The Sword Brothers (40 page)

It so happened that a
young Cistercian monk came to Plesse soon after, from where no one
knew. He said he had heard of the plight of Lady Agnes and asked
that he be allowed to pray at the foot of her bed. Such was the
despair of Sir Helmold that he agreed to the request of this pale,
white-attired young man who walked in sandals and had no
belongings, even though it was the depth of winter. And then a
miracle happened, for Lady Agnes recovered. Sir Helmold was joyous
and promised the young monk that he would build a Cistercian
monastery at the foot of the hill on which his castle stood, but
the young brother told him that if he really wanted to thank God he
should take the cross and fight the pagans. And so the lord took
his sons, fifteen other knights and twenty squires and set off for
Lübeck. Eager to get to grips with the heathens Sir Helmold had
demurred to wait for other crusaders and had taken ship almost
immediately, arriving at Riga three days before Grand Master
Volquin was to march to Segewold.

Sir Helmold’s men
carried Saxon heraldic banners – Plesse’s golden lion on a red
background, a boar’s head on a black background over green and
yellow – but their lord wore no insignia on his shield or on his
horse’s caparison save a red cross on a white background. He placed
himself and his men under the absolute command of Grand Master
Volquin when informed that Livonia was under threat. When the
soldiers from Holm arrived at Riga the Sword Brothers marched to
the relief of Treiden.

It was May now and
fortunately the spring mud had gone. The tracks were still rutted,
which slowed the rate of advance and halted it altogether when some
of the wagons lost their wheels, but at least the army could march
overland directly to Segewold. Not that it was much of an army.
Volquin had called for volunteers from among the German settlers in
and around Riga, which had mustered seventy men, mostly spearmen
who had to be issued with shields and helmets from the town’s
castle, but also twenty-five crossbowmen. Added to the foot
soldiers from the office of the grand master in Riga and Holm this
gave a total of seventy-five crossbowmen and eighty-five spearmen.
The number of Liv warriors who had been mustered from around Riga
and Holm numbered two hundred, with an equal number of men to
attend to the ponies and wagons that carried weapons, ammunition,
food and tents for the army. They pushed their beasts hard to reach
Segewold – thirty miles to the northeast – in three days.

Segewold had formerly
been a pagan hill fort a short distance south of the Gauja. Unlike
at Wenden the garrison had not commenced replacing the timber walls
and towers with stone, and so the only indication that it was no
longer a pagan citadel was the banner of the Sword Brothers hanging
above the main entrance. The relief army camped around the ramparts
as Sir Helmold and the brother knights were lodged in the fort’s
main hall. To the south of the castle were camped the Livs from the
areas around Wenden and Segewold, all under the leadership of
Thalibald – two hundred men – giving a total of five hundred Liv
warriors to support the crusaders. Already at Segewold were the
dozen brother knights, twenty sergeants and thirty mercenaries of
the garrison, plus the twelve brother knights, twenty sergeants and
forty mercenaries from Wenden. Thus did the army mustered to relief
Treiden number just over eight hundred and fifty men.

‘Do we know how many
the Oeselians number?’ asked Volquin.

He and the order’s
masters and their deputies were gathered in the fort’s main hall,
an austere rectangular room with a stone fireplace positioned in
the centre and a wooden platform that formerly held a chief’s
throne. Now an oak table sat upon it, around which were gathered
the Sword Brothers, Thalibald, Theodoric and Sir Helmold.

‘The scouts I sent
across the river estimate Oeselian numbers at over a thousand.’

Sir Helmold studied
the wild features of Thalibald, his strange dress and even stranger
accent but said nothing. He wondered how loyal this former pagan
and his warriors were to the Holy Church. But then, until a short
while ago he took great delight in hanging Catholic priests. How
strange fate was.

‘Numbers do not
concern me,’ stated Volquin. ‘Of more immediate concern is how we
are going to cross the river.’

‘That will be easy
enough, grand master,’ said Master Bertram, the commander at
Segewold. ‘Half a mile west of here the Gauja is less than two
hundred feet wide. We can lash together the local fishing vessels
to create a bridge that will make a crossing possible.’

‘Do we know if Treiden
still stands?’ Theodoric asked Thalibald.

‘It still stands,
lord,’ answered the Liv chief.

The door opened and a
guard asked for permission to admit a visitor: a soaking Rameke who
had hurried to the castle as a thunderstorm broke. Volquin beckoned
him in when Thalibald explained who he was. Water dripped off the
boy’s cloak as he made his way to his father, nodding at Rudolf
when he saw the brother knight at the table. He also bowed to
Volquin before bending down and whispering into his father’s
ear.

‘Are you certain?’
asked Thalibald.

Rameke nodded and was
waved away by his father. He brushed a strand of soaking hair from
his forehead as he left and the door was closed.

Thalibald slumped in
his chair.

‘A scouting party has
just returned from across the river. Lembit is at Treiden.’

Shock greeted this
news. ‘Lembit?’ said Volquin. ‘Are your scouts certain?’

Thalibald nodded.
‘They saw his wolf banner. He has brought hundreds of men
south.’

‘Who is this Lembit?’
asked Sir Helmold.

‘Our greatest enemy,’
answered Volquin solemnly. ‘A man who has united all the pagans in
Estonia, the land to the north, against the Holy Church.’

‘A servant of the
devil himself,’ added Theodoric.

Master Berthold was
frowning and looking at Rudolf, who was shaking his head. Volquin
noticed their discomfort.

‘Is there something
you wish to say, Master Berthold?’

‘Though the presence
of Lembit is unwelcome news, grand master,’ said Berthold, ‘of
greater importance is that he has formed some sort of alliance with
the Oeselians. If they are cooperating rather than fighting each
other then our task becomes much harder.’

Volquin nodded. ‘It is
as you say, Berthold.’

‘Do we then not
attempt to relieve King Caupo?’ asked Thalibald with concern.

Volquin smiled at him.
‘We must still cross the river and battle the heathens. To do
otherwise will make us look weak and helpless.’

Though no one said so,
to attempt a river crossing and engage an enemy with a numerical
advantage of at least two to one was a risky venture. But to remain
inactive would mean the fall of Treiden, to say nothing of Kremon
that was also surrounded. If that happened the whole of the land
north of the Gauja would be in pagan hands. The thought was too
horrible to contemplate.

‘We cross the river
tomorrow,’ said Volquin.

Theodoric brought his
hands together. ‘Let us ask God for his guidance.’

Sir Helmold did the
same and caught sight of the Liv chief closing his eyes to pray.
How odd was this land and its people.

*****

‘We must leave this
place,’ said Lembit, pacing up and down in front of Eric, who was
lounging in a chair, one leg dangling over one of its arms, cup of
beer in hand. Eric looked at Magnus leaning against the wall of the
hut and laughed.

‘Leave? We have just
got here. Why should we leave?’

Lembit stopped pacing
and pointed to one of his men standing near the door.

‘Why? I will tell you
why.’

The hut was larger
than most in the settlement, with rooms leading off its central
space. It was obviously the dwelling of a chief. Eric and Magnus
had taken it over after the battle while Lembit had taken up
residence in a nearby village, his men and their ponies occupying a
wide area around the besieged fort. He had also sent men to
reinforce the small force Eric had sent to encircle Kremon. The
Oeselian leader had taken to siege warfare like a duck to water,
his time divided between conducting tours of the siege lines and
raping local women who had been captured and confined in nearby
huts.

Two of Lembit’s men
brought in a man with his hands pinioned behind his back. He had a
black eye, gashed cheek and blood was seeping through the arm of
his shirt, which was ripped.

Lembit pointed at him
as he was violently forced onto his knees. ‘This is a Liv whom we
caught trying to swim across the river.’

Eric finished his cup
and held it out to Magnus so it could be refilled. ‘So?’

‘He was one of a
patrol that was scouting our positions. We caught three of them.
The rest escaped.’

Eric sighed with
boredom. ‘Is there any point to this?’

Lembit reached down
and grabbed the Liv’s long hair, twisting it hard. ‘Tell him.’

The Liv’s face was
contorted in pain. ‘A great army is forming on the other side of
the river, crusaders and Livs, who will soon cross and deliver our
king.’

Lembit let go of his
hair and struck his head with the back of his hand. He looked at a
bemused Eric. ‘That is why we must withdraw.’

Eric changed from
bemusement to being annoyed. ‘We stay until the fort has fallen and
all inside have been enslaved or slaughtered. I did not travel all
the way here in an uncomfortable boat to turn tail and run without
achieving victory.’

Lembit was shaking his
head. ‘If we are to stay then at least get your boats on the river
to prevent the crusaders crossing.’

‘Why are you so
frightened of these Christians?’ asked Magnus.

‘I was wondering
that,’ said Eric.

‘It is not a case of
fear but prudence,’ said Lembit firmly. ‘If the crusaders get their
horsemen across the river then we will not be able to withstand
their charge.’

‘A few men on horses
cannot break an Oeselian shield wall,’ boasted Magnus.

‘You are wrong,’ said
the Liv prisoner, eyeing him defiantly. ‘The men of iron will sweep
you away.’

In one movement Lembit
drew his sword and thrust it into the Liv’s back. He screamed and
arched his back in a spasm of pain before collapsing in a heap on
the floor. Blood began to ooze from his body.

Eric was mortified. ‘I
have to live in this hut. Guards!’

Two spearmen rushed
in. ‘Get this piece of carrion out of here before there is blood
all over.’

They hauled the body
away as Eric stared at the bloodstain on the earth floor. ‘We need
some mats in here to cover it.’

‘What about the
crusaders?’ said Lembit impatiently.

‘What about them?’
shrugged Eric. ‘Let them come. Caupo can watch while we destroy
them before his own death.’

‘You will not get your
boats onto the river?’

‘I would have thought
that you would welcome an opportunity to engage and defeat the
crusaders,’ said Eric, suddenly showing a remarkable degree of
perception. ‘Is that not the only way to prevent their conquest of
your homeland: to defeat them in battle? Why else did you agree to
an alliance with my father if not to destroy the crusaders?’

Lembit said
nothing.

‘I will take your
silence as confirmation,’ said Eric smugly. ‘We destroy the
crusaders, kill Caupo and then cross the river ourselves and lay
waste to the crusader kingdom as agreed.’

He walked over to
Lembit and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Why should we turn away
from a golden opportunity that presents itself?’

Lembit thought Eric
was a boorish brute but he had to accept that his words had merit.
He was right that if the Estonian tribes were to remain free the
crusaders had to be defeated and their kingdom destroyed. And yet
he had seen the irresistible charge of the mail-clad knights on
horseback, witnessed the devastating power of their crossbows and
siege engines and was rightly wary of offering battle. And they
were far from home. The Oeselians were confident but they could
escape in their boats if need be. But to flee in the face of the
enemy would risk losing the support of the other tribes when news
reached Estonia that he had ordered a retreat. If that happened his
people would be divided and the crusaders’ task would be made
easier. In addition, this alliance with the Oeselians had not been
greeted with universal approval by all the tribes, especially the
Rotalians. If he fled his credibility would receive a crushing
blow. He may have been a brute but Eric, son of Olaf, had left him
with no choice.

‘Very well,’ he said
to the Oeselian chief, ‘we will give battle to the crusaders.’

*****

The crusaders left
Segewold before dawn, the vanguard being fifty crossbowmen and the
hundred Liv warriors from Wenden led by Thalibald, who crossed the
Gauja in boats to establish a defensive position on the northern
bank of the river while a bridge of boats was constructed to allow
the rest of the army to cross. It took three hours to assemble the
boats, lash them together and overlay them with planks to
facilitate the crossing of the horsemen. Once the pontoon bridge
had been constructed the rest of the Livs, who were on foot, the
crossbowmen and spearmen marched over the river. The horsemen
followed, the planks having been covered with dirt to fool the
horses into thinking that it was a dirt track so as not to alarm
them.

Leading the knights
was Grand Master Volquin and Sir Helmold, behind them the Sword
Brother masters and Sir Helmold’s sons. Then came the crusader
knights from Saxony wearing their colours, followed by the brother
knights of the order, all of them on great warhorses covered in
caparisons matching the surcoats worn by their masters, the
latter’s faces covered by their helmets. The squires of the
crusaders came after, also attired in mail armour, and then the
Sword Brother sergeants in their kettle helmets.