The Sword Brothers (76 page)

Conrad shook his head
and pulled down his mask.

‘You rob the
dead?’

Leather face stood up.
‘Now don’t you get so high and mighty. I have been a mercenary for
more years than I care to remember and all I’ve got to show for it
is a bent back and a few scars. They ain’t going to buy me that
little ale house back in Germany so I can live out my dotage in
peace.’

He walked over to
another corpse, this one wearing a red cloak in addition to mail
armour and leather boots. He pulled off the boots and then rummaged
through the blood-crusted clothes, whooping with joy when he yanked
a pouch from the leather belt. He opened it and examined the
contents before emptying them into his own pouch.

‘Rewards of the job,’
he beamed. ‘And Lord knows there aren’t many of those in my line of
work. You can get back to burning them, now.’

He moved on to the
other corpses they had been ordered to haul away to the pyres, and
Conrad noticed that the other mercenaries were also examining the
dead and stripping them of anything of value.

It took two days to
dispose of the dead, the funeral pyres burning day and night as
fuel and corpses were thrown on them. The dreadful smell of
roasting flesh permeated the air over the castle and the
surrounding area. Caupo had brought nearly five thousand men to
Wenden and a thousand had fallen during the relief assault. They
had to be buried too and so a thousand of their comrades dug a
great burial pit half a mile north of the castle where the bodies
were interred according to the Christian faith. Otto told Conrad
that it was appropriate that the bodies of dead pagans should be
burned as they were going to hell anyway where they would burn for
all eternity.

Leather face and his
fellow mercenaries deposited their ill-gotten gains in the armoury
and Caupo departed with his warriors. Word arrived from Master
Bertram at Segewold that the Lithuanians besieging his castle had
mysteriously vanished, the patrols he had despatched to discover
their whereabouts having returned with news that they were marching
south at speed, no doubt having heard of Caupo’s defeat of
Daugerutis at Wenden. No one knew if they would encounter the Livs
and Sword Brothers that had been sent after the Lithuanians who had
fled from Wenden. Conrad cursed his luck that he would miss the
great slaughter that Rudolf, Henke and Lukas would take part in
when they finally caught up with the enemy. He was even glummer
when Rameke took his people, including Daina, back to his village
south of Wenden to begin his new life as their chief. The castle
suddenly seemed vast and empty as he and the other novices went
back to their duties and the workers went back to their building
work.

*****

It had been four days
since Stecse had left his lord at Wenden to take the Liv chief and
his son across the Dvina. He had tried to be civil to Thalibald and
Waribule but they made it plain that they had no time for
politeness or conversation, grunting one-word replies to his
questions and avoiding his eyes. After two days of their insolence
he had grown tired of their company and rode at the head of his
column of men, alongside his son whose company he found infinitely
more agreeable. Even though he had only seen thirteen summers
Mindaugas was growing into a fine young man. He had brought him on
campaign because he had wanted him to witness the great Lithuanian
invasion of Livonia. He also wanted him to see the sights and
sounds of war as part of the preparation to become a warlord. He
had taken no part in the fighting at Lake Inesis, Stecse having
assigned a bodyguard to ensure he stayed out of danger, but his son
had shown no fear in the face of the enemy. Soon he would be ready
to kill with his own sword.

The frosts had
disappeared now and the days were pleasant, though the nights still
cool. The vast forests of birch, spruce and pine were alive with
red foxes, elk, lynx, deer, wild boar and marten. The few
settlements they had come across had been deserted, the inhabitants
having fled into the forest with their food and belongings to wait
until the invaders had passed.

They would take refuge
in their sacred groves deep in the forest where oaks believed to be
possessed by the spirits of the gods would protect them. Stecse
smiled to himself; the crusaders believed that they had eradicated
the old religion but they were wrong. Beliefs over a thousand years
old would not disappear overnight.

‘Is this land now
Lithuanian, father?’ enquired Mindaugas beside him.

‘To all intents and
purposes, yes.’

‘And will we live here
when the war has ended?’

‘It will be for the
grand duke to decide, my son.’

‘What will the Livs
do?’ said Mindaugas.

‘They will obey, like
all beaten peoples. That is the way of the world.’

‘What of the
crusaders?’

‘What of them? They
are few and we are many. The grand duke has planned this war well.
By the time they arrive their castles will have fallen and Riga
itself will be besieged. They will lose heart when they see that
the kingdom they have created has crumbled.’

‘I have heard that the
god they worship was executed by his enemies,’ said Mindaugas. ‘If
that is true, why do they follow such a weak god?’

‘The one who was
executed was the son of their god and was called the Christ,’
Stecse corrected him. ‘I do not have knowledge of their religion
but I believe that they fight to avenge his death.’

‘What is the father of
this Christ called?’

Stecse shrugged. ‘He
has no name, he is just their god.’

Mindaugas was silent
for a few seconds. ‘It is a strange religion.’

Stecse nodded. ‘They
are a strange people. They seek to convert all peoples to their
religion, either peacefully or by the sword. That is why they send
armies to this land every year. That is why they are called
crusaders.’

‘The Lithuanian people
would never abandon their gods,’ said Mindaugas defiantly. ‘How did
the son of their god, this Christ, die?’

‘He was crucified, I
believe,’ answered Stecse.

‘A criminal’s death,’
sneered Mindaugas. He looked behind to where Thalibald and Waribule
rode on their horses. ‘No wonder Caupo and his men were beaten so
easily following such a weak god. Only the strong deserve to
triumph.’

The quiet of the
afternoon was interrupted by the appearance of four riders from the
rear who galloped up to the head of the column, their horses
sweating and breathing heavily, their riders agitated and fretful.
They wore no armour save helmets and round shields,
spisas
and axes their weapons. The scouts brought their horses to a halt
beside Stecse who gave the order to stop.

The commander raised
his hand. ‘Crusaders approaching, lord.’

‘Crusaders?’ said
Stecse. ‘From where?’

‘I do not know, lord.
They approach from the west,’ replied the sweating leader. ‘Many
horse and foot.’

‘How many?’ asked
Stecse.

‘Five, six hundred,
lord.’

‘How far are they
away?’

‘Two miles at most,
lord.’

Stecse looked back at
his men. He had five hundred well-armed and equipped riders. They
were in open ground on an old track that meandered its way between
two great forests, with a hundred paces of meadow each side of the
track before the trees began. If he made a stand here his men could
not be outflanked. On the other hand the crusaders probably had
crossbowmen among their ranks and he had seen what these weapons
could do at Kokenhusen. He also had his orders, which were to get
his captives across the Dvina.

‘We will continue on
to the Dvina,’ he ordered.

‘We will not fight the
crusaders?’ said a surprised Mindaugas.

‘We do not know how
many they number,’ replied Stecse. ‘And my priority is to get the
prisoners back across the river.’

‘But father…’
protested Mindaugas.

Stecse held up a hand
to quieten him, then looked around with concern. It was suddenly
eerily still and he sensed something was wrong. During their
journey they had seen many birds and had surprised deer among the
trees and in the meadows, occasionally disturbing a black stork by
a stretch of water. But now there was nothing.

A twig snapped and
Stecse instinctively grabbed his son’s arm and pulled him from the
saddle. A succession of thwacks came from the trees and two of the
scouts were struck in the back by crossbow bolts, pitching them
forward onto the necks of their horses before they fell from the
saddle.

‘Ambush!’ screamed
Stecse as the other two scouts brought up their shields to protect
themselves from the lethal hail that was being shot from the trees.
Stecse’s horse screamed in pain as it was hit by bolts and
collapsed, writhing in agony. He grabbed his shield lying on the
ground and forced his son behind it.

‘Stay here,’ he
ordered.

Mindaugas went to
protest but a bolt struck the rim of the shield and stopped only
inches from his face.

Stecse grabbed the
reins of his son’s horse before it bolted and used it as a shield
as he called to his men.

‘Clear them from the
trees.’

Horns were already
sounding as the first score of riders galloped forward and charged
the treeline,
spisas
held above their heads ready to throw.
Crossbow bolts cut half down before they got to within fifty paces
of the forest but the others managed to reach the trees and launch
their missiles. Then came another fifty riders that charged into
the trees, throwing their long spears before attempting to kill the
crossbowmen with their swords. But it was costly work and another
fifteen Lithuanians fell before the ambushers were silenced.

Stecse hauled himself
into the saddle of a dead scout’s horse and rode to the trees on
the right side of the meadow from where the ambush had been sprung.
Mindaugas regained his saddle and followed his father. The
commander who had led the charge saluted. Shouts and screams were
coming from within the forest.

‘Recall your men,’
ordered Stecse. ‘There might be more of them approaching. No point
in losing soldiers for no reason.’

The commander saluted
and pointed at his signaller who raised the horn to his lips and
blew it twice. Stecse looked at the body of a dead crossbowman a
few paces away, his conical helmet with nasal guard his only
protection, his simple green tunic ripped where a
spisa
had
pierced his chest.

‘We should send men
into the forest to hunt them down,’ spat Mindaugas, still
discomfited by his close shave with death.

‘That is what they
want,’ replied Stecse, ‘to slow us down so their knights can toy
with us. But we will not play their game.’

Mindaugas was
mortified. ‘We cannot run from these Christians. It is shameful. We
should stand and fight.’

Before Stecse could
answer there was a succession of horn calls from the meadow, and in
the distance the sound of trumpets being blasted.

‘You may get your
wish,’ said Stecse flatly before tugging on his horse’s reins to
retrace his steps. Mindaugas and the others followed.

In the meadow the
Lithuanian horsemen were deploying into line, arrayed in their
companies approximately a hundred strong, arranged in two
lines.

Stecse looked at the
two surviving scouts that accompanied him.

‘Two miles away?
Perhaps I should have scouts that can judge distances.’

‘We did not lie,
lord,’ protested one but Stecse waved away his protest.

He galloped to the
centre of the line and halted his horse in front of the first rank
of Lithuanians. To the north, less than a quarter of a mile away,
the land either side of the track was filling with brightly
coloured horsemen, their beasts swathed in red, yellow and black
coverings, their riders similarly brightly adorned. They contrasted
sharply with the drab brown and green of the Lithuanians. Flags and
pennants flew from the Christian lances and in the centre of the
line was a huge banner that stirred only slightly in the light
breeze. The mounted drummers among the Christians banged their
instruments continuously as Stecse’s men sat in silence and watched
as more and more horsemen flooded the ground in front of them.
Mindaugas drew his sword.

‘You can put that
away,’ said Stecse. ‘We are not standing here entertaining the
Christians.’

His son and those
within earshot looked at him in surprise.

‘All you see is what
is ahead of you. But I have to think of matters of more import. If
the Christians are here then they might also be at the Dvina, and
if they are that means that the grand duke and all the other dukes
are cut off from Lithuania. Our first duty now is to reach the
river and secure the bridge across it.’

The Christians were
still deploying when the Lithuanians began to withdraw, a hundred
men forming the rearguard as the rest trotted south towards the
Dvina. The prisoners were escorted to the front of the column as
Stecse took command of the rearguard. The crusaders, realising that
their opponents were not going to fight, began following in one
great mass of horsemen, some breaking ranks to gallop in front to
charge the Lithuanians. Stecse led forward a group of half a dozen
horsemen against these lone riders, killing one himself with a
spisa
thrust before withdrawing back to the rearguard. But
this merely served to inspire the Christians to more acts of
bravado as more and more began to gallop forward to offer single
combat. But Stecse gave the order to increase the speed of the
retreat and thus the rearguard managed to stay out of their
reach.

After half an hour the
Christians were content to follow the Lithuanians as they fell back
towards the Dvina, now less than ten miles to the south. With the
ground either side of the track narrowing as the tress closed in
there was no scope to outflank Stecse’s men and he began to relax,
just as a commotion erupted behind him. He turned to see two riders
burst through the ranks, spooking one of the horses directly behind
him that bolted forward into his own horse, herding it to one side.
He looked on helplessly as Thalibald and Waribule galloped past and
headed towards the Christians. Two of his men dug their spurs into
their horses to give pursuit.