The Sword Brothers (87 page)

‘Looks like Lembit did
not appreciate Christian missionaries on his land.’

‘So the peace is
over,’ said Rudolf. ‘Well, it was always going to come to this, I
suppose.’

Henke stuffed the
heads back in the sack and handed it to Conrad, who turned up his
nose in disgust.

‘Take these to Otto.
He will arrange a proper funeral for them.’

‘What about the rest
of their bodies?’ said Anton.

Henke shrugged. ‘What
about them?’

‘Surely it is not
proper to bury just the heads?’ remarked an appalled Anton.

‘You’re right,’ agreed
Henke. ‘You boys ride north and ask Lembit to give up the cadavers.
I’ll give you a fresh sack so he can put all your heads in it.’

‘Just take their
remains to Father Otto,’ said Rudolf. ‘They will be interred in the
cemetery, along with others who will fall in the coming conflict no
doubt.’

Conrad gave the reins
of his horse to Hans and held the sack at arm’s length as he walked
towards the chapel. Henke came to his side and placed an arm around
his shoulders.

‘Do you feel bad,
Conrad?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I was just thinking
that if you had aimed that crossbow properly when you had Lembit in
your sights then perhaps those monks might be still alive. A useful
lesson for you: always aim before you shoot and never let any enemy
escape.’

Rudolf must have told
him about letting that Lithuanian boy go at the Dvina. Henke
laughed and slapped him on the back. Sometimes he really disliked
the brother knight.

The atrocities
committed against Abbot Hylas and his monks prompted an emergency
gathering at Riga. As the bishop had once more returned to Germany
to recruit crusaders for the coming year the meeting was hosted by
Archdeacon Stefan in the bishop’s palace. Berthold took Rudolf to
the assembly, both of them travelling by riverboat from Wenden down
the Gauja before riding south to Riga. When they arrived at the
town they found it crowded with crusaders, Livs and an increasing
number of settlers from Germany, in addition to markets teeming
with Russian and Lithuanian traders. The burning of the bridge of
boats across the Dvina had allowed the waterway to once again
become a highway for trade and so Riga’s docks and markets filled
with goods and the bishop’s treasury filled with money.

Outside the town walls
the tents of the crusaders were slowly being replaced with wooden
huts so the soldiers and squires could live out the winter in a
modicum of comfort, their masters being housed inside the town’s
defences. The castle was crammed with knights, much to the
consternation of Grand Master Volquin. Berthold and Rudolf found
him in his office, his desk piled high with papers. One of the two
sergeants standing guard at his door showed them in, Volquin
looking up and pointing to the chairs opposite his desk.

‘You have become a
librarian, grand master,’ Berthold teased him.

‘Bring some wine,’
Volquin instructed the sergeant. He threw one of the parchments on
the desk. ‘The demands of my castellans are insatiable. Mail,
helmets, horses, saddles and harnesses. The list is endless.’

He rifled through the
papers. ‘I have one from you as well, Berthold. Ah, here it is. Two
tons of iron in addition to the usual annual request for weapons
and armour.’

‘My crossbowmen need
iron tips for their bolts, grand master, especially after the
Lithuanian assault.’

‘You should have dug
the used ones out of the bodies of the dead heathens,’ suggested
Volquin.

‘We did,’ replied
Berthold.

‘And we melted down
their mail armour and helmets,’ added Rudolf.

‘And still you need
more iron?’ Volquin asked in amazement.

‘Wenden will be a
great fortress, grand master,’ said Berthold, ‘perhaps the greatest
in all Livonia. As such it will need a well-stocked armoury and a
large garrison. It is on the frontier with Estonia and must remain
strong, the more so now the first settlers from Germany have
arrived.’

‘The bishop is most
eager that they prosper,’ said Volquin. ‘Those that can be enticed
here are usually granted land around Riga but the bishop hopes that
those who were persuaded to go to Wenden will be the first of many
to settle in the heart of Livonia.’

‘Their homes are
within sight of the castle walls and we send out regular patrols to
the north to provide warning of Estonian war parties,’ said
Berthold.

‘They can be brought
within the perimeter wall quickly enough,’ added Rudolf, ‘which is
just as well seeing as Lembit has made his intentions clear.’

‘You think he will
assault Wenden?’ asked Volquin.

‘He has neither the
men nor the machines to batter Wenden into submission,’ said
Berthold. ‘He has thrown down the gauntlet and awaits our
response.’

‘Archdeacon Stefan
cries out for revenge,’ remarked Volquin.

‘And he will lead an
expedition against Lembit in the bishop’s absence?’ enquired
Rudolf.

Volquin smile wryly.
‘I think that is very unlikely. The archdeacon likes soft living
and playing the king in the bishop’s absence. I doubt he has ever
sat upon a horse. But he is most eager for Estonia to be conquered
so Bishop Theodoric can take up his bishopric and Stefan can be rid
of him. They do not get on.’

That was hardly
surprising as the two were exact opposites: Stefan sly and cunning;
Theodoric pious and forthright. But at the meeting that took place
the next day they did at least see eye to eye. The gathering was
held in the great hall of the bishop’s palace where long tables
covered with fine linen had been arranged in a great rectangle. At
one end sat Stefan and Theodoric flanked by their abbots, half a
dozen clerks sitting at desks behind them to record the proceedings
for posterity. Along one side were seated the Sword Brothers: Grand
Master Volquin in the centre with his castellans and their deputies
around him. Opposite the order sat the leaders of the crusaders who
had vowed to stay in Livonia for at least a year, though some like
Sir Helmold had decided to make the new kingdom their
semi-permanent home. He and Count Horton sat next to each other,
their lords either side of them. While opposite the archdeacon and
Theodoric sat Caupo, Thalibald and four other Liv chiefs. Thalibald
had been at Treiden when the archdeacon’s summons had arrived and
rode directly to Riga in the company of his king.

The bishop’s palace
was now far removed from the plain, humble building it had
resembled when Riga had been first established. In the subsequent
years it had been extended and reworked. Now all the rooms had oak
panelling, chairs covered with silk, stuffed with cushions and with
grand tapestries adorning the walls. In the great hall itself a
fire burned in a magnificent stone fireplace that was carved with
scenes from the life of Christ, while above hung a huge silk banner
bearing the cross keys symbol of Riga. Servants wearing scarlet
tunics embroidered with the symbol of the town served wine to the
guests in silver flagons and pastries in silver bowls.

When everyone had been
seated the doors were closed and Archdeacon Stefan rose and invited
Bishop Theodoric to say prayers. As one the whole assembly stood
and bowed their heads as the deep voice of the bishop filled the
chamber.

‘Through God’s
strength to pilot me.

God’s might to uphold
me,

God’s wisdom to guide
me,

God’s eye to look
before me,

God’s ear to hear
me,

God’s word to speak
for me,

God’s hand to guard
me,

God’s way to lie
before me,

God’s host to save me
from snares of devils,

From temptations of
vices,

From every one who
shall wish me ill,

Afar and near,

Alone and in
multitude.

I summon today all
these powers between me and those evils,

Against every cruel
and merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,

Against incantation of
false prophets,

Against black laws of
pagandom,

Against false laws of
heretics,

Against craft of
idolatry,

Against spells of
women and smiths and wizards,

Against every
knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul.

Amen.’

Once seated Archdeacon
Stefan wasted no time in reporting the outrages committed against
Abbot Hylas and his monks, which produced a wave of anger in the
hall, particularly among the crusaders.

Stefan held up his
hands. ‘Brothers, we cannot allow such acts to go unpunished. The
defeat of the Lithuanians and the presence of our brave crusaders
from Germany,’ he smiled at Sir Helmold and Count Horton, ‘means
that we can now undertake the conquest of Estonia, which I propose
should commence immediately.’

The crusader lords
banged the table to signal their agreement but Grand Master Volquin
stood and folded his arms. Stefan frowned when he saw him staring
in silence at the lords opposite, the din gradually dying down as
they noticed him.

‘You have something to
say, grand master?’ said Stefan.

Volquin unfolded his
arms. ‘We have recently and with some difficulty defeated a
Lithuanian invasion that inflicted heavy casualties upon King
Caupo’s forces.’ He extended a hand to the king.

‘Furthermore,’
continued Volquin, ‘it will soon be winter and the land will be
frozen, and whilst it is possible to campaign with small-sized
forces in such conditions a large army will be difficult to
maintain. We all remember the losses among our brave crusaders when
the garrison of Wenden stormed Fellin.’

‘And if the Sword
Brothers had occupied that pagan fortress,’ snapped Stefan, ‘then
likely we would not be in this predicament.’

There were murmurs of
agreement from the crusader lords until Sir Helmold told them to be
quiet. He at least knew the difficulties of campaigning in
Livonia.

Volquin was
unperturbed. ‘Archdeacon, you may remember that the attack on
Fellin was a raid only, designed to illustrate our strength to
Lembit.’

‘He seems to have
forgotten the lesson,’ remarked Stefan sourly, prompting laughter
among the crusader lords.

Volquin sat down. ‘And
may I remind everyone that two years ago Livonia was in such
straightened circumstances that the bishop had to negotiate a peace
treaty with the Estonians and the Lithuanians.’

‘The Lithuanians are
no more,’ said Stefan dismissively.

‘Lembit cannot go
unpunished, grand master,’ said Theodoric.

‘I know that, lord
bishop.’

Stefan was going to
say something but Theodoric stilled him. ‘Then what do you
propose?’

Volquin stood again.
‘A winter raid into Estonia followed by an invasion of Lembit’s
territory in the spring when the bishop returns.’

His subordinates were
nodding their heads, as were Caupo and his chiefs, but the
crusaders were most unhappy.

Count Horton rose from
his chair. ‘We have three thousand soldiers sitting on their arses
here and all you propose is a raid?’

Volquin smiled at
Horton. ‘My lord, you will find that the cold of Livonia can
whittle down an army in a short space of time, the more so since it
will have to sit in front of the walls of Lembit’s fortresses in
addition to forming a defensive screen to defeat any attempts at
relief.’

‘Lembit’s fortresses,
as you call them,’ sneered Stefan, ‘are nothing but timber forts
that can be burned with ease.’

Horton and the other
crusader lords laughed, though Sir Helmold was staring reflectively
at the tabletop.

Volquin held up his
hands. ‘It is as you say, archdeacon, and as the bishop’s
representative the final decision rests in your hands. The Order of
Sword Brothers will gladly ride beside you when you lead the army
against the pagans. Give the order and I can assemble my forces at
Riga in two weeks.’

Stefan blanched and it
looked as though he was going to panic as all eyes turned in his
direction. But his wits, probably his greatest asset, did not
desert him. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the grand master and
his calculating demeanor returned.

‘We have been remiss,’
he said, ‘for in our thirst to punish Lembit we have allowed
ourselves to become discourteous.’

The Sword Brothers and
crusader lords looked at each other in confusion.

Stefan rose from his
chair and held out his arms towards Caupo. ‘It is only fitting that
we hear from one who grew up in this land, a man whose opinion the
bishop always seeks before he embarks upon a campaign, as will
I.’

‘That’s news to me,’
Volquin whispered to Berthold.

Stefan smiled at the
somewhat surprised Caupo and sat down. The king could not remember
a time when the archdeacon had even been civil to him, let alone
seek his opinion. However, he took the opportunity that was being
presented to him, slowly rising to his feet. He looked at the row
of crusader lords, for it was they whom he had to convince.

‘If you fight Lembit
now, the snow will be on the ground before you are able to march.
If you march in the winter your great warhorses will die from
exposure, and after them your squires and then your foot soldiers.
If, as Grand Master Volquin desires, you mount a properly organised
raid into the enemy’s lands, leaving your great horses behind and
travelling light but with proper provisions, then you will achieve
your aims and will live to take part in the bishop’s great campaign
when he returns in the spring.’

Sir Helmold smiled at
the king as he sat down but his lords were silent as they weighed
up his words. As Christian knights they were compelled to avenge
the wrongs done to Abbot Hylas and his monks. However, the thought
of losing their precious warhorses dampened their enthusiasm.
Losing a squire was of less import.