The Sword Brothers (74 page)

‘Did you see my father
fall?’ said Daina suddenly.

‘I did not, princess,’
said Valdis softly. ‘He and your brother gave their lives so that
the king could live. It was a brave and selfless act.’

Daina looked very sad
and Conrad had to restrain himself from putting his arms around
her.

‘I am glad that the
king still lives,’ she sighed. ‘I hope my father and brother are in
Heaven.’

‘They reside with the
angels along with all those who have martyred themselves in God’s
service,’ said Berthold with conviction. ‘And they will be
avenged.’

‘Yes, they will,’
added Rameke.

‘Wenden will join the
king’s attack,’ said Berthold. ‘You can tell him that. I grow tired
of looking at enemy campfires encircling my castle.’

Valdis smiled and
drained his cup. He rose. ‘Then by your leave, I must be away
before the dawn breaks.’

‘Do you wish for an
escort?’ enquired Berthold.

‘No, master, I can
move quicker and unseen on my own.’

‘Conrad,’ said Lukas,
‘take Chief Valdis to the kitchens and wake the cooks. You will
find your wits are sharper with some food in your belly, my
friend.’

Valdis smiled and
thanked those present as Conrad waited at the door to escort the
Liv to the kitchens. He caught Daina’s eye one last time, who
tilted her head and smiled at him before Valdis walked past him
into the courtyard and he followed.

The next day, after he
had slept, attended mass and eaten, Conrad stood with Hans, Anton
and Johann at the grave of Bruno in Wenden’s cemetery. Their friend
had a gravestone now and although it was not as grand as the one
for Sir Frederick in the adjacent plot, it was a fine dolostone
piece that had been carved with care and affection. A gardener from
Lübeck maintained the cemetery and he kept the graves in an
immaculate condition.

It was a beautiful
spring day with a gentle breeze that blew from the east and brought
air that was not tainted with the odour of rotting bodies.

‘It seems so long ago
when Bruno died,’ said Hans sadly.

Conrad looked at the
grave of Sir Frederick and then touched the hilt of his sword. ‘He
is in good company here.’

Anton looked up at the
castle. ‘I would like to be buried here.’

‘That is a morbid
thought,’ remarked Johann.

Anton looked at him.
‘We might all die tomorrow.’

‘You should not say
such things,’ Hans rebuked him. ‘Sometimes saying them can make
them happen.’

‘It is all in God’s
hands,’ said Conrad. ‘But at least we will die fighting rather than
being starved to death.’

Hans shuddered. ‘No,
indeed. Infinitely preferable.’

‘Do you think we will
all meet again, when we are dead, I mean?’ said Anton.

‘Of course,’ replied
Johann, ‘for are we not brothers?’

He held out an arm
over Bruno’s grave. ‘Brothers.’

Anton extended his
right arm and placed his palm over Johann’s hand. ‘Brothers.’

Conrad and Hans did
the same and uttered the same pledge as the breeze blew and the
Sword Brother banner flying over Wenden stirred.

*****

Grand Duke Daugerutis
had addressed the Semgallians earlier and had told them that though
their duke was dead, he would lead them to victory, glory and
riches. They had cheered when he stated that he was now the ruler
of Livonia and that the Christians were finished, cowering as they
did behind their walls while the flower of Lithuanian manhood was
free to plunder the land and enslave the local population. He had
elicited more cheering when he informed them that their victory
over Caupo was just a foretaste of things to come. He had retired
to his tent most satisfied that he had won them over,
notwithstanding the bribe he had paid them.

He knew that the other
dukes would withdraw their men who were laying siege to
Lennewarden, Holm and Uexkull, but he comforted himself with the
fact that their garrisons were small and even if they combined
would be unable to halt his advance to Riga. He had a thousand of
his own men besieging Segewold and would leave five hundred to
starve Wenden into surrender. But he would still march with nearly
twelve thousand men, more than enough to take Riga. The town was
only fifty miles away and even moving along dirt tracks and through
dense forests he would be before its walls in around ten days. He
had given orders that the army would march tomorrow, breaking camp
just after dawn to begin the part of the campaign that would see
him made grand duke of Lithuania and Livonia. Afterwards he would
crush the other dukes, conquer Estonia and take the city of
Novgorod. The screams of its citizens being roasted to death would
be a fitting end to his campaign.

And yet, unknown to
him, it was all an illusion.

Chapter 16

Conrad was in the
saddle before the eastern sky was filled with the first rays of the
sun. He and sixty-six other horsemen – twelve brother knights,
thirty sergeants, three novices, Rameke and his score of warriors –
waited at the gates, ready to ride out against the Lithuanians.
Otto went along the line of horsemen, administering the blessing
given to those on the eve of battle. He looked even more severe in
the pale pre-dawn light, his battle-scarred bald scalp and glaring
eyes giving him the appearance of an avenging angel. He halted
beside Conrad and fixed him with his deranged, black eyes.

‘Bow your heads,
sinners,’ he hissed to Conrad and Hans beside him.

They took off their
helmets and lowered their heads as Otto made the sign of the cross
with his hand and administered the blessing.

‘God of power and
mercy, maker and lover of peace, to know you is to live, and to
serve you is to reign. Through the intercession of St Michael, the
archangel, be our protection in battle against all evil. Help us to
overcome war and violence and to establish your law of love and
justice. Grant this through Christ our Lord.’

Conrad and Hans said
‘amen’ as Otto glared at them both and then moved on to Anton and
Johann sitting in front of them.

‘He frightens me more
than the enemy,’ Hans whispered to his friend.

‘I know,’ agreed
Conrad, ‘it is a pity that priests cannot shed blood because then
we could send him against the Lithuanians.’

Fortunately there had
been no need to slaughter the horses and so everyone was suitably
mounted, the brother knights sitting on the great warhorses that
were bred for battle. All the warhorses wore mail over a padded
cover, the white cloth completing the caparison that was emblazoned
with the insignia of the Sword Brothers. The horses of the
sergeants, the coursers, did not have chainmail protection but did
wear thick padding that could deflect arrow strikes at least.
Conrad and the other novices rode palfreys, which in theory were
inferior to the other two classes of horses but suited the youths
well enough. They too were protected by thick padding and white
caparisons that bore the red sword and cross insignia. Conrad and
the other three novices wore mail over their gambesons and white
surcoats, though the latter bore no insignia as they were not yet
brother knights. And like the sergeants they wore kettle helmets
rather than the full-face helms worn by Rudolf, Henke and the
others.

It was cool as the
first glimmers of red and orange light began to appear on the
horizon. Conrad shivered, though he was unsure whether it was
because of the cold or through fear. He comforted himself by
thinking it was the former. Aside from the stern blessings being
issued by Otto there was little sound. Horses grunted and scraped
at the ground and men sneezed and coughed, but Master Berthold had
ordered that there would be no war cries or trumpet calls. The
column would ride from the castle grounds, deploy into line and
then assault their objective: the tent of Grand Duke Daugerutis
where his great bear banner was pitched. The mercenaries were left
to guard the perimeter wall and the castle, though if Caupo’s
attack failed then the chances of the horsemen returning to Wenden
were slim and the castle would undoubtedly fall. Conrad closed his
eyes and prayed to God that He spare Daina if He saw fit.

Spearmen lifted the
oak beam from its brackets and then opened the gates to allow
Master Berthold to lead the horsemen out from the castle grounds.
As the banner of the Sword Brothers carried behind the master
exited the gates the sound of thousands of men cheering and horn
blasts came from the west – Caupo’s attack.

The horses trotted a
hundred paces from the gates and then the brother knights deployed
into line, closing up and couching their lances as they moved
forward. As though they were on the training field the two files of
sergeants behind them divided into two: the left-hand column
peeling off to deploy into a single line on the left flank of the
brother knights; the right-hand column to form line on the brother
knights’ right flank. Conrad and the other three novices had been
ordered to deploy on the extreme left of the battle line. Rameke
and his men, though not trained to fight in the style of the Sword
Brothers, were allocated the extreme right of the line – accorded
the place of honour in battle.

Once everyone was in
line the formation broke into a canter, the riders moving forward
knee to knee against a mass of brown shapes ahead who appeared to
be running around in confusion as the Lithuanians rose from their
slumber and grabbed weapons in response to the alarms being
sounded. There was no wind and the banner of Daugerutis hung limply
on its flagpole but it and the tent were still visible as the rays
of the sun lit up the new morning.

The sounds of battle
were coming from the west as Caupo’s men attacked from the river,
Lithuanians running in that direction to meet the threat. Conrad
glanced right and saw, in the distance, other brown shapes moving
south, parallel to the riders – Lithuanians who had been camped to
the west of Wenden and who were now being recalled to the main camp
that was being assaulted. He smiled. Thus far the line of three
score of horsemen had been unnoticed by the enemy.

Then, ahead, he saw
enemy horsemen carrying long spears and strange square-like
shields, dozens of them. They were riding in an east-west
direction, no doubt to reinforce the foot soldiers battling Caupo’s
Livs. Master Berthold’s horse broke into a slow gallop and everyone
followed his lead. The enemy horsemen, seemingly oblivious to the
white-clad threat bearing down on them, continued to ride towards
the river, only halting when horns were blown among them to signal
danger on their right flank, just at the moment the Sword Brothers
struck them.

There was a succession
of loud thuds as the Christian lances struck their targets, the
points driving through mail and lamellar armour to skewer their
owners. Conrad thrust his lance into the belly of a warrior wearing
mail on his body, arms and legs, the Lithuanian turning his head
and opening his mouth in alarm just as his belly was ripped open.
Conrad released the shaft and slid his right hand through the
leather strap of the axe that hung on the right side of saddle, in
its specially designed leather scabbard, and gripped the
handle.

After their heroics at
Riga the previous summer Lukas had cautioned them on using swords
when in the saddle.

‘Cutting down
ill-armed villagers with swords is fine, but in a mêlée with other
armoured horsemen the last thing you want to be doing is blunting
expensive swords. Weapons that can deliver heavy blows are more
preferable.’

And so they had
trained using axes and maces when in the saddle. Conrad preferred
his axe: a short-hafted weapon just under two feet in length that
had a steel blade just over six inches long. It had a metal spike
on the opposite side of the blade to enable it to pierce armour and
another spike on top of the haft. Along the latter were riveted
metal strips called langlets to protect against cuts to the wood.
Weighing only two and half pounds, it could be wielded easily from
the saddle.

He passed the rider he
had just lanced to hack at another horseman behind, standing up in
his stirrups to deliver a blow that split the man’s helmet open. He
caught a lance blow on his shield and swung his axe left to shatter
the arm that had been holding the
spisa
. The Lithuanian
screamed and let go of the weapon, his right arm hanging limply. He
tried to manoeuvre his horse away from Conrad’s but in vain as his
nose was split open by the novice’s axe, toppling him from the
saddle.

Surprise and shock
action resulted in the Sword Brothers driving deep into the
Lithuanians and killing the enemy at a rate of sixty a minute
before the momentum of their assault was halted and a general mêlée
ensued. But the pagans were leaderless and demoralised and suddenly
began fleeing in all directions, some rallying to the grand duke’s
side. Daugerutis had managed to gain his saddle and lead a
countercharge against the Sword Brothers, but he led no more than a
dozen men and soon found himself alone and surrounded.

His skills as a
warrior were formidable though, and he killed two of Rameke’s
warriors and wounded two brother knights before Henke caved in his
skull with his mace, reducing the grand duke’s head to a bloody
pulp atop his torso as he stood in his stirrups and delivered a
torrent of blows with his weapon. He had to be ordered to stop by
Berthold himself, Henke’s surcoat being painted red with the grand
duke’s blood. Thus died Daugerutis and his dream of ruling all the
lands north of the River Dvina.

Master Berthold
rallied his men around his banner, Rameke also answering his call.
The Liv had lost five of his men but he had killed more of the
enemy himself, his sword greasy with their blood. Conrad, sweat
pouring down his face and neck, nodded to him as they formed into
line behind the master. He grinned at Hans, Anton and Johann who
all appeared to be unhurt.