Army of the Wolf (62 page)

Conrad crouched in the undergrowth just a few yards from the edge of the forest and observed the enemy’s horsemen sitting idle and men on foot walking up and down the column of wheeled vehicles. The rain had stopped, the clouds had parted and the sun was shining, displaying the brightly coloured German caparisons, shields and surcoats to maximum effect. There was barely any wind, not enough to disturb the count’s banner held behind him by a squire as he observed the chaos among his baggage wagons. Spearmen were detailed to assist the movement of the wagons while the crossbowmen kept watch and the horsemen sat and stared at each other.

‘Your men are in position?’ Conrad asked Andres.

‘Yes,
Susi
.’

Conrad turned to Hillar. ‘And yours?’

The Rotalian nodded.

‘Good,’ said Conrad. ‘Make sure you keep beyond the range of their crossbowmen. And wait until you hear the signal. God be with you both. Now go.’

They both nodded and slunk away, leaving Conrad with Tonis. The Sword Brother tapped the Saccalian on the arm and they too left their observation position. The Army of the Wolf had left camp to march through the forest that surrounded White Horse Hill, the Rotalians skirting its western side to take them across the forest track that the count’s soldiers would use when they had managed to free their wagons from the mud. They moved further west through the forest until they were near the treeline bordering the meadow, to the west of the count’s army. The Jerwen marched through the forest on the eastern side of White Horse Hill and then swung west to take them to the treeline that bordered the eastern side of the meadow.

Conrad and Tonis moved through the forest undergrowth of hazel, fly honeysuckle and mountain currant, the noise coming from the count’s army penetrating the trees. Tonis’ Saccalians were already in position either side of the dirt track around a hundred and fifty paces from the edge of the trees. Dressed in hues of green, brown and grey, they blended into the sun-dappled forest interior well enough, crouching beside spruce alder and aspen. Deployed some twenty paces back from either side of the track, they were armed with war axes, having left their spears in camp.

Conrad crouched beside Hans and Anton as he wished Tonis good luck, the Saccalian moving forward to sprint across the track and take command of the wolf shields on the other side.

‘You had better take this,’ said Hans softly, throwing him a green cape.

He and Anton were already wrapped in brown capes to hide their white surcoats that might give their position away. They also concealed their shields beneath their capes.

‘Now all we have to do is wait until the count frees his wagons,’ said Conrad with satisfaction.

Half an hour later he heard shouts and a blast of trumpets and knew that Count Henry’s army was on the move. He looked at the Saccalian signaller with them, a young man with a wispy beard and a thin frame. He was clutching the horn that he would blow when Conrad gave the command.

‘You know what to do?’

‘Yes,
Susi
,’ he replied nervously.

Conrad looked at his round shield bearing the leering wolf design.

‘It is a strange fate that sees me fighting in the company of those whose emblem reminds me of those who took the lives of my wife and child but who now I esteem comrades.’

The wolf shield looked at him in confusion. ‘
Susi
?’

Conrad smiled at him. ‘It does not matter.’

‘Look sharp,’ hissed Anton.

Conrad turned to peer in the direction of the track ahead and saw the flickering images of horsemen between the trees. He slowly put on his helm, Hans and Anton doing the same, as the enemy vanguard passed their hiding place. The horses were covered in brightly coloured caparisons that matched the designs on their riders’ surcoats and shields. Ten knights armed with lances, their heads covered in full-face helms, walked their warhorses forward along the track. The sun caught the ends of their lances and Conrad heard the snorts of the horses for there was no wind in the forest. He prayed that the Saccalians would not betray their presence to the count’s vanguard as it ambled past, and breathed a sigh of relief as the horses disappeared to his left.

His axe was tucked in his belt and he slowly drew his sword from its scabbard as he caught site of the next group of riders. His heart was beating faster than normal but his nerves were steady as he saw the blue caparison emblazoned with a yellow griffin. He threw off the cloak and sprinted forward through the trees, covering the twenty paces in seconds. He ran silently as the wolf shield blew his horn again and again, other Saccalian signallers doing likewise as the air was suddenly filled with dozens of war cries.

The count was a veteran soldier whose reactions were quick and he levelled his lance as warriors swarmed from the trees that flanked the track. But he was looking to his right as he pointed his weapon at an oncoming warrior and did not see Conrad who plunged his sword between the two halves of his horse’s caparison. The blade went into the warhorse’s barrel, the whole of Conrad’s weight behind it. The beast let out a deep groan as it collapsed, pinning the count beneath its bulk.

Conrad leapt over the dead horse as the other knights were assaulted on all sides by wolf shields. Count Henry’s right leg was stuck fast under his horse and though he struggled frantically Conrad was able to yank off his helm with relative ease. He pulled off his own helm, pulled his dagger from its sheath and held the blade to the count’s throat.

‘Yield!’ he shouted at the top of his voice in the direction of the battling knights. ‘Yield or your lord dies.’

He was pulling the counts’ jaw back so the noble could not say anything.

‘Yield or he dies!’ he bellowed again.

The wolf shields around him immediately disengaged and shuffled back with their shields facing the knights when they heard Conrad’s voice, as they had been ordered to do. A few lay dead on the track, slain by lances, and at least two knights had been knocked to the ground and had their helmets staved in by axe blades. But the rest now looked through the vision slits of their helmets at their prostrate lord and the dagger at his throat.

‘Yield,’ Conrad ordered them again.

They looked at each other and then back down the track in the hope that reinforcements would appear. But the rest of the count’s army was preoccupied with facing the hundreds of warriors that had suddenly appeared on their flanks.

When the horns of the wolf shields had been heard Andres’ men had flooded from the trees into the meadow, wheeled left and formed a shield wall facing the left flank of the count’s foot soldiers and supply wagons. At the same time Hillar led his Rotalians from the trees on the other side of the meadow to hastily form a shield wall to face the Germans’ right flank. The crossbowmen, spearmen and horsemen in the rest of the army forgot about their commander as they prepared to defend themselves against attacks on both of their flanks. The Rotalians and Jerwen made a lot of noise and inflated their numbers by deploying in three ranks only, but their task was to retain the attention of the count’s soldiers, not fight them. And as a precaution they locked their shields as a defence against the crusaders’ crossbows.

In the forest, meanwhile, the vanguard suddenly returned and once more Conrad shouted at them to halt and throw down their lances, else their lord would die. Hans and Anton went among the knights that had been escorting Count Henry, ordering them to throw down their lances, swords, maces and axes. They then walked over to the vanguard and issued the same instructions.

‘Get me out from under this horse,’ the count hissed through gritted teeth.

Conrad called over Tonis and the young signaller nearby and asked them to haul the slain horse off the count’s body. It took all their strength to move the dead weight, eventually shifting it enough for the count to free his leg. Conrad took the knife from his throat and sheathed it as the lord hobbled to his feet. Wolf shields stood guard over the disarmed knights as Conrad stood before Count Henry, Hans and Anton coming to their friend’s side with swords drawn. Tonis pulled Conrad’s sword from the corpse of the warhorse, wiped the blade on the caparison and handed it back to its owner.

‘That was a fine warhorse you killed,’ said the count.

Conrad slid his sword back into its scabbard and slapped the count across the face with the back of his mailed hand. The German knights saw this and shouted angrily through their helmets.

‘Silence!’ shouted Conrad, as the count felt his bleeding lip.

One, his livery the same as the count’s, jumped from his horse, cast his helmet aside and came at Conrad. But Hans and Anton drew their swords and held the points at his throat.

‘It is all right, Gunzelin,’ said the count.

‘It is far from all right, count,’ seethed Conrad. ‘You and your men trespass upon my land for did I not inform you at the Pala last year that I am the Marshal of Estonia?’

‘I heard but did not believe it,’ scoffed the count, blood running down his chin.

‘You will fight me here, now,’ said Conrad, ‘and I will send your body back to Reval where it can be thrown on a rubbish heap. Draw your sword.’

Conrad stepped back and pulled his own sword from its scabbard as more horsemen appeared on the track, this time coming from the south.

‘Sir Richard and Master Rudolf,’ said Hans.

The horsemen slowed as the Sword Brothers and Sir Richard approached the spot where Conrad stood facing Count Henry.

‘More spectators to see your death,
boy
,’ sneered the count. He looked at the mounted brother knights in their full-face helmets.

‘Show yourselves,’ he called to Wenden’s soldiers.

He ignored Conrad as Rudolf slowly removed his helm, followed by Walter, Henke and the others. The man named Gunzelin looked shocked as he caught sight of Rudolf’s face, though the count showed nothing but contempt.

‘So, you ended up in this shit-hole. It would have been better if you had died in Germany.’

‘Hello, father,’ said Rudolf. He nodded at Gunzelin. ‘Uncle.’

Conrad looked in astonishment at Rudolf. ‘This man is your father?’

The count saw the faces of the other Sword Brothers.

‘Henke? How in the name of all that’s holy did you become a crusader? And Lukas. Does the church know of your crimes in Germany?’

‘I am a warrior of Christ,’ replied Lukas, ‘and ask for His forgiveness for my past sins.’

‘As well you might,’ said the count. He looked at Rudolf. ‘Are you not going to enquire after your brother and mother?’

‘I hope they are well,’ uttered Rudolf.

The count folded his arms. ‘Your brother was killed in battle three years ago so your mother has lost two sons. You are now the heir to my estates and fortune, or at least you would be had I not disinherited you.’

He pointed at Conrad. ‘This upstart has insulted me, struck me and killed my horse. You will have to forgive me while I attend to his execution.’

He stepped back and drew his sword as Conrad brought up his shield and circled the count.

‘Hold!’ said Rudolf, who dismounted and strode over to place himself between the two combatants.

‘There will be no killing here today.’

‘Did you hear that, Gunzelin?’ said the count. ‘I never thought I would see the day when the leader of Germany’s most violent mercenary band would call a halt to slaughter.’

‘He killed Johann,’ Conrad said to Rudolf.

‘Johann was a soldier, Conrad,’ replied Wenden’s master, ‘and soldiers die in war.’

‘What now?’ asked Gunzelin.

‘Now you will return to Reval with your men,’ answered Rudolf.

‘Are you not going to invite me to dine with you tonight,
son
?’ smiled the count.

Rudolf ignored his father and looked sympathetically at Conrad.

‘I understand your frustration, Conrad, but in this matter you must look beyond your personal feelings. As Marshal of Estonia you cannot risk war with King Valdemar. It is for Bishop Albert and the Danish king to decide the partition of this land, not you.’

‘The master is right, Conrad,’ said Walter. ‘You cannot let your personal desire for revenge cloud your judgement.

Conrad saw the smirking face of the count and wanted to strike it again, but he knew that Rudolf and Walter were right. He sighed deeply and walked over to Henke and looked up at him.

‘You were right, Henke.’

The brother knight looked at him in confusion. ‘Right about what?’

‘I let too many people live. I had my dagger at the throat of Rudolf’s father and should have used it. Now he will go free. I will not make the same mistake again.’

Henke’s mouth broke into a half-smile. He leaned forward.

‘For once I am in agreement with you.’

‘Well,’ announced the count, ‘touching though this reunion has been I must get back to my men. Pick up your weapons,’ he shouted to his knights.

The knights and squires dismounted but the wolf shields moved forward to stop them.

‘Let them be,’ ordered Conrad.

‘Gunzelin,’ said the count, ‘ride back to the men and give instructions to pitch camp.’