The Sword Brothers (16 page)

Vsevolod smiled at
Stecse. ‘You are most generous, lord. The loss of one of their
castles will be a grievous blow to the crusaders and will give
heart to their many enemies. With the crusaders fully occupied in
the north there is a possibility that all their strongholds along
the Dvina might fall into our hands.’

The grand duke
chuckled. ‘There is an old saying among my people, my son – easy to
say, but not to do. One castle at a time.’

‘Before the crusaders
came my city was part of the mighty Principality of Polotsk, a
kingdom that existed peacefully among its neighbours.’

Daugerutis remembered
differently but remained silent.

‘Once the crusaders
have been evicted from Livonia Lithuanian and Russian will rule all
the lands from here to the Baltic,’ Vsevolod boasted.

The duke’s son-in-law
returned to Gerzika the next day, taking Prince Stecse with him so
they could plan an attack against Kokenhusen.

Chapter 4

Conrad lay on the
ground looking up at the cloudless blue sky, the wind knocked out
of him as the others laughed. He had ended up flat on his back
courtesy of Lukas during a lesson concerning the correct use of the
shield. The brother knight extended his right arm and hauled Conrad
to his feet and turned to the others.

‘A shield is not just
a wall against which an enemy can batter his weapons against. It is
a weapon in its own right and can be used to strike, push, pin and
trap an opponent.’

Conrad picked up his
waster and held it in his right hand, his shield positioned to
protect his sword arm but not impede it, just as he had been shown.
Lukas turned back to face Conrad and indicated for the youth to
attack him again. His shield of wood covered in leather was
surprisingly light and was comfortable to wield, his left forearm
secured by two leather straps with buckles. He gripped a third,
unbuckled, strap with his hand, his forearm resting against a
padded leather squab that was attached to the inside of the shield
to prevent chafing. Lukas held his own shield in front of him.

‘A fighter uses a
shield aggressively, holding it forward, ready to move it in any
direction.’

Conrad and the others
had been training non-stop for nearly four months now and their
bodies had grown accustomed to the daily physical exertions. Their
generous diets had made them stronger so that their wasters had
seemingly become lighter as the time passed. They thus wielded them
more freely and with much more aplomb. They had also learned the
hard way to keep moving at all times during practice. Conrad and
Lukas moved around each other like a pair of wolves involved in a
mating ritual. Lukas only had a shield; his sword remained in its
scabbard. Conrad jabbed his shield forward at Lukas to draw the
knight’s attention, then aimed a sword thrust at the older man
before sweeping his waster down to strike at Lukas’ extended left
leg. It was a bold move and against an average opponent it might
have worked, but Lukas was not only a knight but also a student of
the fighting arts and had noticed that Conrad’s initial thrust did
not have a lot of force behind it and was therefore a feint. As
Conrad’s waster swept down to strike Lukas’ leg the brother moved
back and stepped to his left to avoid the blow. He then barged his
shield against Conrad’s exposed right arm, knocking him to the
ground once more.

‘Always look to block
or avoid an enemy’s strike in such a way as to create an opening
for a strike,’ he said as the others burst into laughter once
more.

Despite being fed like
a fighting cock Hans’ body refused to gain weight despite his
efforts to devour more food than the others combined. He still
looked perilously thin though no longer gaunt and Conrad noticed
that his friend’s strength and stamina were increasing as the days
turned into weeks. Of all of them Hans seemed the happiest and most
content and though Conrad was settling into his new life with
relative ease, in the quiet moments – at night and during mealtimes
when all talking was forbidden – his mind went back to those
terrible few days in Lübeck that had changed his life forever. At
first he viewed the daily services in the chapel irksome but after
a while found them comforting. He always prayed for his dead
parents and for his sister and believed that the more he asked God
to keep watch over her the safer she would be.

The arrival of summer
brought with it not only an increase in temperature but also saw
the land come to life as flowers and plants bloomed and the forests
carpeted the land in a rich green. White wagtails flew overhead.
The castle compound was filled with daises. Outside the compound
the meadows were filled with edible mushrooms, wild strawberries,
wild raspberries, cloudberries, blueberries, cornflower and flax
plants. Though the boys sweated under the summer sun as they
practised their weapon skills, the nights could still be cool and
they required their cloaks. It was also surprisingly rainy, dark
clouds suddenly appearing overhead and bursting to drench the land,
though rainy afternoons at least meant warm evenings.

The mercenaries and
brother knights undertook regular hunting expeditions into the
surrounding forests, returning with slain wild boar, elk and
roebuck. The beavers that lived in the Gauja were also hunted and
killed, Conrad and his companions especially looking forward to
when their carcasses were taken to the kitchens to be skinned, as
their meat was delicious. The Gauja itself was teeming with life
and daily fishing parties were despatched to bring back lamprey,
perch, grayling, pike, bream, roach, dace, chub and burbot.
Mealtimes were so bountiful at this time that Hans thought he had
died and gone to heaven.

The boys were
forbidden to go outside the compound and in truth they had no time
even if they had permission to do so. In addition to their
incessant weapons training they were introduced to the other duties
of garrison life, including keeping watch. As the weeks passed they
had barely noticed the castle taking shape around them. They had
seen the stonemasons going about their work, of course, but had not
been aware that Wenden was starting to show signs of becoming a
Christian stronghold. Master Berthold had decided that the
northwest tower should receive the lion’s share of the stonemasons’
attention so it would be completed first. In this way, should the
worst happen, the garrison would have a place of refuge if the
walls of the compound were breached. The circular tower was as yet
only twenty feet in height but it still offered excellent
uninterrupted views of the countryside for miles around.

Conrad stood on the
top of the scaffolding that encased the fledgling tower and pulled
his cloak around his shoulders. It might be the longest day of the
year but it was still cool. He had started sentry duty this week
and had been allocated the night watch. He was not the only one
standing guard, the wooden perimeter wall around the compound being
guarded by sergeants and mercenaries and the castle itself watched
over by sergeants and brother knights. One of the latter
accompanied the novices at all times during their guard duties, not
least to impress upon them the importance of not falling asleep.
Conrad was delighted to discover that his guardian was Rudolf.

‘A sentry is the most
important man in a garrison,’ Rudolf told him, ‘for he keeps watch
while the others sleep. That is why the penalties for abandoning
one’s post and falling asleep on duty are so severe. The
carelessness of one man can cost the lives of hundreds.’

Conrad looked alarmed
and tightened the grip on his spear. Rudolf slapped him on the arm.
‘Not that there is any chance of you falling asleep. Lukas tells me
that your weapons training is coming along well.’

Conrad was delighted
that Rudolf was taking an interest in him. ‘I am anxious to receive
my own sword, sir. We all are.’

Rudolf nodded. ‘I have
no doubt but you will have to wait a while longer, I think. A sword
is a soldier’s most precious item and should stay with him until
the day he dies, thereafter to be buried with him or passed on to
someone worthy. When the time comes Lukas will present you and the
others with your swords.’

‘And then we will
fight the pagans?’ asked Conrad.

‘Most likely, as there
seems to be an inexhaustible supply of them. Or perhaps they will
all accept baptism and become willing members of Bishop Albert’s
flock.’

The light was fading
now as the sun disappeared on the western horizon and darkness
crept over the land. Conrad peered to the north and saw the glow of
fires in the distance. Turning, he saw that there appeared to be
fires in every direction around the castle. He looked at Rudolf
apprehensively.

‘Do not alarm
yourself,’ he said to Conrad. ‘It is called
ligo
, a ceremony
that the natives hold every mid-summer on the longest day of the
year. They gather in clearings and meadows, start a fire and then
stay up all night, drinking and waiting for the sun to rise the
next morning. The women pick flowers to make crowns to wear upon
their heads and the men jump naked into rivers and lakes.’

Conrad was confused.
‘Why?’

‘Why? To ask their
gods to make the crops grow and provide for their families during
the winter. The farmers have ploughed their fields, sown their
crops and now they wait for the harvest. They believe that by
participating in the
ligo
their gods will make the crops
grow.’

Conrad stared at the
myriad of yellow and orange glows around the castle and was
frightened. ‘The local people who live around Wenden are
pagans?’

Rudolf considered for
a moment before answering. ‘The people who live in the villages
around the castle have all been baptised. So in theory they are
Christians. But the church has a tenuous hold over this land,
Conrad, and cannot easily dispel hundreds of years of myths and
rituals, much as it would like to do. It can only prove that it is
stronger than the gods that these people worship.’

‘How can it do that?’
asked Conrad.

Rudolf looked north.
‘By crushing those pagans still in arms against it.’

******

Lembit gazed at the
embers of the great bonfire that had been burning all night and
which was only now entering its death throes. Most of the dozens of
people who had gathered round it the night before were now asleep
on the ground, having drunk themselves into unconsciousness. He had
noticed a few young couples sneak off into the woods to make love,
believing that a child conceived during
ligo
would be
blessed by the gods, especially Uku, the supreme god. As he sat on
the ground with his knees drawn up to his chest and his cloak
wrapped around him he wondered if the gods cared about the people
who worshipped them. After all, why did they allow the ‘Iron Men’,
the crusaders on their big horses, to desecrate the soil of
Estonia?

But then, he had done
what no one else had achieved before: he had defeated a party of
crusaders encased in their armour sitting on their mighty
warhorses. Admittedly there had been only half a dozen of them
accompanied by a score of spearmen, and they had been ambushed
rather than defeated in battle. Still, a victory was a victory and
his had galvanised the whole of Estonia so rare had it been. The
tribes of his people had watched the defeat of the Livs and Letts
in the south, and although they had no great affinity with these
people their demise had been an ill portent for his own kind. He
had tried to convince the elders of his own tribe, the Saccalians,
that they should not wait for the crusaders to invade their own
lands before taking up arms against the foreigners, for to do so
would be to invite disaster. He had advised an invasion of their
land that they called Livonia but they had been against it. So he
took the men of his own stronghold of Lehola and marched south with
them. As luck would have it, or perhaps it was the hand of the
gods, word reached him of a party of crusaders advancing into
Saccalia and he laid his trap. After he had butchered the men in
mail the fame of his name spread throughout Estonia like a forest
fire fanned by the wind. The elders of his tribe accorded him the
title ‘Grand Warlord’ and the other tribes – the Harrien,
Wierlanders, Rotalians, Jerwen and Ungannians – promised him
allegiance and men for his war against the crusaders. Such was the
magnitude of his victory. He peered at the crackling embers of the
fire. Perhaps the gods were assisting him after all.

He heard footsteps
behind him and turned his head to see the hulking figure of
Rusticus coming towards him. His second-in-command was obviously
the worse for wear, having no doubt spent all the preceding hours
drinking. Lembit never ceased to be amazed by how much beer his
deputy could accommodate, but now even his iron constitution seemed
to have taken a battering by the way he trudged towards him with
his over-sized head cast down.

Lembit hauled himself
to his feet and stretched out his arms. ‘I see you have indulged in
the
ligo
willingly, Rusticus.’

His deputy grunted a
reply under his breath and lifted his head. His eyes were red and
puffy and his great beard streaked with what looked like vomit.

‘You look disgusting,’
Lembit said to him.

‘Too much beer,’
complained Rusticus.

‘Come,’ said Lembit,
‘time for morning inspection.’

Rusticus looked as
though he was going to be sick again. ‘What? After
ligo
? All
the boys will be asleep. Either that or making babies for next
spring.’ His ugly face broke into a leer but Lembit was far from
amused, pacing away towards the imposing fort atop the great earth
mound behind them. He kicked a man who was lying face-down on the
grass, then another who was lying on his side with an empty cup
beside him.