As Dust to the Wind Read online

  Behind the Harrien and their missile support marched another eighteen hundred men. From right to left Hillar’s Rotalians, Tonis’ Saccalians and Andres’ Jerwen, like those in front arrayed in four ranks, each one a hundred and fifty strong. None of the Harrien carried spears or javelins because the crossbowmen would shoot withering volleys at the centre of the enemy line before Riki’s men hurled themselves at what was left of the Oeselians. There would be a short hacking contest with axes and then the Harrien would break the enemy line. The Rotalians, Saccalians and Jerwen would add their weight to the attack to prise apart the two sections of the enemy army to allow Grand Master Volquin and his horsemen to get through and behind the Oeselians where they would cut down the now fleeing enemy. Rameke’s men on the right flank would lend their weight to the attack but it would be the Army of the Wolf that would be the decisive element.

  Conrad’s army looked magnificent that day, every warrior equipped with helmet, mail shirt and shield. The Harrien gripped their axes but the three blocks behind them bristled with spears and javelins, the rear ranks so equipped to throw their weapons over the heads of the men in front should the attack falter. The yellow uniforms of ‘The Bastards’ contrasted with the more sober greens and browns worn by the Estonians, while the Sword Brother mercenaries wore grey gambesons and mail armour.

  Conrad stood next to Riki, his banner man behind him carrying the white flag edged with gold upon which was stitched a red lynx with great claws. His men also carried the symbol of the lynx on their shields just as their forefathers had done when Harrien had been a pagan kingdom. Conrad looked left and saw through the vision slits of his helm the stand of oaks against which the enemy had originally anchored their right flank and where now trotted hundreds of mailed horsemen. He peered right and saw the mass of Livs keeping abreast of his own men, the horsemen of the king and queen’s bodyguard visible and where Kaja was riding. God keep her safe.

  He saw Leatherface gesticulate and suddenly the crossbowmen of ‘The Bastards’ sprinted forward, halted, shot their bolts and reloaded. As they did so the Harrien maintained their pace, another volley of quarrels being shot at the space where they would hit the enemy line. From the left came volleys from the order’s mercenaries, iron-tipped missiles hitting the enemy’s shield wall with relentless fury. He did not know if they were inflicting casualties but he did notice that the Oeselians were no longer screaming war cries or hurling insults. Silence had descended upon the enemy.

  But a great noise suddenly erupted from the ranks of horsemen, a barrage of trumpet blasts and the riders halted and wheeled about. The Harrien continued their march but Conrad was conscious that suddenly there were no horsemen on the left. But his attention switched back to the front where a sudden roar heralded the enemy marching towards him. The Oeselians were attacking!

  More noises came from the left and he watched with horror the trees filling with warriors who had appeared from nowhere. Stark had chosen his position well. Oak trees on Oesel grew squat and widely spaced with very little undergrowth around them. This meant that large numbers of men could move among them relatively easily and so it was now as four thousand of his best warriors flooded from the trees and formed into a great shield wall that edged towards the left flank of the Army of the Wolf.

  ‘Form square, form square,’ bellowed Riki as the crossbowmen and spearmen of ‘The Bastards’ and Sword Brothers raced back to seek shelter within the rapidly forming square. It was testimony to the professionalism of Conrad’s army that it was able to respond quickly to the sudden appearance of a large number of enemy warriors on its left flank and attacking opponents to its front. The Saccalians about-faced, fell back and presented a line of spears to the rear as the Jerwen turned right and the Rotalians left in time to meet Stark’s warriors.

  The crossbowmen filled the second ranks of the sides of the square, loading, shooting and reloading frantically to kill and maim as many of the enemy before the shield walls clashed and the Army of the Wolf was assailed on two sides. Conrad pulled the axe from his belt, gripped the strap on the inside of his shield and waited for the enemy’s rush.

  ‘Where is Grand Master Volquin?’ he heard Riki next to him ask in frustration.

  He had no time to hazard a guess as the enemy came at them. These were the warriors that had been in the original enemy shield wall that had fallen back, to lure his men into a trap as he now realised. He saw their faces above the round shields they carried, most but not all beneath helmets, a few bare headed or wearing leather caps. They levelled their spears and sprinted over the twenty paces separating the two sides, aiming to drive their spear points between Estonian shields and into men’s guts. Only to be felled by a hail of crossbow bolts as Leatherface and around eighty of ‘The Bastards’ shot their quarrels before beating a speedy retreat as Harrien warriors closed up on their comrades in the front rank.

  The same tactic had been used on all sides of the square now surrounded by Stark’s warriors, taking the sting out of the Oeselian assault. But the Oeselian king’s men recovered and closed to begin a grim hacking and thrusting contest as men did battle with axes, spears and swords. Warriors watched the enemy’s weapons but also kept an eye on their feet. In the press of a mêlée a man who loses his footing is as likely to be trampled underfoot by his own side as killed by the enemy. Conrad chopped down his axe against the helmet of a man in front of him, the blow denting the metal and knocking it off the man’s head. But it was not a man but a boy, who looked in terror at the curved blade that was drawn back and hacked forward again, to fracture his skull. Conrad, the shield of the man behind him pressing in his back, had no time to think about the age of his opponent as an axe came at him. He raised his shield and brushed the blow aside, swinging his own weapon forward to wound his new opponent’s unarmoured shoulder. The enemy gave a high-pitched scream and clutched the gaping wound. It was another boy, even younger than the one he had just killed. Is this was what the Oeselians had been reduced to?

  Where was Grand Master Volquin; where was Rameke?

  *****

  Kalf’s attack cut Anu’s Wierlanders to pieces. The king’s brother had followed the besieging army from its field works, issuing strict orders that the enemy’s camp was not to be plundered. He had few men – just over three hundred – but enough to overpower the Estonians detailed to protect the non-combatants. His men included the crew of his own skeid, hard-bitten warriors who had accompanied him on many campaigns. Well armed and armoured they literally hacked the enemy shield wall to shreds. Anu had made the fatal mistake of making his wall too long and too thin in an effort to protect all the non-combatants and paid the price. But just as Stark’s men had overpowered the Wierlanders, Grand Master’s Volquin’s horsemen arrived.

  If a neutral observer had been watching the battle he would have judged King Stark a military genius. Not only had he lured the Army of the Wolf and Rameke’s Livs into a trap, the timely arrival of his brother Kalf had also removed the men of iron from Conrad’s left flank. Not that Stark realised that it was his brother that had done so. Stark had no knowledge of his brother’s movements, or indeed if he still lived. But the blunt, boorish Kalf was like a miracle sent by the gods because with his arrival the Christian horsemen were forced to desert the Marshal of Estonia to save what was left of the Wierlanders and the non-combatants.

  It had been a squire in the service of Sir Paul, an Estonian by birth hailing from Wierland, who had dismounted to tie a loose mail chausse on his right leg, and had caught sight of the arrival of an Oeselian war band. He alerted his lord who in turn had sent a rider to Grand Master Volquin who, watching the Army of the Wolf and the Livs advancing against the enemy shield wall, had no reason to suspect the oaks trees to his left would soon be filling with enemy warriors. But he immediately gave the order to about face to advance against the enemy force appearing in the rear.

  Over six hundred horsemen, deployed in two ranks, levelled their lances and charged at the Oeselians, who
promptly formed a defensive circle of shields. Inexperienced warriors would have fled before the wall of mail and horseflesh that thundered towards them but Kalf’s men were all veterans and knew that if they held their formation the horsemen would be forced to either halt or ride round the circle, looking for gaps.

  Volquin’s horsemen lapped round the circle, jabbing at faces and limbs with their lances but always careful not to get too close to the enemy spears and axes. The destriers ridden by the brother knights and Sir Richard’s knights, trained to keep moving in a mêlée to reduce the risk of being wounded by enemy weapons, moved sideways and backwards as their masters tried to spear enemy warriors. For their part the Oeselians maintained their formation and so a curious standoff developed, the men of iron unwilling to charge the Oeselians, the latter sticking rigidly to their formation. Kalf’s men had no archers and Volquin had no crossbowmen and so the stalemate continued. But Kalf’s attack had at least been contained.

  *****

  On the right flank, immediately north of the lake, Hastein attacked the Livs with two thousand men. Before the battle Stark had told him that he would use the old and the young in his army as bait for the Christians. He would deploy two thousand of them in a long, thin shield wall that would initially retreat to draw the enemy in. Once they had done so the king and Hastein would assault the Christians on the flanks with the best of their warriors to crush them like an egg between two rocks.

  As soon as Hastein appeared Rameke ordered his men to wheel right and form a shield wall – a thousand men in four ranks. Hastein’s men also formed a shield wall but his was five ranks deep and longer than that of the Livs and soon Rameke was forced to thin his line to match the extent of the Oeselian wall.

  Rameke was in the centre of the front rank, battling like fury to both inspire his men and prevent the collapse of the army’s right flank. In the press of the shield wall it was all confusion as men hacked and slashed at each other at close quarters, some pressed so tightly against their opponents that they could not move, only smell the rancid breath of the man a few inches away or see his face contorted with rage and hate. Hastein was also in the front rank alongside his warlords. But not all of them. A few had been ordered to remain in the rear and exploit any weaknesses in the enemy line. They did so now. The Liv line was overlapped and they sent parties to outflank Rameke’s men.

  These men were armed with javelins that they hurled into the Livs. Soon there was a thick mass of Oeselians on the left flank of Rameke’s men, threatening to envelope his warriors. If that happened the Livs would be cut down or herded into the lake behind them, where they would drown. A thousand Livs locked in combat could do nothing to avert the crisis that was unfolding. But one woman could.

  Kaja stared at the increasing number of Oeselians lapping round her husband’s shield wall and drew her sword. Horrified, the commander of the two hundred men of the royal bodyguard leaned over to grab the queen’s reins. The king had told him in no uncertain terms that his sole responsibility was to safeguard Kaja.

  ‘Release them or lose your hand,’ she threatened him.

  ‘Majesty,’ he protested, ‘I have orders…’

  ‘I give you orders,’ she shouted.

  She raised her sword and turned in the saddle.

  ‘I ride to save my husband and his men.’

  Those behind gave a loud cheer as she dug the spurs into the side of her horse and shot forward, followed by the commander and his men. With Kaja’s hair billowing from beneath her helmet, acting like a banner, they galloped along the rear of the Liv shield wall to hit the Oeselians outflanking it head on. The enemy had no time to form their own shield wall before Kaja and her horsemen were among them, spearing warriors with their lances before going to work with their swords, slashing left and right to gash shoulders and split helmets. The wild charge cut down dozens of men, scattered more and removed the threat to Rameke’s flank. But Kaja was only getting started.

  ‘Rally, rally,’ she called.

  The riders grouped behind her, flushed with victory and eager for more Oeselian blood. Their queen would oblige them.

  ‘Forward,’ she ordered, once more spurring her horse ahead, sword in hand.

  Her bodyguard no longer had their lances as they galloped behind the Oeselian shield wall, cutting down men in the rearmost ranks before they had chance to discover that enemy horsemen were among them. It was a wild, reckless charge by a small number of riders against a great many Oeselians and soon Hastein’s warriors had turned and were battling the Livs, surrounding individual horsemen and dragging them from their saddles to hack them to pieces. But in doing so they weakened the weight being brought to bear on Rameke’s men. Worse, Kaja’s charge had cut down dozens of Hastein’s men. And the blow to morale was even more so: some men abandoning their positions to flee back to the safety of the woods, convinced that hundreds of enemy horsemen were among them. A ripple of confusion went through the Oeselians and their shield wall began to fragment. Slowly at first, men giving ground as warriors behind them turned to face the horsemen. Then a sudden collapse as Rameke’s men kept on battling with unabated fury.

  Every Oeselian was brought up to believe that his or her death had been pre-ordained by the gods so it was useless to try to trick fate by running away if a shield wall broke. But men are not endowed with equal measures of courage and now many of Hastein’s warriors, knowing that the forest was near, beat a hasty retreat. The commander himself gathered his friends around him and was determined to fight to the last. But Rameke’s Livs, having battled against the odds for half an afternoon, were tired and bleeding. Almost every man was wounded, some seriously, and Rameke himself had received a gash on his cheek that refused to stop bleeding.

  The horses of Kaja’s bodyguard were also spent, their heads down and bodies covered in sweat. A horse will die in the service of its rider if compelled to do so but Kaja refused to order the surviving hundred men she commanded to mount another charge over the soft ground. Instead they walked their horses forward to where Hastein and around two hundred of his men stood in a ragged block, facing equally battered Livs on ground covered with dead and wounded men.

  Kaja slid off her horse and ran to where Rameke stood with his commanders, the king directing them to surround the last body of Oeselians. He stopped when he saw his wife approaching, sword in hand. They fell into each other’s arms to rapturous banging of axe handles on shields.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, blood oozing down his cheek.

  ‘You were in peril so I came to find you,’ she said, smiling.

  She was mercifully unhurt and he grew angry when she described her reckless action, though such was his relief that both of them were alive that his disapproval quickly evaporated, to be replaced by joy that he had beaten the enemy.

  Though only one part of the enemy.

  *****

  Conrad’s movements were sluggish, his arms ached and inside the helm his head was being slowly roasted. His raging thirst had swelled his tongue to obscene proportions, or at least that is what it felt like. But the helmet had saved his skull from being cracked open by an axe and pierced by an arrow. In front of him lay the twisted, mutilated bodies of the men he had killed, though to call them men would be untruthful. They were mostly boys and he was ashamed to have ended their lives. But shame was a luxury that a man could not afford in battle.

  ‘Don’t move, keep still.’

  He heard the gruff voice behind him, heard the crack of the bowstring and saw a man the other side of the heap of bodies go down, the bolt lodged in his face.

  Leatherface slapped him on the back. ‘You just stay there while I reload.’

  Both sides were drawing breath after the fury of the initial clash. Stark had attacked the Army of the Wolf with four thousand warriors but had failed to break its square, Leatherface’s crossbowmen doing murder before the two sides locked horns in the mêlée. The Oeselians vented their fury on the Army of the Wolf but could not ba
tter it into submission and as both sides tired the crossbowmen, who had been sheltering inside the square, were again able to take up position behind the front rank to take shots at the enemy during any pause in the fighting.

  There was one such pause now as the Oeselians reorganised, warriors on three sides of the square abandoning their positions as Stark formed a great wedge to finally try to break Conrad’s square. He had fewer than three thousand men but if they were hurled against one side of the square they would surely succeed. The king did not know where the enemy horsemen had gone and he did not care. But with their absence he had a chance, a final chance, to destroy the enemy and expel the invaders from the Blessed Isle. He placed himself at the apex of the wedge and gave the command to advance.

  Just as a new army arrived on the battlefield.

  *****

  Grand Master Volquin frantically pulled back his horsemen, signalmen nearly bursting their lungs as they sounded trumpets to relay his command. The knights no longer had lances, the weapons either lodged in enemy bodies or lying broken on the ground. As the grand master rode up and down the line, men rested sword blades on their shoulders and peered at the black mass that had suddenly appeared behind them. Rudolf walked his tired mount to where the grand master was sitting next to his standard bearer, Sir Richard and Sir Paul also making their way to Volquin. They were all tired and had links missing from their chain mail.