Castellan (49 page)

Stefan now sat with his two uncles in one of the palace’s withdrawing chambers, attended by two male servants who poured fine wine into silver-gilt wine flagons with swan handles engraved with the cross keys symbol of Riga.

Bishop Albert had arrived at Riga two days before to a rapturous reception from the city’s population, no doubt buoyed by the hundreds of knights and their retainers that also came ashore from their mighty cogs. It was generally accepted that this year would see the final subjugation of the pagan Estonians, though the archdeacon had more pressing matters to put to his uncle.

‘I regret to inform you, uncle, that since you have been away the Sword Brothers have become a law unto themselves. They continually undermined my authority as de facto ruler of Livonia, culminating in the murder of several members of the garrison of Riga.’

Albert leaned back in his chair and sipped at his wine. He caught the eye of his brother Hermann who gave a slight shake of his head.

‘I heard about the incident at Wenden. Most regrettable.’

Stefan leered. ‘Then I have your permission to have Conrad Wolff arrested?’

‘You do not,’ replied Albert.

Stefan choked on his wine. ‘But, dear uncle, he killed some of my, that is your, men, having first interfered in a legally sanctioned execution of a witch. Such knavery cannot go unpunished.’

Albert sighed. ‘I know that the Sword Brothers can be blunt at times, but if I was to arrest the man whom I made Marshal of Estonia, the man I might add who also saved my life, killed Lembit and has raised an army that serves the interests of the Holy Church, it would cast me in a bad light.’

He pointed to the window. ‘There are many among the crusaders that came with me from Germany who have expressed a desire to fight alongside Conrad Wolff, such is his reputation. I will not and cannot have him arrested on the eve of our great crusade.’

‘And the garrison of Wenden, uncle,’ said Stefan testily, ‘are they to escape justice as well?’

‘To send a detachment of the garrison of Riga to arrest one of Wenden’s brother knights was foolhardy in the extreme, Stefan. How do you know Master Rudolf and his men were not provoked, or even attacked?’ replied Albert.

He looked at his brother. ‘Hermann, what is your opinion in this matter, seeing as you were present when this girl, this supposed witch, was rescued from the stake?’

Hermann considered for a moment. ‘I found Conrad Wolff to be reasonable in the affair, which is more than can be said for the members of the Rigan garrison.’

‘I object to that, uncle,’ said Stefan through gritted teeth. ‘The garrison of this city safeguards Riga.’

‘And its governor,’ added Hermann caustically.

Stefan’s eyes narrowed. ‘May I remind you, uncle, that I was appointed by your brother to preserve the interests of Livonia in his absence?’

‘And may I remind you that I am a prince of the Holy Church,’ replied Hermann, ‘and that the role of an archdeacon is to be a bishop’s assistant, not his adviser.’

‘Enough,’ ordered Albert. ‘The matter is closed for the moment. I need the Sword Brothers for the coming campaign in Ungannia. Of more immediate concern is the whereabouts of Bishop Bernhard. Has he returned to Dünamünde?’

Hermann looked at Stefan and smiled. ‘He is in the north with Conrad Wolff and his army. He found the atmosphere at Riga not to his liking, or perhaps it was the company. I received word from Wenden that he is safe and well and currently residing in Varbola, a stronghold captured by the Marshal of Estonia in the winter just passed.’

‘You see, Stefan,’ said Albert, ‘how important Conrad Wolff is to our mission in this land.’

Stefan said nothing as he sat on his silk-covered chair and fumed in silence.

‘So, brother,’ said Hermann, ‘we march to capture Dorpat.’

Albert nodded. ‘It is most strange that Ungannia, formerly a loyal ally of Riga, suddenly became its chief foe. Why this should be I cannot fathom.’

Stefan shrugged. ‘Who knows the workings of the pagan mind, uncle, save only the Devil? Only by banishing paganism can reason and justice be planted in this land.’

‘Master Rudolf at Wenden has informed me that Russian soldiers have been fighting alongside the Ungannians,’ said Hermann. ‘If this is the case, then we may be fighting them in Ungannia itself.’

Albert waved over one of the servants and placed his empty flagon on the silver tray he carried. The boy bowed and retreated.

‘It cannot be helped. Ungannia has betrayed our trust and must be punished. There can be no sanctuary for those who commit crimes against God.’

He looked at his nephew. ‘And that is what we are here for, what the Sword Brothers exist for: to serve God. Not to advance our own personal interests or those of the Buxhoeveden family. But to establish the kingdom of God in Livonia and Estonia. Remember that, Stefan, when you are conducting your personal feud against the Sword Brothers.’

For the archdeacon it was a chastening meeting. In his uncle’s absence he had ruled Livonia like a king, treating it as a personal fiefdom, the area around Riga at least. Now Bishop Albert had returned and his wings had been well and truly clipped. It was an experience he found most disagreeable. He said no more on the matter of the Sword Brothers but he was determined to redouble his efforts to clip
their
wings and that of Conrad Wolff, the low-born baker’s son.

*****

For the first time in years Rotalia was free of foreign incursions. The outposts along the coast deterred Oeselian raids, which in truth had declined markedly of late anyway, and the rebuilt fort of Leal meant Hillar could dispatch men to every part of his kingdom. He was not actually a king but a governor, made so by Conrad and confirmed by Bishop Bernhard. When the spring came Hillar returned to Leal while Conrad and the rest of the Army of the Wolf stayed at Varbola. There the Marshal of Estonia’s broken arm mended itself and he recovered his strength. Riki, delighted to be home at long last, gladly accepted baptism in the cold waters of a nearby river in return for him becoming governor of Harrien. His men, now numbering forty after the hard fight at Lumandu, also agreed to have their heads ducked under the water to wash away their sins and become members of the Catholic faith.

It was a good time. The rivers and streams were filled with pure, fast-flowing melt water, the forests teemed with elk, deer and wolves and the meadows with hares and buttercups. Among the trees the thick snow disappeared to reveal lush undergrowth and in the wetlands there was a profusion of bog moss, cotton grass and bog whortleberry. But more heartening than the changing landscape was the return of villagers to their homes. Not many at first, the news of a Harrien leader once again in Varbola being slow to travel throughout the land. Many of the villages, especially in the north of the kingdom that had been raided by the Danes, remained empty, their inhabitants having been either killed or taken as slaves long ago. But further south people came out of their hiding places in the forests and returned to their homes. Those village elders still alive gathered together to hold parish meetings and elect a parish elder, the elders in turn electing a county leader.

From Varbola Riki sent out riders to all the villages requesting reports of how many people lived in each settlement so as to paint an accurate picture of the state of Harrien. As the weeks passed a steady stream of reports were sent to Varbola, along with young men making their way to the fort to offer their services to the new ‘elf warrior’.

‘Who?’

Bishop Bernhard scratched his head as two young men were escorted from Varbola’s great hall, having been accepted into Riki’s service.

‘That was the name given to Alva, lord bishop,’ answered Riki, ‘the last leader of the Harrien to sit in this hall.’

‘They think you are a reincarnation of him?’ asked Bernhard.

Riki nodded. ‘Some do, though I dissuade them of the notion.’

‘You should indulge it,’ Conrad told him, ‘Alva was a great leader of your people.’

‘He fought against you,
Susi
,’ said Riki.

Conrad laughed. ‘So did you, my friend, at one time.’

The Harrien leader was sitting in one of the two chairs on the dais, the other having been given to Bishop Bernhard on account of his age. Conrad, Hans and Anton stood on one side; Riki’s two most trusted lieutenants on the other. A pair of guards escorted another potential recruit into the hall, a boy no older than thirteen or fourteen. Like his race his hair was blonde and his eyes blue. He had a handsome face, though it wore a scowl. He paced between the two guards, one carrying a sword in a scabbard. They halted in front of the dais.

‘Name?’ said Riki.

‘Jaan,’ replied the boy. ‘I have come to offer my sword to you, high one.’

One of the guards held out the sword. ‘He came with this, lord. Probably stole it.’

Jaan’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘I did not steal it. It belonged to my father.’

‘Where is he?’ asked Riki.

The boy’s eyes filled with pain. ‘Dead. Murdered by the Danes.’

‘Where are you from, boy?’ asked Riki.

‘Maardu.’

‘Near Reval?’ Riki was impressed. He looked at the tatty leather shoes on his feet. ‘You walked here?’

Jaan nodded.

‘And the rest of your family,’ enquired Conrad, ‘where are they?’

Jaan looked at the Sword Brother, unsure who he was and yet knowing that he must be an important person if he was standing next to Riki.

‘Dead,’ he answered flatly.

‘I remember another youngster whose family had been killed, Conrad,’ said Hans, ‘who came to us an orphan with a desire to kill the enemy. She turned out all right.’

Jaan studied Conrad closely. ‘You are the one they call
Susi
?’

‘I am,’ replied Conrad, ‘but I have no authority here. Governor Riki rules in Harrien.’

‘You are too young to join my war band, Jaan,’ Riki told him. ‘But you may stay here at Varbola and work in the kitchens or stables until you reach sixteen years.’

‘I have a right to avenge my parents,’ shouted Jaan.

‘If you want to do so,’ said Riki calmly, ‘then the first thing you need to do is obey orders. You may keep your sword, Jaan, but you must learn how to use it before you stand beside me in battle.’

He indicated to the guards that the youngster’s time was over. They grabbed his arms and manhandled him from the chamber.

‘It is good for Harrien that it breed such firebrands,’ said Bishop Hermann, ‘though I doubt he will be happy mucking out stables. I have seen that sort of desire in men before. You should take him with you when you next march, Riki.’

Before he could answer one of the guards reappeared and walked to the dais, saluting Riki.

‘There is a courier from Wenden, lord, with a package for you.’

‘For me?’ Riki was confused.

‘Excellent,’ said Conrad. ‘I did not think it would get here so quickly. It is a gift for you, Riki.’

The courier was ordered to enter, a Liv in a green tunic and mail shirt carrying a large bundle wrapped in hides. He was a big man but found the package awkward and heavy to carry. Conrad asked him to place it on the reed-covered floor before Riki. He pulled his dagger, walked forward to cut the string around the hides and asked Hans and Anton to assist him. He discarded the hides and unwrapped the large white banner, Hans and Anton each held up a side as Conrad stepped back. Riki stood in amazement as he looked at the standard, which had a red lynx with great claws against a white background edged with gold.

‘The good textile workers at Wenden laboured hard to create this, Riki,’ said Conrad, ‘A fitting standard for the new leader of Harrien, I think.’

‘It is magnificent,
Susi
,’ said Riki, extending a hand to touch the red lynx.

It was not the only banner that was presented to the commanders of the Army of the Wolf. Conrad also gifted standards to Andres, Tonis and Hillar, all of them depicting the symbols of their respective kingdoms and all made from the finest materials. The morale of the army rose and so did its numbers. Those crusaders that had been at Leal, plus the ones that had remained in Saccalia, were concentrated at Varbola under the command of Bishop Bernhard. Those that had made the winter journey to Leal had all recovered their strength and made the trip to Harrien without incident, as did those from Saccalia. The result was that four hundred crusader foot soldiers mustered outside the fort at the end of May to be inspected by Conrad and the bishop. A few days later they were paraded again, this time being joined by the other contingents of the army. Afterwards the man elected to be the commander of the crusaders, a dour-faced individual named Ulric, spoke to Conrad.

‘The men aren’t happy, lord.’

‘Oh? They look healthy enough and now they all have some sort of armour after the victory at Lumandu.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that, lord.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘No standard, lord. The pagans have new standards and we don’t have one.’

Conrad thought it was some sort of joke until he looked at Ulric and saw that his expression was glummer than normal. It was really extraordinary that his men’s top priority was a piece of cloth rather than weapons and armour. But then he realised that soldiers attached great importance to banners. Would he not sacrifice his own life to preserve Wenden’s standard? Of course he would. And Novgorod had gone to war over the loss of one of its banners at Dorpat. The cloth still resided at Wenden, in Master Rudolf’s office.