The Sword Brothers (41 page)

It had rained during
the night and although the temperature was warm the ground was
still soft underfoot. Thalibald sent his scouts forward as soon as
the horsemen were safely across the river as they were only two
miles south of Treiden. It was clearly visible ahead, a great
timber stronghold atop a high hill. There was a single track that
ran parallel to the river leading to Caupo’s fortress and that is
what the horsemen followed as they walked their mounts slowly
forward. The spearmen and crossbowmen took up position on the
flanks of the horsemen, moving through the trees and keeping watch
for signs of the enemy. The air was fresh with the aroma of pine
but the crusaders sweated in their armour and helmets. At first
there was no noise save for the jangling of the horses’ bits, no
birds, no wind in the trees and only occasionally the snapping of a
branch as a soldier stepped on it. After a while the silence became
oppressive.

Rudolf shoved his
helmet up on his head. ‘The enemy are close. I can sense them.’

Henke beside him took
off his helmet. ‘They made a mistake not trying to stop us at the
river.’

Sir Helmold in front
turned in his saddle. ‘Perhaps the pagans have fled.’

Rudolf detected the
note of disappointment in his voice. ‘Have no fear, my lord, you
will get your chance to smite the heathen yet.’

Grand Master Volquin
also removed his helmet. ‘We go to spread the word of God, Brother
Rudolf. We fight only if compelled. We kill for necessity, not for
pleasure.’

‘I kill for pleasure,’
remarked Henke. Sir Helmold smiled.

The forest to their
left suddenly erupted with screams and shouts, and then there were
the telltale thwacks of crossbow bolts being shot. The crossbowmen
marching alongside the horsemen shouldered their weapons as Volquin
called a halt. Half a minute later Thalibald came running from the
forest with four of his warriors to report to the grand master.

‘The trees end just
ahead from where we have ejected enemy scouts. The enemy army is
deployed half a mile from the treeline.’

‘How many?’ inquired
Volquin.

‘Many foot drawn in
one body, perhaps a thousand. On their right stands the
Estonians.’

Volquin nodded. ‘Thank
you, Thalibald, we will deploy into battle positions once we have
exited the trees.’

The knights continued
to ride along the track for another quarter of a mile until the
trees on their left ended and they came into what appeared to be a
large meadow, but which was actually an area of cleared forest. The
trees that had grown where the hill fort now stood had been felled
decades before and used to construct the stronghold, and then the
surrounding forest had been cut down to provide materials for huts,
fences, fishing boats and firewood. This meant that the land to the
west and north of Caupo’s fort was mostly flat – ideal for
horsemen.

A hundred paces beyond
the end of the forest was a small stream that Thalibald’s warriors
flooded across as they chased after the Oeselian scouts, halting
when they were met with a volley of arrows shot by the handful of
archers standing in the rear of Eric’s shield wall. The knights and
sergeants trotted over the small wooden bridge that spanned the
stream before wheeling left to halt behind the Livs and the
mercenary spearmen and crossbowmen. Theodoric slid off his horse
and called for all the horsemen to take off their helmets and bow
their heads as he said a prayer to ask God for victory in the
coming battle.

*****

‘Is that all they’ve
got?’ sneered Eric, chewing on a piece of cooked pork as he stood
in front of his men’s shield wall.

On his left was
Magnus, like him wearing helmet and mail armour and holding the
grip of his shield with his left hand. Lembit stood on Eric’s
right. His men were also deployed in a shield wall – nearly a
thousand warriors standing shoulder to shoulder on the right flank
of the Oeselians. Behind them a hundred warriors stood in reserve
and also guarded the ponies that the Estonians had ridden to get
here.

Eric saw the Livs
shuffling into line directly opposite his men, around four hundred
paces away. Despite being a king’s son Eric wore a simple helmet
comprising a single iron band that circled his head around the brow
and riveted to two iron bands that crossed at the top of the head.
The four openings were filled by riveted iron plates that created
the bowl shape, with a nose guard riveted to the brow band itself.
The large, hinged cheek guards were tied under his chin by leather
straps, with a sheepskin lining to absorb both impacts from enemy
blows and sweat.

All the Oeselians wore
helmets and mail armour but only the front two ranks of the
Estonians were similarly equipped. The rest had no armour or head
protection, such was the poverty of Lembit’s people. He also had
only a paltry number or archers, though at least all his men
carried light throwing spears in addition to the heavier models
designed for thrusting. He saw the well-equipped Christian spearmen
deploying opposite his own men, small parties of crossbowmen
standing a few paces in front of them.

‘We must outnumber
them at least two to one, perhaps more,’ said Magnus.

‘This won’t take
long,’ boasted Eric, tossing the leg of pork to the ground. He
looked at Lembit. ‘As soon as we attack the Livs direct your men
against the Christian foot soldiers.’

Lembit saw the lances
and banners of the knights to the rear of the Christian army. ‘What
about their horsemen?’

‘Once we break their
foot they will flee. I count only a few dozen lances. Too few to
withstand our charge.’

Lembit was unsure but
was bolstered by Eric’s certainty that he would defeat the enemy.
He nodded at his ally and ran back to his wolf shields that stood
in the centre of the Estonian line. Each shield wall occupied a
frontage of around a hundred and sixty paces, the shields of the
front rank overlapping so there were no gaps in the line. But there
was an inviting gap between the Oeselians who stood to the west of
the huts of the settlement and the Estonians who were grouped to
the north. This was not a conscious decision taken by their
respective commanders; rather, a desire by the Oeselians to be near
their boats that were beached on the banks of the Gauja and a wish
by the Estonians to be close to their ponies. It would prove to be
their undoing.

The Oeselians began
chanting war cries and hurling abuse at the Livs opposite, horns
sounding above the din to signal the advance. The sea raiders began
banging their spear shafts and axe hafts against the inside of
their shields as they walked forward, arrows hissing over their
heads from the archers in the rear rank. The Livs brought up their
shields to deflect the missiles and then Thalibald signalled the
advance. Hearing the dreadful din on his left flank Lembit turned,
raised his sword in the air and then walked forward towards the
Christian foot soldiers facing his Estonians. His wolf shields
closed around him for the crusaders had positioned crossbowmen in
front of their spearmen and these now began shooting at the packed
ranks of the Estonians.

Volquin had placed
only forty crossbowmen with his spearmen, which themselves numbered
only one hundred and thirty-five men in two ranks – a paper-thin
defence against a thousand Estonians. But numbers are only one part
of a battle.

Shooting four bolts a
minute each, the crossbowmen managed to discharge six volleys
before they retired through the ranks of the spearmen. This not
only killed and wounded around a hundred a fifty Estonians, it also
slowed the momentum of Lembit’s men as they saw their comrades
struck down by the iron-tipped bolts, their shields offering little
protection as the range between the two lines closed and the
missiles pierced leather and wood with ease. This gave the spearmen
time to withdraw in the face of the enemy shield wall, just as
Grand Master Volquin and Sir Helmold led their knights forward.

As planned the Livs
were also giving ground, albeit grudgingly, as Eric’s men hacked
and slashed with their swords and axes at Thalibald’s warriors.
Outnumbered two to one, the Livs maintained their cohesion as they
pulled back. Then the earth shook as fifty-nine knights galloped
forward, Sir Helmold with his score of crusaders, Grand Master
Volquin in the front rank of the Sword Brothers riding knee to
knee, lances couched, shields across chests, legs locked in
stirrups and bodies braced against saddle bows. They rode forward
and then veered left to take them behind the Estonians, led by
Volquin holding the great banner of the Sword Brothers – a white
standard edged with gold bearing a red silk cross and sword. And
behind the knights rode ninety-five sergeants of the order and
twenty Saxon squires, each one attired in mail armour and carrying
a lance.

The horsemen swung
left again as Volquin led them in a charge against the rear ranks
of the Estonians, which had now become separated from those in
front as terrified men turned around to face the iron men on their
big horses who were bearing down on them. Men who had little or no
armour and few weapons were traditionally placed in the rear of the
shield wall whilst the most heavily armed and armoured fought in
the front ranks. So now those Estonians who wore only leather
coverings on their heads and carried only a spear and a knife, plus
a shield, faced the full might of the crusaders’ heavy horsemen.
The result was a foregone conclusion.

The knights slowed
their horses as they closed with the enemy, thrusting their lances
through shields and into flesh as they skewered the rearmost ranks
of the enemy. Then they went to work with their swords, axes and
maces, standing up in their stirrups to hack left and right to rain
blows down on heads and shoulders. The sergeants and squires behind
them rode right to bring them alongside their masters in the mêlée,
likewise thrusting first with their lances and then going to work
with their close-quarter weapons. Within minutes the horsemen were
cutting into the Estonian formation and bringing it to a halt.

The frantic horn
blasts brought the front ranks of Lembit’s men to a halt before
they could get to grips with the Christian spearmen, who had
continued to fall back methodically in the face of the pagan
advance. Now the crossbowmen reappeared to begin shooting more
volleys at the shield wall. Lembit turned and saw the helmets and
slashing weapons of the knights behind him and knew that he faced
defeat. The thuds and groans in front of him and screams and yelps
behind foretold the destruction of his men so he made the only
decision that made sense: he and his men would cut their way
through the enemy to reach their ponies and then flee north, back
to Estonia. Prince Eric was on his own.

*****

Eric thrust his sword
forward into the belly of a Liv, who groaned and slumped to the
ground. He stood on the man as another enemy directed a downward
strike with an axe against his helmet. He stopped the blow with his
shield, the weapon’s edge cutting through the leather covering and
biting deep into the wood. Before the Liv could free his weapon
Eric crouched low and drove his sword upwards into the man’s groin.
He gave an ear-splitting scream and then toppled backwards.

Eric lived for this.
Lived for the close-quarter mêlée where a man’s courage and skill
were tested to the full. He loved war and battle. Loved the
intoxicating smell of piss, dung and blood that flooded the
nostrils and bloodlust that infused the senses. He felt alive in
the white heat of combat, his senses heightened to such an extent
that the blows and strikes of the enemy seemed slow and cumbersome.
He anticipated them with ease, ducking and parrying flailing
weapons whilst striking himself with deadly accuracy. He saw the
Liv spears and axes coming at him: slow, predictable and
half-hearted, defeating them with ease. On the Oeselians pushed,
cutting down the Livs as the latter gave ground, withdrawing as
though they had already given up and were thinking of flight.

Then fighting erupted
on the right flank and behind the Oeselian line.

Unknown to Eric and
his men the Estonian shield wall had disintegrated as the horsemen
cut deep into their ranks and Lembit simultaneously led a charge to
the northeast to reach the ponies. The Christian spearmen and
crossbowmen, now reinforced by an additional forty-five of the
latter – a small reserve created by Volquin – left the fleeing
Estonians to the horsemen and wheeled right towards the exposed
right flank of the Oeselian warriors.

And then the gates of
Treiden hill fort swung open and Caupo led his warriors from the
stronghold. They flooded down the hill and swung right when they
reached the settlement, running between the huts to exit the
village and bring them into the meadow where the battle was being
fought, directly behind the Oeselians.

Eric heard the horns
and saw his men disengage from the battered line of Livs to
withdraw a few paces as his warriors obeyed the signal. They closed
up and locked shields as a succession of thwacks was heard to the
north. Magnus pushed through the ranks, his sword smeared with
blood, his helmet dented and his mail shirt missing links.

‘There are crusader
foot soldiers on our right flank and Caupo has stopped hiding in
his fort and forms up behind us.’

Eric took off his
helmet and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. ‘Where
are the Estonians?’

Magnus’ expression
told him they had fled.

‘We should leave this
place, Eric,’ said his subordinate.

The crossbowmen fired
another volley at the locked shields of the Oeselians, splintering
shields and piercing mail armour.

Eric shoved his helmet
back on his head. ‘No! We stay and we fight.’