Castellan (44 page)

*****

The birth of Christ was celebrated at Wenden as the snow lay deep and thick all around the castle. The village at the foot of the stronghold’s northern escarpment had increased in size after the Danish blockade had lifted and new settlers had arrived. They usually had only the clothes they stood up in and were invariably gaunt and generally miserable looking when they arrived, the outcasts of northern Germany who had been dealt a harsh hand by fate. So they readily accepted the Holy Church’s offer of a new life in Livonia, being promised a plot of land, seeds and a few animals. They were also told that they would be allowed to keep everything they caught hunting. In return they and the other villagers they would live among were to pay a percentage of their crops to the Holy Church and the Sword Brothers. The men were also expected to train as part-time soldiers to augment the army of Grand Master Volquin in times of war.

But there had been no war at Wenden for a number of years. The crops grew, the civilian settlement grew and everyone agreed that God smiled on Livonia. During the Christmas festivities the brother knights had served the food at the feast organised by Master Rudolf. The chiefs of all the nearby Liv villages had been invited along with the leader of Wenden’s village and its priest, a monk of the Cistercian Order who had been appointed by Riga. Ilona was also invited, both because she was included in the castle’s affairs by Rudolf but also because she was loved by both Liv and Christian villagers for her healing arts.

Rudolf had at first refused Conrad’s request to serve at the meal.

‘You are Marshal of Estonia, Conrad,’ the master had told him as they walked back from the snow-covered training field after a bout of lance practice, both men and horses sweating and their breath misting in the freezing morning air.

‘I am a brother knight of Wenden, master,’ replied Conrad defiantly, ‘and it is a tradition that all the brother knights serve our guests at Christmas.’

Rudolf shook his head. ‘I have had Henke begging me to send him on an extended patrol in order to miss it and here you are pestering me to let you be a servant for a day.’

‘I am not Henke, master.’

Rudolf laughed. ‘That much is true. Very well, have it your own way.’

He stopped when they had reached the top of the escarpment the castle was built on, with the drawbridge directly in front of them. Rudolf looked around at the unending white landscape.

‘It is a curious thing, Conrad. Wenden is one of the strongest castles in Livonia, perhaps the strongest. And yet, now it stands complete and awesome, ready to withstand anything our enemies can throw at it, it appears unnecessary.’

‘Master?’

He sighed. ‘When we first took this hill we beat off attacks by the Livs. Then the Livs became our friends and allies and Wenden was assaulted by Lembit’s Estonians.’

‘I remember,’ said Conrad.

‘And after Lembit came the Lithuanians, Russians and Cumans, who all banged their heads against these walls in vain. But now the war has moved on and it appears increasingly unlikely that Wenden will face a serious siege in the foreseeable future. Ironic, do you not think?’

‘We live in changing times, master,’ agreed Conrad.

They walked across the drawbridge and under the two huge iron portcullises that were positioned in the gatehouse. Rudolf was right, thought Conrad; such a mighty fortress would probably not see any war for a long time. And he intended to make the prospect less likely.

‘With your permission, master, I intend to take the Harrien in the village south of Wenden north to link up with Hillar in Rotalia.’

Hillar had kept them fully abreast of developments in the aftermath of the fall of Fellin and the evacuation of Varbola by the Oeselians. It was general knowledge that the Russians had abandoned the siege of Reval after suffering substantial losses. Traders in Riga had subsequently revealed that Novgorod had overthrown Mstislav, who had travelled to Suzdal with a small retinue in the company of Grand Duke George. News from Ungannia told of Kristjan being back in Dorpat with Prince Vetseke, the former having left a garrison in Varbola.

‘To what end?’ asked Rudolf.

‘To take Varbola, master.’

‘To conduct a siege in mid-winter, without engines, will undoubtedly end in failure,’ Rudolf told him.

‘I do not intend to conduct a siege, master,’ Conrad replied.

‘Even the Army of the Wolf will struggle assaulting such a mighty stronghold,’ cautioned Rudolf.

‘I do not intend to assault or lay siege to Varbola, master,’ replied Conrad. ‘It will be surrounded and isolated and those inside, abandoned by Kristjan, will give themselves up to the rightful leader of the Harrien.’

‘You?’ suggested Rudolf.

Conrad shook his head. ‘Riki, master. I intend to make him the leader of all the Harrien people.’

Conrad once more requested that Hans and Anton be allowed to leave with him, along with a small number of crossbowmen from the garrison. Rudolf assigned him Leatherface and a score of his men. They joined Riki and his fifty men in Wenden’s courtyard on a numbingly cold January day, the sky blue and cloudless and the sun fiercely bright. Leatherface was wrapped in a thick wolf skin cloak, his head encased in a fur-lined cap with large earflaps. He was not happy.

‘A man of my age should be sitting inside by a roaring fire, not tramping through snow to God knows where.’

‘To Rotalia,’ Conrad told him. ‘And I heard that Master Rudolf has promised you and your men large bonuses for conducting a winter campaign.’

‘You don’t think I do this for free, do you?’ he grumbled. ‘You won’t find a mercenary taking an oath of poverty.’

‘Or chastity,’ smiled Hans mounted on the horse next to Conrad’s.

‘Or obedience,’ added Anton on the other side of the Marshal of Estonia.

Leatherface flicked a mitten-covered hand at them.

‘Are we going or not? My feet are already numb.’

The three brother knights were all riding palfreys but everyone else was mounted on hardy local ponies. Conrad gave the signal for the column to leave the courtyard, Hans and Anton leading the riders as Conrad walked his horse over to the master’s hall where Rudolf and Walter stood outside the doors. Conrad saluted them both.

‘You travel to Fellin?’ asked Rudolf.

‘Yes, master. I will collect Tonis and his wolf shields and then march west to Leal, which Hillar has made his headquarters after it was abandoned by the Oeselians.’

‘Don’t do anything stupid, Conrad,’ said Rudolf. ‘We will need you and your men in the summer when we campaign in Ungannia.’

‘God go with you, Conrad,’ said Walter.

‘And with you,’ replied Conrad, saluting and wheeling his horse away to trot from the courtyard.

The Sword Brothers were experts in fighting in the snow and ice of Livonia but they never let their expertise become arrogance. The white landscape was both beautiful and deadly, a winter terrain of breath-taking views with a multitude of pitfalls. Each man pulled two ponies loaded with food and supplies, for the exertions of moving through waist-deep snowdrifts and across open land buffeted by freezing winds and heavy snowfalls required frequent rest and food stops. The horses were equipped with caparisons and nose bags to protect them from wind chill, and when the snow fell and was blown around by an icy wind the column halted among the nearest trees and made camp. Boughs were cut from the lower branches for bedding and to make lean-tos that were supported at an angle of forty-five degrees by two long uprights. Green timber was cut and used as a base for fires inside the lean-tos to cook food – the first priority when establishing a camp.

Shelters were also created for the horses and ponies and sentries allocated to their temporary stables to inspect the animals at regular intervals. Even though the ponies were hardy beasts they too were draped in clean, dry blankets and fed warmed fodder at the end of every day.

Camp was always sited and set up before the light began to fade. In this way men and beasts were not exhausted and there was time to lay out the camp correctly. Parties to collect timber and water were organised and sentries posted. It meant that progress was slow but ensured that everyone arrived at Fellin in good health and without having been surprised by an enemy.

Conrad was delighted to discover that the scaffold that had been erected to hang the garrison that had been left by Kristjan had been dismantled, the bodies that had hung from it presumably having been buried. Sir Richard had left a small garrison of Saccalians in the fort because the stronghold also housed some of the crusaders that had voyaged from Germany in the company of Bishop Bernhard. The commander of the fort, a chubby individual with a jovial nature, informed the brother knights that five hundred had returned to Riga, having elected to return to Germany before the Dvina froze over, so demoralised were they.

‘The majority of the rest are at Lehola,
Susi
,’ he told Conrad. ‘We have a hundred here, though whether they will all make it through the winter is doubtful. I’ve never seen men so weak of limb and spirit. God knows where the bishop got them from.’

‘The streets of Lübeck and other towns and cities,’ Conrad told him. ‘What do you hear of Kristjan?’

The man tore off a chunk of the roasted boar on the table in front of him.

‘Just rumours, of how he has become a god, or at least the son of a god.’

‘What god, I forget?’ asked Hans, stuffing a chunk of cheese into his mouth.

‘Taara, our god of war,’ replied the commander.

‘Do the people believe this?’ asked Conrad, who knew that a number of Jerwen had deserted Andres to side with Kristjan.

‘Not in Saccalia they don’t,
Susi
,’ answered the commander. ‘But they remember Kristjan’s soldiers and his Russian allies burning and plundering their villages. The men who returned to those villages before the snows fell wish to repay the Ungannians for their deprivations.’

After the feast the three brother knights bedded down in the warm hall that smelt of roast meat and leather, the warriors and crossbowmen snoring, belching and breaking wind as they slept. Hans, having filled his belly, was sleeping with a smile on his face and Anton beside him was snoring loudly. Conrad got up and tiptoed through the maze of bodies, arms and legs that covered the floor. He left the hall, one of the guards outside eyeing him suspiciously for a second before recognising him and nodding. He walked outside into the night air. Guards were pacing up and down in the fort’s towers to stay warm and keep themselves awake, but in the compound itself there was no movement. He looked at one of the carvings of a wolf’s head that decorated the eves of the hall. The inside was also adorned with carvings of the same animal, and from beyond the walls of the fort he heard the howl of real wolves. Then he heard a pattering sound and turned to see Leatherface taking a piss against the hall’s wall. After he had finished he turned and saw Conrad.

‘Brother Conrad. Don’t tell me your bladder leaks and doesn’t hold very much as well.’

‘Just taking the night air, it is more agreeable than the odour in the hall.’

Leatherface grinned. ‘Nice and warm in there, though. Much better than shivering in a tent, I think. So, tomorrow we travel to Lehola and then on to Varbola.’

‘We go to Leal first to link up with Hillar,’ said Conrad.

‘Mm. Tell me, how are you going to take Varbola without any siege engines or storming the place?’

Conrad raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Master Rudolf has kept you well informed, I see.’

‘Me and Rudolf go back many years,’ said the mercenary. ‘He sleeps better at night knowing that I’m keeping an eye on you. He’s very fond of you, you know.’

‘I have a plan regarding Varbola,’ replied Conrad, ‘which will be revealed when it is appropriate.’

Leatherface nodded approvingly. ‘I remember a young brother knight sent to raise a rabble of Saccalians so he could relieve Lehola. You remember?’

‘I remember,’ said Conrad.

‘You’ve come a long way since then, Brother Conrad, and your ambition has grown.’

‘My ambition?’

Leatherface wagged a finger at him. ‘Nothing wrong with ambition, keeps a man on his toes. I reckon that you’re already thinking beyond Varbola and looking further north.’

‘You think too much.’

It took a forced march the day after to reach Lehola, the column pushing its way through deep snowdrifts and the men dismounting to lead their animals across frozen streams and lakes. The last part of the march was particularly arduous, snow falling and a wind kicking up to assault soldiers and animals with an icy blast laced with large flakes. The light began to fade as they trod north in the whiteout, Conrad fearing that exhausted men and beasts would have to spend a night in the adverse conditions. But as the last vestiges of day left the land the mighty southern ramparts of Lehola came into view. They extended for a length of two hundred yards and in the centre were the great oak gates that were firmly shut.

A barely audible voice shouted down from one of the towers that flanked the gates.

‘Who comes to Lehola?’

‘Brother Conrad of the Sword Brothers, the Marshal of Estonia, who asks for entry for himself and the men with him.’