The Sword Brothers (75 page)

Berthold raised his
sword and pointed it to the west where a great battle was still
raging between Caupo’s Livs and the Lithuanians. The latter had the
numerical superiority but they had been surprised, their soldiers
were scattered over a wide area and their leader was now dead.
Conrad could see groups of men battling other formations but he had
no idea who was winning or losing.

‘See ahead,’ shouted
Berthold, his helmet in the crook of his left arm, ‘the banner of
the brethren of Kremon. We must link up with Master Mathias and his
men. God with us!’

Everyone responded by
shouting ‘God with us!’ The master replaced his helmet on his head
and spurred his horse forward, the brother knights, sergeants,
novices and Livs once again forming into line alongside him. The
pace was slower now, riders saving the strength of their horses as
the sun climbed into the sky and the temperature rose. Conrad did
not know how many of the garrison had been killed in the first
fight but as he cantered forward, axe in hand and battered shield
clutched to his left side, he saw a mass of enemy foot soldiers
ahead. And beyond them the white-attired garrison of Kremon was
hacking at their ranks. He could see brother knights standing tall
in their saddles scything at the enemy with maces and axes like
farmers cutting corn, the sun catching the steel edges of the
weapons as they chopped left and right.

The Lithuanians
appeared to have lost all semblance of order and discipline, their
ranks widely spaced and some men already fleeing from the fight.
Conrad was now around two hundred paces from the rear ranks of the
enemy mass and could see the banners of the Livs who were fighting
beside Master Mathias’ men – the symbols of Jumis, Mara and Laima –
and above them all a great standard bearing the Christian cross –
the flag of Caupo himself.

As Berthold and his
men broke into a slow gallop the rear ranks of the Lithuanians
turned and saw in horror the riders bearing down on them. Some
rammed the butts of their spears in the ground, the points towards
the horsemen, but they were too few and did not form a continuous,
unbroken line. And so the Sword Brothers guided their horses around
them as they smashed into the enemy. The better-armed and armoured
Lithuanians were battling the Livs and horsemen of Kremon at the
front of the formation. Those with few weapons and no armour were
in the rear ranks and felt the full force of Master Berthold’s
attack.

Once more Conrad swung
left and right with his axe, but this time he was aiming at bare
heads and men wearing only tunics as his blade easily found flesh
and bone. The horsemen drove deep into the Lithuanians, cutting
down dozens for no loss as they slowed their horses and
methodically cut down men who appeared to their left and right. A
few Lithuanians endeavoured to fight back but most, already
disheartened and disorientated by Caupo’s assault, ran for their
lives, fleeing in any direction to get away from the dreadful
armoured horsemen in their midst. And then the entire Lithuanian
formation dissolved into chaos as Caupo’s men pressed forward and
the shield wall of their enemy broke.

Several brother
knights and sergeants were unhorsed as frightened men barged into
their horses in their eagerness to flee, causing the animals to
rear up in panic and throw their riders. Master Berthold gave the
order for the signaller to sound assembly in an effort to rally his
men. Conrad swung his axe at a man running by his right side, who
skidded on a piece of churned-up earth and avoided having his head
cleaved in two. He was moving so fast that Conrad had no chance to
aim another blow at him. He then had to grab his reins and attempt
to steady his mount as a flood of unarmed men ran past him. He saw
Wenden’s standard and spurred his horse towards it, Hans
following.

‘Are you hurt?’ Conrad
called to him.

‘No. I still have all
my limbs,’ came the reply.

At the banner Henke
had thrown off his helmet and was shouting in frustration at the
fleeing enemy.

‘Come back and fight,
you cowards! We are few and you are many. Come back and fight!’

His mace, arm and
surcoat were covered in blood. It was as if he had been dipped in a
vat of red paint.

‘Calm yourself,
Brother Henke,’ ordered Berthold. ‘And pick your helmet up.’

Henke glared at him
but Rudolf at his side gestured with his hand that he should lower
his weapon. Henke spat towards the south, the direction in which
the bulk of the Lithuanians were fleeing, dismounted and retrieved
his helmet.

‘Still alive,
then.’

Conrad turned and saw
Anton and Johann ride up to him. All four shook hands and
congratulated each other, boyish grins on their faces. They were
glad to have won a great victory but even gladder to be still
breathing. And then a strange silence descended on the battlefield
as the killing stopped and the sounds of clashing steel, screams
and cries were replaced by the sobs and moans of the wounded.

Master Mathias and
what was left of the garrison of Kremon arrived, the caparisons of
their horses cut and splattered with blood. Conrad counted only six
men with full-face helmets, meaning half the brother knights had
been killed or wounded. Mathias and Berthold dismounted and
embraced each other, then ordered that everyone dismount and kneel
to give thanks to God for their victory and deliverance. Rudolf
wanted to organise a pursuit of the Lithuanians but Berthold would
have none of it. And so the brother knights, sergeants, novices,
Rameke and his warriors knelt on the ground around the banners of
Wenden and Kremon and gave thanks to God.

There was no pursuit
of the enemy. Caupo himself arrived ten minutes later accompanied
by his bodyguard, his face gaunt and his eyes black ringed. He had
obviously had little sleep since his defeat at the hands of
Daugerutis and even the great triumph he had just won could not
banish the anguish that obviously haunted him. Conrad stood holding
the reins of his horse as the king made his way through the now
standing horsemen to reach Master Berthold. The latter bowed his
head.

‘Greetings, majesty.
God has blessed this day with a great victory over the heathen
Lithuanians.’

Caupo half smiled at
him. ‘It was dearly bought, my friend. I pray that we do not see
its like again.’

The king saw Rameke
and walked over to him, Conrad’s friend going down on one knee
before him.

Caupo lifted him to
his feet. ‘Valiant chief. I grieve with you for the loss of your
father and brother. Thalibald was my right arm and I miss him
greatly.’

‘I hope to be as great
a servant to your majesty as he was, lord,’ replied Rameke.

Caupo placed a hand on
his shoulder. ‘I have no doubt you will be.’

Berthold invited the
king and Master Mathias to Wenden where they could rest their weary
bodies. It was now nearly midday and very warm, the horses in their
armour and coverings hanging their heads and their riders drenched
in sweat. As the euphoria of victory quickly evaporated a raging
thirst gripped Conrad and his limbs felt as though they were made
of lead. Like the others he took off his helmet and led his horse
on foot back to Wenden.

They passed men lying
on the ground, their guts sliced open and their limbs shattered and
bloody. They ignored their pitiful cries for help, though Henke did
leave the column once to slit the throat of a man whose body was so
mangled and twisted that it looked barely human. Conrad was taken
back to that dreadful day in Lübeck when his father had been broken
on the wheel and shuddered. He hoped that he would never be wounded
in battle but would rather have a quick death. He knew that healers
such as Ilona could work miracles with their herbs and treatments,
but wounds inflicted by swords, lances and axes could rarely be
treated. Amputation was often the only solution and then the
patient might die from shock and loss of blood. And what sort of
life could a man live with only one arm or leg? No, a quick death
was infinitely preferable.

As he trudged along
Walter came to his side, looking remarkably fresh after the
exertions of battle.

‘It gladden me to see
you unhurt, Conrad.’ He looked behind at Hans, Anton and Johann.
‘To see you all unhurt. Praise God.’

‘You too, Walter,’
said Conrad. ‘That is Brother Walter.’

‘You do not need to
stand on ceremony with me, Conrad. We came to this land together
and have fought side by side ever since. That makes us all
brothers, I think.’

‘Do you like being
here?’ said Conrad.

Walter’s handsome face
wore a smile. ‘Of course. I have found a peace here I thought I
would never have. A serenity that calms my soul.’

Conrad looked at the
blood on his surcoat and the arms of his hauberk. In battle he was
a remorseless killing machine but was softly spoken and thoughtful
when not fighting.

‘Do you miss it?’
asked Conrad.

‘Miss what?’

‘Your former life. You
were a Saxon knight from a rich and powerful family. You had
everything.’

Walter sighed. ‘You
are correct. I did have everything. Everything that wealth could
buy: horses, women, banquets, tournaments and hunting without end.
It was a life of selfish indulgence and a life that was devoid of
purpose. What profit a man, Conrad, if he gains the world yet loses
his soul? No, I do not miss it.

‘And what of you, who
is earning himself a reputation as a fine soldier? Have you found
contentment?’

They were nearing
Wenden’s perimeter wall now and Conrad looked up and saw Daina at
the top of one of the towers, the wind that had suddenly appeared
ruffling her long locks. She saw Caupo nearing the gates and bowed
her head to him. She then saw Conrad and waved at him, causing the
others ahead, including the king, to turn their heads to see who
she was waving to. Conrad waved back, saw everyone looking at him
and blushed.

‘I see that you
perhaps have found what you are looking for,’ smiled Walter as
Berthold frowned at the young novice before walking through the
gates beside Caupo. Rudolf smiled and shook his head and Lukas
rolled his eyes.

‘Daina is a fine young
woman,’ continued Walter.

‘She is a princess and
I am just a penniless novice,’ said Conrad, suddenly struck by the
reality of their respective positions.

Walter dismissed his
negative thoughts. ‘I doubt that concerns her so it should not
concern you.’

‘I know how the world
works,’ said Conrad.

‘We build a new world
here, Conrad, a better world,’ replied Walter. ‘A kingdom of heaven
where all things are possible.’

Walter’s better world
presented an awful sight the day after the battle. The civilian
families were moved back to their huts but the Liv women and
children were not allowed to return to their homes for fear they
would be attacked by the thousands of Lithuanians who had fled the
battle but who were still at large. Far from home and leaderless,
Caupo assumed they would head south to cross over the Dvina to
reach their homelands, but some might remain in Livonia to become
bandits living in the forests. He therefore dispatched a thousand
men to give chase, reinforced by the surviving brother knights and
sergeants from Kremon and Wenden. Conrad had hoped that he would be
allowed to partake in the expedition but Lukas informed him and the
other novices that they had more onerous duties to attend to.

‘Burying the dead,’ he
grinned, ‘or rather throwing them on pyres. Godly work, boys, godly
work.’

It may have been godly
work but it was also stomach churning, the face masks they wore
proving no deterrent to the disgusting stench that invaded their
nostrils as they loaded decaying Lithuanians onto carts to be
consigned to great pyres that had sprung up on the land to the
south of the castle. Leather face and his crossbowmen had been
detailed to assist the burial parties.

Hans grabbed the feet
of a Lithuanian who had been killed by a crossbow bolt a hundred
paces from the gates, the quarrel having pierced the man’s mail
armour and gone into his heart. The blood from the wound had long
since turned black and the body was bloated with noxious gases.

‘Careful Hans,’ said
Conrad, grabbing the corpse’s wrists, ‘we don’t want to drop it and
release the gases.’

‘It already stinks
foul,’ said Hans, climbing from the side of the ditch where the
body had rested for several days.

‘Yes,’ agreed Conrad,
‘but if you get any of his insides on you it could be fatal.’

They had gingerly
moved the corpses a few feet from the ditch, the two-wheeled cart
hitched to a pony twenty paces away, when leather face came
bounding over.

‘Hold on boys, not so
fast.’

He gestured for them
to put the corpse down.

‘It has to go on the
cart,’ said Conrad irritably.

‘And it will, just
need a little look first.’

‘For what?’ queried
Hans.

Leather face knelt
bedside the corpse and whipped out a set of pliers from a pocket in
his leggings. He picked up one of the hands.

‘You remember that
first attack against the walls and the enemy horsemen around that
great banner they had?’

He jammed a finger
that had a ring on it between the pliers’ side cutters and squeezed
them. There was a loud crunch as he severed the finger.

‘Well,’ continued
leather face, ‘you might not have noticed, being godly and sworn to
a life of poverty and all that, but those horsemen were lords and
chiefs and men of some wealth.’

He pulled the ring off
the severed finger and placed it in a small leather pouch that hung
from his belt, casting the limb aside.

‘And men of wealth
like to wear things of value,’ said leather face, lifting the dead
man’s mail shirt to see if there was a pouch underneath.