Army of the Wolf (61 page)
Sir Richard and Rudolf were surprised to say the least when Conrad informed them of his challenge and Sigurd’s acceptance. But it was Henke who put into words what many of the knights thought about the duel.
‘We kill pagans, we don’t bargain with them.’
‘This way the captives at least stand a chance of staying alive,’ said Conrad.
Henke shrugged. ‘As I have said, what are the lives of a few pagans to the Sword Brothers?’
There were murmurings of agreement around him.
‘Silence!’ barked Rudolf. ‘Brother Conrad is the Marshal of Estonia and you will all respect his rank.’
‘Do we?’ sneered Henke.
‘You are an idiot, Henke,’ said Conrad, loud enough for everyone around him to hear. ‘If we allow the captives to die needlessly then word will spread of the callousness of the Sword Brothers towards ordinary Estonians. But if we save them then we will win the people’s hearts and that will win us their land.’
Henke flicked a dismissive hand at him. Conrad’s anger rose.
‘But if you feel that I have deprived you of some sport, Henke, then I will gladly fight you after I have dealt with this Oeselian.’
Henke’s eyes flashes venom. ‘Gladly.’
‘Enough,’ said Rudolf sternly. He smiled at Conrad. ‘I think, lord marshal, that you had better attend to your appointment with the Oeselian lest he thinks you have changed your mind.’
‘Yes, master. I would have brothers Hans and Anton attend me.’
Rudolf ordered them to accompany Conrad back to no-man’s land where a group of Oeselians were laying what looked like a large blanket on the ground. Conrad nudged his horse forward as his friends left the front rank of Sword Brothers.
‘God go with you, Conrad,’ said Walter.
‘And don’t forget what I taught you,’ added Lukas.
All three rode to where the Oeselians were nailing pegs into the ground to fix the large blanket in place. It measured approximately ten feet square, and around it were pegged ropes to make three additional squares around the cloak. On the outer of these rope squares were four poles at each corner that were hammered into the ground. The Oeselians stopped when they saw the three white-clad knights approaching, but continued with their duties when the Sword Brothers dismounted and led their horses over to where Andres was talking with an elderly warrior with a thick white beard. Conrad also saw Sigurd with his two bodyguards a short distance from them.
Andres ambled over to the three brother knights, waving to one of his men in the shield wall to come over.
‘I will have your horses taken to the rear. According to the
holmganga
there can be no means of escape near the hazel field.’
‘Hazel field?’ said Conrad.
Andres pointed to the four poles at each corner of the outside rope square. ‘Those are called
hoslur
, meaning “hazel poles”, which designates the area within the hazel field.’
As a man ran forward to take the three horses away the white-haired warrior called the two parties to him.
‘Are you sure you wish to do this, Conrad?’ said a concerned Hans.
‘It is the only way to save the captives,’ replied his friend.
They walked to where the white-haired warrior stood with his arms folded, examining the three Sword Brothers as they neared him. He also regarded Sigurd and his two bodyguards. He gave a cursory nod to Andres as the two duelling parties halted before him.
‘Though the
holmganga
is an ancient Oeselian ritual I will speak of it in Estonian so both parties may understand the rules. First of all, those who will fight within the hazel field will remove their armour and weapons. Tunic, trousers and boots are the only attire that may be worn inside the
hoslur
.’
Hoots and whistles greeted Conrad and Sigurd as they took off their mail armour, Conrad also removing his gambeson. He handed Hans his sword belt and scabbard and Anton his new helm and patched-up surcoat.
‘If I am killed ensure that I am laid beside Daina and Dietmar,’ he told them.
Hans held out his arm and Anton placed his palm over his friend’s hand, in a pre-battle ritual they had long observed. Conrad did likewise and uttered the words.
‘As dust to the wind.’
The old Oeselian clapped his hands to indicate haste and beckoned Conrad and Sigurd to follow him onto the pegged blanket.
‘You two as well,’ Andres told Hans and Anton, who gave Conrad’s armour and weapons to the Jerwen leader for safekeeping. From the Oeselian ranks, which were now widely spaced and full of men who had removed their helmets and tucked their axes back in their belts, came two men carrying shields and axes.
‘Hurry up!’ the old warrior scolded them.
They laid three shields on one side of the hazel field, three on the opposite side and then placed the axes at the feet of the old warrior, who now looked at Conrad.
‘Prince Sigurd is acquainted with rules of the hazel field but you are not, therefore I will explain them to you.’
He pointed at the axes at his feet, each one a single-handed weapon with a haft just over two feet in length and an iron head with a curved blade.
‘As Prince Sigurd was challenged it was his right to choose weapons. As you can see his choice was the axe. Each combatant is allowed three shields in the duel, which can be passed to him by one of his assistants. However, once the duel begins you must not step beyond the hazel poles. To do so means that you are a coward and have lost the duel.’
‘When I kill you it also means that you have lost the duel,’ boasted Sigurd.
The old warrior cleared his throat to show his disapproval but Sigurd merely curled his lip at Conrad.
‘You may pick up your weapons,’ said the old warrior.
Conrad did so and was unsurprised to discover that the axe was light and well balanced. Sigurd swung his axe menacingly in Conrad’s direction but the Sword Brother was well acquainted with these pagan shows of bravado. He was more concerned about the small area in which he would fight, that would restrict his manoeuvrability considerably.
‘Remember,’ said the old warrior, ‘on no account step beyond the hazel poles. When I thrust a spear into the ground that will be the signal to commence.’
While these instructions were being relayed the captives were being untethered and herded behind the Oeselian shield wall so the warriors could have an uninterrupted view of the duel. Whatever happened they were going home, though they would take the civilians with them if Conrad lost. The latter walked to the edge of the hazel field and took a shield from Hans.
‘Kill him quickly,’ his friend told him.
He stepped up to face Sigurd, the two men holding their red-painted shields before them.
‘You are a fool, Sword Brother,’ said Sigurd as the old warrior thrust a spear into the earth.
The Oeselians broke into wild cheering and shouting as Sigurd swung his axe over his head and shattered part of Conrad’s shield as the blade bit into the uncovered wood. He made a sideways swing with his own weapon that chipped the edge of Sigurd’s shield as the Oeselian thrust the latter forward with his weight behind it. He hoped to barge Conrad over but the brother knight was more muscular than his opponent so his tactic failed. Sigurd was forced to leap back as Conrad swung his axe at his lower legs.
Now the Estonians and Christian knights began cheering and shouting encouragement as Conrad whipped his axe forward to embed the blade into the wood of Sigurd’s shield, simultaneously smashing his shield boss into the Oeselian’s right arm and trapping his axe between his body and Conrad’s shield. Sigurd let go of his shield’s handgrip and punched Conrad in the nose, not a heavy blow but had enough to send a stinging sensation shooting through his nose.
Conrad staggered back as Sigurd launched his axe forward, the blade smashing into the former’s shield and missing his hand by inches. Conrad saw his chance. He twisted his shield so as to wrench the axe from Sigurd’s grip, a tactic that succeeded but was nullified when the Oeselian delivered a sharp, stinging kick to his left shin with his boot. The flare of pain caused Conrad to loosen the grip on his shield, allowing Sigurd to yank back his axe and shield attached. He freed the weapon by resting the shield on the ground, placing a foot on it and working the axe free.
Both fighters had lost a shield and both retrieved a replacement from their assistants. Then they came at each other again, once more accompanied by a wall of noise and encouragement from both sides. An Oeselian shield was large enough to protect the area from the neck to the knees, but it left the head and lower legs vulnerable. And these were targets that the two duellists aimed at. But both were too well trained and alert to allow an attack to reach these body parts and the only result of a further bout of blows was the destruction of two more shields.
Then Sigurd tried to force Conrad out of the hazel field, aiming a series of well-aimed strikes at his lower legs and head that the brother knight countered easily enough but only by stepping back. The roar of the Oeselian warriors reached a new intensity as Sigurd screamed in triumph and swung his axe at Conrad. The latter was now at the edge of the final rope square and saw the two poles that marked the corners of the hazel field. He swung his axe, the blow deflecting off the prince’s shield, Sigurd then crouching and swinging low at his extended left leg. If Conrad stepped back he would step outside the field so he thrust his shield down to drive Sigurd’s axe down to the ground. He swung at the Oeselian’s head and then whipped the axe back hard to strike Sigurd’s head with the blunt end of the iron head. The blow knocked the prince into unconsciousness and he crumpled to the ground, causing the Oeselians to fall silent.
The Estonian ranks erupted into wild cheering as Conrad breathed a sigh of relief and threw his shield aside. He stood astride Sigurd’s body and raised his axe as the Estonians stopped their display of triumph.
‘Warriors of Oesel,’ Conrad shouted at them, ‘as the winner of the duel I order you to immediately free your prisoners.’
The old warrior came forward as Sigurd’s two assistants looked at each other apprehensively and then at their unconscious lord. There was sorrow in the old man’s eyes and he spoke with a quivering voice as he addressed Conrad.
‘According to the rules of the
holmganga
you may slay your prostrate opponent.’
Conrad looked at the now bleeding Prince Sigurd and tossed his axe to the ground. He shouted at the Oeselians again.
‘You may take your prince back to Oesel. You are all oath-bound to journey back to Oesel without further troubling this land or its people. Now be gone.’
An expression of utter relief appeared on the old warrior’s face as he gestured to the prince’s assistants to attend to their lord.
‘He’ll live,’ said Conrad, looking at Sigurd.
‘You are a man of courage and honour,’ said the old man as Conrad walked back to Anton and a grinning Hans.
‘You should have killed him,’ said Anton.
‘The idea of killing a man while he sleeps is of no appeal to me,’ replied Conrad. ‘I am, after all, not Henke.’
He embraced his friends. ‘Besides, I have what I wanted. The Estonian captives are free and the Oeselians are going home. All that remains is to persuade the Danes that they have no claim on Estonia and we will all be back at Wenden before the harvest is gathered in.’
Valdemar sat in his newly made high-backed throne and toyed with his beard while the interpreter translated the words of the foul-smelling wretch standing before him. The king had been possessed of an ill humour since an Oeselian fleet had appeared in the waters of the bay off Reval that had effectively trapped the large number of Danish boats that filled the harbour. Valdemar had arrived in the spring with reinforcements to complete the conquest of Estonia prior to marching to the gates of Riga itself, in retaliation for the insolence of the Sword Brothers at the Pala the previous summer. But the appearance of the Oeselian longships had interrupted his plans.
The ships did not undertake a close blockade of the port, being content to close the entrance to the bay and therefore deny seaborne access to Reval. Their presence and inactivity had enraged Valdemar but when he had despatched his own ships to disperse them the vessels had been speedily boarded and their crews slaughtered. Afterwards there were no more sallies against the Oeselians. When it became clear that the Oeselians had no intention of attacking Reval Valdemar’s mood had darkened further, for he believed that the pagan sea raiders were mocking him. And as he could not take out his anger and frustration on the Oeselians, he decided to increase the misery of the Estonians.
The Harrien and Wierlanders had been treated as inferior peoples since the day the Danes had landed, Valdemar encouraging his men to use their spear shafts and whips to ‘encourage’ the natives to show due respect for their Christian superiors. He had ordered that the inhabitants of the villages that surrounded Reval be rounded up to provide a workforce to build new buildings in the port, specifically storehouses and barracks so that his army could survive the winter months. Concurrently a timber wall was erected around the port, the palisade also encompassing the stronghold on Toompea Hill that acted as the royal residence when Valdemar was not in Denmark. Reval was now a formidable fortress but the price had been high, not least in Estonian lives and the general hostility in Harrien and Wierland towards the invaders. And then, suddenly, on a bright summer’s morning, the Oeselian fleet was gone.
The bells of the newly constructed wooden churches rang in celebration of God answering the Danes’ prayers and the Archbishop of Lund led a service of thanksgiving, at which Valdemar promised to build a stone cathedral on the site as a lasting testament to the triumph of the Lord. He changed his mind when news reached him of events to the south of Reval.
The Danes had established a few outlying garrisons in Harrien, but they were small and designed to warn the town of the approach of enemy forces, specifically the Russians. Away from Reval and very aware that they were small, isolated outposts surrounded by potential enemies, the garrison commanders had initially made efforts to maintain amicable relations with the natives. Count Henry of Schwerin, appointed Governor of Reval by Valdemar, encouraged this policy. Count Henry had disagreed with the king’s general hostility towards the Estonians and had been vindicated when gossip was relayed to him of an Oeselian invasion of Jerwen and the arrival in the same kingdom of a strange army.
‘The Army of the Wolf,’ said the interpreter as Valdemar rolled his eyes.
The main chamber of Toompea hill fort had been transformed from a pagan hall into a room fit for a Christian king, with Valdemar’s banner hanging on the wall behind his throne and the banners of his lords along the walls on either side. Small shafts of light came through windows cut high in the walls, with torches on wall brackets providing additional illumination. A wooden dais had been erected for the king’s throne, with additional high-backed chairs placed on either side to seat the clerics who always accompanied Valdemar together with the lords of Denmark’s new domain. To the right of the king sat Andrew, Archbishop of Lund; Nicholas, Bishop of Schleswig; and the king’s chancellor, Peter, Bishop of Roskilde. On the king’s left sat Count Henry and his brother Gunzelin.
The king leaned forward and pointed to the scrawny, elderly man standing next to the interpreter.
‘This man is a village elder, you say?’
‘A parish elder, majesty,’ replied the interpreter.
Valdemar looked at Henry in confusion.
‘Estonian villages are usually group into parishes for matters of defence, majesty.’
The king looked back at the elder dressed in a coarse woollen tunic, light brown linen trousers and simple leather shoes.
‘So this man is of some importance among the pagans?’
‘Yes, majesty,’ replied Count Henry.
‘He looks like a beggar to me,’ scoffed Valdemar.
The prelates sniggered sycophantically.
Valdemar was clearly getting bored. ‘Is there any point to this, count?’
‘Hear him out, majesty,’ said the count firmly.
The king nodded to the interpreter who talked again to the elder.
‘It would appear, majesty,’ said the interpreter after he had finished conversing with the elder, ‘that the Army of the Wolf caught up with the Oeselians at the village of Kareda and forced it to free the Rotalians and Jerwen it had taken.’
‘You mean the Oeselians were destroyed,’ said the king.
‘No, majesty,’ the interpreter corrected him. ‘
Susi
fought a duel with the leader of the Oeselians and defeated him.’
‘Who is this
Susi
?’ asked the king in exasperation.
‘A Sword Brother, majesty, who has been possessed by the ancient wolf spirit of the forest and who comes to liberate his people.’
The prelates giggled but Valdemar’s interest and concern had now been aroused. ‘A Sword Brother?’
The interpreter nodded.
‘Does this idiot know his name?’
The interpreter talked with the elder once more.
‘He says his name is Conrad Wolff, majesty.’
Gunzelin looked in concern at his brother who brought his hands together and rested his chin on them.
‘That is the same man who faced us at the Pala last year, majesty,’ said Count Henry. ‘He holds a commission from the Bishop of Riga confirming him as Marshal of Estonia.’
Valdemar threw up his arms. ‘I can scarcely believe my ears. Once more the Sword Brothers are interfering with my intentions and incite the Estonians, my subjects, to rebel against their king.’
He jumped out of his throne and pointed at the elder. ‘Get this idiot out of my sight.’
Guards came forward to escort the two Estonians from the hall as Valdemar began pacing in front of his dais.
‘These pagans think that because we have been delayed here at Reval due to the presence of the heathen Oeselians, we will allow them to indulge their heretical beliefs.’
He stopped and looked at Count Henry.
‘You will take your men and destroy this Army of the Wolf and bring its leader to me in chains.’
The Archbishop of Lund, his robes decorated with lace and silk, rose from his chair.
‘Majesty, the Sword Brothers are servants of the Holy Church. To take up the sword against them may risk the ire of the Holy Father in Rome.’
‘The Sword Brothers are apostates!’ screamed Valdemar, causing everyone to jump. ‘They fight against me, a king appointed by God himself to rule his subjects. Who are the Sword Brothers but German mercenaries masquerading as Christ’s warriors? And this Conrad Wolff, this so-called Marshal of Estonia, who is he but a thief who covets my land? I wonder what the Holy Father, who gave me Estonia, would say of this man who leads an army of pagans against me?’
‘He would urge you to take up arms against him, majesty,’ said the king’s chancellor, ‘secure in the knowledge that God Himself is smiling on you.’
Valdemar’s rage subsided slightly. ‘Exactly, bishop. But I am a generous king and always give those who have failed me an opportunity to make recompense for their errors.’
He pointed at Count Henry. ‘That is why you will march against this Conrad Wolff, destroy his army and bring the heretic to me. He will be judged before a court of the Holy Church for his crimes. You will leave immediately.’
He turned and marched from the chamber, Henry, Gunzelin and the prelates rising to bow their heads as Valdemar disappeared through the twin doors of the chamber, escorted by Danish guards. The archbishop and bishops followed him, leaving Henry and his brother in the chamber.
‘Arrogant little bastard,’ spat Gunzelin. ‘The sooner we leave this place the better.’
The count looked at the stony faced guards around the walls.
‘Have a care, brother. You are not among the soldiers of Schwerin here. Remember the oath we took.’
‘The great Valdemar never lets us forget it,’ Gunzelin muttered.
Henry slapped him on the arm. ‘Well, at least this time the Marshal of Estonia will not have a river and rows of stakes to hide behind.’
*****
Conrad stared down at the mounted knights and foot soldiers making their way across the large meadow that was bordered on all sides by forest. After the affair at Kareda the Army of the Wolf, the Sword Brothers and Sir Richard’s knights had continued their northerly advance, expecting to encounter the Danes but never doing so. When they neared the borders of Harrien and Wierland their scouts returned with stories of outrages committed against the local population by the Danes. The scouts in turn spread the news that
Susi
, the leader who had rescued hundreds of Jerwen and Rotalians from the clutches of the Oeselians, had come to save them.
‘They are not Danes,’ remarked Andres, staring down at the soldiers on the meadow. ‘My scouts report seeing a yellow monster on a blue background on the shields of the horsemen.’
Conrad felt a tingle of excitement ripple through him. He looked at Hans and Anton.
‘The bastard who killed Johann,’ said Hans.
‘Time to repay our debt,’ remarked Anton grimly.
‘They will skirt this hill by taking the track that leads from that meadow,’ said Conrad. ‘We will ambush them as they do so.’
He looked at his friends. ‘Remember, Duke Henry is mine.’
He smiled at Tonis, Andres and Hillar as the sky grew dark and it began to rain. ‘It is fortunate that July and August are the warmest and wettest months in Estonia for a downpour will slow the enemy’s wagons and give you time to deploy your men.’
‘What of Master Rudolf and Sir Richard?’ asked Tonis.
Their camp was located to the south of the hill, one of the highest in this part of northern Estonia, in a small meadow by the side of a freshwater spring.
‘You should convene a council of war,’ said Hans.
Conrad smirked. ‘I should but I won’t. This is personal.’
He looked at his Estonian commanders. ‘Muster your men immediately and get them into position.’
He looked at Andres. ‘Inform Master Rudolf and Sir Richard that I am conducting a reconnaissance in force.’
‘What does that mean?’ said Anton.
‘Hopefully it will mean that they will also be wondering what it means and will be delayed long enough for us to deal with Count Henry.’
It began raining heavily as Conrad continued to peer at the slow-moving column on the meadow below.
‘Excellent vantage point this hill. Our friend the count made a mistake not sending scouts ahead to seize it.’
‘It is called White Horse Hill,
Susi
,’ said Andres. ‘It is the grave of the horse ridden by the giant hero called Kalevipoeg. He was ploughing his horse near here and afterwards lay down to take a nap, leaving his white horse to graze.’
Andres pointed to the north. ‘A pack of wolves came from the north and killed his horse. When he woke up Kalevipoeg buried his horse and made this hill. That is the legend that has been told among my people for generations.’
‘Kalevipoeg was a giant who walked the earth hundreds of summers ago,’ said Hillar. ‘He carried a mighty sword, battled demons and saved captive maidens.’
‘Many of the women you saved at Kareda believe that you are Kalevipoeg returned from the afterlife,
Susi
,’ said Andres.
‘Then let us go and slay another demon,’ replied Conrad.
Count Henry’s army, encumbered as it was with carts and wagons, made its way tortuously across the meadow as wheels sank into the soft ground. The drivers and servants cursed and thrashed the horses and mules pulling the wagons as the quartermasters demanded more haste. The count himself was spared from having to listen to this as he and his senior lords were at the head of the army with the majority of the knights and their squires. Ahead of them was a small vanguard of ten knights and behind marched the majority of his spearmen. The crossbowmen marched either side of the wagons and carts with the spearmen, the lesser knights following behind the carts and wagon and in the very rear of the column a small rearguard formed of a dozen knights.
Except that no one was marching anywhere as the carts and wagon got stuck in mud. The duke’s quartermasters were unaware that this part of Estonian was essentially a boggy plain and the frequent rainfall only added to the softness of the ground. In Germany the tracks and trails would be bone dry during the summer months, but in Estonia an army still had to tread carefully when it marched. Local guides could have informed the count of the difficulties in traversing this area and the tracks that he should have used. But Valdemar’s tyranny had alienated the vast majority of Harrien and Wierlanders and so the locals did not inform his officers of the tracks they should have taken.