The hall fell silent as Valdemar tapped a finger on the right arm of his throne.
‘My thanks, lord bishop,’ he said at last, ‘for accepting my invitation to visit me here.’
‘It is a privilege to be invited to Reval, majesty.’
Valdemar stroked his beard. ‘It is the least I could do seeing that you were so close and so far from Riga. Please enlighten me to the reason why you have marched at the head of an army into Estonia, a land granted to me by the Holy Father himself?’
Albert held his nerve. ‘I come, majesty, to resolve any misunderstanding that may have arisen regarding the partition of Estonia.’
Valdemar’s eyes narrowed. ‘The partition of Estonia? How can something that has been given to me by the Holy Father in its entirety be partitioned, bishop? Or is that the reason you have brought an army into my realm?’
The Bishop of Riga was not a man to be cowered, even if he was in the presence of the man who had defeated most of the north German princes to create an empire that covered the area from southern Norway and Sweden to northern Germany. He was, after all, a prince of the Holy Church.
‘Your majesty,’ said Albert slowly but forcefully, ‘may I remind you that it was I who raised the matter of you supporting the Holy Church’s crusade in Estonia, to make this land a beacon of Christianity in a dark wilderness of paganism. I was not aware that Estonia was to become a Danish province.’
The lords and prelates looked surprised at his words, sharp intakes of breath could be heard among them.
‘Bishop Albert,’ smiled Valdemar, ‘I realise that for twenty years you have ruled Livonia like a king, far removed from the control of the Holy Father and his cardinals. Perhaps during that time you have been so accustomed to issuing commands and leading armies that you have forgotten that you are a servant of the Holy Church, not its master.’
‘I am but a humble servant of the Holy Church, majesty,’ said Albert, ‘who seeks to establish God’s law in Livonia and Estonia.’
Valdemar brought his hands together. ‘Then we are in agreement, bishop, for you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that God’s law will be established in Estonia.’
‘God’s law already rules south of the Pala,’ said Albert casually.
‘That, lord bishop,’ scoffed Valdemar, ‘is a matter open to debate. In any case it is irrelevant as you will give the order for your soldiers to withdraw from all Estonian lands immediately.’
Albert was stunned. ‘Majesty?’
Valdemar rose from his throne and pointed at the bishop. ‘You think I am a fool, a king of a backwater whom you can ridicule and deceive?’
‘You are wrong!’ he screamed, causing the seated prelates and lords to jump.
‘I am Valdemar, King of Denmark and southern Norway, lord of Ditmarschen, Holstein, Ratzeburg, Schwerin, Mecklenberg, Dannenberg, Rostok, Werle, Rügen and Pomerania.’
He stepped from the dais and began circling Albert.
‘I did not order you here to engage in a debate. Debating is for equals, bishop. You may be a prince but I am a king whose power and authority comes from God Himself.’
‘He’s finally gone mad,’ Gunzelin whispered to his brother.
Valdemar began raging at the bishop, much to the embarrassment of Archbishop Andrew who was disturbed by the king’s belittling of a prince of the church.
‘This is what I command, bishop. Tomorrow at midday you will bring your army to the gates of Reval and there deploy it. You will then surrender this Marshal of Estonia, this Sword Brother, to my mercy. And this heathen Army of the Wolf will be disbanded and its weapons placed on the ground as an act of submission to me.
‘Failure to concur with my wishes will result in all shipping to and from Riga being halted. How long will Livonia survive without any crusaders, supplies or trade, bishop?’
For the first time during the audience Bishop Albert looked uncomfortable. He knew that Valdemar’s words were no idle threat. His own and the soldiers of his allies controlled all the main north German ports and his warships controlled the whole western Baltic.
‘How friendly will the Russians be when they cannot sell their goods in Riga because there are no ships to take their furs to Germany and Denmark?
‘What do you intend to do with the Marshal of Estonia, majesty?’ said Albert.
Valdemar, his cheeks still flushed, returned to the dais and sat on his throne. He smiled slyly at Albert.
‘What does a king usually do with a heretic?’
He waved a hand dismissively at the bishop. ‘You may leave us now.’
Albert looked at Archbishop Andrew but he was purposely staring ahead, stony faced and deliberately avoiding the Bishop of Riga’s eyes. The latter, realising the futility of further argument, bowed, turned and marched from the hall.
‘Remember, bishop,’ Valdemar called after him. ‘Tomorrow at midday or all Livonia will face the consequences.’
Once more Count Henry acted as the bishop’s escort as he left the king’s company. Outside in the courtyard the count ordered the bishop’s horse be brought from the stables and sent a guard to alert Manfred Nordheim that his master was ready to leave.
‘Unless you would like some refreshments before you leave,’ enquired the count politely.
Albert placed his mitre on his head. ‘I think I would find Danish wine too bitter to swallow, count.’
After the bishop’s commander and horsemen had been assembled the count escorted him from Reval back to the crusader army. The count was politeness itself and when he took his leave of Albert he offered some advice.
‘Valdemar is intent on having the head of this Conrad Wolff, lord bishop. The life of one man is a small price to pay for the preservation of Livonia.’
It was a sombre bishop who rode into his camp, Bishop Bernhard, Grand Master Volquin and Rudolf waiting for him at his pavilion. They saw his severe countenance and said nothing as he curtly ordered Nordheim to find Fricis, the Duke of Saxony, Sir Richard and Conrad, before asking them to follow him inside. He collapsed into a chair and ordered wine to be served as the others took their place around the table.
‘I take it the meeting did not go as planned,’ said Bernhard.
Albert snapped his fingers as a servant poured wine into a silver cup and brought it to him, proffering the tray holding it. The bishop took the cup and took a large gulp as the others were also served with wine.
‘I curse the day when I believed that asking for Danish help was the answer to our problems.’
He would say no more until the others had arrived, by which time the bishop’s mood had darkened considerably. He appeared to be almost distraught when Conrad appeared. He asked Bernhard to say prayers before the meeting commenced, his lips moving to repeat every word that Bernhard said. He finished with a particularly loud ‘Amen’, as though he was asking for forgiveness for what was about to transpire.
As soon as Bernhard had finished Albert informed the others of the audience with King Valdemar, speaking quickly as he did so. He looked at Conrad with pain-filled eyes as he told them of the king’s demands.
‘He has ordered you to surrender yourself to him, Conrad, tomorrow at midday. He desires the whole army to assemble in front of the gates of Reval to witness your submission. He has also ordered that your Estonian warriors lay down their arms and surrender themselves to him.’
Rudolf burst into laughter. ‘Does he also want the Sword Brothers to wipe his royal arse with their surcoats?’
Volquin chuckled and even Bernhard saw the humour in Rudolf’s words.
‘Arrogant Danish bastard,’ scoffed the Duke of Saxony. ‘I say we assemble our army and give the Danes a good thrashing, capture Valdemar and let your Conrad here practise his sword skills on him.’
Sir Richard and Rudolf began banging their fists on the table to show their support for the motion but the Bishop Albert called for silence.
‘Valdemar also demands that we withdraw from Rotalia, Jerwen and Saccalia.’
‘I say we fight him,’ spat the duke, to more banging on the table.
‘If we fail to fulfil the king’s wishes,’ said Albert forcefully, ‘then he will place a blockade on Livonia. No ships will be allowed to enter or exit Riga or the ports of northern Germany. I hardly need to remind you all of what that will mean regarding revenues from trade, in addition to supplies of men and weapons to maintain our crusade in these parts.’
‘He would not dare,’ said the duke.
Albert shook his head. ‘I am afraid you are wrong, your grace. He is determined to press his demands.’
‘They are unacceptable,’ stated Volquin. ‘Brother Conrad is a brave and loyal member of our order who has gained great repute in this land. His courage has won over many to our cause.’
Rudolf pointed at the pavilion’s walls. ‘There are nine hundred of them in this camp, lord bishop.’
‘Conrad is well known among my men, too,’ stated Fricis. ‘They would think it most strange if you gave him up to the enemy.’
‘The Danes are not our enemy,’ said the bishop.
‘The Sword Brothers would see it differently, lord bishop,’ warned Rudolf.
Bishop Albert turned on him. ‘The Sword Brothers will obey orders, Master Rudolf. Unless you and your fellow brother knights are thinking of breaking their oaths.’
‘Such a thing would never happen, lord bishop,’ stated Volquin sternly. ‘But may I remind you that it was you who gave Brother Conrad his commission to be Marshal of Estonia.’
Bishop Albert’s expression changed from one of defiance to abject anguish.
‘I know,’ he said softly.
Conrad, who had been toying with the ring on his finger, held up his hand.
‘Yes, Conrad,’ said Bernhard.
‘Tomorrow two armies will face each other,’ he began. ‘And if we fail to give King Valdemar what he wants then many men will die.’
He looked at the faces of the brave men around the table. ‘I can prevent that. Therefore I will submit myself to the king’s mercy, glad in the knowledge that I have prevented great bloodshed.’
‘You do not have to do this, Conrad,’ said Rudolf.
‘You can expect little clemency from the King of Denmark,’ warned the duke flatly.
‘For myself I care not,’ said Conrad, ‘but I would ask that after they have laid down their arms my Estonian warriors be allowed to withdraw with the rest of the army. In all conscience I cannot condemn them to a life of slavery under Danish rule. This is what I would ask of you, lord bishop.’
Utter relief spread across Albert’s face since Conrad would save Livonia at the expense of his own life.
‘I promise you,’ said the bishop, clutching the pectoral cross that hung around his neck, ‘that by all that’s holy your warriors will be marching south by my side this time tomorrow.’
Conrad smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’
The Duke of Saxony looked disappointed but Rudolf had a face like thunder as he stood up, moved his head in an insipid bow to Bishop Albert and walked to the entrance.
‘Master Rudolf,’ said Albert. ‘Please keep what has been decided here to yourself. It will be better all round if as few people as possible know what is going to occur tomorrow.’
‘Better for whom?’ remarked Rudolf as he stormed out.
Afterwards Conrad went to see Rameke, threading his way through the multitude of Liv tents and the rows of ponies secured to temporary rails. The air was filled with the pleasing aroma of meals being cooked over campfires, men sitting in groups chatting, cleaning and sharpening weapons or listening to older warriors recount past glories. A sense of calm permeated the camp and he was glad that all these men would see their wives and families again. He comforted himself with the thought that though his life was now forfeit, he too would see his loved ones. He was smiling as he walked into the centre of the camp to find Rameke.
He discovered his brother deep in conversation with Fricis as they walked along a line of tethered ponies. Rameke was now in his mid-twenties and looked very much like his father with his thick, shoulder-length hair and stocky build. He nodded to Conrad when he saw him and beckoned him over, jumping back as a pony lifted its tail and defecated where he had been standing.
‘The glories of camp life,’ remarked Conrad as another pony relieved itself.
‘If you will excuse me, I have other duties to attend to,’ said Fricis, nodding to Conrad as he walked off.
Rameke smiled and embraced Conrad.
‘Fricis informs me that there will be no fighting tomorrow.’
‘That is correct. I have a favour to ask you, brother.’
Rameke frowned as a pony broke wind loudly.
‘What? Of course. Name it.’
‘I want you to take care of Kaja for me.’
Rameke looked confused. ‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘I have to go on a short journey,’ replied Conrad. ‘It is nothing important but I need to know that Kaja will be safe.’
‘What about Hans and Anton? Or are they going on this journey too?’
‘No, but they are Sword Brothers and their duties to the order come first, whereas you are a great warlord and have an army of servants to run around after you. That being the case, you have lots of spare time to fill.’