The Sword Brothers (91 page)

That afternoon Lembit
led a hundred warriors south when a scout rode into the fort with
news that the crusaders were less than ten miles away. With the
headmen from the surrounding villages still on their way, he had to
slow the bishop’s advance else the Christians would be at Lehola’s
gates before they arrived.

The Estonians rode due
south for half a mile before heading west into the forest for two
miles and then moving south once more. The crusaders were moving
along the ancient track that led from Lehola south towards Fellin,
which meandered its way through deep woods that were seldom
ventured into by travellers. However, there were more ancient
trails through the forest and Lembit and his men rode along one now
as they journeyed south.

They moved slowly,
their ponies walking through the spruce and pine trees. No one
spoke to maintain stealth, though there was little need for silence
as the raucous noises on their left would have drowned out any
voices. They were now parallel to the crusaders as the latter moved
north, Lembit estimating the distance between them to be a quarter
of a mile, perhaps less. He held up his hand to halt the column,
removed his helmet and craned his neck to listen. He heard muffled
shouts and chopping noises. The crusaders were collecting firewood.
He smiled and replaced his helmet. He dismounted, pointed towards
the noise and led his pony on foot towards it. His men did
likewise, now advancing in a line towards the left flank of the
crusader army. After a hundred paces the ponies were left in the
care of every tenth man, Lembit leading the rest on as they moved
slowly and silently through the undergrowth.

Each man carried a
shield, two javelins and a sword at his hip. Dressed in varying
shades of browns and greens they blended into the background
perfectly as they approached the enemy.

*****

Conrad threw the
bundle of firewood into the back of the cart.

‘Any sign of the
Estonians?’ he asked Rameke.

‘None.’

His father had been
riding in the company of the bishops, Grand Master Volquin, Caupo
and the crusader lords, but he had sent his men to scout ahead and
on the flanks of the crusader army as it inched its way towards
Lehola. Rameke, now nineteen years old, led his own company of a
hundred men, his elder brother Waribule also commanding a similar
number of warriors. Conrad still felt like a boy in his friend’s
presence despite their near similarity in age. Rameke had great
responsibility whereas he was still a novice.

‘They must have locked
themselves in their fort,’ said Conrad, slotting the two-handed axe
into the rack fitted to the cart’s side.

Rameke turned and
looked at the wagons, carts, foot soldiers and horsemen that filled
the track north and south as far as the eye could see.

‘The bishop’s army is
too large and well armed for Lembit to risk meeting it in
battle.’

Anton threw another
pile of firewood into the cart. ‘He prefers to starve to death
rather than dying in battle.’

Other carts pulled by
a single mule stood at the edge of the forest, ready to receive the
wood collected by other foraging parties – it was as well that
Estonia was blanketed with forests otherwise the army would have no
fuel for its campfires.

Hans and Johann threw
their loads into the cart, which was barely a quarter full.
Warriors stood behind Rameke, their shields resting on the ground
as they chatted among themselves. They and their leader had spent
the whole morning patrolling the forest, cautiously moving through
the undergrowth in search of the enemy. It was hot and airless
among the trees and they were tired and thirsty. Even in the open
the temperature was rising, Conrad and the others having taken off
their helmets and mail shirts to lighten their load, leaving them
on the front of the cart. They still carried their swords and
daggers, of course, and had their shields slung on their backs.

‘I had better report
to my father,’ said Rameke, ‘and inform him that I have become well
acquainted with Estonia’s trees and wildlife.’ He turned to his
subordinate behind him.

‘Give the order to the
men.’

A piece of dead wood
fell from the cart and he stooped to pick it up, just at the moment
when a javelin flew through the air to hit his subordinate in the
chest. There was a succession of thuds as other javelins struck the
standing Liv warriors. One hit the mule harnessed to the cart,
causing it to stumble and collapse.

‘Ambush!’ screamed
Conrad as he grabbed Rameke and hauled him behind the cart, Hans,
Anton and Johann also making a beeline for the safety of the cart.
More javelins came from the trees and then there was a mighty roar
as the enemy charged.

Rameke’s Livs were the
first to suffer the full brunt of the attack, many being speared
and cut down before they had time to react. But the foraging
parties – foot soldiers mainly – also stood little chance as the
Estonians swept from the forest.

Rameke jumped up as
the first Estonians appeared. ‘To me, to me, rally to me.’

He drew his sword,
brought up his large round shield to cover his torso and charged
the enemy. Conrad and the others had no time to don their mail or
helmets as they raced after him. Horns were blowing among the Livs
and drums and trumpets were sounding up and down the column as the
nearest companies became aware of the attack.

The best form of
defence is attack, that was what Lukas had taught them, so Conrad
and the other novices charged the enemy as Rameke’s men formed a
shield fort around their leader, fending off the Estonians with
their spears as he organised a counterattack. Half a dozen
Estonians diverted themselves from attacking the Livs to assault
the novices, who came at them in a line. Conrad ran screaming at an
opponent carrying a shield and wielding an axe above his head, no
doubt hoping to split open Conrad’s exposed skull. But the blow was
too obvious, Conrad barging his shield into his enemy’s and
positioning his sword so that the man’s forearm would slam into its
edge as he attacked with his axe. This is what happened and the
bone in his arm was shattered on the steel. Conrad ducked as the
man’s grip on his axe was broken and the weapon fell to the ground.
He swiftly brought his sword down, flicked his wrist and drove an
arm of its cross-guard into one of the Estonian’s eye sockets. It
was a neat trick, for which he mentally apologised to Brother
Lukas.

The man crumpled to
the ground where Conrad stepped over him. He saw another warrior
coming at him, shorter than him but broader in the shoulders, long
hair coming from under his gilded helmet. He saw Conrad and Conrad
saw the scar on his left cheek and they both recognised each
other.

Lembit, accompanied by
four other warriors who attacked Conrad’s companions, smiled at
him. Conrad thought himself an accomplished swordsman but Lembit’s
attacks were deft and powerful and he had difficulty in standing
his ground. He leapt aside when Lembit attempted a sideswipe with
his sword, the edge of his blade ripping the fabric of Conrad’s
gambeson. His shield was splintered by a succession of strikes, the
last of which he managed to stop with his cross-guard. He smashed
his shield into Lembit’s and then unleashed a series of powerful
attacks that forced the Estonian back. But Lembit was quick on his
feet and he managed to sidestep, duck and dodge the blows, though
the last one cut away part of his shield.

‘You are good, Conrad
Wolff,’ he said mockingly, ‘but not that good.’

Conrad saw the Livs
advancing against perhaps a score of the enemy and his three
comrades holding their own against the Estonians, who now broke off
their combat to come to their leader’s side.

‘We must leave, lord,’
one said to him.

Conrad kept his
battered shield and sword raised as trumpets sounded behind him and
he heard horses’ hooves. Lembit screamed in frustration and pointed
his sword at Conrad as a party of knights trotted up, lances
couched.

‘Until we meet again,
Conrad Wolff.’

The other Estonians
were now beating a hasty retreat, Lembit following them as the
knights rode into the trees to attempt a pursuit. But the branches
were too low and the undergrowth too thick to risk the lives of
expensive warhorses and so the Estonians made good their
escape.

Rudolf arrived in the
company of Henke and Lukas as the wounded Livs were helped to the
surgeons. Conrad sat on the cart with the others as Rameke came to
them and clasped each of their forearms.

‘Praise God you are
all unhurt,’ he said, wincing when he saw the cut above Anton’s
right eye and Conrad’s torn gambeson.

The brother knights
dismounted and walked over to them.

‘Are you hurt?’ Rudolf
said to Anton.

‘It is nothing,’
replied Anton, feeling the wound with his hand.

‘Get it seen to,’
ordered Rudolf.

Lukas saw the helmets
and mail shirts draped over the cart’s driver’s seat.

‘That is why we issue
you with helmets and mail armour. Looks like latrine duties for you
all.’

‘But we were
collecting firewood, Brother Lukas,’ protested Hans.

‘You think that the
enemy should have allowed you the time to put on your armour and
helmets, according to the code of chivalry?’ said Lukas in mocking
tone.

Hans was going to say
yes but thought better of it.

‘It was Lembit,’ said
Conrad.

Rudolf spun round.
‘Are you certain?’

Conrad nodded and
Henke laughed.

‘And you let him get
away? Really, Conrad, you are making a habit of allowing your
enemies to escape.’

Rudolf walked over to
Conrad and inspected his torn gambeson. ‘A parting gift from
Lembit?’

Conrad nodded and
Henke laughed again.

‘Not so easy to kill
him, then?’

‘He was very quick on
his feet,’ said Conrad sullenly.

‘You don’t become
leader of all the Estonian tribes without being able to use a
sword,’ said Henke. ‘Strange that he should lead a raid,
though.’

But Lembit had
achieved his aim and the crusader army halted its march, sent out
patrols in all directions and then made camp, the tents and wagons
ringed by guards standing ready to repel another attack. None came
but the march to Lehola had been delayed and the next day, as the
bishop’s army packed away its tents and recommenced its march,
hundreds of warriors arrived at Lehola and filed through its
gates.

*****

Lembit had lost only a
dozen men killed and four more wounded but he returned to his
stronghold in a foul mood, almost beating a man unconscious when he
failed to control his pony while leading it to the stables.
Afterwards he sat in his great hall drinking copious quantities of
beer as the new arrivals were shown to their sleeping quarters.
Rusticus let him stew for a while and then went to see him.

Lembit pointed at the
jug on the table. ‘Help yourself.’

Rusticus filled a cup
with beer and leaned against the table, facing Lembit in his
high-backed chair.

‘You remember that
boy, Conrad Wolff?’

Rusticus shook his
head. Lembit pointed at his scar.

‘Oh, that boy. What
about him?’

‘He is with the
crusader army. I came face to face with him.’

‘Did you kill
him?’

Lembit shook his
head.

‘You should have. Him
still walking the earth is a bad omen, lord. No good will come of
it. His fate is intertwined with yours.’

Lembit frowned. ‘Are
you a fortune teller now?’

Rusticus drained his
cup and belched. ‘No, lord, but I know a sign from the gods as well
as the next man.’

‘Get out,’ snapped
Lembit, knowing that his deputy was speaking the truth.

If the Estonian leader
thought that he had outwitted the bishop he had reckoned without
the talents of Master Thaddeus. The architect of the fall of Acre
twenty-three years before had worked closely with Grand Master
Volquin regarding the assault upon Lehola, Thaddeus having
travelled to Riga in the weeks before the bishop’s arrival to
thrash out the details of how Lembit’s stronghold would be taken.
Volquin knew that the crusaders and the masters of his order would
favour an immediate assault with siege towers but Thaddeus
convinced him to adopt a different strategy.

Conrad, Anton, Hans
and Johann had spent the hours after the Estonian raid digging
latrine trenches as a punishment for discarding their mail and
helmets, after which they had to feed and groom horses before
finally erecting their tent at well past midnight. They awoke three
hours later to attend prayers in the chapel tent before eating
breakfast and beginning the ritual of daily chores again. The army
arrived before Lehola three hours later and once more they were
issued with axes and saws as the first part of Master Thaddeus’
plan was put into effect.

Lehola stood tall and
imperious on its great mound, the ground having been cleared of
trees and foliage three hundred paces from its base in all
directions. The ramparts and towers were thronged with warriors
when the crusaders arrived, wolf banners flying from every tower.
Master Thaddeus, mounted on an old grey palfrey, trotted around the
fort, occasionally stopping and looking up at the defences as
dozens of pairs of eyes stared down at him from the timber walls.
Grand Master Volquin, Master Berthold and Wenden’s brother knights
escorted him to ensure he did not stray too near the walls and thus
risk being shot by an archer, who nevertheless did loose the odd
hopeful arrow in their direction.

While this
reconnaissance of the enemy was being carried out, the knights
donned their full armour and their squires saddled their warhorses
and the Sword Brothers arrayed their banners in front of the fort.
The coats of arms of the lords of northern Germany fluttered in the
breeze and were displayed on dozens of shields as the crusader army
showed itself to the enemy in all its pomp and glory, the great
banner of Riga flying behind the bishop of the town as he sat on
his horse beside Theodoric in front of Lehola’s main gates.
Trumpets blew among his foot soldiers as they deployed in front of
him with his mounted bodyguard behind. Sir Helmold arrayed his
knights and their mounted retainers on the eastern side of the
fort, Count Horton’s men on the western side and the Sword Brothers
on the northern side. Sir Jordan’s depleted forces fell in beside
the bishop.