After Conrad’s rescue from Riga Vice-Legate Baldwin had departed taking Dietrich von Kivel with him. The slain civilians and soldiers of the garrison had been buried and life carried on. The Duke of Riga and his fellow merchants were more interested in selling grain to the Russians than being outraged at the interference with an execution and Archdeacon Stefan, after he had recovered from the trauma of being too close to danger, had busied himself with ensuring that Abbot Nicholas became Bishop of Riga, which had taken place after the dreadful winter of famine. Not that the people or wealthy of Riga noticed, the granaries of the city being well stocked. Grand Master Volquin continued to meet with the bishop, archdeacon and Duke of Riga and peace ruled in Livonia and Estonia. For his part Conrad never set foot in Riga again.

  One of the warehouses in the inner compound had been converted into a chapel, though it was too small to contain all those attending the admission ceremony, which would take place in the fort’s main hall. It was just after dawn on a crisp spring morning, the air fresh and cool, dew covering the grass beyond Odenpah’s ramparts. Conrad smiled when he saw the still-yet novices fidget and cast sideways glances at each other, eager anticipation in their eyes.

  ‘Follow me,’ he ordered.

  He walked from the courtyard through the hall’s open doors and led the novices into the main chamber. On the top table sat Volquin, Rudolf and the Dukes of Saccalia, Harrien, Jerwen and Rotalia, and before them stood Bishop Hermann in full regalia, complete with a gold and white mitre and large gold pectoral cross. To one side were Walter, Lukas, Tonis and Sir Paul, all wearing martial attire. Conrad stood beside the bishop as those about to be inducted into the order filed into the chamber, each one’s eyes lighting up when they saw the white mantles folded and arranged neatly on a long trestle table near the top table. Hans, Leatherface, who looked smart for once, and Falcone, who was also very presentable and whose commission had been extended by William of Modena, stood behind the table ready to hand out the clothing of the order. There was another trestle table adjacent to it, behind which stood Werner and upon which rested swords in scabbards side by side. The air crackled with excitement and wonder.

  And then, when everyone was in the chamber, a solitary figure in black came from the private quarters behind the feasting hall. Volquin raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Lady Maarja, newly baptised, made her way to the empty seat next to the grand master. As usual a veil to hide the pox scars covered her face, but she tipped her head at the assembled lords and Conrad. He had insisted she be present because she was an integral part of Odenpah and the novices regarded her as a lucky talisman, though Bishop Hermann frowned upon such superstitions. That said both he and Walter were also immensely fond of her.

  ‘Let us pray,’ ordered the bishop.

  After they had done so the induction could begin. Normally it was customary to ask each candidate if he had any commitments in the outside world, such as marriage and debts, whether he was physically up to the challenge of being a Sword Brother and if he was legally free. But since all the candidates had lived and trained at Odenpah for the past seven years this was dispensed with. Instead Conrad ordered the candidates to kneel.

  ‘Do you all promise to serve God and Saint Mary’ Conrad began, ‘to obey the master of the order, to live without sexual activity and without personal property, to keep the traditions and customs of the order, to help conquer the Holy Land of Jerusalem, and to never leave the order except with the permission of the grand master.’

  As one they answered. ‘We promise.’

  ‘When you wear the white cloak,’ continued Conrad, ‘remember that you fight a holy war and when you don the red cross and sword remember the sacrifices that have to be made in such a war.

  ‘Remember that you stand beside your brothers at all times. We have one master – Christ – but we are all brothers, responsible for our brothers. As knights you must stand up for the weak and above all for women and children, widows and orphans.

  ‘God with us.’

  They shouted ‘God with us’ and were instructed to stand. Bishop Hermann went to each candidate and gave him the kiss of peace, after which Conrad shook his hand and told him to go the table where the surcoats and mantles were stacked. He watched with pride as they lined up and received the garments, after which they filed passed the line of swords, Werner issuing each man a weapon. There were tears in Jaan’s eyes when he was handed his father’s sword, the weapon he had carried as an orphan when he had once trailed after the Army of the Wolf. Arri was issued the Russian sword, the myech that Conrad himself had given him. Was it really seven years ago?

  The new brother knights and sergeants, their animated chatter filling the chamber, filed out of the hall and back into the courtyard where they went straight to the armoury to equip themselves in chain mail. Over which they donned their surcoats and cloaks.

  Conrad wandered over to Werner. ‘You had better go and ensure they don’t injure themselves, Werner.’

  ‘Injure themselves?’ asked Hans.

  ‘Fifty young men have suddenly been made Sword Brothers and issued with weapons, Hans.’

  A great cheer came from the courtyard.

  ‘I will attend to it, Master,’ said a concerned Werner.

  Conrad looked at his friend. ‘I wish the others could have been here to see this. Bruno, Johann and Anton, I mean.’

  Hans laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I feel their loss also, my friend.’

  ‘A word with Master Conrad if you please, Brother Hans.’

  Hans saluted and withdrew to speak to Leatherface and Falcone as Volquin took Conrad aside.

  ‘My congratulations, Conrad, the Sword Brothers are in your debt for creating a garrison out of thin air.’

  ‘And seven years hard work, grand master.’

  ‘Indeed. How did you choose between who would become a brother knight and who would become a sergeant?’

  ‘They chose themselves,’ answered Conrad. ‘I told them that those who learnt to read and write would become brother knights, those who did not would be sergeants.’

  Volquin nodded approvingly. ‘This ceremony is most expertly timed. Our new ally, King Lamekins, has requested aid in his fight against his enemies.’

  Conrad was surprised. ‘Since when did the Kurs need help from anyone?’

  ‘I don’t think they do. But Lamekins wants a display of support from us after his conversion and acceptance of the true faith.’

  ‘He wants us to fight his enemies for him?’

  Volquin shrugged. ‘That is what kings do, Conrad. I thought I would send you and your new brother knights and sergeants.’

  Conrad was even more surprised. ‘Me?’

  ‘Why not? Take some of your heathen army as well. Your dukes have been bending my ear about how little killing they get to do these days. It will be like old times for them. I’ll make sure that Riga provides adequate provisions for the expedition.’

  It took two months to arrange the force that would travel to Kurland, Conrad insisting that the provisions for the expedition be stored at Mesoten across the Dvina, which was the nearest Sword Brother castle to Kurland. Odenpah’s newly created brother knights and sergeants were beside themselves with joy when they were informed they were going to Kurland, though both Arri and Jaan, who had been there as novices and had experienced the bitter taste of defeat at the hands of the Kurs, were confused.

  ‘We go to fight the Kurs, Master?’ asked Arri.

  ‘No,’ replied Conrad, ‘we go to fight by their side.’

  Jaan was confused. ‘I do not understand, master. If the Kurs are now our allies who will we be fighting?’

  ‘Pagans,’ Conrad told them.

  ‘Are the Kurs now Christians, master?’ asked Arri.

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ said Conrad, ‘but their king is and so he has requested the help of the Sword Brothers and we are oath bound to accept.’

  ‘It will be strange fighting with them,’ mused Jaan, ‘they nearly killed us when their horsemen raided our camp, do you remember, Arri?’

  ‘I remember,’ said his friend.

  ‘It will be an interesting experience,’ agreed Conrad.

  There was no shortage of takers to accompany him and the garrison south of the Dvina. Sir Richard, Hillar, Andres and Riki all volunteered their services. Conrad suggested that each provide a hundred men, plus the same number of ‘bastards’ to supplement the missile power of Falcone and his score of Italians. Tonis commanded the hundred Saccalian foot soldiers, Sir Richard leading his thirty knights and the same number of squires. Conrad’s horsemen were further increased when Sir Paul at Laiuse volunteered himself and a hundred of his horsemen for services in Kurland. When the great muster took place at Odenpah Conrad found himself in command of over seven hundred men, plus novices, servants and priests. As the former pagan warlords of the Army of the Wolf were now all Christian dukes each brought their own priest, Cistercians sent by the order in Germany to live a life of poverty and denial among the heathens. To Conrad every one of them looked well fed and rosy cheeked, a consequence of living in their lord’s stronghold and partaking of his generosity, no doubt. The warriors that marched with Sir Richard, Hillar, Andres and Riki were all in their late twenties or early thirties and all members of each lord’s war band. They were veterans of the Army of the Wolf in their lord’s stronghold and were professional soldiers. No wonder Volquin was eager for Conrad to lead them south. Next to the Sword Brothers they were most experienced soldiers in all Estonia.

  A couple of days before they left Odenpah Conrad stood alone on the fort’s ramparts and looked at the mass of tents, carts, ponies and horses filling the great meadow in front of the fort. The smoke from dozens of campfires rose in the air along with the conversations of hundreds of men and other sounds of camp life. The scene brought a smile to his face. He saw Leatherface gesticulating with his hands as he told a tall story to a group of ‘the bastards’ seated round a fire, wolf shields sparring with wooden clubs and shields and warriors grooming ponies.

  ‘We go to war once again.’

  He turned to see Hans place his hands on the ancient timber battlements.

  ‘We had better take care in Kurland, Conrad. I do not think that King Lamekins would be very forgiving if he knew that the commander of his Sword Brother allies convinced the Oeselians to raid his kingdom.’

  ‘I had forgotten about that.’

  Hans looked at him. ‘I am sure that the Kurs have not.’

  Conrad looked at Leatherface. ‘You had better tell him to keep his mouth shut. His tongue has a habit of running away with itself.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Listen, Hans, if anything happens to me you are to be Master of Odenpah.’

  Hans was shocked. ‘You should not speak so. Sometimes saying such things make them happen.’

  Conrad laughed. ‘Since when have you been a philosopher? Be that as it may, Grand Master Volquin has agreed that you should take over from me and Bishop Hermann has added his support to the notion.’

  ‘I feel like a man condemned,’ said Hans.

  ‘Believe me, Hans, unless you have been condemned and taken to a place of your execution you have no idea what a condemned man feels like.’

  Hans shook his head. ‘Did you seriously believe that we would abandon you in your hour of need? Hillar, Andres and Riki wanted to storm Riga and burn it to the ground. Rudolf and the other masters wanted to join them. And I’m sure you can imagine Kaja’s reaction. By all accounts she and Rameke were already marching at the head of an army before you had been condemned.’

  ‘What happened to the executioner and his assistants?’ asked Conrad.

  ‘Oh Henke killed them all, reasoned that it was the best way of keeping them quiet.’

  The army moved quickly when it marched, every man riding either a horse or Estonian pony. The supplies – tents, fodder, spare weapons, armour, clothing and food – were transported on native two-wheeled carts that were more rugged and lighter than the cumbersome four-wheeled models favoured by Germans. That said there were still dozens of carts and because it was late spring the mornings were dry and fine and the afternoons mostly cloudy and wet. As a result tracks churned up by thousands of hooves and hundreds of wheels soon turned to mud slowing the advance. If subjected to a heavy downpour the carts were taken into the woods to make camp for the night. On a good day the army covered ten miles, on a bad day half that distance, but after three weeks it reached the castle of Holm. There Master Godfrey feasted Conrad and his commanders prior to their crossing of the Dvina to northern Semgallia, the carts being replenished with supplies provided by the good citizens of Riga. The onward march to Mesoten was uneventful and within days the Army of the Wolf was camped around the ramparts of Mesoten where a man was waiting for Master Conrad.

  The master’s hall had been expanded and no longer resembled a simple wooden hut. It was still constructed of timber but had an entrance hall, meeting chamber and several offices, including Master Ortwin’s. The fort itself was a hive of activity with workmen brought from Riga building new barracks, stables and warehouses. Conrad thought more towers had been added to the outer perimeter wall but could not be certain. The last time he had clapped eyes on the space between the inner and outer ramparts it had been choked with dead and dying men but now it was filled with huts housing the workers and their families.

  After Ortwin had ridden with an escort to meet Conrad and his commanders he escorted Odenpah’s master to his hall while the Army of the Wolf made camp on the fort’s western side.

  ‘Have you had any more trouble with the Lithuanians?’ enquired Conrad as they walked form the stables to the master’s hall.

  ‘Not with Viesthard dead and the losses the Lithuanians suffered here two years ago,’ replied Ortwin. ‘Besides, the famine affected those living south of the Dvina as well as those to the north. That’s the reason Lamekins agreed to become our friend. It was baptism or watch his people starve.’

  ‘And that makes him a reliable ally?’

  Ortwin stopped and faced Conrad.

  ‘If his ambassador is anything to go by he must be a sly bastard. Don’t underestimate them, Conrad. The Kurs may be many things but they are not stupid.’

  They continued walking.

  ‘Ambassador?’

  ‘Never judge a book by its cover, Conrad,’ said Ortwin as they passed two sergeants standing sentry at the door to his hall. They snapped to attention as they passed and entered the building. ‘This book is a devious one so watch yourself.’

  ‘Master Conrad, it a pleasure to meet you.’

  Lord Torolf had been waiting for the Marshal of Estonia, having been informed by a courier sent to Talsi that he had reached Holm and was about to cross the Dvina. He had ridden to Mesoten with the courier and a small escort of a dozen Kur warriors. Conrad was taken aback by Lamekins’ tall ambassador, his red hair shaved from above the ears and plaited from the crown to the back of his neck. His beard was also red though not wild as favoured by most pagans, though presumably he was a Christian now, in theory if not in practice. He certainly did not look like an ambassador in his simple black tunic, tan leggings, gaiters around his lower legs and plain leather shoes. He did not look like a Kur either. Then again, he did not look like he belonged to any race living north or south of the Dvina.

  A novice, a boy no older than thirteen, offered Ortwin and Conrad cups of beer from a tray he held. They both took one.

  ‘Your health, ambassador,’ said Ortwin, holding up the cup.

  Torolf’s brown eyes did not leave Conrad as he raised his own cup to his lips. ‘The alliance.’

  ‘My king is most anxious to meet the Marshal of Estonia and commander of the Army of the Wolf,’ smiled Torolf.

  ‘You honour me,’ said Conrad.

  After their refreshments Ortwin escorted his two guests on a tour of Mesoten. As he did so Conrad studied Torolf closely, and vice versa, few words being exchanged between them. Torolf smiled a lot, asked a few polite questions and seemed to take a keen interest in the layout of the fort and the strength of the garrison. Ortwin for his part was deliberately vague.

  The next day Conrad and his army set out for the rendezvous with Lamekins. He was surprised when Torolf informed him they would be journeying south, not west.

  ‘My king will meet us on the border of Kurland further south of here,’ the ambassador informed Conrad as they began the march from Mesoten.

  The day was fine and dry and the tracks fortunately not too soft. Torolf rode with Conrad and his guards at the head of the army with the other commanders. Behind the vanguard rode the Estonian warriors, the carts carrying their supplies in the middle of the column. Werner organised Wenden’s new brother knights and sergeants to provide a vanguard, rear-guard and flank protection, while Paul’s knights, also Estonians, rode ahead to ensure the army was not ambushed. They bypassed a few villages but they were all deserted, their huts dilapidated and the fields around them overgrown.

  ‘There are no Semgallians in these parts, Master Conrad,’ remarked Torolf seeing an abandoned settlement. ‘They either fled or were killed long ago.’

  ‘We killed many at Mesoten two years ago,’ said Tonis within earshot of the ambassador.

  Torolf turned to smile at the Count of Fellin. ‘You were there, lord?’

  Tonis nodded. ‘I and many of the men who ride behind me.’

  ‘It was a hard fight,’ said Conrad, ‘and a close run thing.’

  ‘But harder for the Lithuanians,’ retorted Torolf, ‘for among the fallen were Dukes Viesthard and Kitenis, leaders of the Semgallians and Aukstaitijans respectively. The consequences for those tribes will be felt for many years to come.’