The boy smiled and nodded.

  ‘I’m teaching him how to run a household.’

  ‘You?’ Stark was lost for words.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Tagd, ‘you may be interested to know that a papal legate at the head of an army will soon be arriving at Lübeck to take ship for Riga.’

  Stark’s blood ran cold. This could only mean a new crusade against Oesel.

  ‘Legate, what is that?’

  Tagd sighed. ‘A man who is the representative of the Pope, prince, the ruler of all the Christian lands, in theory at least. Rumour has it that the legate is going to punish the Sword Brothers, which I’m sure you will be glad to hear.’

  Stark’s ears pricked up. ‘The Christians fight among themselves?’

  ‘Always,’ replied Tagd, ‘but if they are fighting each other in your neck of the woods then at least they won’t be troubling you.’

  Stark sailed back to Oesel a happier man then when he had set out for Gotland. Suddenly the gods were smiling on him for if the Christians tore each other apart on the mainland then not only Estonia but also Reval may become ripe for the taking. Sigurd had obviously died because the gods were preparing the way for him to become king and lead the Oeselian people to glory. The days of the longships and tall men were surely at hand.

  *****

  It had been two years since Baldwin of Alna had been nearly killed during the abortive execution of Conrad Wolff at Riga. He had left Livonia with an army of clerks, lawyers and notaries and returned with an army of foot soldiers and horsemen. It was late summer when it arrived at Riga, having spent four months marching from the Papal States north through Verona, Bavaria, Thuringia and Saxony to arrive at Lübeck. Along the way, despite advance letters being sent by Pope Gregory himself requesting free passage for the crusading army, Baldwin had been forced to pay tariffs to the rulers of those lands for the privilege of marching his men through them. By the time the army reached Lübeck it had already cost the Camera, the Papacy’s financial office, a small fortune. Another fortune had already been spent on the raising and maintaining of the instrument that would enforce the Pope’s will on the rebellious Sword Brothers and a corrupt Livonia.

  ‘I have come to erase the stain of wickedness and rebellion from this land.’

  Baldwin was pacing up and down the packed audience chamber of the Bishop’s Palace as he spoke. On the dais a stony faced Bishop Nicholas and Archdeacon Stefan listened to his words, the members of the city council seated on benches at right angles to the churchmen likewise looking glum. Manfred Nordheim stood on one side of the dais and a smirking Dietrich von Kivel on the other. The fat face of the Duke of Riga was contorted with anger as the legate berated him and them.

  ‘Despite the Holy Father’s express instructions the city’s merchants have continued to trade with the apostate Russians,’ continued Baldwin, ‘even though God sent a famine to wipe them out. They survive only because you…’

  He pointed at the city council and Duke of Riga,

  ‘sold them food. In your zeal to worship Mammon you have forgotten that Livonia is God’s kingdom and exists only to serve His purpose.’

  Baldwin swung round to face Grand Master Volquin and Master Rudolf who had been summoned to the palace along with the city’s leading merchants.

  ‘Commander Nordheim informs me that the city’s jail does not contain the heretic Master Conrad, which confirms to me that the Sword Brothers have lost their way and no longer serve the Holy Church.’

  Rudolf made to speak but Volquin shook his head to silence him.

  Baldwin, his face browned by months spent under an Italian sun, gripped the wooden crucifix hanging around his neck.

  ‘When I speak I do so with the authority of the Holy Father in Rome and he who opposes me opposes him and the Holy Church he serves.

  ‘The raising and transportation of the army accompanying me from Italy has been a great financial undertaking. It is here because all of you disregarded your duty to the Holy Father. Therefore each member of Riga’s city council will pay a fine equivalent to the money that he has made from trading with the apostate Russians.’

  ‘This is an outrage,’ said Magnus Glueck, unable to control his temper.

  Baldwin’s crazed eyes settled on him. ‘An outrage, your grace? My I remind you that the Holy Father is outraged by the behaviour of the leading citizens of Riga, who against his specific orders have continued to trade with the Russians and, far worse, entered into trade agreements with them, thus giving them legal recognition. That is an outrage, your grace.’

  Baldwin glared at the portly duke, daring him to contradict him. Glueck would have liked nothing more than to humiliate this upstart monk but had no wish to be excommunicated, not least because if he was then the considerable assets he owned in Riga and Lübeck could be seized. He bit his lip and remained silent. Baldwin turned to Volquin.

  ‘As the Sword Brothers seemed to have forgotten their oath of obedience to God you will order your masters to surrender themselves to Command Nordheim so they may stand trial for their insubordination. As none has arrested Master Conrad I can only conclude they are sympathetic to him. Furthermore they will surrender control of their castles to captains I have brought with me, seeing as the garrison of Riga cannot be trusted and the Livonian Militia is worthless.’

  Baldwin’s scribes hunched over desks were writing furiously to record his every word. Volquin remained expressionless as Baldwin move closer to stand over him.

  ‘Furthermore, Reval will be handed back to King Valdemar of Denmark as it was originally given to the Danish king by the Papacy. I will be marching north presently to arrest Master Conrad, destroy his heretical Army of the Wolf and oversee the occupation of Reval and Narva, these places currently held illegally by the Sword Brothers. If, grand master, your castellans refuse to comply with these orders they will be in rebellion against Pope Gregory, the Holy Church and God. They have one week to surrender themselves.’

  Baldwin did not stay in the city, preferring the company of the Duke of Narva, his priests and captains in the large camp that had sprung up outside the city walls. As it was in the words of Baldwin a ‘godly army’ severe punishments were inflicted on those who indulged in theft or rapine, a gallows being erected in the centre of camp. Soon bodies were dangling from its timbers as a warning to others who were thinking of committing transgressions. Next to the legate’s tent, a simple conical affair with a single centre pole, was the army’s carroccio, a painted wagon with a rectangular wooden platform supporting an altar and a mast, from which the standard of the Papacy flew. The altar and wagon were covered with white silk and on the altar was a silver cross containing a fragment of the true cross. The carroccio was pulled by three pairs of oxen and guarded night and day by foot soldiers of the Company of the Carroccio.

  During the week that the legate waited for the Sword Brother masters to surrender themselves Baldwin prayed in Riga Cathedral, sent his clerks to trawl though the records of the city council held at the merchant hall and inspected his soldiers. It was after one such parade that the Duke of Narva walked with the legate back to his tent.

  ‘You look troubled, Dietrich.’

  ‘I’ll not lie to you, your eminence. I’m concerned about the Marshal of Estonia and his army. He and it are not to be underestimated.’

  Baldwin stopped and laid a hand on Kivel’s shoulder.

  ‘Have no fear, Dietrich, just as the Philistine army dissolved when Goliath was slain so will the Army of the Wolf melt away before this army has taken one step towards Estonia.’

  It had been a bountiful harvest and as August came to an end every villager capable of wielding a scythe had gathered in the wheat and rye, followed by the barley and oats. After their heavy defeat on the white sands the Oeselians did not return to Estonia, leaving the Rotalians and Harrien free to harvest their crops. All that remained was the peas, beans and vetches that would be gathered in September.

  Hillar stood and stretched his aching back after scything wheat, the ripened grain like an ocean of gold around Leal. He saw Eustace attacking the crop with gusto but suddenly stop and peer to the south. Other individuals likewise ceased their work and began pointing. Hillar turned and saw a rider approaching, halting to speak to a group of warriors keeping watch, for there was no guarantee that the Oeselians would not return to reap a harvest of not only grain but also slaves. They pointed at Hillar and the rider carried on his journey until he brought his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle. He was a Liv, the sign of the moon motif on the shield dangling from his saddle betraying his race. There was a time when no Liv would ride alone into Estonian territory but now peace and order ruled their two kingdoms. He walked up to Hillar and bowed his head.

  ‘Greetings, lord, I bring a letter for you from Riga.’

  As Eustace and two of Hillar’s bodyguard wandered over the Liv reached into the saddlebag and pulled out a roll of paper with a red wax seal. He handed it to Hillar.

  Eustace saw the emblem. ‘The seal of the Curia.’

  This meant nothing to Hillar as he broke the seal and looked at the words, which were in Latin. He handed it to Eustace.

  ‘Go to the fort and get some drink and food inside you,’ Hillar told the courier.

  The man led his horse away as Eustace read the letter.

  To Hillar, Duke of Harrien.

  Your Grace.

  I have returned to Livonia with the intention of bringing Master Conrad to justice and to curb the ambitions of the Sword Brothers. To these ends I will currently be marching from Riga into Estonia to occupy the stronghold of Odenpah and any other place that resists my authority. I therefore request that as a Christian lord you assemble what soldiers you are able to muster and meet me at Lehola, the residence of the Duke of Saccalia, on the fifteenth day of September in the year of our Lord twelve hundred and thirty-three.

  I remain, your humble servant Baldwin of Alna, legate to his holiness Pope Gregory.

  Eustace looked at Hillar. ‘What will you do, my lord?’

  Hillar looked around at his people gathering the harvest. ‘We complete gathering in the harvest and then I will assemble my warriors as the legate desires.’

  The harvest had been good in all Estonia but particularly around Odenpah, the villages that had previously been empty having been re-occupied. They were flourishing thanks to the peace now existing throughout the land. And Odenpah was a noisy place thanks to the many workers and their families living within its walls. The garrison, its members having recovered from the wounds suffered at the Battle of Broken Bones, had assisted in gathering the harvest and was now stood to attention in the fort’s inner compound.

  Conrad stood in front of the assembled brother knights and sergeants, their white surcoats contrasting with the maroon long-sleeved gambesons of Falcone’s crossbowmen. He was immensely proud of all of them, as well as the Ungannians working the land around the fort. It was for those reasons that he had decided to ride south to surrender himself to the papal legate before Baldwin and his army invaded Estonia. He had no wish to see the land he was responsible for become a war-torn region once again.

  ‘My brothers,’ he began, ‘we have come a long way together since the time you first reported here as novices. Because of you Odenpah and Ungannia once again flourish and because of this…’

  The alarm bell in the highest tower of the inner wall frantically ringing cut his words short. As they had been taught to do everyone scattered to the armoury to collect additional weapons and crossbow bolts. Hans looked at Conrad.

  ‘The legate has beaten you to it, my friend.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Hans smiled wryly. ‘I have known you too long, Conrad, not to realise that you were going to announce one of your noble gestures. Well I say it is better to fight and die here, with swords in our hands and among friends and brothers, than to be treated as base criminals.’

  He slapped his friend hard on the shoulder as the sentry in the tower still rang the bell.

  ‘Shut that infernal noise up,’ Conrad shouted, ‘you will do yourself a mischief.’

  Jaan and Arri, loaded down with crossbows, full quivers, maces and axes, were leading similarly equipped brother knights and sergeants to the outer wall as anyone outside the fort ran for the open gates, which included shepherding sheep into the stronghold. Any man among the workers who could use a weapon made his way to the armoury to be issued one. The strategy was simple: hold the outer wall as long as possible and then fall back to the inner stronghold until help came. Already a sergeant would be riding from the outer gates to head for Dorpat to raise the alarm.

  He went to the armoury where an armourer handed him a shield, helm, crossbow and two full quivers. He ran down the steps from the inner compound to the stairs leading to the outer ramparts already lined with men ready to repulse an assault. He made his way to where Hans stood with Leatherface, the latter’s crossbow already loaded and resting on the top of the wall.

  ‘There’s plenty of them,’ he said as he looked to the south where a sizeable number of men on horseback were approaching the fort.

  ‘Four standards,’ said Hans, peering at the head of the column.

  There was no wind so the flags hung limply from their poles. Three riders suddenly left the invaders and began galloping towards the fort, those behind maintaining the same pace as before.

  ‘Ready,’ shouted Conrad.

  ‘Stand down,’ called Hans, his eyes keener than his friend’s.

  The riders pulled up their horses before the wooden bridge spanning the moat. They looked at the closed gates and up at the row of crossbows pointing at them.

  ‘Is this any way to treat friends?’ shouted Hillar.

  The garrison erupted in cheers and whoops as Sir Richard and Riki raised their hands to Conrad above.

  ‘Open the gates,’ ordered Odenpah’s Master.

  The next day Andres and Sir Paul arrived as the Army of the Wolf made camp on the great meadow in front of Odenpah, a forest of tents springing up to cover the grass. It was a happy reunion as men who had fought together for years greeted each other and others, the first time they had marched with the army, made new friends. The standards of Saccalia, Rotalia, Harrien, Jerwen and ‘the bastards’ were pitched in the centre of the camp alongside the banner of the Sword Brothers. As the air filled with the smoke of a thousand campfires the warlords gathered in the fort’s hall to explain their arrival to Conrad. They were in an ill temper.

  ‘Treated me like some sort of servant,’ Sir Richard complained of the legate, ‘telling me that Lehola would be the rendezvous point for his invasion of Estonia. Clearly manners are not taught in Rome.’

  Paul was grinning. ‘Must have come as a shock to be treated as you treated me for all those years.’

  ‘I see knighthood has not diminished your seditious tongue,’ remarked Sir Richard dryly.

  ‘At least you weren’t ordered to attend to the legate like an obedient dog,’ said Hillar.

  ‘Did he really think we would abandon our friend?’ asked Riki.

  ‘I think we can take it that he does little thinking,’ offered Andres.

  ‘My friends,’ interrupted Conrad, ‘touched though I am by this display of loyalty, by being here you risk incurring the wrath of the legate.’

  As one they burst into laughter.

  ‘Good,’ grunted Hillar, ‘he needs a lesson in humility.’

  ‘And manners,’ added Sir Richard.

  ‘It is good that he has returned to Livonia with an army,’ said Andres, ‘because he will need it.’

  Conrad shook his head but Hillar was in no mood for arguments.

  ‘And you can forget about giving yourself up, Susi, we will not allow it.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘That you were thinking of giving yourself up?’ said Sir Richard. ‘Hans forewarned us.’

  Conrad looked at his friend who was unrepentant. ‘I make no apologies for going behind your back, Conrad. This legate is clearly mad.’

  ‘But he is still the Pope’s legate,’ said Conrad forcefully, ‘and all of you risk excommunication if you continue with this course of action.’

  ‘It is a price worth paying, Susi,’ answered Hillar.

  ‘What is life without honour?’ said Sir Richard.

  ‘It is no life at all,’ added Riki.

  Andres nodded. ‘And every one of those men camped outside this fort is of the same opinion.’

  ‘The plan is to rendezvous with Master Rudolf at Reval, Conrad,’ said Sir Richard. ‘The legate has ordered every Sword Brother master to stand trial at Riga.’

  Conrad was shocked. ‘On what charges?’

  ‘Insubordination,’ Sir Richard told him. ‘And Reval and Narva are to be handed back to the Danes.’

  ‘Everything we have worked for is to be thrown away,’ remarked Riki bitterly.

  ‘If we march to Reval we abandon all our strongholds in Estonia,’ said Hans.

  Sir Richard, who had clearly been planning for the return of the legate for some time, grinned.

  ‘No, Hans, we have left small garrisons behind, mostly those too young or too old to fight on the battlefield. But behind high timber walls they can still hold out if well supplied. When the legate’s army approaches the people will either seek refuge in the strongholds or flee into the forests.

  ‘The legate brings no siege engines and Master Rudolf assures me that those in the possession of the Sword Brothers will not be made available to him.’

  ‘So you see, Conrad,’ said Hans, ‘even our order is against the legate.’

  ‘No master of your order will be going to Riga,’ Sir Richard told Conrad.

  ‘And if we defeat the legate?’ said Conrad. ‘What then?’

  ‘We will appeal to the Pope,’ answered Sir Richard. ‘No man, not even a papal legate, can ask a man to ignore his conscience.’

  Hans agreed. ‘We have remained true to the oath we took when we became brother knights, Conrad, but we also have a duty to protect the people of this land from enemies, even an army led by a papal legate.’