The Sword Brothers (54 page)

Master Mathias laughed
gruffly. ‘They underestimated that bastard Lembit. They are not the
only ones.’

Archdeacon Stefan
sitting next to the bishop frowned at his language but the bishop
himself was more interested in Mathias’ meaning.

‘You think
we
underestimate Lembit, Master Mathias?’

‘I think the sooner we
kill him the better,’ replied Mathias. The others nodded their
agreement.

‘We do not go to kill
but to convert,’ emphasised the bishop. ‘Our numbers alone should
be enough to cower the Estonians into submission.’

‘And what of the
Oeselians?’ asked Master Friedhelm.

‘The Oeselians?’ said
the bishop.

‘Yes, lord bishop,’
continued Friedhelm. ‘They are allies of the Estonians and will
have to be dealt with if we are to have peace in Livonia and the
sea that surrounds it.’

‘Their vessels still
prey on our shipping,’ said Master Gerhard.

The bishop considered
for a moment. ‘The matter of the Oeselians will have to wait until
Estonia is conquered. In the meantime you will all muster your
garrisons and join the army that I will be taking north.’

Griswold of Kokenhusen
and Aldous of Lennewarden looked at each other in alarm.

‘You would strip
Kokenhusen of its garrison?’ said Griswold with disbelief.

‘And that of
Lennewarden?’ added Aldous.

‘Because of the
diligence of Archdeacon Stefan,’ said the bishop, ‘we have peace
with the Lithuanians. I therefore see little reason to keep
garrisons sitting idle when their soldiers could be aiding the
conversion of the Estonians.’

‘Do we trust the
Lithuanians, lord bishop?’ enquired Master Gerhard. ‘They are,
after all, also pagans.’

The bishop looked at
Stefan, who wore a smarmy smile.

‘Prince Vsevolod has
brokered a treaty between Riga and the Lithuanians that guarantees
peace along the Dvina,’ said Stefan.

‘I do not trust the
Lithuanians or Vsevolod,’ said Griswold.

‘Nor do I,’ added
Aldous.

Stefan sighed loudly.
‘I would have thought, Master Griswold, that the fact Prince
Vsevolod came to your relief when Kokenhusen was assaulted by the
Lithuanians proves that not only can he be trusted but also that he
should be thought of as a valuable ally.’

Griswold gave a grim
chuckle. ‘How little you know of the ambitions of princes,
archdeacon. He may have told you that he brought his army to the
walls of my castle in order to offer help, but I am also mindful
that he is related to Grand Duke Daugerutis, lord of all the
Lithuanian tribes.’

Stefan wagged a finger
at the castellan of Kokenhusen.

‘Prince Vsevolod is a
man of honour.’

Griswold looked
surprised. ‘Do Russians have any honour?’

The other Sword
Brothers laughed as Stefan blushed but the bishop was not
amused.

‘Quiet. This is not a
gathering in a back-alley tavern. I have every confidence in the
peace secured by the efforts of Archdeacon Stefan and Prince
Vsevolod with the Lithuanians. If any of you have information
pertaining to Lithuanian aggression then state it now.’

Aldous and Griswold
shrugged with indifference and the others looked disinterested.

‘Very well, then,’
continued the bishop. ‘You will all assemble at Riga with your men
in a month’s time, except the garrisons of Kremon, Segewold and
Wenden. The soldiers from those places will join us as we march
north to Estonia.’

He nodded to Volquin
who announced that the meeting was over. The Sword Brothers rose,
bowed their heads to the bishop and then made to leave the audience
chamber of the bishop’s palace.

‘Master Berthold and
Brother Rudolf from Wenden will remain for a few moments.’

The others left and
the doors were closed behind them. The bishop smiled at Stefan.

‘If you would give us
a few minutes, nephew.’

Stefan sighed, rose,
bowed his head and then scurried from the room as Berthold and
Rudolf flopped back down in their beautifully appointed chairs. The
bishop leaned back in his similarly appointed chair and regarded
the master of Wenden and his deputy.

‘Word has reached me
that the garrison of Wenden has been engaged in nefarious
activities.’

Berthold raised an
eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

The bishop’s eyes
narrowed. ‘Specifically, selling Estonians to Russian slave
traders.’

‘A most lucrative
enterprise that will pay for the continuing construction of your
castle at Wenden, lord bishop,’ said Berthold.

Albert was taken
aback. ‘You do not deny the charge?’

Berthold looked at
Rudolf. ‘Deny? Deny what, lord bishop? You were aware of the
financial problems concerning paying the civilian workers and
mercenaries at my castle. The lack of funds from Riga gave me
little choice but to think of more inventive ways to raise
funds.’

‘You will be pleased
to know that we now have enough money to continue building the
defences for another year,’ added Rudolf.

The bishop pointed at
them both. ‘We are not here to engage in the slave trade. It is an
offence in the eyes of God and I therefore forbid it.’

‘Would you have
preferred us to have killed the women and children instead of
selling them, lord bishop?’ asked Rudolf.

‘If Riga provides the
funds I can perhaps buy them back,’ said Berthold irreverently.

Bishop Albert gave
them an icy stare. ‘You forget to whom you are talking. I am the
pope’s representative in Livonia and have the power of
excommunication over all its subjects.’

‘Perhaps if Riga made
more funds available, lord bishop,’ suggested Berthold, ‘then
Wenden would not be forced to take drastic measures to secure its
future.’

The bishop twisted up
his mouth in annoyance. ‘We discussed that on an earlier occasion.
Riga has no funds to spare.’

‘Riga has soldiers who
do nothing but stand around in their nice new uniforms looking
pretty,’ said Rudolf.

‘The defence of Riga
relies on a strong garrison,’ snapped the bishop in irritation.

‘With respect, lord
bishop,’ said Berthold firmly, ‘the defence of Riga rests upon the
castles of the Sword Brothers. If they fall so will Riga.’

Bishop Albert held up
his hands to them. ‘We stand on the verge of victory against
Lembit. Let us not bicker on the eve of such an auspicious event. I
know that the garrison of Wenden stands as an example to the rest
of Livonia in terms of courage and faithfulness. It is because of
this that I was saddened to hear of the trading of slaves. The
Sword Brothers must maintain the highest standards of behaviour as
befitting the warriors of Christ.’

He spread his hands
and smiled at them both. ‘I will say no more on the subject. But
know that I hold you both in the highest esteem and affection.’

Afterwards Rudolf and
Berthold walked back to their quarters in Riga’s castle. It, the
city and the surrounding countryside were full to the brim with
knights, squires, crossbowmen, spearmen, labourers, armourers,
fletchers, surgeons and priests, the latter almost an army in
themselves, having been brought from Germany as the personal
ministers of the richest noblemen. Riga itself was also crammed
with citizens, cogs bringing new arrivals every summer to plant
Livonia with Christians.

‘The bishop makes a
new Jerusalem here,’ remarked Berthold as they walked through the
castle gates into a courtyard filled with wagons and carts for the
forthcoming campaign.

Rudolf sniffed the
air. ‘A new pigpen, more like. The sun warms the filth of Riga’s
streets well enough. It will be good to smell the sweet air of
Wenden once more, especially after our rebuke at the hands of the
bishop.’

‘Bishop Albert is a
good man with a crusading fire in his belly,’ said Berthold, ‘but
he knows nothing about building a castle and maintaining its
garrison. Until he does we must continue to look to our own
resources to keep Wenden strong.’

‘Even if it means
excommunication?’ remarked Rudolf casually.

‘I would not have
thought that would bother you, brother,’ replied Berthold, ‘having
been excommunicated for your depredations in Germany when you were
a mercenary.’

Rudolf laid a hand on
his white mantle. ‘Surely these clothes and my oath to the Sword
Brothers have washed away my sins?’

‘I’m not sure there is
enough holy water in the whole world to wash away your sins,
Rudolf.’

They left for Wenden
the next day, riding through the tents and wagons of the great army
that Bishop Albert had assembled to crush Lembit and bring the
Estonian tribes under the control of the Holy Church.

Two days later
pestilence broke out among the assembled host.

The thousands of men
camped outside its walls and the thousands of citizens herded into
its densely packed streets resulted in Riga becoming a vast
breeding ground for disease. Much time and money had been devoted
to strengthening its defences but no thought had been given to
sanitation. Raw sewage was dumped in the streets alongside
butchers’ waste, and outside the walls the crusader army filled the
ground with dung and urine with little thought to the consequences.
The warm, humid conditions combined with the press of people in a
small area resulted in an outbreak of the ‘bloody flux’.

The first outbreak was
among the soldiery in the tent city outside the walls but it soon
spread through Riga itself. A raw stench had hung over the town
anyway but within days of the outbreak it had turned into a
nauseating reek as hundreds began to manifest symptoms of the
illness: bloody stools, cramps, fever and weakness. Hardened
mercenaries wept and clutched the hands of priests as they lay in
their tents with blood pouring from their rectums.

The first to die were
the infants, whose small bodies could not cope with the sudden
sapping of their strength. Their weeping parents took their bodies
to the burial pits dug outside the town walls where priests wearing
face masks conducted mass funerals. Then the soldiers began dying
and the lords made plans to take ship back to Germany rather than
wait for the flux to strike them down. The bishop implored them to
stay but even his own governor fled Riga, Archdeacon Stefan
hurrying to the monastery at Dünamünde, and so it was almost
impossible to persuade the lords to stay. In any case, they pointed
out, there would be no campaign when half the army would be laid
low for weeks. And so a steady procession of cogs left Riga’s
harbour carrying knights and their squires, abandoning the common
soldiery to their fate.

When Caupo heard of
the outbreak of pestilence at Riga he sent his tribal healers to
the bishop with supplies of blackberry syrup, hollyhock and a drink
made from the bark of trees that could stop the voiding of guts.
The result was that fewer than one in ten of the bishop’s army
succumbed to the flux. But the rest had been grievously weakened
and would be in no fit state to make war on the Estonians. A
bitterly disappointed Bishop Albert wrote to each of his castellans
informing them that there would be no campaign against Lembit for
at least another year.

He ordered Stefan to
return to Riga, the sheepish archdeacon slipping back into the town
two weeks later. Men were still dying of the flux but at a greatly
reduced rate, the dead having been interred in great pits to the
north of the town. The bishop ordered him to attend a meeting held
in Grand Master Volquin’s office in the castle, which was no longer
thronged with crusaders. Stefan sat next to the bishop and opposite
the grand master on the other side of the great oak desk.

‘There is no need for
the mask now, archdeacon,’ said Volquin.

Stefan shook his head.
‘It is common knowledge that the flux is caused by bad air, grand
master.’

‘It is the will of
God,’ snapped the bishop, ‘that is the reason that Riga has been
punished.’

‘He may punish us
more, yet, lord bishop,’ added Volquin glumly.

Stefan looked at him.
‘Oh?’

‘Word of the
pestilence will have spread,’ continued Volquin. ‘Our foes may seek
to take advantage of our weakness.’

‘You are certain that
the peace with the Lithuanians will hold,’ the bishop asked
Stefan.

‘I have no reason to
doubt the sincerity of Prince Vsevolod, or the word of his
father-in-law, lord bishop,’ replied Stefan.

The bishop leaned
forward and placed his head in his hands. When he looked up he
seemed to have visibly aged.

‘Just as you have
brokered peace with the Lithuanians, Archdeacon Stefan, so must I
taste the bitter bread of humility and seek a truce with Lembit,
though I would rather cut off my hand than offer it to such a
heathen.’

Stefan pulled down his
mask. ‘You will make peace with the Estonians?’

‘A temporary truce,
that is all,’ said the bishop softly. ‘To buy time.’

‘A wise decision, lord
bishop,’ said Volquin. ‘We should not seek a war we cannot
win.’

*****

Prince Vetseke stood
in the centre of the village as his men hauled the priest into his
presence and threw him at his feet. He was an elderly man with a
tonsure and a simple undyed habit, a poor monk of the Cistercian
order who had come to Livonia to spread the word of God. He was one
of a tiny number of German monks who lived among the natives, the
priests preferring to live in the castles of the Sword Brothers and
travel around their ‘parishes’ under armed protection. In any case
few of them could speak the local language and so it made more
sense for them to travel in the company of men appointed by local
chiefs who could act as interpreters. This monk was different: he
could converse with the locals and believed that living among them,
sharing their hardships and helping them in the fields would bring
them and him closer together, and would also bring the Livs closer
to God.