak under him and had to lean against the side of a hut to stop
himself collapsing. Then he was violently sick.

‘Don’t fill my
helmet,’ said Lukas, coming to his side. He wiped his bloody sword
blade on his surcoat and then replaced it in his scabbard. He
placed an arm on Conrad’s shoulder.

‘After-battle nerves.
Nothing to worry about.’

‘Who was that man in
the shiny helmet?’ asked Hans who continued to look around, fearing
the enemy would reappear.

‘His name is Lembit,’
said Lukas, ‘and he’s the imp of Satan who leads the Estonian
people against the church.’

‘He was going to kill
me but then Conrad shot him in the face. He saved my life.’

Rudolf and Henke
appeared on their panting horses, swords in hand but helmets shoved
back on their heads. Both were sweating heavily.

‘Lembit flees,’ said
Henke without emotion.

‘Young Conrad here
slit his face,’ said Lukas, ‘and saved the life of his friend at
the same time.’

‘God smiles on you,’
Rudolf said to him. ‘Master Berthold requires our attendance,
Lukas.’

They raised their
swords to their friend and wheeled their horses away. Lukas, Conrad
and Hans walked back to the castle as the perimeter gates were
opened to allow Thalibald and his men to enter the compound that
was now littered with dead. Master Berthold ordered no pursuit as
Lembit and his warriors disappeared into the forest to the north of
Wenden. Rather, he commanded a service of thanksgiving to be held
in the courtyard, which everyone attended. The women sang most
heartily for they knew that if the castle had fallen they and their
young daughters would have been either raped and killed or raped
and taken as slaves.