by Peter Darman
At the docks their progress was slowed by a mass of sailors, port officials, wagons, cattle, horses and dockers. The quayside was filled with the aroma of salt and fish and cawing gulls hovered above. The harbour area was crammed with boats of all shapes and sizes. The largest, the single-masted cogs, were nearest to the quay, their cargoes being unloaded by cranes for storage in the great warehouses that lined the docks. These impressive brick-built structures comprised three storeys, the ground floor being the venue where buying and selling took place and the second floor the space where goods were stored. The top floor was filled with offices and living quarters.
Around the cogs were aged byrthings – short and broad boats with a single sail and rudder – and even older boats called busses that had slender hulls and one mast and sail. There were also a great number of cobles: flat-bottomed, open-decked, high-bowed, clinker-built fishing vessels. The high bow was necessary for sailing in the rough waters of the Baltic. Further upstream the riverbanks around the villages were littered with smaller vessels. These included punts with flat bottoms and square bows – ideal for fishing in shallow waters. The villagers also used coracles, stringing nets between two boats to catch fish.
Rudolf and Henke pushed their way through the crowd until they reached two cogs moored by the quay flying pennants bearing a red sword below a red cross from the top of their masts. Standing on the stone quay was a collection of soldiers and civilians, including a handful of women and young children. Conrad noticed a group of youths standing with a man in his twenties dressed in mail over which he wore a white surcoat. He was armed with a sword and carried a wide shield in his left hand. His helmet was on the ground before him and he had removed his mail coif from his head. He had a handsome if serious face topped by trimmed brown hair.
Henke nudged Rudolf. ‘Behold. Walter the Penitent.’
Rudolf frowned at his grinning friend who pointed at the young knight. ‘You see that handsome young knight, Conrad? That is Walter, a young noble from one of Saxony’s richest families. Killed a friend in a duel so I heard, and now he is full of remorse and wishes only to absolve his sins by seeking a heroic death fighting the godless heathens. He might get his wish, but it won’t be heroic.’
‘Thank you, Henke,’ Rudolf rebuked him. ‘The bishop welcomes all those who volunteer to fight the pagans.’
‘His enthusiasm will cool when he experiences the reality of our cause,’ sniffed Henke.
The youths standing with the handsome young knight were an unprepossessing sight: all but one dressed in poor quality, ill-fitting shirts and leggings. One in particular caught Conrad’s eye, a painfully thin boy at least six inches shorter than him with sallow skin and greasy brown hair. He looked as though he could be broken in half with ease.
Rudolf walked over to the group and spoke to the knight first.
‘Welcome Walter. I am Rudolf and this is Henke. The bishop informed me that you would be travelling to Livonia before him and the other crusaders.’
Walter bowed his head to Rudolf. ‘Thank you, Brother Rudolf. I am eager to get to grips with the heathen to do God’s work.’
Henke smirked but Rudolf nodded his head and placed a hand on Walter’s shoulder. ‘With a fair wind and a calm sea it shall be so.’
Rudolf next placed an arm around Conrad’s shoulders and spoke to the four youths behind Walter.
‘This is Conrad Wolff, who like you has volunteered to join the holy crusade in Livonia. You are brothers in the service of God so conduct yourself as such and you will prosper.’
Conrad had little opportunity to get to know his young companions as the next hour was spent assisting the captain and his crew stowing the supplies for the voyage. The two ships were over seventy feet long and over twenty feet wide with a single unfurled sail tied to each mast’s yardarm. At the stern was a ‘castle’ that contained the captain’s cabin.
The decks were being loaded with cages containing chickens, crates and spare timber for repairs at sea. The casks holding water, wine and ale were stashed below decks along with spare anchors, sails and rigging. The chickens would be eaten during the voyage but the main food source would be the salted fish, dried meat and biscuits that Conrad and his comrades helped to load.
Conrad and the thin youth began ferrying the chicken cages from the quayside to the first boat under the supervision of an evil looking sailor with a thick beard and filthy clothes. He barked orders at the pair to stack the cages neatly against the starboard side of the boat, spitting after every sentence.
‘We’ll be eating these,’ the stick-thin boy said to Conrad, nodding at the cage they were carrying, ‘but first they will be laying eggs for us to eat. Lovely.’
He grinned triumphantly at Conrad. ‘What did the brother say your name was?’
‘Conrad Wolff.’
They placed the cage holding two hens on top of another that also held a brace of poultry. They stepped away and the sailor inspected their work, shifting the cage slightly to align its edges so they were flush with those of the one beneath. He spat over the side of the boat and ordered them to go and fetch another cage.
‘I am Hans.’ He looked around at the supplies being stowed on board the two cogs. ‘Don’t think we’ll starve on this trip. Where is this place we are going to, Livonia?’
Conrad shook his head. ‘I do not know.’
‘How long do you think it will take us to get there?’
Conrad pursed his lips. ‘I do not know.’
Hans rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, at least we won’t starve.’
Conrad smiled, the first time he had done so in days. This boy seemed obsessed by food. Conrad also noted the large amount of supplies being loaded onto each cog and also thought it unlikely that they would starve. He counted thirty-five casks of water that were stowed beneath the deck in the hold, with a further ten casks of wine and ten casks of ale that followed them. There were also a great number of crates holding salted fish, dried meat and biscuits that would be consumed on the journey. The sailors were bemused to see Walter the Penitent lending a hand loading the cog with supplies. Noble knights usually did not get their hands dirty doing such work.
The other passengers were also lending a hand save for the handful of women who were minding their children. Each vessel had a crew of twelve men including the captain and could accommodate up to thirty passengers, who slept in the hold in hammocks. However, because of the food, ships stores and other supplies crammed into the hold there was only space for twenty hammocks, which meant that everyone had to share their sleeping space.
As time wore on the two captains, who both shared a remarkably similar shabby appearance, began to get more irritated and scolded their men and those assisting them for their tardiness. They wished to catch the tide and be away. Conrad was also eager to leave Lübeck and so he and Hans worked hard to get everything on board. The civilians and their families, who Conrad discovered were stonemasons and blacksmiths, were carried in the second cog, along with some of the mercenaries. The balance of the latter, along with Rudolf, Henke, Walter the Penitent and the five youths, travelled in the first cog.
Just as Conrad believed that the head of the captain would burst, so flustered had he become, all the supplies had at last been loaded and the anchors were weighed. As the passengers gathered at the sides of the ship sailors threw a rope to a waiting buss, whose oarsmen began rowing as soon as it was secured to the stern. Conrad felt the cog move as the longship pulled it away from the quay and towards the middle of the Trave. The captain kept a keen hand on the cog’s rudder for the harbour was full of vessels that he had to thread a path through.
Their progress seemed agonisingly slow as they passed by other boats moored in the harbour, the second cog behind them was also being pulled by a buss. But as the minutes passed the quay diminished in size and they left the harbour to enter the wide waterway that was the Trave. Conrad gripped the side of the boat and spat in the direction of the spires and buildings of Lü
beck, the city that had killed his family and cast him as an orphan into the world. Then he remembered Marie and said a silent prayer to God that she would be safe and protected for he suspected that he would never see her again.
After two hours the cogs had reached the estuary of the river and the longships cast them adrift, the captain ordering the sail to be unfurled as he sought to catch the breeze. Everyone looked up in excitement when the great canvas sail billowed as the wind filled it and they began their journey across the Baltic. Conrad noticed that the sail carried the red sword and cross emblem that Rudolf and Henke wore on their surcoats. He also noticed that Walter was kneeling on the deck praying, which Conrad took comfort from. God would not sink their vessel with such a pious man on board.
Once under way the ship’s cook began roasting fresh fish over a brazier positioned near the bows of the boat. Soon a queue had formed as sailors and passengers alike waited to satisfy the appetite they had built up during the loading of the ship. Hans was near the head of the line, eagerly waiting with his wooden eating bowl. Rudolf had ensured that the ship’s food supplies were more than sufficient for the journey and had purchased fresh meat and fish on the morning of their departure so the bellies of all the crew and passengers would be full at the start of the voyage and during the passage. From bitter experience he knew that empty bellies bred mutinous spirits and lethargy. There was little point in arriving at Riga with a ship full of half-starving people.
Hans was eating greedily from his bowl when Conrad sat down beside him beneath the gunwale, using his fingers to shovel cooked mackerel into his mouth.
‘I told you we would not starve,’ he grinned.
‘That depends on how long we have to stay on this boat,’ said Conrad, who had to admit that the mackerel was most appetising.
Hans emptied his mouth and scooped up some more fish. ‘Just over three weeks. I asked one of the sailors.’
The prospect seemed daunting but the days following were filled with work that kept Conrad’s mind occupied. When helping to clean the deck with buckets of seawater he occasionally glanced at the distant horizon, the endless ocean making him and the boat he was on appear miniscule and unimportant. He shuddered. He had never seen the sea before let alone sail on it. He gazed at the dark water and wondered what monsters swam below its surface. At night he lay in his hammock and heard the creaking of the ship’s timbers and wondered if the vessel would break apart while he slept.
He had counted himself lucky that he had been allotted a hammock to sleep in and wondered why Rudolf, Henke and the mercenaries preferred to sleep in the open on deck. After the first night he knew why. The hold stank of urine and human dung, made worse when several of his fellow youths were seasick. Whereas Hans was talkative and jovial the other three – Anton, Bruno and Johann – were more reticent and aloof. They rarely spoke and kept their heads down, and even the frequent questioning by Hans had little success. However, their bouts of seasickness and Conrad’s offer to help them to the deck so they could throw up over the side made them more approachable, even if they nearly always vomited below deck, creating a nauseous stench. Added to the odour of dung and urine it was quite overpowering. Everyone was given a terracotta pot to piss in each evening, which also doubled up as a sick bowl. They were emptied every morning but in the foetid darkness of the hold many were kicked over by accident, especially during Bruno and Johann’s desperate attempts to reach the side of the ship before they emptied their stomachs, which invariably failed.
Conrad emerged each morning clutching his piss pot and his nose permanently twisted at the reek that greeted his nostrils when he opened his eyes. Climbing the steps slowly so as not to disturb the contents of his pot, he always encountered a cheerful Rudolf.
‘I trust you had a good night’s sleep, Conrad?’
Henke grinned evilly as he and Rudolf joined the queue of those waiting to empty their bowels at the bowhead where there were located two seats, one projecting out either side of the prow. It was an undignified and precarious business but absolutely essential.
Conrad noticed that during the voyage most of the crew and passengers became a little leaner, especially Bruno and Johann who took a week before they acquired their sea legs. However, Hans actually gained weight on account of the regular meals he was eating.
‘What did you do, Conrad, before this voyage, I mean.’
They were in the hold armed with hammers trying to hunt down and kill the rats that occupied the ship’s interior. Hans was clutching a candleholder, the flickering flame barely enough to see by let alone hunt black rats.
‘I was an apprentice baker to my father,’ answered Conrad proudly. ‘What about you?’
‘Beggar and thief. There’s one, quick!’
Conrad raised his hammer but he only caught a fleeting glimpse of a black shape and then it was gone. This was hopeless. Conrad lowered his weapon.
‘A thief?’
‘Caught stealing a loaf of bread. They were going to hang me but it was a church court, fortunately, and so they offered me a life serving God or dancing on the end of a rope. So here I am.’
‘What about your family?’ asked Conrad.
Hans scratched his head and picked a louse from his hair. ‘Don’t have any. I was an orphan and beggar on the streets of Lübeck. Managed to survive most of the time but I had not eaten in two weeks. I was so hungry that I didn’t consider getting caught. I just saw that big fresh loaf and the ache in my belly and took it. What about you?’
‘I lost my family,’ was all that Conrad would say on the matter.
The voyage was largely uneventful, the waters of the Baltic remaining largely flat and the winds mostly mild. Occasionally they were struck by a thunderstorm that drenched the boat, but not before everything on deck had been covered with canvas sheets. The rainwater was caught and stored in the casks that had been emptied of water and so there was no need to put into shore to replenish what had been consumed. No one washed or shaved and so as the days passed everyone stank and got progressively filthier. Rudolf and Henke discarded their surcoats and chainmail and donned garnache – loose outer garments with short, wide sleeves. The mercenaries similarly stashed their padded coats away and wore their leggings and shirts only.
The mood was relaxed and friendly, the sailors appreciative of Conrad and his companions lending a hand with daily tasks on board and the mercenaries being kept on a tight leash by Rudolf. In their spare time the sailors played dice but Rudolf prohibited Conrad and his comrades from taking part.
‘Gambling pampers to our base instincts and leads to resentment and anger,’ he told them. ‘No good comes of it.’
His words were prophetic as two days later a fierce argument broke out between two of the crew concerning cheating at dice. One of the men pulled a knife and stabbed the other sailor, resulting in his death. He was immediately arrested and placed under guard in the hold while his fate was decided. Rudolf ensured that Conrad and his fellow youths were in attendance as the man was hauled before the captain. The day was warm and sunny with a light breeze filling the sail above them as the offender was brought up the steps. The body of the dead sailor lay on the deck, blood oozing onto the wood. Conrad deliberately stared ahead to avoid looking at it.
Rudolf and Henke, now dressed in their mail armour, though not coifs, and both with swords in their hands, flanked the prisoner. Conrad noticed that Rudolf had some terrible scars on his neck.
The captain wiped his nose and eyed him.
‘Have you anything to say?’
The sailor, nervous and pale, clasped his hands in front of him. ‘It was just an argument that got out of hand, captain. Nothing more. You know how it is, sir. Nerves and tempers wear thin at sea.’
‘That they do,’ agreed the captain, ‘which is why you should have known better. There is nothing more to say. The punishment is well known. Brother Rudolf.’
Rudolf turned and nodded to one of the mercenaries who was holding a rope.
> ‘No, captain,’ pleaded the sailor. ‘It was just a flash of temper.’
The mercenary grabbed the man’s arms and yanked them back so Henke could bind them behind his back with the cord, then bound his ankles together with another length of rope. The sailor, suddenly aware of what was going to happen, began to struggle violently, falling on the deck.
‘No, no! Leave me alone.’
Two more mercenaries grabbed the body of the dead sailor and passed Henke another length of rope. They dragged the corpse to place it next to the thrashing prisoner and then Henke tied the rope around the necks of the prisoner and corpse, thus binding them together. The mercenaries lashed the two pairs of ankles together as the prisoner began to moan.
‘No! For the love of God, no!’ The rope around his neck was constricting his breathing and he had difficulty talking.
Another rope was passed around the mid-rifts of the prisoner and corpse to tightly secure them together. The sailor was now whimpering. Rudolf began reciting a prayer and made the sign of the cross as Henke and two others hauled the corpse and sailor up and tossed them over the side of the ship. There was a splash and then silence. The captain dismissed the assembly as Conrad and his companions looked at each other. Rudolf came over to them.
‘That is why I forbid gambling.’
The next day one of the sailors explained to them that the law of the sea was severe when it came to killing on board ship. Not that it stopped gambling for that afternoon the same man was playing dice with another sailor. Rudolf made sure that all the youths were given daily tasks to stop them becoming bored and restless. Fishing over the side of the boat was one, rather enjoyable, of these tasks. Conrad sat with Hans on empty crates, dangling their rods over the gunwale hoping for a fish to bite the hooks. It was another glorious spring day and the slight breeze hardly rippled the marble-smooth waters of the Baltic. The two ships had hugged the coast to keep the sight of land permanently on their starboard side but the two youths were fishing on the port side of the cog. They were only five days away from their destination.
