The Sword Brothers (13 page)

The next morning the
camp was dismantled, the tents packed back on the wagons and the
journey north continued, everyone walking aside from the children.
Despite Hans’ attempts to brighten his spirits Conrad remained
largely silent, staring down at the dirt track as he trudged along.
Had he made the right decision in leaving Lübeck? What future lay
in store for him in this strange land of trees and lakes? He had no
answer to these questions but comforted himself with knowing that
at least Marie was safe. That was something at least. He pulled his
cloak tight around him. Though it was spring the morning had been
cool with a heavy dew and the sun was slow to show itself from
behind the grey clouds above. But amid the gloom the signs of
spring were everywhere: flowers and trees in blossom and the
twittering of birds.

After an hour they
came to a settlement of wooden huts next to a wide river and Rudolf
called a halt. He and Henke went to one of the huts and disappeared
inside while a collection of blonde-haired men and women stared at
the new arrivals. After a few moments they went back to their
labours as Conrad sat on the ground next to Hans, resting against
one of the solid wheels of a cart. The women began assisting their
children down from the drivers’ benches.

‘Looks like we will be
travelling on the river,’ said Hans, grinning. ‘No more
walking.’

Rudolf and Henke
reappeared from the hut accompanied by an old man with white hair
and a bushy beard who proceeded to bark orders at a group of
sullen-looking men standing near another hut. They slouched off in
the direction of the river where Conrad could see the masts of
several boats in the water.

‘We’ll soon have you
on your way, sir,’ the old man grinned at Rudolf, revealing a mouth
largely empty of teeth. ‘If you can get the carts to the river
we’ll load their cargoes first.’

Henke strolled over
and pointed at Conrad and his companions. ‘Some more labour to
prevent your minds from filling with wicked thoughts.’

Five minutes later
Conrad and Hans were once again unloading barrels and crates from
the wagons onto a rickety wooden quay on the riverbank, to which
were moored riverboats. In appearance they were very similar to the
ones that had attacked the cogs, Conrad thought, though were
smaller and shorter. They were around forty-five feet in length,
wide in the middle and pointed at each end. Each one had a mast
some thirty feet high to which was attached a furled sail, plus a
side-mounted rudder on the starboard side. The hulls were made from
overlapping oak planks, which were around twelve feet in width.

The men from the
village placed the supplies and stores into the boats and then
Rudolf divided his party among the vessels. He assigned two
crossbowmen and two spearmen from the mercenaries to each boat and
then divided the civilians between the vessels, ensuring that all
the families stayed together. Finally he ordered Conrad and Hans to
travel in the first boat with him, with Henke keeping charge of
Anton, Bruno and Johann in the second boat.

Two hours after
arriving at the village the boats were pushed away from the quay
with long poles into midstream where their oarsmen heaved at their
stations. Each boat had a crew of six rowers – three on each side –
plus a captain who stood at the rear holding the rudder. There were
no seats or benches in the boat, just crates and chests that the
rowers and everyone else sat on. Rudolf sat opposite Conrad and
Hans near the prow as the rowers found their stroke and the boat
eased its way upstream. There was no wind so there was no point in
unfurling the sail. Rudolf was examining his dagger in between
glancing at the crew and the passengers to ensure all was well.
Conrad leaned forward and whispered to him.

‘Rudolf, that is
Brother Rudolf, are the men rowing the boat Oeselians?’

Rudolf smiled. ‘No,
Conrad, though I dare say that their blood is mixed with the sea
heathens if you dig deep enough. No, they are Livs.’

Conrad and Hans stared
at him with blank looks.

‘The people who have
lived in these lands since earliest times,’ Rudolf continued.
‘Pagans whom we have rescued from their unholy ways.’

‘What ways?’ asked
Conrad, casting a glance at the backs of the rowers heaving at
their oars.

‘Human sacrifice to
appease their false gods,’ answered Rudolf.

‘Barbarians,’ said
Hans, disgusted.

‘What gods?’ asked
Conrad further.

Rudolf nodded at him.
‘You are curious about this land and its people. That is good, for
the more you know the better your chances of surviving in this
place of great beauty and great savagery. The Livs worship many
gods but the chief among them are Mara, the Great Mother, the god
who rules over all the others. Then there is Laima, the Goddess of
Fate; Saule, the Sky God; and Jumis, God of the Land.

‘But now they worship
the one true God, the Lord of all the earth and the heavens.’
Rudolf winked at them both. ‘Or at least they pretend they do.’

Conrad was confused.
‘I do not understand.’

Rudolf pointed at the
rowers. ‘They have been baptised in the river, had their sins
washed away and have accepted the love of Christ. But always
remember, my young friends, that old ways cannot be erased in a
short time. Their fathers, grandfathers and ancestors going back
generations worshipped their gods before our holy crusade and old
habits die hard.’

‘They do not follow
God?’ asked Conrad.

Rudolf reflected for a
moment. ‘Some have embraced our religion wholeheartedly and can be
counted as loyal. But the majority wait.’

‘For what?’ asked
Hans.

‘To see who triumphs.
Crusaders or pagans,’ answered Rudolf.

Conrad did not really
understand but was comforted by the fact that Rudolf was very
knowledgeable about this land and its people. His commanding
presence was a source of reassurance and Conrad, for the first time
since the dreadful events that had brought him to this place, began
to relax a little. The motion of the boat as it glided over the
smooth surface of the river had a calming effect on him and he
began to take an interest in the varied terrain they passed
through. Rudolf informed them that this river, the Gauja, and the
Dvina were the lifeblood of the crusade in Livonia. Most travel was
conducted along these waterways and the Sword Brothers were
building stone castles along the length of both rivers to
consolidate and expand Christian control over Livonia.

Conrad did not see the
two castles they passed during their journey on the Gauja, Rudolf
explaining that they were located some two miles inland rather than
being on the actual riverbank. Their names were Kremon and Segewold
but Rudolf’s castle was Wenden, some fifty miles from the village
they had departed from. Along the Dvina four castles had been
established – Holm, Uexkull, Lennewarden and Kokenhusen – all of
them in various states of completion.

‘It will take years to
finish them,’ said Rudolf, ‘but the important thing is that with
every stone laid our rule in Livonia is strengthened. Stone castles
cannot be burned to the ground and nor can they be pulled down.
They are the invincible monuments to the power of God.’

‘Do not the Livs have
castles?’ asked Conrad.

‘They have hill
forts,’ answered Rudolf, ‘strongholds that have wooden walls and
towers. But they have no knowledge of masonry and so their forts
can be set on fire and stormed. Not that they fall easily. Much
blood is spilt taking them.’

Conrad was fortified
by Rudolf’s words, thinking that he and his fellow Sword Brothers
were more than a match for the local pagans. And they also had God
on their side so they were invincible. His boyhood mind had yet to
fathom that the world was a complex place that could be cruel and
uncertain, but for the moment he felt secure. Rudolf’s authority
and certainty made him believe that God had brought him to this
land for a purpose, though what it was he knew not.

They journeyed on the
river for two days, following its course as it meandered through
dense forests and lush meadows. They passed white sandstone crags
topped by towering pines that looked down on the dark and brooding
waters of the river. On occasion they threaded their way through
sandbanks and negotiated small rapids of bubbling water. Then the
river would widen to reveal steep sides of red sandstone that
seemed to take an age to pass through. Conrad observed kestrels
hovering above the riverbanks searching for prey and saw fallen
trees lying in the water where they had toppled from a great height
on the crag above. And stretching into the distance were trees,
always trees: huge forests that seemed to have no end. Not only
spruce and pine but also mighty oaks, aspen and ash. No wonder the
pagans used wood to build their homes and strongholds – there was
an endless supply of it.

When they arrived at
their destination the boats were run aground on a sandbank at the
river’s edge and the crews unloaded the supplies and carried them
onto the grass of a meadow that extended half a mile from the
river. Beyond was the inevitable dark and imposing forest that
blanketed most of Livonia. It was now midday and, as there were
still eight hours of daylight left the crews opted to take their
now empty and lighter vessels back to their poor village. Their
enthusiasm rose markedly once the crusaders and German civilians
were off their boats and they began to chatter among themselves in
a language that Conrad could not understand. They became more
excitable when an easterly wind picked up and they unfurled their
sails and began their journey home.

Henke stood on the
sandbank next to Conrad and Hans and spat after them.
‘Heathens.’

‘Henke has a low
opinion of our newest converts,’ grinned Rudolf.

‘Thieves and beggars
the lot of them,’ spat Henke with contempt.

Rudolf put an arm
around the shoulder of a sheepish Hans. ‘Young Hans here was a
beggar, and a thief, and yet you like him, do you not?’

Henke looked at Rudolf
and then at Hans and grunted. ‘He speaks the same language as me,
comes from the same race as me and doesn’t want to stick a dagger
in my guts. Of course I like him.’

Rudolf asked Henke to
walk to Wenden – two miles to the east – to bring back horses and
wagons to transport the supplies, and also detailed half a dozen
spearmen to go with him. While he was away he gave orders for the
boys to serve a meal to the other mercenaries and the civilians.
Despite the cool mornings the spring days were warm and long and
the air was filled with the sweet aroma of blossom. Everyone was
cheerful and some of the children were running around and screaming
with delight. Conrad was warming to this land by the minute.

Henke returned two
hours later riding a horse that was attired in a caparison: a
thickly padded and quilted long cloth robe that covered its body,
neck, legs and head. It was white and carried the insignia of the
Sword Brothers, as did the other horse that Henke was leading and
the ten others carrying sergeants with their distinctive kettle
helmets. They all dismounted and walked up to the waiting Rudolf,
the sergeants saluting to their senior officer. Behind the horsemen
came four-wheeled wagons pulled by horses that looked in far better
condition than the ones that had ferried the supplies from
Riga.

Once more the children
were allowed to ride on the wagons after the crates, chests and
barrels had been loaded, Henke and Rudolf riding at the head of the
column and Conrad and his companions walking at the rear. The track
led from the river, through the forest and then came into a great
open space devoid of trees. And directly ahead, sited on the top of
a rising piece of ground that resembled a peninsula, was Wenden
Castle. The steep slopes on its northern and western sides made an
attack from those directions virtually impossible. The eastern and
southern sides had less severe slopes but even so the castle was
well sited. On the southern side of the stronghold was a perimeter
wall comprising horizontally laid wooden logs on top of an earth
rampart, with wooden towers at regular intervals. There was also a
ditch in front of the rampart.

The column entered
this compound via its only entrance, located on the south side.
Conrad walked across a wooden bridge over the ditch and through the
two open gates. Once inside the compound he saw people – men, women
and children – dressed like the civilians who had been in his
party, with others in the robes of the native Livs.

‘It does not look like
a castle,’ remarked Hans as they ascended the slope that led to the
castle’s entrance in its southern wall. Except that there was no
wall. There were the foundations of all four walls, the beginnings
of three stone towers in the southeast, southwest and northwest
corners, and a sizeable number of workers working on these
structures, but no walls. There was a timber wall that encompassed
empty spaces between the fledgling stonework and a great many
pallets stacked with stone, but no stone wall. Conrad and Hans
walked across the bridge that spanned the dry moat and entered what
would eventually be Wenden Castle.

‘It looks as though it
has just been started,’ remarked Conrad, who was underwhelmed by
what he saw. What did impress him was the outlook that the castle’s
position afforded: uninterrupted views in all directions of the
surrounding countryside – forests, clearings and lakes.

As he continued to
look around he began to appreciate the extent of the castle’s area.
On the western side stood a long stable block next to an even
longer single-storey dormitory, each of them constructed of wood
with thatched roofs. The northern end of the great courtyard area
was open aside from the wooden wall and pallets holding stones. The
only stone building was a chapel in the northeast corner, a cross
mounted on its roof. The hall of the master, dining hall, armoury
and smithy filled the rest of the eastern side of the cobbled
courtyard. These buildings were also made of wood.