The Sword Brothers (92 page)

It had been decided
beforehand that the crusader camp should be located to the
southwest of the fort. Volquin knew that the other Estonian chiefs
would probably be summoned to Lembit’s aid and would probably join
forces in the north before marching south. All except the
Ungannians whose lands were to the southeast and would approach
from that direction. The force besieging Fellin further south would
hopefully act as a breakwater in the event that Kalju led his
warriors west. If not then Caupo’s Livs would provide prior warning
of their arrival and of the approach of any Estonians from the
north. In any event the crusader camp, positioned to the southwest,
would not be overrun.

The bishop’s pavilion
that he shared with Theodoric also doubled as the army’s command
tent, where Master Thaddeus explained his strategy to the lords
assembled round a table. Thaddeus stood at the table and pointed to
a rough sketch on parchment that showed Lehola and two lines drawn
around it.

He pointed at the line
that was nearest the forts’ walls. ‘Just as Caesar built lines of
circumvallation and contravallation around Alesia so will we erect
the same around Lehola, my lords.’

Count Horton, bored,
stared out of the open tent flaps at the bustle of the camp
outside. Sir Jordan looked perplexed.

‘When do we
attack?’

Thaddeus smiled. ‘We
do not, my lord.’

Count Horton turned
back to the table. ‘What did you say?’

The bishops were
staring intently at the sketch map and Grand Master Volquin was
observing everyone knowingly. Sir Helmold, seated between Caupo and
Thalibald, maintained a polite silence.

‘My engines will
batter the fort into submission,’ said Thaddeus, who again pointed
at his map, this time at the outer line that encompassed the fort.
‘Our lines of contravallation will prevent any relief of the fort,
thus making its surrender inevitable.’

Count Horton was not
happy. ‘We did not come all the way from Germany to sit on our
arses in this godforsaken place.’

‘No place is forsaken
of God, count,’ Bishop Albert reprimanded him.

‘Apologies, lord
bishop,’ grunted Horton.

‘If we are not to
assault the walls,’ remarked Sir Helmold, ‘then why do we have
hundreds of men chopping down trees if not to make siege
towers?’

Thaddeus nodded. ‘An
excellent question, my lord, and in answer I will again allude to
Caesar and his strategy at Alesia.’

Count Horton sighed
and rolled his eyes but Albert and Theodoric nodded. They at least
were acquainted with ancient history.

Thaddeus continued.
‘We dig a ditch to encompass our camp and siege works and, just as
Caesar did at Alesia, we top it with a rampart. This will provide
adequate defence against any Estonian relief force. Meanwhile, the
siege engines and crossbowmen will require mantlets to protect them
from any projectiles launched from the walls.’

‘And how long do you
anticipate the siege lasting?’ said Sir Helmold.

‘Five days,’ replied
Thaddeus.

Count Horton and Sir
Jordan burst out laughing and even Sir Helmold found it hard not to
smile. They were all veterans of wars and campaigns in Germany and
had first-hand experience of siege warfare. They knew that it could
take weeks to bring about the surrender of even a small citadel,
and Lehola was a formidable prospect.

Bishop Albert brought
his hands together. ‘You are confident in your estimation, Master
Thaddeus?’

Thaddeus bowed his
head. ‘Quite certain, lord bishop.’

‘Ha!’ scoffed Count
Horton. ‘More like five weeks. Is your eyesight poor, Thaddeus?’ He
pointed out of the tent. ‘That is a big stronghold.’

Thaddeus, clearly
intimidated by the big gruff knight, started to stammer but was
saved by Volquin.

‘I will strike a deal
with you, count,’ said the grand master. ‘If, after five days, the
fort has not fallen then you can lead your men against its
walls.’

Count Horton thumped
the table, making Thaddeus jump. ‘Agreed.’

As the afternoon wore
on the forest around the fort was filled with the sound of axes,
saws and falling trees. Squires, crossbowmen, spearmen and
sergeants were organised into parties and ordered to collect wood
for the defence lines. There was a westerly breeze blowing and so
Master Thaddeus gave orders that any unwanted freshly cut branches
were to be deposited facing the western side of the fort. They were
arranged in a long line and were then set on fire. Soon white smoke
from the burning greenery was drifting over the ramparts of Lehola.
Thaddeus ordered that the fires were to be fed as he went to site
his siege machines.

Conrad and the other
novices, after two hours felling trees, were ordered to assist
Master Thaddeus and his engineers set up their siege engines,
specifically the trebuchets. Thaddeus had had one such machine at
Fellin three years before but now he had three that were positioned
to the south of the fort, beyond the range of the archers on the
walls and in the tops of the towers. The garrison, having jeered,
whistled and bared their buttocks at the crusader army, had fallen
silent after the lords and knights had dispersed back to camp and
had been replaced by small groups of Livs, spearmen and crossbowmen
that ringed the fortress. After a while they grew bored and drifted
away. Grand Master Volquin was concerned that Lembit might launch a
sally from the fort and so deployed the brother knights in front of
the gates, reinforced by a hundred of the order’s crossbowmen. But
after two hours of inactivity he ordered the crossbowmen to assist
the parties felling trees. The brother knights dismounted and sat
on the ground in front of the trebuchets as the smoke from the
fires drifted over Lehola to the accompaniment of hundreds of men
hacking and sawing trees.

Carpenters sweated and
cursed as they manoeuvred the various components of the trebuchets
into place as Conrad stirred a cauldron of burning pitch being
heated over a fire.

‘That’s right,’ said
Thaddeus, who wore a floppy hat on his head and looked more like a
mathematician than a chief engineer. ‘Don’t let it get too
thick.’

It was now late
afternoon and the smell of smoke was permeating the entire area as
the wind began to lessen.

‘Will you heat it
until morning, Master Thaddeus?’ Conrad enquired.

Thaddeus shook his
head. ‘Not, we will wait until it gets dark and then we will
commence our assault.’

‘At night?’

Thaddeus tapped the
cauldron with his cane. ‘Keep stirring.’ He turned to look at Hans,
Johann and Anton who were also attending to cauldrons of pitch.
‘You boys also keep stirring. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the
assault.’

He turned to look at
the fort. ‘Now, young Conrad, you will notice that the shape of the
Estonian fortress is rectangular. This means that projectiles
launched into it from this, the narrow side, stand more of a chance
of hitting something. You understand?’

Conrad did not really
but nodded and pretended he did.

Thaddeus smiled and
pointed his cane at the row of fires on the western side of the
fort that were being allowed to die down.

‘Now on the western
side of the fort will be positioned five mangonels throwing stones,
the machines on the other side also shooting stones over the
eastern side of the fort. It would, of course, have been better if
three trebuchets could have positioned to the north of the fort. In
this way the enemy would have been assailed from four sides.’

He cast his head down.
‘Alas, I can only work with what I have.’

Thalibald sent out
parties to the north and east to search for any signs of the enemy
but they returned before nightfall to report that there were no
signs of a relief force. The mangonels had still to be assembled
when the trebuchets commenced their work. Night had fallen and a
yellow glow came from within the fort made by a host of Estonian
campfires.

Conrad stood with Hans
and the others as the burning pitch was poured into a small barrel
that was placed into the sling of the first trebuchet. A priest
stepped forward and blessed the projectile and Master Thaddeus
turned to look at Bishop Albert and Theodoric, who had both come to
watch the spectacle. Count Horton, Sir Jordan, Sir Helmold and
Grand Master Volquin were also in attendance. The bishop smiled,
nodded and Thaddeus gave the order to release the throwing arm. The
counterweight fell, the sling was drawn backwards, then whipped up
and forward and the barrel left it. No one could see its flight but
seconds later there was a muffled bang from within the fort.

‘Excellent work,
Master Thaddeus,’ announced Bishop Albert, ‘please carry on.’

He and the others
retired to their tents, leaving the priest behind to bless each
barrel before it was flung at the enemy. The rate of shooting was
slow – one barrel every twenty minutes – but Thaddeus kept them
working all night, and in the morning the trebuchets desisted when
the mangonels took over.

Though tired and
hungry, Thaddeus supervised their positioning and range and once
more the bishop sent two priests to bless the stones that were
launched into the fort: one for the mangonels on the eastern side,
one for the machines facing Lehola’s western walls.

And so began a day of
hurling stones into the fort, each one blessed by a priest to
improve its chances of smiting a heathen. Conrad spent the day
felling trees and sawing their trunks and branches to fashion
mantlets, logs for the top of the rampart and the fence around the
camp, and sharpened stakes to go on the outward-facing side of the
rampart and in front of the ditch. The latter was not very deep and
the rampart was not very high, but together and with the stakes
they presented a formidable enough barrier to any attacker. The
knights thought felling trees beneath them and so spent the day in
their armour riding up and down in front of the fort, hurling
threats at the defenders. The latter were nowhere to be seen, the
crossbowmen behind their mantlets shooting at any that showed their
heads.

The squires, lesser
knights, spearmen, crossbowmen, Sword Brother sergeants and brother
knights, plus those Livs who were not patrolling the countryside,
all took turns with axes and saws. By the end of the day hundreds
of trees had been felled and it looked as though a giant had been
at work with his scythe at the edge of the forest. Master Thaddeus,
who had been ordered by Bishop Albert to sleep in his tent in the
afternoon, was most pleased with the result. He conducted a tour of
his lines of contravallation with the two bishops, arriving at the
sector beyond the northern ramparts of the fort – held by the Sword
Brothers – in the early evening.

Conrad sat on the
earth rampart and picked up one of the water bottles lying on the
ground. He had walked from the trees to collect water for the other
three who were still toiling in the forest. He picked up four and
slung their straps over his shoulder, uncorked another and took a
great gulp.

‘Don’t gulp it down,’
said Lukas. ‘On campaign always treat water with care. You don’t
know where your next drink will come from.’

Conrad stopped
drinking. ‘From the nearby river, Brother Lukas.’

They were soaked in
sweat but all of them wore their gambesons, helmets and mail
armour, though Lukas, Henke and Rudolf had swapped their full-face
protection for kettle helmets.

Lukas pointed his
hammer towards the forest. ‘If the Estonians attack and surround
the army then you will not be able to get to the river and your
only water will be in that bottle.’

‘Let us pray that does
not happen, brother.’

Conrad looked up to
see a yellow mitre on top of a tall individual with a chiselled
face. He and the others jumped to their feet when they recognised
Bishop Albert and Grand Master Volquin. He smiled when Master
Thaddeus raised his cane to him.

Rudolf, Henke and
Lukas bowed their heads.

‘Lord bishop,’ said
Rudolf, ‘it is an honour to see you.’ He saw Theodoric beside him.
‘And you, Bishop Theodoric.’

Now nearly fifty,
Bishop Albert’s eyes were still alert but there were flecks of grey
in his hair and he looked tired. Clearly the years spent travelling
to and from Germany had taken their toll. His brother bishop had a
similar lean, severe appearance but seemed less drawn.

‘Master Thaddeus
assures me that the fort will fall imminently,’ said Bishop Albert
as another stone launched from a mangonel crashed into Lehola. ‘How
are my brave brother knights from Wenden?’

‘We are well, lord
bishop,’ answered Rudolf.

The bishop stared at
Conrad for a moment and then recognised him. ‘Conrad Wolff.’ He
turned to Theodoric. ‘This is the young man who saved me at Riga
two years ago. A most valiant individual.’

Theodoric examined
Conrad. ‘The church is in your debt, young man.’

‘He is to be a brother
knight, I seem to remember,’ Bishop Albert said to Rudolf.

‘He is, lord bishop,
if he lives that long.’

Albert placed a hand
on Conrad’s arm. ‘See that you do, young man. Livonia needs people
like you to safeguard its Holy Church.’

‘Thank you, lord
bishop,’ said Conrad, slightly overawed by the two bishops’
presence.

‘Well, I will leave
you to your work,’ said Albert. ‘God be with you all.’

The two bishops
continued on their tour of the outer works, accompanied by half a
dozen of Riga’s spearmen, Grand Master Volquin chatting to Rudolf
before he too departed. Master Thaddeus spoke to Henke and Lukas
before he left.

He pointed his cane to
the freshly made tree stumps in front of the ditch.

‘You need to cut down
some trees so that they fall parallel to the ditch.’

‘Why?’ asked
Henke.