The Sword Brothers (66 page)

Sometimes Rameke came
from his father’s village and he, Conrad and the other novices
donned skis and travelled to one of the lakes for an ice fishing
expedition. They each pulled sleds loaded with ice augers for
drilling holes, skimmers to scrape out slush from the holes in the
ice made by the augers, and gaff hooks that were used to hoist fish
from the holes. They also hauled ice shanties: easily assembled
wooden structures measuring six foot by six foot that were erected
on the ice for shelter. Each one had a bench for two and was tall
enough to stand up in.

They left before dawn
to reach the lake that Rameke recommended for their expedition,
reaching it after an hour.

‘It is not very big,’
said a disappointed Anton.

‘Better for fishing,’
replied Rameke. ‘This lake is shallow and that means the fish are
not far from the surface. It will be a good haul.’

The first two hours
were frantic as they each bored holes in the ice and set up the
baited hooks. The ice was eight inches thick and it took over two
hours for the five of them to create forty holes in the ice. Then
they had to cut branches from the firs around the lake with their
axes to fashion small sticks, to which the fishing lines were tied.
Small pieces of cloth were tied to the other end of the sticks and
then other sticks were cut that were longer than the diameter of
the holes in the ice.

Rameke kept looking
into the sky and urged them to speed up their work.

‘What is the rush?’
asked Conrad, his breath misting in the cold.

‘We have to get the
lines set up before midday,’ answered Rameke.

‘Why?’ said Hans.

‘You ask too many
questions,’ replied Rameke. ‘Just trust me.’

So they tied the small
flagpoles at right angles to the longer sticks and rested them
beside each hole in the ice, the fishing line and hooks dangling in
the water. Each piece of cloth was flat on the ice beside a hole,
and when they had set up all forty lines they erected the two ice
shanties on the ice and waited.

‘What if the fish
don’t bite?’ said Johann.

Rameke smiled. ‘They
will bite. Just be patient.’

Hans began chewing on
some cured meat that they had brought along. Even though he had
been fed like a fighting cock since his arrival at Wenden and had
grown considerably in height, he was still stick-thin, though his
wiry frame was surprisingly strong. He also still ate every meal as
though it was the first he had had in a month, devouring great
quantities of food at every sitting. It was just as well that the
rivers, lakes and forests of Livonia were teeming with fish and
game else Hans would surely starve.

It was perfectly
still, the trees standing as if frozen in time, their branches
weighed down with snow. The whiteness extended in all directions
and the sky was a piercing, pure blue. As they sat there, waiting
for the fish to bite, it seemed like they were the only living
things in the land.

‘It is peaceful,’
mused Hans, biting off another piece of meat.

‘No winter campaign
this year,’ said Johann.

‘Perhaps no winter
campaigns ever again,’ suggested Anton.

Rameke scoffed at the
notion. ‘There will be war soon enough, and much of it. My father
says that the Estonians sought peace in order to rebuild their
strength after their losses at King Caupo’s stronghold.’

‘More crusaders will
be arriving in the spring,’ said Conrad. ‘Then the bishop will
renew his war against Lembit.’

Rameke shook his head.
‘He agreed a two-year peace with Lembit and he will not break it.
He is a man of his word.’

‘And what about
Lembit?’ queried Conrad.

‘He has no honour,’
sneered Rameke. ‘It is my wish to kill him in battle.’

‘I think Conrad will
beat you to it,’ said Johann. ‘After all, he nearly killed him at
Wenden with his crossbow.’

‘A pity you didn’t,’
sighed Rameke. ‘You would have done my people a great service.’

‘If there is to be no
war against Lembit for two years,’ said Hans, ‘then what is the
point of the bishop bringing fresh crusaders with him from Germany
when he returns in the spring?’

None of them had an
answer to this so they sat in silence, staring at the holes in the
ice. Conrad was beginning to think that their journey had been a
waste of time when, suddenly, one of the small flags jerked and
tipped up into the vertical position. Then another and another flag
flipped up.

‘What did I tell you?’
said Rameke with pride. ‘This lake is full of perch and pike and
during the winter they feed most intensively in the middle of the
day. Come on!’

He jumped up, grabbed
his gaff hook and walked quickly over to where the first flag had
tipped up. The others also grabbed their hooks and followed him as
flag after flag stood up to indicate a fish had been snared. The
first fished hauled onto the ice and into wicker baskets were
perch: around a foot long and weighing no more than three pounds.
But some lines yielded the much larger pike. Hans shouted with
delight as he hooked a great dark green monster with razor-sharp
teeth. The others whooped with joy as it thrashed around on the ice
before he pulled the axe from his belt and battered it with the
side of the iron head. Then he lifted it above his head in triumph.
It must have been over four feet in length and weighing fifty
pounds or more.

They spent two more
hours on the ice, pulling up fish and filling baskets, then
rebating the hooks and casting the lines back in the water. And
then, suddenly, the fish stopped biting as they stopped feeding and
returned to the bottom of the lake where the temperature was less
cold than nearer the surface. They cooked some of the perch using
dry firewood they had brought with them but did not touch any of
the two-dozen pike they had caught. These fish contained numerous
small bones and required expert filleting before they could be
eaten. They would be left to Wenden’s cooks to deal with.

The temperature was
dropping rapidly by the time they had finished eating, stacked the
baskets of fish on two of the sleds and tied the fishing equipment
and shelters to the others. The only sound was their exertions as
they dragged the sleds along the path they had used to reach the
lake, their marks still visible in the deep snow. The snow-cleared
ramparts of Wenden came into view just as the sun was sinking
behind its walls and towers. Sentries stood warming their hands
over braziers and the banner of the Sword Brothers hung limply from
the northern tower and above the gatehouse in the perimeter wall.
The new year heralded a time of peace and an opportunity to
continue the building of the bishop’s most northerly
stronghold.

*****

Grand Duke Daugerutis
sent two hundred men to the Dvina to clear a path from the river to
his stronghold of Panemunis so that the journey of his daughter,
son-in-law and their children would be as speedy as possible. When
the snow had been cleared and the sleighs and guards assembled at
the river the Prince of Gerzika and his retinue rode from their
seat of power before alighting from the sleighs and walking across
the iron-hard ice. Vsevolod was worried that the ice might crack
and they might all fall into the icy water and freeze to death, so
great was the number of servants and soldiers on the river. But it
did not and soon the prince and his wife were riding behind a
vanguard of fifty horsemen sent by the duke, his own hundred and
fifty guards interspersed between the sleighs carrying tents,
servants, food and clothes and a rearguard. It would take two days
to reach his father-in-law’s castle and he resented being dragged
from his well-appointed, warm home to undertake a journey through
the frozen forests of Lithuania. But the grand duke was most
insistent that he should come, his wife wanted to see her father
and his children thought it a great adventure.

Rasa snapped at them
to be quiet as they moved through a snow-covered meadow between two
great swathes of forests, the spruce and birch blanketed with snow.
Fortunately there was no wind or snowfall but it was still bitterly
cold so they were all wrapped in furs, the children seated behind
the prince and his wife, who in turn were behind the driver
directing the two horses pulling the sleigh.

‘Two days staring at
horses’ arses,’ complained Vsevolod, ‘just what I desired.’

‘Stop complaining,’
Rasa rebuked him. ‘It will be good to see father again.’

‘I have no objection
seeing your father, light of my life, it is the brutes he gathers
round him that I object to. If I never see Prince Stecse again, it
will be too soon.’

‘Perhaps my father
wishes to thank you in person for the gold he received in exchange
for the Liv slaves he captured last year.’

Perhaps he had heard
of the tidy sum that Vsevolod had made as a result of acting as
mediator, more like. Perhaps he wanted his own share of the gold.
He suddenly felt miserable and sank into silence. The grand duke
had never struck him as a greedy man but perhaps the acquisition of
so much gold had turned his head. He never realised that there was
so much wealth within the walls of Riga. The bishop and his
followers were rich, that much was certain. But to waste gold on
worthless Livs – senseless.

Panemunis was worse
than he could have imagined. Not only had the grand duke summoned
all his princes and chiefs, Vsevolod learned that he had also
invited the other Lithuanian dukes. Grand Duke Daugerutis
controlled all the lands of the Selonians and Nalsen, extending far
into the Lithuanian hinterland. Those lands to the south and west
were the domains of dukes who occasionally warred among themselves
and paid homage to Grand Duke Daugerutis. But here they were,
together with their personal bodyguards, the dukes having been
given quarters in the castle, their men living in tents pitched in
the courtyard. The latter was a sea of mud, despite the boards that
had been laid for ease of traversing it, and by the time Vsevolod
and his family had been settled in their rooms his boots and cloak
were splattered with dirt. This did nothing to improve his
humour.

His mood lightened
later when he sat beside the grand duke in his hall as he gave a
great feast for his guests. The forests around the castle must have
been emptied of all of its wild boar such was the quantity of
roasted pork that was brought into the hall from the kitchens on
huge wooden platters. The tables could barely accommodate the vast
amounts of black rye bread, blood soup, eggs and pies loaded onto
them. The grand duke also made sure their drinking horns were
always full of the reddish-brown rye beer that even Vsevolod had to
admit was delicious.

Not that anyone drank
to excess. The great red banner bearing a black bear on all fours
hung behind the top table, a reminder to everyone present that this
was the citadel of Grand Duke Daugerutis, the man who ruled the
greatest extent of Lithuania, and around the hall were posted
guards whose shields were painted with the black bear. The other
tables were arranged in a circle so as not to offend his guests and
make them feel they were equal to their host, which everyone knew
was not the case. The table to the immediate right of the top table
was where Stecse and the grand duke’s other important warlords were
seated, the prince having kissed Rasa’s hand when she had entered
the hall with her father and nodded curtly to Vsevolod.

The other four tables
held the other dukes who had been invited to Panemunis. Each sat
with their most trusted warriors and warlords, though none was
allowed to carry weapons save the dukes themselves. Vsevolod
chuckled when he saw that all of them had also brought tasters to
ensure they were not poisoned. How little they knew of Daugerutis.
He was a man who preferred to kill his enemies on the battlefield,
preferably with his own hand, rather than leave the business to
lowly cooks. He could be the most intractable of enemies but also
the most generous of hosts. He had invited them to his hall and all
that interested him was that they relax and partake of his
hospitality.

They were a curious
collection of individuals, all long hair and thick beards with
warrior rings on their fingers and thick torcs round their necks.
There was Ykintas, Duke of the Semgallians, who had thick black
hair and an even thicker black beard. His banner carried the symbol
of the Iron Wolf, a mythical beast that supposedly prowled the
great forests of Lithuania. On the next table sat the aloof
Butantas, whose slight frame belied his cunning and ruthlessness.
The Duke of the Samogitians, he had fought a very long and bloody
war against Daugerutis, one that he had lost, along with a sizeable
portion of his territory. Then there was the Duke of the
Aukstaitija tribe – Kitenis – a bear of a man who wore leather
armour painted with his symbol of the black axe. Finally there was
Gedvilas, a red-haired jovial fellow who was the Duke of the
Southern Kurs. The Kurs were a people who relished raiding on sea
and land and viewed the lands of other peoples as their personal
hunting grounds. The only duke who had not answered the invitation
of Daugerutis had been Arturus, the leader of the Northern Kurs who
had tried to capture Riga. He thought himself a king who did not
answer to anyone, not least to the man whose warriors had attacked
his eastern borders and who led the Selonians and Nalsen, tribes
who were the traditional enemies of the Kurs. For that reason
Daugerutis was particularly pleased that one of the Kur leaders had
accepted his invitation.

The evening passed
without incident and the next morning the grand duke invited his
fellow leaders to a more formal meeting in his hall. Vsevolod
attended but Rasa did not, women being banned from the important
affairs of men. So she donned leggings, tied her hair behind her
neck and accepted an invitation from Stecse to go hunting wolves.
The prince also took his son, Mindaugas, along though Vsevolod
forbade his two daughters attending. He loved Rasa but thought that
she should make more of an effort to shrug off her pagan heritage
and adopt more civilised, womanly hobbies rather than hunting. He
certainly did not want his daughters being brought up as
Lithuanians.