The Sword Brothers (56 page)

‘You think Prince
Vsevolod is a friend but you are mistaken. You may look south but
you have enemies on this side of the river. This I say as one
warrior to another.’

When he returned to
the castle Griswold sent a letter by pigeon to Riga requesting
verification of the document he had seen earlier. But he knew the
bishop’s seal and had no reason to doubt its authenticity. Why had
the bishop agreed to such a compact? He wrestled with this question
as he waited for a reply.

The next day he called
a council of war to announce that he would still be leading an
expedition against Prince Vetseke. But at midday, as he sat on his
horse in the courtyard with Sir Rudolf at the head of their
soldiers, a scout arrived with news that Vetseke had stolen a march
on them and had left his camp at dawn. He was leading his army west
towards Riga itself. With the imminent prospect of a Lithuanian
army crossing the Dvina Master Griswold had no choice but to stand
down his men and write another despatch to Riga alerting the bishop
that Vetseke was approaching the town.

*****

‘Do we know how many
they number?’

Bishop Albert sat with
his elbows on the table as he looked at Grand Master Volquin, the
Sword Brother stroking his beard thoughtfully.

‘Master Griswold’s
most recent report was that Vetseke had gathered around a thousand
men to his banner.’

When Griswold’s
message had reached the bishop he had summoned Volquin and Stefan
to his audience chamber. He had decided to keep the matter of
Prince Vetseke’s uprising to himself for the moment, not least
because it might spark panic in Riga, whose citizens were already
in a state of terror over the recent outbreak of the bloody
flux.

‘How many soldiers are
fit for duty among the crusaders?’ he asked Volquin.

The grand master
sighed deeply. ‘Before the pestilence nearly four thousand men were
camped outside Riga’s walls ready to march against Lembit.’ He
spread his arms. ‘Now barely half of that number remain, and of
those hardly two-thirds are fit for duty, if that.’

‘That few?’ Stefan was
horrified. ‘We must send an urgent summons to Germany for more
soldiers to defend this holy place against Vetseke with what
resources we can muster.’

‘You must order your
castellans to gather here, at Riga,’ Stefan said to Volquin, his
agitation clearly visible.

‘Calm yourself,
Stefan,’ said the bishop. ‘It is unseemly to panic in the face of
adversity. What would you advise, grand master?’

Volquin rose from his
chair and walked over to the large vellum map of Livonia and the
surrounding kingdoms mounted on the wall of the bishop’s chamber.
He pulled his dagger from its sheath and used it as a pointer.

‘If we do not march
against Lembit then he will be tempted to send his warriors south,
if only in retaliation for our raids against him during the winter.
This means that the garrisons at Segewold, Kremon and Wenden cannot
be weakened.’

He looked at the
bishop. ‘You still intend to offer him the hand of peace, lord
bishop?’

Albert nodded. ‘I do,
though not until we have defeated Vetseke. Lembit will respond more
positively if we bargain from a position of strength, I think.’

Volquin nodded
approvingly. He turned back to the map. ‘Along the Dvina only the
garrisons of Holm and Uexkull can be called upon. The forces at
Lennewarden and Kokenhusen must be left where they are to stand
watch over the forces of Grand Duke Daugerutis that are to be
allowed to cross over the river.’

He frowned
disapprovingly at Stefan but the archdeacon dismissed his
fears.

‘The duke is an ally.
If he wishes to make war upon the Russians instead of us then he
should be encouraged to do so.’

Volquin replaced his
dagger in its sheath and returned to the table. ‘Whether the grand
duke is our ally remains to be seen. But your agreement with him,
archdeacon, forces our hand and loses us the garrisons of two
castles in our fight against Vetseke.’

Stefan, growing in
confidence, waved a hand in the air. ‘Vetseke. What is he but a
landless pagan who wanders the earth like a beggar?’

‘That may be,’ said
Volquin, ‘but he comes knocking on Riga’s gates with an army at his
back.’

Stefan raised an
eyebrow but said no more. Bishop Albert looked at the map and then
at Volquin.

‘Very well. Summon
masters Gerhard and Friedhelm to Riga. Instruct them to empty their
castles and bring the garrisons here. Let us hope they arrive
before Vetseke.’

The troops from Holm
and Uexkull did arrive before Vetseke, as did Bishop Theodoric and
the prior, dean and monks from the monastery at Dünamünde.
Theodoric was eager to bring his clergy to fortify the soldiery
against the pagans, though for the first few days after their
arrival they treated those still suffering from the bloody flux.
Bishop Albert himself went among the crusader army, imploring the
soldiers to rise from their state of lethargy and march forth to
fight the heathen. Some eight hundred did so, donning their mail
armour and helmets, picking up their shields, spears and crossbows
to muster on the fields east of their camp and about a mile from
Riga’s eastern gates.

From the town itself
marched all that remained of the garrison of Riga – fifty spearmen
and the same number of crossbowmen – plus fifty well-armed men of
Riga’s militia and a hundred Liv warriors raised from the
surrounding villages. The garrisons of Holm and Uexkull numbered
seventy-seven men and seventy-two men respectively, reinforced by a
hundred Liv warriors supplied to each of the two castellans.

The largest contingent
of the bishop’s army was the crusader element: two hundred knights,
the same number of squires, two hundred lesser knights and eight
hundred foot soldiers. This gave a total of just over two thousand
men, including the two brother knights, five sergeants and ten
mercenaries employed by the office of Grand Master Volquin, who
assumed joint second-in-command of the army under the bishop’s
supreme leadership. The other deputy commander was a knight from
the Ruhr valley: Count Walram of Jülich, who had lost a third of
his body weight to the flux but was still determined to lead the
crusaders. A huge man with great hands and a round face, his cheeks
were now sunken and his eyes hollow. Clearly still gravely ill, he
could barely strap on his sword belt let alone pull it from his
scabbard. Nevertheless, men were heartened when they saw him on his
horse with his great banner of a rampant black lion on a yellow
background fluttering behind him. The bishop entrusted him to lead
the six hundred horsemen of the crusaders, the mounted brother
knights and the sergeants of the Sword Brothers. However, the
masters of Holm and Uexkull would ensure that they were employed
with care when battle was joined.

Grand Master Volquin
commanded the foot soldiers: eight hundred brought by the
crusaders, three hundred Livs, Riga’s militia, the Bishop’s guards
and the order’s mercenaries.

Before the expected
arrival of Vetseke the bishop, Count Walram and Grand Master
Volquin finalised their battle plan. The rebels had no siege
engines, no horsemen, or at least no heavily armoured knights, and
comprised in the main farmers armed with spears and axes. The
Christian army would march out of Riga and do battle with Vetseke
on the flat ground east of the town where the trees had long since
been cleared and replaced by fields and villages. The foot would be
drawn up in the centre with the horsemen on the flanks. Crossbowmen
would be arrayed in front of the spearmen and would shoot the Livs
to pieces before the horsemen charged to finish them off.

It was the middle of
August when scouts rode to Riga’s castle to report that Vetseke and
his army were two days’ march from the town. Volquin alerted the
bishop and Count Walram, the latter giving orders to his knights to
prepare for the coming battle. The days were warm now and though
the pestilence had abated the stench of human dung still hung over
the crusader camp and the town. The burial pits north of Riga had
been covered with earth and the death rate had dropped
precipitously, though infants were still succumbing to the flux. On
the day that Vetseke and his rebels finally appeared the Sword
Brothers and crusaders, notwithstanding their depleted numbers,
were supremely confident that the Livs would be crushed with
ease.

*****

Vetseke knew that to
offer battle to the crusaders was madness, yet to avoid doing so
would mean his insurrection would come to nothing. He had no
machines with which to batter the walls of the Christian castles
and so the only way to demonstrate the validity of his cause was to
defeat the crusaders in battle. As soon as he had heard that a
great pestilence had broken our among the crusader army at Riga he
knew he had to seize his chance. The river gossip along the Dvina
had told of death and demoralisation at Riga, of ships taking
crusaders back across the water and great pits being dug outside
the town to accommodate the dead. When he saw the walls of Riga on
a bright, windless summer morning he had over four thousand men. He
had raised nearly a thousand from among the villages of his former
kingdom and had collected many more recruits as he neared Riga.
They were mostly young men eager for vengeance and battle. They
were disaffected and resentful at their treatment at the hands of
the arrogant and haughty Christian crusaders, who destroyed the
sacred forest groves where their people had worshipped for
generations. They resented having to grow crops then having to give
a portion to the Sword Brothers who sat in their castles and
demanded allegiance. When Prince Vetseke appeared among them they
interpreted it as a sign from the gods that they should take up
arms to banish the crusaders and return to the old ways.

Vetseke knew that
ordinarily he could not defeat the crusaders in open battle. But
these were not ordinary circumstances. As his men walked from the
trees into the fields filled with ripening crops he peered at the
gaudy flags and banners of the crusader army. He could see men on
horseback, both riders and horses wearing red, purple, blue,
yellow, green, orange and combinations of these colours. If there
had been any wind he would also have seen Count Walram’s huge lion
banner, the flag of Grand Master Volquin and the cross keys
insignia of the Bishop of Riga. But there was no wind and even
though it was still early morning he could feel sweat running down
his neck. It would be a long, hot day. He smiled. Long may the sun
shine down from a cloudless sky.

*****

The trumpets sounded
assembly just as the first rays of dawn were lancing the eastern
sky, hundreds of spearmen putting on their quilted aketons, then
their mail hauberks, helmets and sword belts. They hoisted up their
shields, grabbed their spears and filed out of camp to form up in
their companies. Crossbowmen in gambesons waited at wagons to be
issued with quivers of quarrels and squires rushed around saddling
their masters’ horses before their own. Many of the men were pale
and gaunt after suffering the effects of the bloody flux, while
dozens wore nothing below their waists save a loincloth and boots
as they still had little control over their bowels. It was already
stiflingly hot and men in full armour were beginning to feel
drained.

The bishop rode from
Riga in the company of Grand Master Volquin and Count Walram, who
had black bags under his sunken eyes and was sweating profusely. He
looked very ill but his companions were too polite to say anything.
But the bishop was not so reticent when it came to Vetseke’s
army.

‘There are very many
of them,’ he sighed. ‘It saddens me to think that so many Livs hate
us so much.’

‘I would not take it
personally, lord bishop,’ said Volquin, trying to reassure him,
‘young heads are easily turned. We beat Vetseke today and any
rebelliousness within Liv hearts will quickly wither and die.’

Count Walram pointed
at the block of Liv warriors forming up beside his own crusader
foot soldiers. ‘What about them?’

‘They can be trusted,
my lord,’ said Volquin. ‘Have no fear.’

‘I have no fear in the
face of godless pagans,’ sniffed the count, before a fit of
coughing gripped him. He was really not well at all.

Already Bishop
Theodoric and the monks from his monastery were standing in front
of the foot soldiers administering prayers, while other priests
from Riga and those from Germany were similarly going among the
crusaders to strengthen their resolve with prayers. Soldiers went
down on their knees before the priests, reciting prayers and asking
God to preserve them in the coming fight. Some did not rise,
pitching forward as they passed out from exhaustion. Their comrades
took them to the rear where they were ferried back to camp on the
backs of carts. Weeks of extreme diarrhoea and vomiting had
weakened bodies to such an extent that they were unfit for duty,
even more so under a hot sun in full equipment. Spearmen used their
shafts for support as the time passed slowly and the armies did not
move.

It was now mid-morning
and the sun was roasting hundreds of men encased in mail armour and
helmets.

The two armies
presented a contrasting sight as they stared at each other across
the quarter-mile space that constituted no-man’s land. On the left
flank of the bishop’s army were Count Walram’s mounted crusaders
with their profusion of differently coloured surcoats, pennants and
caparisons. The sun glinted off whetted lance points and full-face
helmets, horses scraping at the ground and swatting away the hordes
of flies with their tails. This was a great block of six hundred
horsemen, an irresistible hammer of mail and horseflesh that could
batter its way through pagan foot soldiers with ease.