The Sword Brothers (122 page)

Vincentas handed the
golden bolt to one of his wide-eyed soldiers and took the crossbow,
admiring its craftsmanship and power.

‘Why should Semgallia,
a kingdom that has co-existed peacefully alongside Livonia,’
continued Stefan, ‘become a slave state under the tyrant
Vsevolod.

Vincentas looked at
Stefan. ‘You will give me two hundred of these?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you want in
return?’

‘Nothing,’ replied
Stefan.

Vincentas’ boyish
features cracked a smile. ‘I am not such a fool to believe that the
Bishop of Riga gives away the contents of his armoury freely.’

‘Naturally,’ said
Stefan. ‘The price is friendship between Semgallia and
Livonia.’

Vincentas handed the
crossbow back to Manfred. He scratched his head and turned to his
companions, talking in hushed tones to them. Stefan sighed and
looked at his commander who gave him a reassuring nod. The duke at
length turned back to face Stefan.

‘I accept your offer.
When can I have the crossbows?’

Stefan thought him an
impudent wretch. ‘As soon as my commander can arrange their passage
across the river, duke.’

Stefan rose and
offered his hand to Vincentas but the duke stepped forward and
embraced him, much to the horror of the archdeacon. Manfred ushered
them out of the room and returned to the withdrawing chamber after
the Lithuanians had been escorted back to their boat at the docks.
When he arrived Stefan was ordering incense to be brought to purify
the air.

‘Did you smell their
breath? Unbearable.’

‘I will arrange for
the crossbows and instructors to be sent across the river tomorrow,
archdeacon,’ reported Manfred.

Stefan had a cloth to
his nose. ‘Excellent. Let us hope that the brutes do not waste
them.’

‘If Vsevolod discovers
that you are aiding Duke Vincentas he might send raiding parties
across the Dvina.’

Stefan removed the
cloth and smiled. ‘That will be for the Sword Brothers to deal
with, not the garrison of Riga.’

‘Why do you wish to
aid the Semgallians, sir?’

‘To prevent them from
uniting under a single ruler, to gain influence across the river
and to annoy the Sword Brothers,’ replied Stefan. ‘Our warriors of
Christ grow too lofty in their ambitions and forget that they are
mere servants of the church. When the bishop learns that Riga has
influence among the Lithuanians he will begin to rely less on the
Sword Brothers.’

‘And more on you,’
suggested Manfred.

Stefan held his gold
cross. ‘I am just a humble servant of the church.’

*****

The city was heaving
with people, the guards having difficulty forcing a passage through
them as they escorted the mayor and the leading boyars of Pskov to
Trinity Cathedral to celebrate the Dormition of the Mother of God,
the ‘falling asleep’ of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Pskov was
glorious that summer; the people filled its white stone churches. A
rich harvest of flax had been gathered from around its strong
ramparts and its markets heaved with goods. The dreadful losses of
the winter had been largely forgotten and Yaroslav had escorted
Bishop Theodoric to Novgorod where Prince Mstislav was entertaining
him. The latter, delighted that such an important figure of the
Roman Church was in his city, had forgiven Domash for not taking
Odenpah, viewing the prospect of a new trade route down the Gauja
far more important. The air was fresh, the sun shone and the people
were happy.

‘I hate these
occasions,’ complained Domash as the guards halted when the crowd
surged and blocked their progress.

Gleb smiled and
touched a baby that was held up by its mother. ‘You should thank
your god that the people have forgiven you for leading them on a
merry dance in Ungannia.’

‘God has nothing to do
with it,’ replied Domash, ‘it was the prince that ordered the
campaign in Ungannia. But I will thank God for sending me Bishop
Theodoric. He saved my neck.’ He looked at Gleb. ‘And yours.’

Gleb clutched the
hands of citizens who were desperate to receive his blessing. ‘I
wouldn’t be too quick to thank him. He and his crusaders will soon
be knocking on the door of the prince’s kingdom.’

Domash waved politely
at the crowds and ordered the guards to use their spear shafts to
increase the rate of advance.

‘He has ordered a halt
to all military aid to the Estonians so that’s them finished. The
prince will seize the lands of the northern Estonian chiefs to
compensate for the loss of Ungannia.’

‘A new power will rise
in northern Estonia,’ said Gleb.

‘What power?’ asked
Domash.

Gleb shrugged. ‘I have
seen it in a vision, a red and white banner.’

‘The Sword
Brothers?’

Gleb shook his head.
‘No. The army of another king.’

Domash wracked his
brains but could think of no other power that would lay claim to
Estonia. Lembit had written to Mstislav requesting aid but did not
know that the prince had abandoned him. He smiled when he thought
of the Estonian chief being in a state of ignorance as the prince
and the Catholics carved up Estonia between them.

*****

Lehola was heaving
with men, hundreds of them. They had been arriving for days, some
hauling small carts behind them loaded with sacks of supplies and
spare shields, spears and axes. The chiefs’ bodyguards rode on
ponies with their lords, which meant that the beasts also had to be
accommodated within the great fort. But there was no room for their
followers and so the area around the fort was covered with tents,
campfires, and pens for ponies and carts. The chiefs and a score of
warriors from their bodyguards slept in Lembit’s great hall, his
wolf shields occupying the huts inside the compound itself. The
women and children had been sent away to the sacred groves deep in
the forests with enough food to last them a month. They were cared
for and watched over by the priests of the old religion to fortify
their courage.

It was the height of
summer and the days were warm and long, though in the hall the air
was rancid with the smell of leather, stale sweat and ale as the
chiefs gathered in a great circle round the stone hearth, which had
been swept clean in preparation for the great feast that would be
held that night. Lembit sat with Rusticus, the other chiefs being
flanked by half a dozen of their men. Torches burned in brackets on
the walls and light filtered in from the ventilation holes in the
roof to illuminate proceedings. Lembit wore a plain tunic and
leggings, Rusticus also casually attired. The other chiefs and
their men sweated in their full war gear, though none wore their
helmets. Nor did they have their weapons, the long table near the
doors was stacked with swords and daggers, for these meetings were
apt to get heated and when men’s tempers were aroused blood could
be spilt. Wolf shields at the doors and around the walls would
ensure that proceedings did not become too raucous, though Lembit
believed that they would all see the benefits of his plan and go
along with it. In any case they were in no danger: it was
considered the height of ill manners to murder guests in one’s
hall.

Lembit looked at his
allies. They were certainly a strange bunch. There was Jaak whose
eyes had become even more untrusting since the losses he had
suffered at Odenpah; the cheerful Edvin with his mop of curly
blonde hair; and the tall and painfully thin Alva. They might have
lost Nigul and Kalju had turned traitor but he had still managed to
amass six thousand warriors at Lehola, the largest army Estonia had
ever seen. All he had to do now was to convince them that his plan
was sound.

‘It is a bad idea,
Lembit,’ growled Alva, ‘the crusaders will cut us to pieces.’

‘Our men are brave
enough,’ added Jaak, ‘but they cannot withstand a charge of the men
of iron.’

Lembit tried to remain
calm. ‘My friends, I know as well as you the strength of the
crusaders. Their machines can batter down the strongest walls.’ He
gestured at the hall. ‘Even this fort, Estonia’s greatest
stronghold, succumbed to their devilry. So I tell you that it will
avail us nothing if we try to sit behind our walls.’

‘Then how can they be
beaten?’ asked Edvin.

Lembit stood. ‘As I
have said, we use their own advantages against them.’

Jaak stroked his
pointed chin. ‘You really think that they will take your bait,
Lembit? They are not stupid.’

Lembit smiled. ‘Not
stupid, no, but they are arrogant. They have tasted victory so many
times that they have forgotten the bitter flavour of defeat. It is
their arrogance that will be our chief ally in the coming
battle.

‘You have all seen the
ground. It will be impossible for the crusaders to refuse battle in
such a location. The Oeselians and Russians are marching to our
aid, and after the battle has been won we will join with them and
march south to lay waste Livonia.’

Edvin looked alarmed.
‘You will not wait until they arrive before meeting the
crusaders?’

Lembit took his seat.
‘This needs to be a purely Estonian victory, to prove to our people
and to the Oeselians and Russians that we do not need to rely on
their spears to defeat the Bishop of Riga.’

‘What of Kalju?’ said
Jaak.

Lembit shrugged. ‘What
of him? When the bishop’s army is no more he will have no allies to
hide behind. I think we can rely on Kalju crawling back to us in
the near future.’

‘What will you do with
him?’ queried Edvin.

‘What will
you
do with him, my friend?’ replied Lembit. ‘He betrayed you as much
as he did me. It is for all of us to decide the fate of Kalju, and
Ungannia.’

He omitted to mention
that he had promised the kingdom to the Prince of Novgorod. What
they did not know would not alarm them.

‘You have all answered
the call of your forefathers,’ said Lembit, ‘by bringing your
warriors to this place but I do not command, I only ask. I ask for
your trust and your company in the battle line. If you wish to
return to your kingdoms I will understand. For myself, I will fight
the crusaders to preserve the freedom of my people. The decision is
yours.’

None of them spoke as
they shifted in their chairs and stared at the floor. At length
Edvin looked at Lembit.

‘Wierland stands with
you.’

‘As does Harrien,’
said the ‘elf warrior’.

‘My warriors will be
at Wolf Rock,’ stated Jaak.

A surge of elation and
relief swept through Lembit. He had not been surprised when the
other chiefs had answered his appeal to muster at Lehola. After
all, it was better for them to fight in Saccalia than in their own
kingdoms. But his audacious battle plan had at first been met with
disbelief and ridicule. But after their arrival he had taken them
to the spot where he wanted to offer battle to the crusaders and he
and Rusticus had worked hard to persuade them that it offered the
best chance to halt the seemingly inexorable crusader advance.

He turned to Rusticus.
‘Issue the orders. We leave at dawn.’

*****

In the heat Conrad and
the other brother knights from Wenden now sported kettle helmets
instead of the full-face helms they were supposed to wear. They
sweated enough in their mail armour; there was no need to roast
their heads in the summer heat as well.

‘It looks deserted,’
said Henke, swatting away a fly from his nose.

It had been thirteen
days since they had left the castle and they had yet to see any
Estonians. Every day patrols were sent ahead of the army as it
lumbered its way through the Estonian countryside, being assailed
by hordes of midges as it threaded its way between rivers and lakes
and through vast forests. Rudolf and Henke had decided to attach
themselves to Conrad and his companions, having got bored of being
in the saddle for hours being nursemaid to wagons, mules and foot
soldiers. Either that or be in the company of Volquin and the
crusader lords listening to their boring conversations.

‘Why don’t you ride up
to the gates,’ said Conrad. ‘I’m sure any archers will make
themselves known.’

‘I hope you were not
suggesting that I get myself killed, brother,’ said Henke.

‘The thought never
entered my mind, brother,’ replied Conrad.

‘That’s enough,’
ordered Rudolf. ‘We will all ride up to the gates. Just keep your
eyes peeled and your shields high.’

They had ridden north
and arrived at Lehola to find it seemingly deserted. As ever the
surrounding villages had been abandoned and the fort’s towers and
battlements appeared empty. The gates were closed, though a closer
inspection revealed them to be slightly ajar. As they neared them
they halted their horses and looked up at the towers and tops of
the walls, expecting to see them filled with warriors. But nothing
happened.

Rameke sniffed at the
still air. ‘The fort is empty. There is no smell of dung or
campfires.’

‘Conrad, open one of
the gates,’ said Rudolf. ‘Henke, you shift the other one.’

Conrad jumped down
from his horse and applied his shoulder to the heavy oak gate,
pushing it inwards with difficulty. The aged iron hinges creaked as
the gates were opened and the Sword Brothers entered Lehola.

‘You were right,
Rameke,’ said Rudolf as Conrad and Henke mounted their horses and
followed the others into the fort. They walked their horses past
abandoned forges, huts, stables and storerooms until they reached
the inner compound, the gates to which were wide open. Inside it
was a similar story: empty stables and huts.

They dismounted and
tethered their horses before entering the great hall of Lembit
himself, the images of wolves carved on the oak beams over the
entrance. Inside it was dark and airless and without thinking they
all drew their swords as they entered the feasting room. There was
a sudden sound in one of the corners and they instinctively raised
their swords and held their shields in front of them, only to see a
scrawny rat scurrying across the floor.