The Sword Brothers (25 page)

As a sign of good
faith Vetseke gave the fisherman one of the ingots, which delighted
him to such an extent that he started singing as he lit the kindle
and started the fire to cook the fish. Vetseke unbuckled his sword
belt and flopped down on the sand, leaning his back against the
man’s boat. The day was warm and bright, a slight breeze blowing
from the west – a good sign. The Dvina was calm, the current slow
at this spot. Even though there were rapids along the length of the
river the lightweight boat could be beached and hauled around them
easily enough.

After they had eaten
the fisherman unfurled the sail of his boat and he and Vetseke
pushed it into the water and jumped aboard. The prince sat on the
bench amidships while the fisherman steered the vessel. The
westerly breeze held so their progress was excellent and Vetseke
began to relax. Each minute placed him further away from the
accursed crusaders and closer to the Russians. Though he was not of
that race and had been a vassal of the Principality of Polotsk the
Russians had always treated him with respect, leaving him free to
rule his own, smaller Principality of Kokenhusen. So much so that
when the crusaders had attacked his lands the Russians had sent him
no aid. But now his castle and lands were in the hands of Bishop
Albert and his Sword Brothers and his people enslaved. He had made
a mistake in throwing in his lot with the Kurs, in the process
losing all his men and almost his life. Now he would throw himself
on the mercy of his neighbour, Prince Vsevolod, in the hope that he
would give him sanctuary. He had always maintained amiable
relations with Vsevolod but knew that he had close relations with
the Lithuanians through his marriage to the daughter of Grand Duke
Daugerutis. He had no love for the Lithuanians who had frequently
raided his lands and carried off his people into slavery. But he
knew and so did Vsevolod that Gerzika was the next stronghold in
the crusader advance and that alone made him and the prince
allies.

When the boat passed
by Kokenhusen Vetseke purposely looked away towards the southern
bank of the river, so aggrieved was he that the banners of the
Sword Brothers flew from the towers of his own stronghold. He heard
the fisherman whistling at the stern of the boat. Perhaps he would
kill him after all when they reached the end of their journey. That
at least would make him happier. He turned and smiled at the
foul-looking man who grinned enthusiastically back at him. The gods
would surely thank him for ridding the world of such an
inconsequential individual.

Chapter 6

Conrad sat dead still
in the saddle as the pony he was riding walked south towards the
village of Chief Thalibald. Following the defeat of Lembit and his
Estonians life had returned to normal at Wenden, which for him and
his comrades meant a return to the training fields to continue
their education in martial skills. But today they were going to
assist the locals to harvest their crops. The day was hot and he
sweated as he sat on the chestnut-coloured pony, the beast
occasionally flicking its tail to swat away the plague of midges
that had greeted the riders as they skirted a lake two miles south
of Wenden. Before they had left all the boys had been given tansy
leaves to rub on their arms and necks to ward off the tiny pests.
So far it had worked.

They rode at a gentle
pace, as it was the first time that Conrad and the others, aside
from Anton, had been in the saddle. Lukas, Rudolf and Henke
accompanied them, the brother knights riding on horses and armed
with swords, shields and helmets dangling from their saddles.
Thalibald’s village was five miles south of Wenden, one of the many
small settlements that ringed the castle. Though most of the
landscape was covered with trees and lakes, around the villages the
land had been cleared to create fields that grew crops, some of
which were sent to Wenden to feed its occupants. It was accorded a
minor miracle that Lembit did not send his warriors to raid the
villages and slaughter their livestock, or burn the ripened crops
in the fields, and focused entirely on assaulting the castle. Thus
had the food supply for the coming winter been saved and everyone
had breathed a sigh of relief. The boys did not appreciate it and
Bruno and Johann were complaining to each other that it was a waste
of their time to be harvesting crops.

Lukas heard their
moans. ‘
I
will decide how your time is spent. I assume you
want to eat during the winter?’

Hans nodded his head
enthusiastically. ‘Yes, Brother Lukas, food is very important.’

The other boys laughed
and even Lukas smiled. Hans always put his stomach above all other
concerns.

‘Well, then,’ said
Lukas, ‘you all go to do valuable work.’

‘Do not the villagers
harvest their own crops?’ asked Conrad, his eyes fixed on the head
of his pony and his hands gripping the reins tightly.

‘Of course,’ said
Rudolf, ‘but we send help when we can spare it. It shows goodwill
and helps build good relations with the villagers.’

‘They should do as
they are told,’ sneered Anton, betraying his family’s attitude
towards society’s lower orders.

‘This is not Germany,’
Rudolf reminded him. ‘We would have the loyalty of the locals, not
their hatred, if we are to build a new Jerusalem in this land.’

Henke riding beside
him grunted his disapproval but said nothing. Henke had never
enjoyed the privileged upbringing of his friend and commander and
believed the strong ruled and the weak suffered. But even he
understood that men needed to eat.

‘The Sword Brothers
are not Estonians,’ Lukas told them all. ‘We exist to protect
native and pilgrim alike in this land. You should all remember
that.’

Henke shook his head
and smiled wryly but Conrad was impressed. He liked the idea of
being a member of an organisation that protected the weak, just as
Rudolf and Henke had protected him and his sister in their hour of
need.

‘Besides,’ said Lukas,
‘on a more practical level we are ensuring that our investment has
been used wisely.’

Conrad was confused.
‘Investment, Brother Lukas?’

‘Seed, ploughs and
oxen,’ answered Lukas. ‘All gifts from the Sword Brothers to help
seal our bond with Thalibald’s people.’

‘A people who are our
allies, Anton,’ said Rudolf, ‘not our slaves.’

‘A farmer’s life is a
hard one,’ said Lukas, ‘so it is only right that we lend a hand
when we can.’

He was certainly right
about that.

The ploughing usually
began in April when the soil was soft enough to turn easily by the
heavy ploughs supplied by the Sword Brothers. The team of oxen that
pulled the ploughs had also been a gift from the order, as were the
seed for the crops: barley, oats, peas, beans and vetches. And in
April the cows came back into full milk as they grazed in the
meadows rather than on sparse winter fodder. Between May and the
end of September each year every cow was expected to produce enough
milk to make nearly a hundred pounds of cheese and fifteen pounds
of butter. That Lembit and his warriors had not stolen or
slaughtered the cows of Thalibald’s people had been a minor miracle
and was the subject of a service of thanksgiving in Wenden’s chapel
in the days after his attack.

In June haymaking was
the main activity of the villagers. The meadows were scythed to
collect hay, which was vital as it provided the main winter fodder
for animals. Lambs were weaned as early as possible because sheep’s
milk was rich and highly prized. Shearing usually began late in the
month.

In July, while Conrad
and his companions had been learning to wield their swords, the
villagers had been pulling up flax and hemp. The plants were laid
out in the sun to dry before being retted: placed in a stream to
rot away their fleshy parts. Once the fibres were clean they were
then beaten to separate them and then hung up to dry. Afterwards
the hemp could be wound into rope or cord. Flax was placed on a
distaff to be spun into yarn.

The harvest began in
August, the winter crops – wheat and rye – being harvested first
followed by the spring grains: barley and oats. The wheat was
harvested with a sickle, which Conrad now swung to slice right
through an ear of wheat.

‘Not like that,’ said
Lukas, ‘cut it two hands breadths below the ear to leave the long
stubble still standing. Not too high, not too low.’

Hans sweating beside
him grinned. ‘I bet you wish you were killing Estonians rather than
doing this.’

‘I never realised it
was so hard,’ Conrad replied, standing up to stretch his back. They
had been bent over for an hour now and the muscles in his lower
back ached like fury. As he stopped and looked around, to his
consternation he saw that the local men and women were scything
with aplomb, cutting through the wheat with gusto. The progress of
Conrad and the other boys was dire by contrast.

‘Pitiful,’ said Rudolf
as Conrad leaned against the wheel of a cart heaped high with
harvested crops, beads of sweat on his forehead. The other boys
were likewise sweating profusely.

‘I hope you perform
better when you face an enemy,’ Rudolf teased them.

Conrad was tempted to
ask when he and the other two brother knights were going to lend a
hand but thought better of it. In any case he liked them, even the
fierce Henke, and saw no purpose in provoking them. Nevertheless,
their short stint in the fields had been a stark introduction to
the hard life of a farmer. He peered into the sky to see if any
clouds were forming that might offer some relief from the sun.
Nothing! Hans nudged him in the ribs and pointed to a line of
teenage girls approaching, each one with a wooden yoke across her
shoulders, from which hung two buckets. By the girls’ laboured
movements Conrad judged them to be full.

‘Refreshments,’
announced Rudolf, looking at his exhausted charges, ‘not that you
deserve any.’

He grinned at Lukas
who smiled and shook his head. The boys all stood as the girls
approached, making their way along the track that led from
Thalibald’s village to the field. The other villagers in the fields
stopped, looked at the girls and went back to their scything.

Conrad was in awe of
their stamina. ‘I did not know farmers and their wives had so much
strength,’ he said to Rudolf.

‘It is a strength born
of desperation,’ he replied.

Conrad looked at him
in confusion.

‘They have to harvest
the crops as quickly as possible. If the rains come they can ruin
the crops and that means starvation. We are at war with the pagans
but the war these people fight against nature is constant and
unyielding. That is why we help them.’

Conrad began to see
the villagers in a different light and bent down to pick up his
scythe. He heard a shout and saw that one of the girls had tripped
and was on her knees, though she had managed to sit the buckets
down on the track before she tumbled. Conrad dropped his scythe and
ran over to her, helping her to her feet.

‘Thank you,’ she said
in German, smiling at him.

Conrad smiled back,
still holding her arm. ‘You speak our language.’

‘My father taught me,’
she replied, her green eyes sparkling.

Conrad admired her as
she adjusted the yoke and lifted the buckets holding water off the
ground. She was a striking girl with an oval face, narrow nose with
a pointed tip, high cheekbones and full lips.

‘Can I carry those for
you?’ he asked, blushing slightly.

‘No, thank you,’ she
replied, ‘though you can let go of me now.’

He blushed some more
as he realised that his hand was still on her arm. He snapped his
arm back and mumbled an apology as she giggled at the other girls.
He trailed after her like a puppy as she and they went to the
wagons. Conrad estimated her to be about his age, perhaps two
inches shorter, with shoulder-length light brown hair. She and the
other four girls, who paled somewhat beside her, put down their
buckets in front of the now standing boys and offered ladles of
water, serving Rudolf, Henke and Lukas first.

Rudolf took the ladle
off the brown-haired beauty and drank. ‘Thank you, Daina,’ he said.
So her name was Daina.

Conrad waited eagerly
behind him as the mail-clad knights took their fill before moving
aside to let him drink. He smiled sheepishly as Daina handed him
some water. Though her body was wrapped in a white linen shift
beneath a sleeveless blue dress that was fastened at the front by
laces, he could see that she had a slim frame, unlike two of her
friends who were rather plump in appearance.

Conrad downed his
drink and was about to say something to the dazzler that had
stirred his boyhood feelings, but then Rudolf slapped him on the
back.

‘Say goodbye to Daina,
Conrad. Time to get back to work.’

Conrad half-smiled at
her, blushed, mumbled something under his breath and then picked up
his scythe and followed the others back to the field. He glanced
over his shoulder to catch a last sight of her. Daina tilted her
head and smiled at him before hoisting the buckets back on her
shoulders and returning with the other girls back to the village.
Conrad’s mind was filled with images of her for the rest of the day
and he forgot entirely about his aching back and tired limbs.

He and the others
spent three days helping to harvest the crops. Though it was a
break from their instruction in the martial arts, Lukas and Rudolf
thought it an invaluable lesson in how their fate was bound up with
the locals and what they produced. At night they slept in one of
the huts that Thalibald made available in his village, which was
filled with a hall, huts, barns and animals pens. It stank of the
latter but was located near a fast-flowing stream filled with cool
water where they could wash the aroma of animals and straw from
their bodies every morning. A timber wall ringed the village itself
with a ditch in front of it, a wooden bridge over the ditch and a
single gate giving access to the settlement. Rudolf told the boys
that it had a palisade because it was where Thalibald lived but the
other villages had no defences.