by Peter Darman
The birth of Christ was celebrated at Wenden as the snow lay thick on the ground all around the castle, weighing down the branches of the spruce and pine. The Gauja began to freeze in the middle of December, together with the streams and smaller rivers that fed it, the lakes and the marshes also becoming covered in ice. The boys’ training on horseback came to a temporary halt as Lukas instructed them on surviving the Livonian winter. Anton told Hans that because he was so thin he would freeze to death in the icy conditions but they were all issued with winter clothing as worn by the locals: felt capes, woollen underwear, woollen leg wraps, fur caps, mittens and socks. Hans was delighted to discover that not only did he not freeze but was actually warm in his winter clothing.
They carried on with their training but their bulky attire took some getting used to, in particular their large winter boots. The ground in the castle compound froze solid and every day received a fresh covering of snow that had to be cleared from the main track, paths and castle courtyard. Construction work slowed and then stopped, the carpenters being diverted from their usual duties to construct a siege tower that would be dismantled for the journey north and then reassembled at Fellin. The huts of the civilian families and the mercenaries were heated by burning peat blocks that had been cut and dried during the summer and extra food rations were issued to feed the women and children.
The boys had been at Wenden for nearly nine months now and each of them had become stronger, more agile and able to wield a waster with some dexterity. Two days after they had celebrated the birth of Christ in a packed chapel with the other members of the garrison, on a freezing late December afternoon under a clear blue sky, Lukas blew a whistle to call a halt to their exercises with a sword and shield. He waved them over to him.
‘Next month the Sword Brothers and those crusaders who have remained in Livonia for the winter will be marching north against the Estonians and all of you will be accompanying the army.’
Conrad grinned at Hans and the others looked like foxes that had forced their way into a chicken coop.
‘Will we get real swords, Brother Lukas?’ asked Conrad.
‘You will not. Nor will you be doing any fighting. You will help with the wagons and supplies. Brother Rudolf thinks that the experience of a winter campaign will be good for you all and I agree.’
He saw their disappointed faces. ‘However, if the Estonians overwhelm the army you have my permission to pick up any weapon that comes to hand in the brief time between the army’s defeat and your own deaths at the hands of Lembit’s warriors. Either that or run as fast as you can.’
Lukas laughed. ‘Not that it will come to that, God willing.’
Hans shook one of his boots. ‘It is impossible to run in these boots. Why have we been issued with boots that are too large, Brother Rudolf?’
Lukas pointed at Anton. ‘In winter what is a fighter’s most important instrument?’
‘His sword,’ answered Anton to murmurs of agreement from the others.
Lukas smiled. ‘Wrong. His feet.’
The boys stared at each other and their boots in confusion.
‘It is true,’ continued Lukas. ‘In winter if your feet get cold and wet then you will get frostbite. If that happens you will not be able to walk and might lose your toes, even your life. What use is a sword if you cannot stand up?
‘You are all wearing thick socks so your boots must be roomy enough to permit you to move your toes. Tight clothes and footwear impede the circulation which might lead to frostbite.’
At the end of the day Lukas watched over them in the dormitory as they cleaned their boots and rubbed them with grease.
‘Snow is an enemy of leather and so they must be cleaned and greased daily. Use your hands not a cloth because grease rubbed vigorously with a hand will warm it and will penetrate the leather more easily.
‘Do not let boots dry near a fire as they will either burn or become hard and brittle.’
When December ended so did their training as preparations were speeded up for the assault against Fellin. The boys were sent out to scour the surrounding countryside for the wood of dead fir trees because it is the best for winter fires. They loaded the branches onto horse-drawn sleds and then chopped the branches into firewood at Wenden. At night they lay in their beds and listened to the mournful howls of hungry wolves that filled the nearby forest. Parties of crossbowmen were sent out to hunt them down, partly to collect their carcasses for fresh meat and fur but also to rid the night of their dreadful sounds, a somewhat forlorn objective.
Conrad accompanied Rudolf, the leather-faced crossbowman who had taken part in the autumn hunt and four of his companions. It was four days into a cold snap and Rudolf was confident that they would be successful. His breath misted as he exhaled and looked into the savage blue sky.
‘The wolves will be desperate for food now and more receptive to calling.’
They pulled small sleds behind them as they headed towards the forest, trudging through the snow which Conrad found tiring after a while. ‘Leather face’ kept looking into the sky and spotted Conrad looking quizzically at him.
‘Ravens circling is a good indication of a fresh kill site. Mind you, the wolves have probably hunted and killed all the prey in the area.’
‘That is why we brought you along,’ said Rudolf, a crossbow slung over his shoulder.
‘Will they move away, then?’ asked Conrad.
‘What, the wolves?’ said leather face. ‘No, they are like the Sword Brothers: very territorial.’
Rudolf shook his head. ‘Just keep your eyes peeled for tracks, damn your eyes. I don’t want to be out here when it gets dark and even colder.’
Leather face winked at Conrad. ‘Doesn’t want to be wolf bait, more like.’
They trudged through the snow for an hour, leather face at the front of the column following the tracks he had picked up when they had entered the forest. Conrad found the latter unnerving, a quiet, desolate place seemingly devoid of life. There were no wolves here.
Leather face suddenly held up a hand and the column halted. Rudolf indicated to Conrad and the others to huddle round as the crossbowman walked back to them.
‘I’ll stay here and start calling. You all move ahead a hundred paces in front and get into position. And keep low and silent. Wolves are intelligent creatures.’ He looked at Rudolf. ‘Unlike the Sword Brothers.’
‘Perhaps we should kill you and save our ears from your idiotic utterances.’
They left the sleds behind as they walked forward, Conrad shadowing Rudolf.
‘Even if a wolf responds to the calls,’ said Rudolf, ‘he will keep a safe distance. As my insolent friend said, they are intelligent creatures.’
All the party wore white cloaks, white tunics and white leggings to blend into the terrain, with white cloth covers over their boots. Conrad knelt beside a spruce, its branches covered in snow, Rudolf next to him. Suddenly he heard a wolf howl behind him, followed by a dreadful high-pitched screech.
‘He is calling the wolves,’ whispered Rudolf. ‘The last sound was the call of a cow elk. Wolves hunt elks so hopefully they will take the bait.’
‘Why the wolf call?’ said Conrad.
‘Wolves are territorial but if a pack thinks another wolf or wolves have entered their territory they will come to investigate.’
Leather face made his calls again and minutes later Conrad saw fleeting shapes among the trees: dark grey beasts moving stealthily through the forest. He had already loaded his crossbow and now he brought up the stock to his shoulder. He glanced at Rudolf who was staring ahead, unblinking. The wolves were about two hundred paces away now, moving cautiously in their pack. Conrad knew that wolves did not travel alone but in groups. They looked bigger up close, with great jaws and snarling visages. They walked forward a few paces and he focused on one of the animals, a large wolf with a dark grey coat. He waited for Rudolf’s shot before he released his trigger. He heard a crack and then shot his bolt, the iron hea
d slamming into the chest of his target and dropping it.
He did not know if the others had shot their crossbows but in an instant the other wolves turned and fled. Rudolf reloaded his crossbow and raced forward, Conrad doing the same, holding it ready to shoot. He saw the other four crossbowmen also advancing with levelled weapons, ready to shoot down another wolf. But the beasts were long gone.
He reached his target to see the wolf lying dead, a small bloodstain under its head. Rudolf had only wounded his beast, which was whimpering in pain until he used his dagger to slit its throat and put it out of his misery. He stood up and looked around. The other crossbowmen signalled to him that they had killed their targets.
‘Six wolves,’ he slapped Conrad on the shoulder. ‘Well done.’
Leather face joined them as they unloaded their bows and dug their quarrels out of the dead animals.
‘Nice shooting,’ he said to Rudolf, grinning. ‘Are you going after the rest?’
‘They will be a long way away soon. We have to get back to Wenden before it gets dark.’
Leather face winked at Conrad. ‘Afraid of the dark, Rudolf?’
‘We could always leave you here to wait until they come back if you like,’ replied Rudolf.
‘And miss out on a big meal of roasted wolf?’ said leather face. ‘No chance.’
So they loaded the carcasses onto the sleds and pulled them back to Wenden. It was dusk when they reached the castle but they took the wolves straight to the kitchens where they were skinned and gutted, and later the meat was cooked and served. As usual the brother knights sat down to eat first, followed by the sergeants and then Conrad and his companions with those crossbowmen who had formed part of the hunting parties. Leather face sat opposite Conrad as Hans beside his friend stuffed his face with meat and bread. Leather face looked at him.
‘He looks as though he hasn’t had a meal in a month.’
‘No talking!’ shouted Henke who was stalking up and down the dining hall.
Hans grinned and continued to feed his mouth from his large, over-filled bowl. Conrad shook his head at leather face, indicating that he should say no more. It was one of the rules of the Sword Brothers that all meals were to be eaten in silence.
Henke stood over leather face with a malevolent expression. ‘It is forbidden to talk at meal times.’
‘Bloody stupid rule,’ murmured leather face under his breath.
‘What?’ snapped Henke.
Leather face looked up at him. ‘Nothing, Henke. Excellent meal.’
The next day, as a reward for killing a wolf, Rudolf took Conrad to Thalibald’s village. They rode on a sleigh, one of many that were being assembled at Wenden. A local pony pulled it on another glorious winter day, the air freezing and still and the snow-covered land dazzlingly white under a bright sun. Rudolf was armed with his sword and Conrad carried a dagger but the latter felt strangely vulnerable as the sleigh glided over the track’s frozen surface. He continually looked around and behind him as they travelled through the forest south of the castle. Rudolf noticed his apprehension and halted the pony.
‘What is troubling you, Conrad?’
‘Nothing, Brother Rudolf,’ he replied, peering into the trees.
‘You suspect that the forest might be filled with Estonians?’
Conrad felt himself blushing. Rudolf laughed.
‘Tell me, what do you hear?’
There was no wind, no movement among the branches of the trees and no birds in the sky. The only sound he could hear was the breathing of the pony in front of him.
‘Nothing.’
‘Precisely. In this clear, frosty weather noises carry to great distances. This tells me there are no hostile forces anywhere near and so we are perfectly safe. You must learn to use the terrain and weather to your advantage, Conrad. This may appear strange to you now but in time it will become your friend.’
Rudolf flicked the reins and the pony began to move forward. Rudolf nodded at his flowing mane.
‘Hardy beasts, these local ponies. They can endure extreme cold and subsist on low rations.’
‘They are small compared to our warhorses,’ said Conrad.
‘Size is not everything, Conrad,’ replied Rudolf, ‘and we will not be taking the warhorses north.’
‘You won’t?’
Rudolf shook his head. ‘They would be useless in a siege and they are worth too much to risk dying of cold standing around idle. So they will stay at Wenden.’
Guards wrapped in cloaks stood on the timber wall of Thalibald’s village as the sleigh entered the settlement and halted before his hall. The sentries had alerted their chief of its approach and now he stood outside its doors with his wife, two sons and Daina to greet the arrivals. Even though the journey had been short Conrad’s face was frozen and he was glad to get inside where a fire was raging in the stone hearth and drink some warm milk, and even gladder to be served by Daina. She was wrapped in fox furs, her green eyes lighting up when she handed Conrad the cup.
‘The gallant knight returns,’ she smiled.
Conrad’s cheeks reddened slightly as Rudolf and Thalibald began discussing the coming campaign.
‘We will need all the sleighs and ponies you can muster,’ said Rudolf. ‘The army will be arriving soon and I can guarantee that it will not bring enough supplies with it.’
‘The king will be accompanying it?’ asked Thalibald, referring to Caupo.
‘Unlikely,’ replied Rudolf, ‘but Master Berthold would appreciate your own presence and that of some of your warriors.’
‘You go to kill Lembit?’ asked Thalibald.
Rudolf cast him a wry smile. ‘The bishop would prefer his baptism.’
‘Lembit may bend his knee to the bishop but in his heart he will never yield to Riga, I think.’
While this conversation was going on Conrad sat down on a bench near the fire and gave Daina furtive looks. She was holding her tray and talking to one of her brothers, a stocky boy about the same age as Conrad. He had big hands and thick, shoulder-length hair. He too had green eyes though his face was long like his father’s. He saw Conrad admiring his sister.
‘You have an admirer, sister.’
Conrad turned away quickly and stared at his cup, his cheeks starting to burn as he blushed.
‘Leave our guest alone, Rameke,’ said Daina. ‘He is most polite and helpful. You may be interested to know that he wounded Lembit in a fight.’
Rameke rose from his bench and came over to sit opposite Conrad, offering his hand across the table.
‘A shame you did not slay him but a wound is a good start.’
Conrad smiled and took his hand.
‘My name is Conrad Wolff.’
‘And I am Rameke, youngest son of Chief Thalibald.’
Conrad estimated his age to be the same as his own but looked with envy at the sword in its scabbard strapped to his belt, a weapon also carried by his elder brother Waribule.
‘Daina,’ said Rameke, ‘fetch more milk for us.’
Daina came over and Conrad stood up, much to her amusement.
‘Would you like more milk, Conrad?’ she asked, ignoring her brother.
‘Thank you,’ Conrad stammered, reaching for his cup and knocking it over. He blushed again and Rameke laughed.
‘Conrad, we are leaving,’ called Rudolf, who embraced Thalibald and walked with the chief towards the hall’s exit. Conrad excused himself and hurried after them, turning to catch a last glimpse of Daina.
‘Thank you for the milk.’
She dazzled him with a smile and a slight curtsy as Conrad raised his hand to Rameke and Waribule. He replaced his fur cap on his head and stepped onto the front of the sleigh. Rudolf tugged on the reins and the pony walked forward, turned right and trotted from the village. Conrad looked behind him as Thalibald was joined by his sons outside the hall but not by his wife or daughter.
‘Daina is a fine girl,’ remarked Rudolf casually when they were half a mile from th
e village.
‘She is,’ agreed Conrad.
‘Would you like to wear the surcoat of the Sword Brothers one day, Conrad?’
‘Yes, Brother Rudolf.’
‘Do you know what “chastity” means, Conrad?’
‘No.’
‘It means that you cannot enter the order of Sword Brothers if you take a wife, Conrad, for only those who are pure of mind and body can truly serve God. Do you understand?’
Conrad did not, really. All he knew was that he wanted to be like Rudolf and Henke and wear a white surcoat bearing a red cross and sword and fight the pagans. He also knew that he wanted to see more of the fairest Daina. But most of all he wanted to march north to fight the Estonians.
The days following were filled with activity as Thalibald and his sons arrived with fifty warriors, each one driving a sleigh pulled by a pony. Master Berthold had sent a plethora of messages via pigeon to Bishop Albert at Riga concerning the size of the force that would march to Fellin. He emphasised that a large force would soon eat up all the supplies he had amassed at Wenden and, unless they brought their own food, would probably have to retreat before it could achieve anything. The bishop wrote back saying that because he had had to send soldiers to reinforce the garrisons along the Dvina, and also keep troops in and around Riga to safeguard the area from further Kur attacks and also reassure the citizens, the force that would march north would be a pale imitation of the army that had assembled at Wenden in the summer. In addition, many crusaders had returned to Germany rather than spend the winter in Livonia.
In the first week of January Sir Frederick arrived at the head of his crusaders: twenty knights, forty lesser armoured knights, a score of squires, fifty of the bishop’s crossbowmen, an additional fifty of his spearmen, and various support personnel – carpenters, armourers, surgeons and priests – a further forty men. Sir Frederick and his knights came attired in their war gear and accompanied by their warhorses.
‘Those beasts will never return to Riga,’ said Lukas to the boys as the squires pitched tents outside the castle perimeter and Sir Frederick rode through the gates at the head of his knights on his way to the castle. ‘Shame.’
