The Sword Brothers (14 page)

Conrad saw Walter
kneeling on the ground, gently elbowed Hans and pointed at the
young knight deep in prayer, his eyes closed as he gave thanks for
their safe deliverance after their journey. Conrad smiled and shook
his head, then felt something sharp and cool against his neck. He
froze as Hans’ eyes widened as he stared at the man holding the
point of a sword against Conrad’s neck.

‘You think prayer is
amusing, boy?’ said a deep voice beside him.

Conrad turned his head
ever so slightly, the steel point biting into his flesh as he
attempted to get a glimpse of his assailant.

‘No, sir,’ he
whispered.

‘Otto, leave the boy
alone.’ Conrad felt relieved when he heard Rudolf’s voice and more
so when the sword point was removed from his flesh.

He nervously peered to
his right to see a tall, thin man with cold, black eyes glaring at
him, sword in hand. Conrad’s alarm returned when he saw that the
man was completely bald, his skull covered in scars, a particularly
deep one on his forehead above the right eye. Conrad shuddered. He
may have worn the surcoat of the Sword Brothers but he looked like
a monster.

Rudolf was tall – at
least six foot – but this beast was taller by six or seven inches.
The former now stood in front of Conrad and Hans.

‘So, what have you two
done to earn the displeasure of Brother Otto?’

Hans looked at his
feet and Conrad blushed.

‘They mock a noble
knight for giving thanks to God,’ Otto answered for them and then
nodded at the praying Walter. ‘They should be punished for their
levity.’

Rudolf pointed at
Otto’s drawn sword. ‘Unless you are going to chop off their heads I
think you should sheath your sword, brother.’

Otto curled his lip at
Hans and Conrad, slammed his sword back into its scabbard and
stomped away. Conrad breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Brother Otto is a
fine priest,’ said Rudolf, ‘though apt to be rash in his actions.
He used to be a soldier and sometimes forgets that he is now a man
of the cloth. As such he is not allowed to spill Christian blood,
or carry a sword for that matter. But he is very forgetful. I would
advise caution in your dealings with him.’

Hans was nodding as
though he was having a seizure and a pale Conrad was likewise
agreeing to Rudolf’s suggestion. Rudolf turned but then was stopped
by a woman who ran up and threw her arms around him, kissing him on
the cheek. Tall like him, she had dark brown eyes, full lips and
hair as black as a raven’s wing.

‘You return is most
welcome, lord,’ she said, her eyes burning with happiness.

‘How is my forest
princess?’ asked Rudolf, running a finger down her alluring
face.

‘Filled with joy by
your return,’ she replied.

Rudolf ignored the
boys as he walked away with the mysterious beauty just as a bell
began ringing. The mercenaries, Sword Brothers and civilians stood
and looked at each other as a stout middle-aged man with a great
bushy beard wearing a white surcoat came from the master’s hall
escorted by four mail-clad Sword Brothers. Walter halted his
prayers and rose to his feet. The middle-aged man stepped onto a
crate and then the back of a wagon to face the assembly, mothers
hushing their children and ushering them to their sides. Conrad saw
Rudolf and his black-haired companion with Henke standing nearby
and then the fearsome Otto, who glowered at him before looking at
the man on the cart. The individual with the thick beard raised his
hands as the bell stopped ringing.

‘My name is Master
Berthold, castellan of this, God’s fortress of Wenden,’ Conrad
looked around at the lack of walls and barely established towers.
‘We have been tasked by the Holy Church to bring this wild land
under control so that it may bear fruit to feed the word of God and
spread His message. The Sword Brothers are the warriors of Christ
and defenders of the true religion against heresy, blasphemy and
false gods. All of you, soldiers and workers, are engaged upon holy
work. So fight and work well and your place in Heaven will be
assured, for God is at this moment looking into your souls to
discover if you are worthy of the task He has set you.’

The mercenaries stared
dead-eyed at this bearded figure while the civilian workers
appeared to have been impressed by his words. Walter wore an
expression of saintly determination. He had at last found his true
home. Conrad and the other youths glanced at each other, unsure
what to do, until Henke came over and told them to start unloading
the wagons as the mercenaries and civilians were shown to their
accommodation. This was sited to the south of the castle, down the
slope beyond the moat in the area encompassed by the wooden outer
perimeter wall and earth rampart. The civilian workers and their
families were located in the eastern part of the compound, the
mercenaries in the west, all lodged in simple logs huts with
thatched roofs. Despite their rudimentary nature the huts were
remarkably snug. Constructed from logs laid horizontally and
fastened together with notched ends, they were small, one-room
dwellings with a stout roof, one entrance and no windows. A
centrally placed fire was used for cooking and provided warmth, the
spaces between the logs being packed with moss for insulation. And
as the population of Wenden increased so did the number of
cabins.

With the arrival of
Rudolf and Henke the number of brother knights of the Sword
Brothers once more equalled twelve. This number was considered
especially auspicious as it equated to the number of disciples that
Christ had gathered around him. These holy knights were the most
highly trained soldiers in Livonia and were equipped with the best
armour and weapons that money could buy. In battle they rode
stallions brought from Germany, horses selected for their weight,
power and ability to carry a knight on their broad, flat backs.
These and the horses used for hauling wagons were stabled inside
the castle, as were the mules. Below the brother knights were the
sergeants, soldiers who wore kettle helmets and mail coats without
sleeves and gloves, over which they wore leather gambesons bearing
the insignia of the Sword Brothers. Their clothing may have been
inferior to the brother knights but the swords they wore at their
hips were of the same standard. Otto the priest was also attached
to the garrison but in theory was not trained to fight. There were
now fifty mercenaries at Wenden divided equally between spearmen
and crossbowmen, plus the civilian workers and their families.
These included cooks, clerks, stonemasons, carpenters, blacksmiths
and wagon masters – just over sixty individuals in total including
their wives and children.

The garrison of Wenden
also included four hundred indigenous warriors commanded by a local
chief named Thalibald who were raised from the settlements that
dotted the area around the castle. These comprised in the main
spearmen equipped with shields, no armour and few helmets. As most
could use a bow for hunting they could also be used as missile
troops but the fact that only a handful of locals were allowed to
live within Wenden’s settlement indicated that Master Berthold did
not trust them, perhaps. They might not have been trusted but all
the natives, who now lived on land owned by the Sword Brothers,
were taxed to feed Wenden’s garrison and its workers, the natives
paying their rent in produce that they brought to the castle.

The brother knights
and sergeants slept in the dormitory on mattresses stuffed with
straw, as did Conrad and his fellow youths who were allotted beds
in one corner. Conrad, who had been used to rising at dawn, found
the transition to life with the Sword Brothers relatively easy but
Hans, who had lived a feckless existence, at first found it
difficult to rouse himself in the morning, though the others
usually turfed him out of his bed onto the floor. Then, in a
semi-daze, he dressed and joined the others for mass in the chapel,
after which his spirits were revived by breakfast.

‘When and what you can
eat are laid down in the rules of the Sword Brothers,’ Rudolf
informed them on their first morning at Wenden. ‘You may eat meat
three days a week and fish on Fridays. All your other meals will
consist of vegetables, beans, broths, bread and fruit.’

Hans raised a hand.
‘Excuse me, sir, but did you say meat?’

‘That is correct,
Hans,’ Rudolf replied, ‘but only three times a week.’

Hans began grinning
like an idiot at the others. He had hardly ever tasted meat and had
grown accustomed to going for days at a time without any food at
all. And now he was not only going to be fed regularly but would
also dine on meat. Meat! He could have wept with joy.

He had to control his
eagerness as the brother knights ate first in the dining hall
followed by the sergeants, the boys, who were now designated
novices, eating last. But when they did sit down they found ample
food to fill their bellies.

‘This is easy enough,’
remarked Bruno.

‘Praying and eating,’
added Johann. ‘My friends we have fallen upon good fortune.’

And then they met
Brother Lukas.

After breakfast Rudolf
took them down into the large compound below the castle where
mercenaries were shooting their crossbows at targets and spearmen
were practising their drills. The day was warm with a slight
westerly breeze blowing. They walked to a quiet area where a man of
medium height with broad shoulders, thick arms and a powerful neck
was standing beside a two-wheeled cart hitched to a mule. Rudolf
told the novices to stand in a line and then went over to greet his
fellow brother knight.

‘This is Brother
Lukas,’ he told them. ‘I will leave you in his capable hands.’

He nodded to Lukas and
then took his leave. Conrad looked at Lukas. He looked more like a
blacksmith than a knight. Lukas rubbed his neatly trimmed
beard.

‘My name is Brother
Lukas and my task is to teach you how to fight.’ His voice was calm
but forceful. ‘Brother Rudolf has acquainted me with your
backgrounds, what he knows of them, and he believes that you can
all be turned into soldiers.’

The youths puffed out
their chests with pride at this announcement. Lukas scratched the
back of his head.

‘Though no one is
infallible, of course, aside from His Holiness the Pope.’

He walked over to the
back of the cart and picked up a bundle of swords, brought them
back and handed one to each novice. Conrad grasped the grip of his
sword and moved it in the air. He had never held a sword before. It
was lighter than he expected and finally balanced. He admired the
silver-grey blade and its point and imagined what destruction he
could wreak with such a weapon.

Lukas drew his own
sword and held it at arm’s length before him.

‘The sword will be
your principal weapon. You will learn to use it to kill an opponent
quickly and mercilessly. Pay attention because in a fight if you do
something wrong you die. Now give me those swords back, they are
far too valuable to be used as training tools for novices.’

He collected the
blades and placed them back in the cart and brought back wooden
swords, giving one to each boy and keeping one for himself.

‘They are called
“wasters”,’ he informed them.

Conrad looked at his
replica sword. It had a blade shaped like a real sword plus a grip,
pommel and guard.

‘These will be your
close companions for the next few months. During that time you will
learn to use them with knowledge, dexterity and cunning.’

He stepped forward to
face Bruno, pointing at his wooden sword. ‘Attack me.’

Bruno glanced at
Johann standing to his left. ‘Now!’ bellowed Lukas.

Bruno, startled, swung
his sword clumsily at Lukas who blocked the blow with his own
waster.

‘Wasters are able to
withstand use and abuse while leaving the expensive steel weapons
for real combat.’

Lukas then stood
before Johann and told him to attack him. Johann, thinking to catch
Lukas off-guard, thrust his waster forward at Lukas’ chest, but the
knight deftly moved aside and then struck Johann hard on the top of
his right arm with the flat of his waster, causing the youth to
drop his own weapon.

‘Wasters have all the
attributes of a real sword: flat blade, guard, grip and pommel.
They are not clubs.’

Johann rubbed his arm
and Lukas told him to pick up his weapon before moving to stand
before Anton, instructing the youth to strike him with his sword.
Anton brought his sword up and shouted as he attempted to bring it
down on Lukas’ head. But the knight brushed the blow aside with his
own waster before flicking his wrist to bring the edge of his
wooden sword against Johann’s neck.

‘With a waster when
you make contact the target will not be injured or unduly
hurt.’

Conrad was decidedly
nervous when Lukas stepped in front of him, expecting to be
likewise struck by the knight’s wooden sword. But instead he was
asked a question.

‘Three men stand
before you: a rich man, a poor man and a swordsman. Which of them
is the wealthiest?’

‘The rich man, sir,’
answered Conrad.

Lukas stepped back to
address them all. ‘The rich man has money, it is true, but he has
no wealth because he has no strength or skill. The poor man has
strength of body but no money or skill. But the swordsman has skill
and strength and is thus the wealthiest of all for he can use his
sword and preserve his life, the most valuable gift known to
man.’

And so their training
began. Using their wasters they trained for hours each day under
the watchful eye of Lukas. They learned how to use their swords to
kill opponents quickly, to sidestep, duck, dodge and feint to avoid
an enemy’s sword, and to deflect an opponent’s sword blow instead
of blocking it. Above all they were instructed to keep moving.