Army of the Wolf (16 page)

Abject despair appeared on Conrad’s face when he was reminded of the deaths of his parents, and his beloved Daina and Dietmar. Those painful memories shot through him like a red-hot knife being plunged into him.

‘I see that you do know,’ said Peeter.

There was an awkward silence before Conrad tossed the girl her helmet.

‘If you cannot maintain the pace you will be left behind.’

Conrad said nothing for the rest of the morning as the column followed the scouts through the thick forest to the river they would follow to take them east. They heard buzzards overhead and the tapping of woodpeckers as they skirted meadows and kept to the trees to conceal themselves from any enemy patrols. Occasionally an elk would stop grazing at the edge of the forest and raise its large head as dozens of warriors passed by. The air remained cool but the smell of pine was pleasant and the wildflowers, mosses and grasses felt soft underfoot. Warriors bent to avoid low-lying branches and others cursed as they daydreamed and were struck in the face by a piece of foliage. Wild boars grunted and scuttled away as the column threaded its way past bogs and along ancient paths before halting in a clearing by a small stream to rest and eat.

Men sat huddled in groups chewing on berries, fruit and a few, the lucky ones, had bloodless white sausages to eat. Conrad smiled when he saw Hans pull one from his sack and devour it in seconds. It was perhaps an hour after midday and already the sun was beginning to dip in the west. Peeter came and crouched beside the Sword Brothers.

‘We are five miles west of Lehola.’

‘We need to get close to the fort before night falls,’ said Conrad. ‘Get your men on their feet.’

He stood up and picked his helmet off the ground.

‘You too,’ he said to Hans.

His friend groaned, finished his apple and rose to his feet as Peeter walked off to spread the word that rest was over. Conrad tucked his axe in his belt and caught sight of the blonde-haired girl putting on her helmet. The pace slowed as the scouts led them east towards the fort, men treading carefully to avoid tripping and falling as the light in the forest dimmed. The temperature also began to fall as the autumn night approached and mist began to appear in clearings and near water.

It rained heavily just before the last vestiges of light left the forest, water dripping down on the warriors and soaking their cloaks and leggings. When the order to halt was given everyone forlornly searched for dry spots on the forest floor, most huddling against trees with their wet cloaks wrapped around them. Conrad gave the order that no fires were to be lit before posting guards and then settling down for a thoroughly miserable night in the damp forest. As darkness came the only sounds from the two hundred and fifty individuals were the occasional cough, hushed voices and the curses of men stumbling when going to take a piss or empty their bowels.

Conrad sat with his friends, Anton and Johann managing to snatch some sleep as Hans rummaged in his sack to eat the last of his food supplies. He finished his final few berries and then placed his sack on the ground. He looked at Conrad. ‘Can’t sleep?’

‘Too many thoughts running through my mind.’

‘Such as?’

Conrad peered at his lean friend, his features framed by the moonlight that had appeared as the rain clouds dissipated and now seeped through gaps in the forest canopy.

‘If this attack fails I will have many deaths on my conscience. The thought weighs heavily on me.’

‘Then don’t think about it. Master Rudolf trusts you. We trust you. There is no reason why you should not succeed.’

Conrad chuckled. ‘With an army of Estonians?’

‘It is strange, I agree,’ said Hans. ‘They seem to bear no resentment against us.’

Conrad was confused. ‘For what?’

‘For conquering them, for killing their leader and abolishing their religion.’

‘At least we do not reduce them to slaves,’ said Conrad, ‘which is what will happen if the Russians take Estonia.’

‘I hope Kalju and his family are safe,’ said Hans. ‘I like them.’

‘As do I,’ replied Conrad. ‘Henke was an idiot doing what he did, a stupid, ignorant fool.’

‘At least he is not here to wreck your plan,’ offered Hans.

‘I am thankful for that at least.’

They fell into silence as Hans tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the damp moss and get some sleep. Conrad, propped against the trunk of a pine tree, closed his eyes but his mind was racing. He heard an owl hoot and opened his eyes. He realised what was bothering him the most and stood up. He paced away, threading his way between groups of men huddled in their cloaks, some snoring others sleeping but fitfully in the dank atmosphere. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and he avoided stepping on anyone as he searched out his quarry. He found him leaning against a tree observing the night sky through a gap in the canopy above. The temperature had dropped considerably following the rainfall and Conrad could see his breath misting. He heard the footsteps and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, then he relaxed as he recognised the Sword Brother.

Tonis nodded to him. ‘You find sleep difficult as well?’

‘I have to speak with you.’

‘About the attack?’

Conrad shook his head. ‘About your time with Lembit.’

‘I lost many friends.’

‘Fighting the Sword Brothers?’

Tonis nodded. ‘And the Livs. We lost a fair number at Treiden and Wenden.’

Conrad felt an anger swell in him. ‘Wenden?’

‘Yes, when we breached the outer wall only to be forced back. It was where Lembit received the scar on his cheek.’

‘And what about a village nearby Wenden,’ hissed Conrad, ‘which was burnt to the ground and all its inhabitants slaughtered?’

If he had taken part in the raid on Thalibald’s village Conrad would kill him, irrespective of the consequences. The seconds passed excruciatingly slowly as Tonis racked his brains.

‘I remember it now,’ he said.

Conrad’s right hand moved slowly to the hilt of his sword.

‘I was part of Fellin’s garrison at the time,’ continued Tonis. ‘I heard that Lembit was much pleased afterwards though none of us knew why.’

He looked at Conrad. ‘Why do you ask?’

The brother knight relaxed as the tension flowed out of him. ‘It does not matter.’

He turned and walked away.

‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ said Tonis.

Conrad stopped and turned. ‘You too, Saccalian.’

He turned the silver ring on a finger of his left hand as he walked away, the ring that Daina had given him when he had been truly happy. It seemed like another lifetime. Still, perhaps tomorrow he would be killed and then he would be with his wife and child in heaven and all his cares and concerns would be over. That morbid thought cheered him and he went back to his comrades in a happy mood. He always prayed for death but death never came. Perhaps tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow came all too soon as commanders went among their men to rouse those that had managed to grab some sleep. Men rose slowly to their feet, limbs aching and mouths dry and foul tasting. It was half an hour before dawn and the still air was bitterly cold. Hans stood with teeth chattering as the four brother knights gathered in a circle for their pre-battle ritual. Conrad held out his right arm, palm down. Hans placed the palm of his right hand on top of Conrad’s hand, Anton’s on top of Hans’ and Johann’s on top of his. Conrad recited the words that were repeated by the others.

‘God protect us, God grant us victory. May He give us the strength to defeat and scatter our enemies, as dust to the wind. God with us.’

The plan, such as it was, involved nothing more than marching from the forest to strike the enemy camp sited some five hundred paces away. Leather face and his crossbowmen would form a screen in front of the warriors as they advanced, shooting down any sentries they encountered. Then the main force would rush the camp and kill anything in its path.

‘There is nothing else left to say,’ said Conrad to the commanders who had gathered round him. ‘Wait for my signal and when you hear it launch your charges. And good luck.’

Peeter and Tonis clasped his forearm but the leaders of the Jerwen and Rotalians merely nodded before returning to their men. The Saccalians, the largest number among the Estonians, were divided into two groups, one led by Peeter, the other by Tonis. They formed the right flank and centre of the attackers. To the left of the Saccalians were the Jerwen, with the score of Rotalians on the extreme left of the line.

As men adjusted their helmets and gripped their spears or axes the crossbowmen took the waterproof covers off their weapons and quivers. They then hooked their bowstrings over the metal claws attached to the their belts, placed their feet in the metal stirrup in the fore-ends of their crossbows to slip the bowstrings over the catch of the locks. Leather face, crossbow resting on his shoulder, walked over to where Conrad stood in front of the Estonian warriors.

The veteran mercenary looked back towards the thick mist just beyond the forest’s edge.

‘See, I told you a good mist can hide an army.’

Conrad squinted in the poor light. ‘Your men have their orders?’

Leather face winked. ‘Don’t you worry about my lads; they know what they’re doing. As soon as we’ve dropped the sentries, though, it will be up to you.’

He offered his hand to Conrad. ‘Good luck.’

Conrad took it and drew his sword. Behind him Anton, Hans and Johann did likewise. He raised his weapon in the air, pointed it forward and began walking. Behind him he heard the low rustle of footsteps on soft ground as dozens of men and a few women followed. He focused on the back of leather face around ten paces ahead leading his line of crossbowmen. Conrad felt his heart pound in his chest as he stepped forward, exiting the mist-shrouded trees to enter the great meadow to the south of Lehola. He heard a man curse behind him as he tripped and stumbled in the grass. Conrad’s heartbeat increased as he peered through the vision slits of his helmet to search for any signs of the enemy. Nothing.

He increased his pace slightly as the dawn came and the light improved, though the grey mist seemed thicker than before. He kept his eyes on leather face holding his crossbow at waist height. It was as if they were in an endless expanse of wet gloom that had no beginning and no end as they walked forward but seemingly made no progress. As he continued to advance Conrad was filled with doubt. It was madness to attack an enemy camp with insufficient numbers. Worse, he was leading a force composed largely of old men and boys who would likely be slaughtered by Cuman arrows before they even caught sight of Lehola. His plan was no plan at all, just the foolish imaginings of a young man promoted beyond his abilities. He should turn back now before he led dozens to their deaths. He was just about to signal his comrades to stop when he heard a succession of loud thwacks in front of him, followed by groans and a scream. It was too late: the die was cast.

He shoved up his helm. ‘God with us!’ he shouted at the top of his voice before pulling the helmet down and racing forward. His cry was answered by the war cries of over two hundred warriors as the Estonians charged through the mist.

Conrad ran past leather face and between two four-wheeled wagons, jumping over a guard with a crossbow bolt in his belly. He came to what appeared to be a large round tent stretched over a wooden frame. The hide that covered the entrance was swept aside and men poured out, none wearing armour and all bare headed. They carried broad, curved swords and were attired in yellow and red knee-length tunics and baggy leggings. Conrad thrust his sword into the belly of the leading Cuman and caught the blade of the man behind on his shield before powering his sword forward into the owner’s throat. The man groaned and dropped his weapon, blood gushing from the wound as his comrades charged at Conrad. But dozens of Estonians were entering the camp like floodwater and the enemy were skewered and killed by a dozen spears.

Conrad moved on towards the centre of the camp as the occupants of tents emerged into the mist-filled morning to be cut down by axes and spears. Where there had been quiet there was now a great tumult as the Estonians vented their fury on the invaders of their land. A warrior beside Conrad collapsed after being hit by an arrow shot by a Cuman standing outside a tent. As he nocked another arrow a Saccalian split his skull with an axe and then killed another archer who ran from the tent.

The killing went on, the Cumans being taken totally by surprise and unable to organise a response. Conrad and the other Sword Brothers ran past frightened horses that had broken free from their tethers, moving across a ground littered with Cuman dead. Some of the tents were on fire now, the smoke mixing with the mist to further limit visibility. They stopped when they came across a wall of enemy warriors, in the centre of which was a tall individual with a long moustache who was screaming in a language Conrad did not understand. But he understood that this individual dressed in lamellar armour was some sort of leader because men were flocking to his side as his bellowing voice cut through the morning air.

Conrad lifted his helmet. ‘Kill that one.’

They were four against perhaps thirty or more but they stood shoulder-to-shoulder and headed straight for the enemy leader. He saw them and drew his sword as a dozen of his men suddenly pitched forward onto the ground. Conrad saw leather face, who nodded at him, and then he and the others charged. The leader came at Conrad, the brother knight parrying the blow with his shield before cutting down to slice open the man’s left calf. The Cuman winced in pain but thrust the point of his sword forward in an effort to strike Conrad in the chest, who again deflected the blow with his shield. He was about to ram one end of his sword’s cross-guard into the Cuman’s face when he saw his opponent’s mouth open in surprise. He stepped back and saw the blade of a spear lodged in the man’s belly, a great red stain around the entry point. The warrior yanked back the spear and the Cuman dropped to his knees, a pitiful look in his eyes. Conrad heard a high-pitched squeal of delight and turned to see a pair of blue eyes looking at him either side of a helmet’s nasal guard.