The Sword Brothers (50 page)

Henke was in a foul
mood as he walked through the snow, not only because he was not
mounted like the rest of the brother knights but because he also
objected to being a nursemaid to the novices. The riders took a
wide detour to the village, which was located in the middle of a
broad valley between two great woods. A frozen lake lay south of
the settlement and to the north lay another large expanse of
evergreen trees.

After less than an
hour the party on foot was approaching the lake and Henke gave the
order to deploy into line and to stay silent. Conrad took the
shield off his back and slid his left arm through the leather
straps and gripped the last one. He drew his sword, crouched low
and began to walk forward. He glanced left at Hans who nodded, then
right at Anton and Johann, both of them staring ahead. The
crossbowmen formed a thin vanguard in front of the sergeants, the
boys being on the left flank of the line, nearest to the lake.

Their approach was
silent as they stepped through the snow. Ahead Conrad could see no
movement in the snow-covered village. It was two hours after dawn.
Perhaps the villagers were still asleep. They were around five
hundred paces away when dogs suddenly started barking.

‘Move,’ shouted
Henke.

Shouts were heard
coming from the village and then, further away, the sound of drums.
Conrad looked at a perplexed Hans. He felt his heart pounding in
his chest as he broke into a brisk walk. It was impossible to run
in the snow that came up to his ankles, and he noticed the
sergeants and crossbowmen were still walking but were talking
longer and higher steps to avoid toppling over. They had closed to
within three hundred paces of the village now and it appeared to
comprise many huts of varying size. The biggest was a tall
longhouse with an arched roof that seemed to be in the centre of
the settlement.

The mounted brother
knights had made a wide diversion through the trees so they could
assault the village from the north. Two of their number carried
drums of stretched skinheads that had a brass hook so they could be
hung from their belts. They began banging the drums as they
approached the village, the riders extending into a line with
pennants fluttering from their lances. The noise had the desired
effect: the menfolk of the village poured from their huts and
deployed into a small shield wall in front of the village. And all
the while the foot soldiers approached silently and unseen from the
south.

The crossbowmen had
been members of the garrison for a long time and they knew the
tactics of the Sword Brothers. Henke gave the signal and the
sergeants divided into small groups, each one accompanied by two
crossbowmen as they entered the village.

‘You stay close to
me,’ Henke hissed to the boys as they reached the first hut. Ahead
Conrad could hear the shouts of the village’s warriors as they
rallied around their chief in the shield wall. The drums were still
sounding as the horses of brother knights continued to approach the
village at a slow walk.

The foot soldiers
moved stealthily through the huts that had their doors fastened
shut. They reached the chief’s great hut and swept around it to
head for the northern end of the village. Conrad estimated that the
settlement must have numbered fifty huts at least. He hoped they
had enough soldiers to fight the villagers. He followed Henke along
frozen muddy paths, past squat sheds and empty animal pens, the
occupants having long since been slaughtered to proved food for the
inhabitants. Then they were at the northern extend of the
settlement, beyond which stood a group of warriors standing with
their backs to the village, shields locked as they waited to
receive the charge of the brother knights, who had now halted some
three hundred paces from them. The drummers continued to hit the
skins of their instruments to keep the Estonians focused on them as
the crossbowmen reformed into a line with the sergeants behind
them. Henke fell in at the extreme left of the line of sergeants,
Conrad and the other boys behind him.

In the rear of the
Estonian shield wall, which must have numbered at least sixty men,
were dogs held on leashes that would be released at the riders when
they made their charge. But now the beasts began barking at the
foot soldiers that had appeared behind them, causing their masters
to turn round and spot Henke’s party. Then the crossbowmen began
shooting.

In thirty seconds they
shot twenty quarrels before the Estonians had a chance to respond.
In the next thirty seconds they shot a further twenty bolts that
killed the dogs and also their owners. Some of the warriors broke
ranks and ran at the crossbowmen, tripping in the snow and falling
over. When they jumped up they were hit by quarrels and collapsed
again. Conrad watched leather face load, shoot his crossbow and
then reload it again, untroubled by the enraged warriors who had
now turned around and locked shields. Bolts slammed into wooden
shields. The crossbowmen stopped shooting and retired behind the
sergeants, who now walked forward with swords drawn, shields held
in front of them.

The Estonians, armed
with a variety of axes, spears, clubs and only a few swords, had
forgotten about the mounted knights as they shuffled forward to
give battle to the footmen who had appeared behind them. But now
Master Berthold and his men dug their spurs into the ponies and
charged forward. They never achieved more than a quick trot in the
snow but within no time they were at the rear of the shield wall,
plunging their lances into Estonian backs and then drawing their
swords to hack at the enemy.

‘Now!’ screamed Henke
as he and sergeants charged at the shield wall. The Estonians,
their shields overlapping as they inched forward, had not expected
the outnumbered men in mail and white surcoats to attack but that
is what they now did.

Conrad screamed and
ran after Henke as cries came from the rear of the shield wall as
the brother knights began cutting down Estonians. The latter might
have included a few men who had battle experience but most were
poor farmers who spent their lives toiling on the land. Attacked
from the front and rear, what little discipline and order they
might have possessed evaporated in the face of the Sword Brother
assault.

The Estonian shield
wall fell apart as Henke and the sergeants ran at it, held their
shields in front of them to block axe blows and spear thrusts and
then plunged their swords into faces and necks. Only a few
villagers wore helmets, the rest either fighting bare headed or
wearing leather skullcaps for protection. But they offered little
defence, particularly from the downward strikes of the brother
knights.

A warrior ran at
Conrad, a man in a shirt and leggings with no headgear and armed
with only a spear. He jumped to the right, brushed away the spear
with his shield and then cut down with his sword to slice open the
man’s left calf. The Estonian howled in pain and collapsed on the
ground. He was silenced as Hans thrust his sword down to sever his
spinal cord.

The fight had now
degenerated into a series of single combats, Henke being surrounded
by three men wielding axes determined to hack him to pieces. He
killed the man facing him when he chopped the shaft of his
adversary’s axe with his sword and then rammed the end of his cross
guard into the man’s eye. Spinning round, the other two ran at him,
axes raised above their heads. He jumped to the right and swung his
sword as they passed, cutting into the skull of one. He ignored him
and ran at the last villager, barging into him with his shield and
driving the point of his sword forward with such force that it went
through the man’s shield and into his guts. He released the hilt
and the Estonian collapsed to the ground, blood oozing from his
belly. Henke placed a foot on the pierced shield on top of his body
and yanked his sword free, then walked over to the man with the
gashed head. He sheathed his sword, drew his dagger and slit his
throat.

The fighting was over
now. The last to fall was the village chief with a few loyal men
around him, cut down by the crossbowmen. Sergeants went among the
dead and wounded and dispatched the latter with their daggers. The
riders did not enter the village but rather hunted down those men
who tried to reach the safety of the trees, circling the settlement
and heading off the fleeing warriors.

Henke pointed at
Conrad and the other boys.

‘You are with me.’

He walked back into
the village and began banging on doors, ordering the occupants to
show themselves. Or at least that is what Conrad thought as he was
speaking in Estonian. He pointed at Conrad and Hans.

‘You two make yourself
useful and turf out those inside the huts. And keep alert. Just
because their menfolk are dead doesn’t mean that the women are not
dangerous.’

He then pointed at
Anton and Johann. ‘You two as well. Get moving.’

Obviously his bout of
slaughter had not improved Henke’s humour as he went inside a hut
and hauled out the occupants – a young woman and an old hag – and
threw them to the ground. Anton kicked in a door and fell back as
he was hit in the face by a wooden stool. A plumpish woman stood in
the doorway with the seat in her hand.

‘Stupid bitch.’ Anton
ran his sword through her body and kicked her back inside the
hut.

Henke saw what had
happened as Johann went to the side of his friend with his shield
raised and sword at the ready.

‘What did I tell you?’
Henke said to Anton.

‘She hit me,
brother.’

Henke sheathed his
sword and struck Anton across the face with the back of his hand.
‘I want them all alive.’

He grabbed Anton by
the scruff of the neck and threw him into the hut. He turned to
Johann. ‘Move, idiot.’

Conrad went into the
hut and saw a terrified young woman huddled in the corner holding
two infants. Tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking
with fear. He looked at Hans.

‘This is wrong.’

‘We have our orders,
Conrad.’ His fear of Henke was overriding any doubts he may have
had regarding the right or wrong of his actions. Conrad sighed and
pointed at the woman, sheathing his sword and gesturing her to come
forward.

‘Please.’

She did not understand
what he was saying but did understand what was required of her when
Henke walked in, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her outside.
She was still clutching the babies who began to wail as their
mother was taken to the open space in front of the chief’s hut
where the other villagers were being gathered. There were about
seventy of them, all in various stages of distress. Young,
terrified children clinging to their mothers and elderly couples
seeking solace in each other’s arms. They huddled together as
crossbowmen and sergeants stood guard over them.

Conrad stood by the
young mother and her two screeching babies, his shield over his
back, his sword in its scabbard.

Henke pointed at her.
‘Shut her up.’

Conrad knew that
something very wrong was occurring and resented having to be a part
of it. He was just a novice but the sermons he had listened to in
the chapel every week had made a deep impression upon him,
particularly the notion of Christian charity.

‘Do it yourself,’ he
heard himself say.

Hans, Anton and Johann
looked aghast at him as Henke stomped over.

‘What did you
say?’

Conrad, though
nervous, stood his ground. ‘Threatening babies will have no
effect.’

Henke moved closer,
his sneering face inches from Conrad’s. ‘Are you disobeying me,
boy
?’

‘No, brother,’ replied
Conrad, ‘it is just that…’

Henke slapped Conrad’s
face hard with the back of his hand, nearly knocking him over. Rage
flowed through Conrad and without thinking he stepped back and drew
his sword. Henke laughed and drew his blade and Conrad prepared to
die.

‘Henke!

Rudolf jumped from his
saddle and walked over to place himself between Henke and Conrad,
facing the former.

‘Put away your swords.
Both of you.’

Conrad did so
instantly but for a few seconds Henke hesitated before sniffing and
sheathing his blade.

Master Berthold
frowned and then announced to the Estonians in their own tongue
that they would not be harmed but that they had to leave with him.
There were wails and more outbreaks of crying but Berthold shouted
at them to be quiet and ordered them to leave the village
immediately. The women and children did not have their hands bound
as it was unlikely that they would attempt to escape, especially
the ones carrying infants, though the five boys aged ten and over
were tethered. Then the captives were herded away to the south,
towards the Sword Brother camp. The brother knights gave up their
ponies for the youngest children to save them having to trek
through the snow. Henke was the last to leave, keeping Conrad and
the other boys behind to guard the score of elderly Estonians who
had been captured in the village.

‘What shall we do with
them?’ he asked Rudolf brusquely

‘What do you
suggest?’

Henke looked at Conrad
with an evil grin. ‘Lock them in a hut and burn them.’

‘I think not,’ said
Rudolf. ‘We will leave them here.’

Henke curled his lip.
‘You are getting soft. The Rudolf of old would not have batted an
eyelid at killing them.’

Rudolf sighed. ‘We are
warriors of Christ now, Henke, so do as you are told.’

Henke turned to the
boys. ‘Move!’

Two hours later Conrad
was cooking porridge to feed the captives, who had been placed in
the spare tents that the raiding party had brought. The temperature
was dropping rapidly and Master Berthold was most insistent that
the prisoners be fed and issued with blankets. Conrad went among
the morose Estonians, offering them bowls of hot porridge. The
women took the food but avoided his eyes as they fed their children
and wrapped the blankets around them. He felt utterly
miserable.