Gerceslav stroked his long moustache as the cotton covers that hung on the inside of the tent ruffled slightly as a gust of wind assaulted the exterior.
‘I left men to surround Odenpah and Dorpat but not enough to storm them.’
‘But with the host you lead Odenpah will fall easily,’ Yaroslav assured him.
Gerceslav sat down beside his wife and placed his head on her lap. Afanasy began to caress his temples. It was unusual for Gerceslav to display such a relaxed attitude in company for Cuman warlords were sticklers when it came to observing customs. Their cavernous tents were constructed from a framework of poles radiating from a central smoke-hole ring, lashed to the top of a circular latticework wall. The whole enterprise was covered in felt. The warlords resided in the western side, the male side. It was where a Cuman sat, stored his saddle, bow and his other weapons. The women always sat in the eastern side of the tent and the entrance always faced south. But now Gerceslav closed his eyes and enjoyed his wife’s loving touch.
Far from finding the tender scene heart warming Yaroslav was embarrassed.
‘How far are we from Odenpah?’ said Gerceslav at last, his eyes still closed.
‘Five days’ ride if we abandon the prisoners,’ replied Yaroslav. ‘If not, ten days.’
‘I will not abandon my spoils,’ said Gerceslav. ‘Besides, the Ungannians are not going anywhere. But in the morning I will give the order to march to Odenpah.’
He opened his eyes and looked at Yaroslav. ‘Where you failed I shall succeed.’
Yaroslav smiled politely. He was extremely dubious that the Cuman would have more success at Odenpah than at Wenden or Treiden but at least the army would be heading in the right direction: northeast and then east to pass the southern shore of Lake Vortsjarv. With winter approaching the last thing he desired was quartering his men in Ungannia. He was also slightly concerned about the composition and whereabouts of the force that had relieved Lehola but comforted himself with the thought that at least the Cumans had scouts reconnoitring the army’s route. At least Odenpah was nearer to Pskov than Treiden.
‘Perhaps we could call your son Odenpah,’ said Afanasy innocently.
Gerceslav, who was still being massaged by his wife, smiled but said nothing.
‘Shall we tell Lord Yaroslav, my husband?’ said Afanasy.
Gerceslav smiled again, opened his eyes and looked at Yaroslav.
‘My wife is with child,’ he informed the Russian.
‘My congratulations to you both,’ said Yaroslav, ‘I pray that it is a boy.’
‘It will be,’ said Gerceslav, rubbing Afanasy’s still slim belly.
Yaroslav continued to smile as he wondered if the child inside Afanasy had a Russian or a Cuman father.
*****
As they continued on their journey from Lehola to Odenpah Conrad and Sir Richard gained additional recruits to their force, mostly able-bodied men who had managed to reach the sanctuary of the many small hill forts that dotted Ungannia. These strongholds were smaller in comparison to the great timber fortresses of Lehola and Odenpah but had stout, well-maintain walls and sat atop great mounds that made them difficult to capture. Empty save for emergencies, they provided safe shelter against invaders who had no siege engines. Many of the inhabitants of villages positioned near these forts had managed to reach them before the Cuman horde had arrived, though other settlements more than a day’s journey away from the hilltop refuges had not been so lucky. The populations of eastern and southern Ungannia, those that had escaped the invaders, had taken refuge behind the timber walls of Dorpat and Odenpah, but the inhabitants of the west of the kingdom now swelled the crusader force as it camped on the northern shore of Lake Vortsjarv.
The lake marked the boundary between Saccalia and Ungannia, its greenish-yellow waters extending south for a length of twenty miles, narrowing as they did so. Fed by rivers and many streams, the shores of the lake were mostly low-lying with a continuous reed belt on its more sheltered western shore.
Scouts had been despatched on a daily basis to discover whether there were any more enemy forces but returned to report that the area was free of invaders. They also made contact with the inhabitants of some of the hill forts, who reported having seen no enemy riders for many days. When the army made camp on the northern shore of the lake several village elders visited it to offer their assistance. The large pavilion of Sir Richard formed the centre of the camp, with his knights occupying the smaller pavilions that ringed it and the squires and lesser knights occupying simple cone-type tents. Wenden’s brother knights, mercenaries and the majority of the Estonian warriors slept in two-man felt tents that were poor in comparison. Though Conrad wanted to push on to Odenpah as quickly as possible Sir Richard and Tonis prevailed on him to stay where they were for a day or two while Ungannian volunteers came in.
‘We were both at Odenpah when it was attacked two years ago,’ Sir Richard had told him. ‘We both know that Kalju is a resolute leader and the enemy does not have any siege engines as far as we know.’
Conrad looked at the collection of tents, tethered ponies and groups huddled round campfires.
‘I wonder how many of these Estonians were in the army that Lembit brought before the walls of Odenpah?’ said Conrad.
They were walking among the camp on the second day of its establishment, the sky above them heaped with dark grey clouds.
‘If any were it does not seem to bother them that they are now led by a Sword Brother and an English lord,’ replied Sir Richard. ‘I meant to ask you, how did it come about that you came to command the relief force sent to Lehola?’
‘Master Rudolf could not spare any more brother knights and because I can speak Estonian,’ said Conrad. ‘He gambled that if Tonis could collect enough men and I could supply them with weapons then together we could accomplish the relief of Lehola.’
‘He gambled correctly,’ said Sir Richard with admiration.
‘I think also he considered that four brother knights and a score of mercenaries were expendable if things went awry.’
Sir Richard laughed as the first spots of rain fell on them. Conrad looked into the sky.
‘It is going to rain.’
Sir Richard pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. ‘It’s always raining in this land.’
They walked briskly back to the noble’s tent before the heavens opened and drenched the camp, extinguishing many of the campfires. Fortunately it was only a short deluge and afterwards Conrad walked back to where Hans, Anton and Johann had pitched their tents alongside those of leather face and his mercenaries. Hans had already got another fire going and was busy stoking it with dry firewood that he had sheltered from the rain. Anton and Johann sat near him as two Estonian fishermen took green-scaled perch from their basket, de-scaled and filleted them with wicked-looking knives before tossing them into the cooking pot that hung over the fire.
‘Ah, Conrad, come and see what our fine Estonian friends have given us.’
The fishermen had threadbare tunics and leggings and thin shoes on their feet. They wore woollen hats and had thick woollen cloaks for protection against the cold.
Conrad sat down next to Anton. ‘You fish the lake?’
‘Yes,
Susi
,’ answered the older of the two who had a thick brown beard and shoulder-length hair.
Johann looked at Conrad. ‘
Susi
?’
‘That is what they call Conrad,’ said Hans, smelling with relish the aromas coming from the pot. ‘It means “wolf” in Estonian.’
‘No it doesn’t,’ said Anton who possessed an in-depth knowledge of the local language.
‘It is an ancient word in our language,’ said the other fisherman, whose hands were calloused and who stank of fish guts. ‘It is used as a term of affection.’
‘Perch,’ said Hans, closing his eyes as the aroma of cooking fish wafted around him. ‘Firm white flesh and just the thing for an empty stomach.’
‘I doubt there are enough fish in the whole lake to fill your stomach,’ remarked Johann dryly.
‘Are the waters abundant?’ Conrad asked the fisherman.
The older man nodded. ‘Full of pike, perch, eel and bream,
Susi
.’
They continued to gut fish as Hans rubbed his hands and dipped into the tent he shared with Conrad to fetch his bowl.
Anton nudged Conrad. ‘We have a visitor.’
Conrad looked round to see the girl who had thrust her spear into the Cuman at Lehola sitting on the wet ground a few feet away. He waved her over.
‘Come and warm yourself by our fire.’
She gave him a dazzling smile and scurried over, placing her helmet, shield and spear on the ground and holding her hands out to the flames. He hair was loose around her shoulders and Conrad could see that her leggings and bottom of her cloak were soaked.
She turned to him. ‘Thank you,
Susi
.’
‘Ha, another one who thinks Conrad is the reincarnation of a wolf,’ said Anton.
‘Have you eaten, girl?’ Conrad asked her, ignoring his friend.
She shook her head.
‘Hans,’ said Conrad, ‘fill your bowl and hand it to me.’
Hans was appalled. ‘I have not eaten since this morning.’
‘Come on Hans, you are supposed to be a holy warrior so show some charity,’ Johann chided him.
‘Would you deny a poor girl, a hungry traveller, the contents of your bowl?’ added Anton.
‘Be charitable, Hans,’ said Johann, enjoying his slim friend’s discomfort.
‘It would be a sin to stand by while others starve,’ smiled Conrad.
Hans, a look of dejection on his face, slowly held out the bowl of hot fish to the girl, who took it and began greedily shovelling food into her mouth.
‘I’ll warrant you feel better for that, Hans,’ said Johann.
‘Immeasurably,’ mumbled Hans as he looked forlornly at the girl eating his meal.
‘Not to worry,’ said the older fisherman, ‘plenty to go round.’
Hans made sure the next load of cooked fish ended up in his bowl on its way to his stomach as the girl finished eating and sat beside Conrad, holding her hands out to the fire. Johann went to his tent to fetch bowls for him, Anton and Conrad as the glorious smell of cooking fish enveloped them. Conrad helped himself to some of the hot white flesh and sat back down beside her.
‘What is your name?’
‘Kaja,’ she replied.
‘Are any of your family still alive?’
Her eyes filled with sadness as she gazed into the yellow flames. ‘They all died in my village the day the invaders came.’
‘Will you return to your village?’ he asked her.
She shook her head. ‘It was burned to the ground. Not many escaped with their lives.’
Her head dropped and she said no more. He felt desperately sorry for her, this girl made an orphan.
‘I know what it is like to lose family members,’ he told her. ‘My parents died when I was young and my wife and child were killed by invaders. Time will calm your hurt and rage.’
Her attractive features hardened. ‘I do not wish my rage to calm. I want revenge against my family’s murderers.’
He nodded and stared at the flames. He could not blame her; he had desired the same after the death of Daina and Dietmar. He had killed the man who had been responsible for their deaths, Lembit, with his own hands but that act had not filled the gaping hole in his soul following the loss of his wife and child. That night he and Hans shared a cramped tent with their two friends as Kaja slept in their shelter.
The new day dawned wet and misty like most of the previous ones, and after prayers Hans rekindled the fire to cook the additional perch that the fishermen had left him. They had disappeared to fish the waters of the lake shrouded in a thick mist that looked impenetrable and foreboding.
‘I wonder what sort of monsters lurk under its surface?’ said Hans as he placed more sticks on the fire.
‘There are no monsters in the lake, sir,’ said Kaja, woollen hat on her head and a now dry cloak wrapped round her. ‘The lake is shallow, I have heard, being no more than eight feet deep in most places.’
‘You will have to wait your turn for breakfast,’ said Hans defensively, ‘there are only a few fish left.’
His attitude towards her warmed somewhat when she offered to cook all the brother knights’ breakfast, in addition to grooming their horses. But Conrad informed her that they could not shirk their duties and were responsible for the care and feeding of their own mounts. By midday the mist had lifted when an easterly breeze picked up, and though it was still cold at least the rain held off.
That afternoon Tonis returned to camp in the company of just over a hundred warriors mounted on ponies and armed with spears and axes and wearing mail armour, helmets and carrying round wooden shields. And unlike the majority of those who had followed him and Conrad to Lehola they were all men in their prime. This increased the numbers of the army to over four hundred. As the light began to fade in the mid-afternoon Conrad sat in Sir Richard’s pavilion in the company of the lord, Tonis and the three other brother knights to plan their next move. Squire Paul served them Estonian honey mead that had been a gift from a nearby village.