The Sword Brothers (36 page)

‘I come here a prince
without a principality, a general without an army and a man seeking
friends. A new power is rising in the west that threatens to engulf
all the principalities along the Dvina and enslave them to the
Church of Rome. I have sworn to fight this power and ask only for
assistance in my fight.’

The faces looking at
him remained silent, studying him with their eyes. The room was
airless and filled with the sweet aroma of cassia incense, a
mixture of cinnamon and cloves that was used in the cathedral’s
religious services. At length Vladimir spoke.

‘What assistance do
you require, Prince Vetseke?’

‘Soldiers with which I
can retake Kokenhusen and once more make that domain a servant of
Polotsk.’

‘Kokenhusen’s problems
are not ours,’ said one of the council, a dour-looking man with a
thin face.

Vetseke smiled
politely at him. ‘With respect, they are very much your problem.
Twenty years ago there was no crusader kingdom in this land. But
now a new town – Riga – has arisen at the mouth of the Dvina and
Catholic castles take root along that river and along the Gauja to
the north. How long, my lords, before the Bishop of Riga and his
hordes are knocking at the gates of this very city?’

There were frowns of
consternation from the council at his words but Vladimir was
stroking his beard thoughtfully.

‘You expect Polotsk to
fight on your behalf to restore you to your throne?’ asked another
member of the council.

‘No, lord,’ replied
Vetseke, ‘I ask only for your assistance. I will be doing the
fighting.’

‘With our soldiers,’
said another man with deep-set eyes. ‘And if we give you aid then
the crusaders will turn their attention to us and Polotsk will be
drawn into a needless war.’

Vetseke’s temper was
beginning to rise. ‘With respect, lord, Polotsk has already been
drawn into a war, whether it knows it or not.’

‘In what way?’ asked
Vladimir.

‘How long will it be,’
asked Vetseke, ‘before Riga demands tolls from the boats that
transport Polotsk’s goods down the Dvina? How long will it be
before the Bishop of Riga demands that Polotsk pays him tribute in
return for peace?’

The man with deep-set
eyes leaned back in his chair and wagged a finger at him.

‘The Catholics would
not dare to do such a thing.’

Vetseke sighed loudly.
‘Their arrogance knows no bounds, my lord, and with every year that
passes their strength increases. They wage war against the
Estonians, against the Oeselians and against the Lithuanians. Soon
they will turn their spears towards you.’

‘Polotsk is a great
power,’ declared Vladimir. ‘The Bishop of Riga does not have the
strength to challenge us.’

Vetseke clenched his
fists. ‘The Catholics wage crusade against heretics, my lord, and
they view the Holy Church of Russia as a heresy. Each year a new
army lands at Riga to wage the bishop’s crusade against
paganism.’

‘We are not pagans,’
said Vladimir.

‘No, lord,’ replied
Vetseke, ‘but to the crusaders we are the same as the Livs,
Estonians, Oeselians and Lithuanians. Peoples to be subjugated or
destroyed.’

Murmurs of anger
greeted these words but Vladimir said nothing, placing his elbows
on the table and resting his chin on his hands.

‘Would you give us a
few minutes, Prince Vetseke?’

Vetseke rose, bowed
his head and left the room, a guard closing the door behind
him.

Vladimir played with a
gold ring on his finger. ‘He is right.’

The others sighed and
grunted their disagreement.

‘He has lost his crown
and now he comes here thinking that we will give him an army to
reclaim it,’ said a man at the end of the table. ‘It is out of the
question.’

‘But he is right about
the rising power and threat of the Catholic crusaders,’ replied
Vladimir. ‘As Vetseke stated, twenty years ago Riga did not exist.
But now the crusaders advance east along the Dvina. How long before
they are knocking at our gates?’

‘Prince Vsevolod at
Gerzika has reported no threat to his domain,’ said one of the
council.

‘That is because he
has the support of the Lithuanians,’ replied Vladimir. ‘But the
Lithuanians were repulsed recently from Kokenhusen. Vetseke is
correct in declaring that the power of the crusaders
increases.’

‘Do you propose
declaring war upon the Bishop of Riga?’ asked the thin-faced
man.

Vladimir shook his
head. ‘That would not serve our interests.’

‘Then what would?’
asked the man with the deep-set eyes.

‘Why are we wasting
our time considering aiding a Liv?’ said the thin-faced man in
exasperation. ‘He is not Russian.’

Vladimir smiled at
him. ‘That is precisely why we should help him.’

The others stared at
him in confusion.

‘There are no doubt
others of his people who chafe at the yoke of Catholic rule,’
explained Vladimir. ‘That being the case it would make sense to
send Vetseke back to his people to foment trouble. If the crusaders
are fighting an internal revolt they will have no resources to
devote to their eastward expansion.’

The others nodded in
agreement. Vladimir raised a finger to the guard.

‘Show Prince Vetseke
in.’

Moments later the
former ruler of Kokenhusen entered and Vladimir explained to him
that Polotsk would provide aid to enable him to win back his
kingdom, though it would not involve the principality sending its
own soldiers west to battle the crusaders.

‘Then how can I
reclaim my kingdom?’ asked Vetseke.

‘The people of your
race,’ said Vladimir, ‘who live under the tyranny of Catholicism
may prove fiercer warriors than Russian soldiers. Word will be sent
up the Dvina that those Livs who wish to regain their freedom can
find sanctuary at Polotsk. Those who seek refuge here may be
sympathetic to your cause, Prince Vetseke. We will furnish them
with weapons so that you can take them west to lead them against
their oppressors.’

The other council
members nodded solemnly at Vladimir’s words. It was less than
Vetseke had hoped for but perhaps more than he could have expected.
He rose from his chair and bowed his head to Vladimir.

‘Your offer is most
generous, lord prince, and I thank you. Once more you have proved
that the nobility and hospitality of Polotsk has no equal among the
Slav lands.’

The council was
touched by these words and broke into polite applause. Vladimir
smiled at Vetseke. This landless prince might yet prove useful to
his kingdom.

*****

They had sailed across
the black, wind-flecked Baltic with a biting wind stinging their
faces. When they reached the Estonian coast they headed south. No
longer could they run their boats up on the shore and disembark to
attack undefended villages before returning to Oesel laden with
slaves and booty, their savagery having been sated by rape, torture
and murder. Now they had an alliance with the Estonians and so they
sailed close to the shore but left the inhabitants alone. The
warriors grumbled as they sat on the chests and pulled at the oars
to increase their speed.

‘Silence!’ bellowed
Eric, a great bearskin cloak wrapped around him. It might have been
April but the air was still icy and the sea freezing to the
touch.

‘Seems strange to be
so near the coast and not dip our swords in Rotalian blood,’ said
Magnus, Eric’s deputy on this voyage.

Eric stood at the prow
of the fleet’s leading boat, the nineteen others grouped behind it.
He turned and looked at Magnus. He was clearly unhappy.

‘Row, you worthless
dogs,’ he shouted, ‘otherwise I will drop you off here and you can
go and live with the worthless Estonians.’

‘You have not changed
your opinion of our new allies, then?’ smirked Magnus as the boat
cut through the saltwater.

Eric spat over the
side. ‘Allies? They are lambs who were created so our swords could
cut their throats. But my father in his dotage believes there is
merit in forming an alliance with this Lembit and his people. I do
not.’

The spring had brought
an end to the ice and snow and had also brought Lembit to Oesel,
who was accorded a reception more fitting to a king than a bandit.
Eric had sat at his father’s table fuming as Olaf had indulged and
flattered Lembit, aided by his brother Sigurd. Lembit and his
father had agreed upon a plan to ravage the crusader kingdom with a
two-pronged attack: the Estonians would advance from the north and
the Oeselians would sail up the River Gauja. Both forces would
unite at the hill fort of the traitorous King Caupo, which would be
taken by assault. Thereafter the land would be laid waste and
emptied of people before a new crusader army arrived at Riga. Eric
had had no enthusiasm for the plan, much less cooperating with the
Estonians, but his father was insistent and so he found himself
leading a raiding expedition up the Gauja.

He would have
preferred to have been leading a flotilla of longships, whose
appearance was often enough to strike fear into enemies. But though
the Gauja would be swollen by spring melt water longships were too
large to navigate the waterway easily. So Eric commanded twenty
riverboats, each one having a clinker-built hull of oak strakes.
Nearly eighty feet long and seventeen feet wide, a single sail plus
sixteen pairs of oars powered each vessel. Fifty warriors were
carried in each boat – a thousand men to inflict death and
destruction upon Caupo’s people. Eric comforted himself with the
thought that even if the Estonians failed to appear his men would
still be able to return home with slaves and plunder after their
raid.

The voyage to the
mouth of the Gauja was uneventful. The Oeselians ruled the eastern
Baltic and their ships roamed the seas unmolested. Though the ships
of the crusaders were tall and difficult to capture, they were slow
and unwieldy and never instigated an attack. When the boats had
entered the Gauja estuary Eric had seen a few small fishing vessels
whose owners had frantically tried to avoid them. The Oeselians
ignored them as they furled their sails to rely solely on the
oarsmen for propulsion. The boats were slim and fast and even
against the current achieved an average speed of two miles an hour.
By the end of the first day of their journey along the river the
Oeselians were ten miles upstream and two days’ journey away from
their objective: Caupo’s stronghold at Treiden.

Eric’s guide was an
old man who had once fought under his father when Olaf had been a
young prince. They had raided up the Gauja many times before the
crusaders had arrived to build their stone castles. Looking at his
wizened face and frail body Eric found it hard to believe that he
had once been a member of his father’s bodyguard. The man had told
him that they should make camp on a long sandbank beside a high
sandstone rock face.

‘We are near the
crusader castle at Kremon,’ said the old man, ‘so no fires tonight,
my lord.’

The boats had run
aground on the sand and their sails had been used to make tents
over the hulls, in which the men could spend an uncomfortable
night. Guards had been posted inland from the riverbank and Magnus
had wanted to send raiding parties to sack any nearby villages but
the old warrior urged against such a venture.

‘There are plenty of
villages around Treiden to raid. The quieter we approach the more
likely the inhabitants will be taken by surprise. Their king
too.’

They sat shivering
under the sail in the boat, Eric wrapped in his bearskin with his
knees drawn up to his chin. He was not in a good mood. Skulking
around like a thief in the night did not suit the heir of King
Olaf.

‘You will have to
watch for the crusaders, though,’ said the old man.

Eric looked up at him.
‘What crusaders?’

‘Caupo’s stronghold
lies close to the crusader castle at Segewold, but on the other
side of the river.’

‘We should leave some
boats on the river to deter a river crossing,’ said Magnus, chewing
on a piece of cured meat.

‘Caupo’s stronghold
lies to the north of the river?’ asked Eric.

The old man nodded.
‘There is another crusader castle, at Kremon, and that is also
north of the river, a short distance from Treiden.’

‘What is the size of
its garrison?’ asked Eric.

The old man shrugged.
‘I have no idea but as far as I know it is still a small wooden
hill fort. Around fifty men, maybe more.’

‘And what is the size
of Caupo’s garrison?’ said Magnus.

The old man gave him a
toothless grin. ‘No more than a hundred men, perhaps less. Most of
the warriors will be scattered among his villages.’

‘We will attack
Treiden tomorrow,’ declared Eric.

‘What about the
Estonians?’ said Magnus.

Eric smiled. ‘What
about them? We can accomplish our task without them. If they appear
then so much the better. If not, then all the more plunder for
us.’

*****

Lembit’s army
contained warriors from all the Estonian tribes. Its core was the
hundred wolf shields that acted as his bodyguard and best troops,
but the force also contained Harrien, Wierlanders, Jerwen,
Rotalians and Ungannians – two thousand men in all. They had
gathered at Lehola when the snow had cleared and the spring mud had
disappeared, or at least had dried enough to allow horsemen to
travel along tracks and across meadows. He had left a sizeable
number of his wolf shields behind at Lehola in case the crusaders
attempted another assault against Fellin, also reinforcing the
garrison at the latter fort. He thought another attack against it
was unlikely, especially as he had planned a diversion to keep the
garrison at Wenden occupied.

The men travelled
light, the land was now blooming and green shoots were appearing on
plants and trees. The ponies on which they rode could graze on the
abundance of grass and the men could hunt the wildlife that was now
appearing, or alternatively catch fish in Estonia’s hundreds of
lakes and dozens of rivers. Now the land was no longer frozen the
column had to use guides to plot a course around reed-filled
marshlands and flooded meadows occupied by corncrakes and great
snipes. A fourth of Estonia was covered by peatlands that were
crisscrossed by tracks and paths, and it took the army many days to
thread its way south across them. Even in the bog forests of pine
men had to be wary, dismounting and leading their ponies along
tracks flanked by bog mosses, cotton grasses and bog whortleberry.
Occasionally they would disturb a black grouse or hear a flying
squirrel in the trees above them, but mostly the only sounds were
the jangling of pony bits and the curses of men who had strayed off
the track and stepped into marsh, sinking up to their waists before
they were hauled out.