Conrad.
‘You keep your helmets on and your mouths shut, otherwise I will hand you over to the Cumans, and that is no idle threat.’
Henke looked unconcerned as he hoisted himself into the saddle and placed his helmet on his head, Conrad fitting his helm before he too gained his saddle. They followed the helmetless Rudolf and Walter across the drawbridge and down the track to the outer gates. He wondered if the mayor of Pskov, Domash Tverdislavich. was waiting for them outside the walls. He looked at the back of Rudolf’s head. The master was wearing a coif that hid the burn scars to his neck that he had suffered many years ago at Holm during a raid led by Pskov’s mayor. Rudolf was already in a bad mood. Conrad wondered if the sight of the man who had caused the disfigurement of his body would sour the parley.
The great oak beam that sat horizontally in the iron brackets in the rear of the gates was removed and the four horsemen trotted from Wenden’s perimeter over the bridge that spanned the ditch. Conrad looked left and right and saw hundreds, thousands, of horsemen drawn up on the great expanse of grass to the south of the castle. He recognised the horsemen from Pskov in their neatly ordered ranks, lamellar armour and the banner of the city fluttering in the breeze. But around them were groups of wild horsemen in brightly coloured topcoats wearing a variety of armour and carrying spears, javelins, bows and even lassos.
‘Remember to keep your mouths shut,’ hissed Rudolf as they continued to walk their horses forward, towards the banner of Pskov.
Suddenly a group of riders broke ranks and trotted towards them: two Russians and two others in bright tops and trousers. The thousands of other horsemen on their lean mounts remained stationary. Conrad heard the gates being shut behind him as Rudolf held up a hand to signal a halt as the enemy horsemen slowed and stopped around twenty paces from them. The two Cumans were bare headed and Conrad was surprised to see that one was a women. He scanned the Cuman ranks behind them, wondering how many of the riders were female.
‘I am Yaroslav Nevsky,’ said one of the Russians, who removed his decorated helmet with a nasal guard to reveal a man with a thin face and long nose. ‘Representative of Prince Mstislav, lord of Novgorod and Pskov.’
‘I am Rudolf Kassel,’ said the master, ‘master of Wenden Castle and knight of the Order of Sword Brothers.’
He held out a hand to Walter. ‘And this is Brother Walter, my deputy commander.’
Walter bowed his head ever so slightly, a gesture reciprocated by Yaroslav. The latter turned to the Cuman man in the saddle beside him.
‘Master Rudolf, this is Lord Gerceslav of the Cuman people and brother-in-law to Prince Mstislav. And beside him his wife, the Lady Afanasy.’
Conrad heard Henke snigger inside his helmet but Rudolf and Walter said nothing, though the latter did bow his head to the Cuman woman. He was always the observer of etiquette. The formalities over with, Rudolf got straight to the crux of the matter.
‘Why does Novgorod make war upon Livonia and in doing so break the treaty agreed between your prince and the Bishop of Estonia that is barely a year old?’
‘The prince is angry that his standard was stolen by the Sword Brothers,’ replied Yaroslav. Conrad noticed that the Cuman male was glaring at Rudolf in an attempt to intimidate him.
‘A letter or courier would have been preferable to open negotiations on the matter rather than sending an army,’ replied Rudolf.
‘Then you do not deny that you possess the prince’s standard,’ said Yaroslav.
‘I do not,’ replied Rudolf.
Yaroslav spoke some words in a strange language to Gerceslav who smiled triumphantly.
‘Then you will not object to surrendering it to my safekeeping,’ said Yaroslav.
‘That will not be possible,’ replied Rudolf flatly, tilting his head at Gerceslav. ‘You have brought Russian soldiers into Livonia, along
‘You keep your helmets on and your mouths shut, otherwise I will hand you over to the Cumans, and that is no idle threat.’
Henke looked unconcerned as he hoisted himself into the saddle and placed his helmet on his head, Conrad fitting his helm before he too gained his saddle. They followed the helmetless Rudolf and Walter across the drawbridge and down the track to the outer gates. He wondered if the mayor of Pskov, Domash Tverdislavich. was waiting for them outside the walls. He looked at the back of Rudolf’s head. The master was wearing a coif that hid the burn scars to his neck that he had suffered many years ago at Holm during a raid led by Pskov’s mayor. Rudolf was already in a bad mood. Conrad wondered if the sight of the man who had caused the disfigurement of his body would sour the parley.
The great oak beam that sat horizontally in the iron brackets in the rear of the gates was removed and the four horsemen trotted from Wenden’s perimeter over the bridge that spanned the ditch. Conrad looked left and right and saw hundreds, thousands, of horsemen drawn up on the great expanse of grass to the south of the castle. He recognised the horsemen from Pskov in their neatly ordered ranks, lamellar armour and the banner of the city fluttering in the breeze. But around them were groups of wild horsemen in brightly coloured topcoats wearing a variety of armour and carrying spears, javelins, bows and even lassos.
‘Remember to keep your mouths shut,’ hissed Rudolf as they continued to walk their horses forward, towards the banner of Pskov.
Suddenly a group of riders broke ranks and trotted towards them: two Russians and two others in bright tops and trousers. The thousands of other horsemen on their lean mounts remained stationary. Conrad heard the gates being shut behind him as Rudolf held up a hand to signal a halt as the enemy horsemen slowed and stopped around twenty paces from them. The two Cumans were bare headed and Conrad was surprised to see that one was a women. He scanned the Cuman ranks behind them, wondering how many of the riders were female.
‘I am Yaroslav Nevsky,’ said one of the Russians, who removed his decorated helmet with a nasal guard to reveal a man with a thin face and long nose. ‘Representative of Prince Mstislav, lord of Novgorod and Pskov.’
‘I am Rudolf Kassel,’ said the master, ‘master of Wenden Castle and knight of the Order of Sword Brothers.’
He held out a hand to Walter. ‘And this is Brother Walter, my deputy commander.’
Walter bowed his head ever so slightly, a gesture reciprocated by Yaroslav. The latter turned to the Cuman man in the saddle beside him.
‘Master Rudolf, this is Lord Gerceslav of the Cuman people and brother-in-law to Prince Mstislav. And beside him his wife, the Lady Afanasy.’
Conrad heard Henke snigger inside his helmet but Rudolf and Walter said nothing, though the latter did bow his head to the Cuman woman. He was always the observer of etiquette. The formalities over with, Rudolf got straight to the crux of the matter.
‘Why does Novgorod make war upon Livonia and in doing so break the treaty agreed between your prince and the Bishop of Estonia that is barely a year old?’
‘The prince is angry that his standard was stolen by the Sword Brothers,’ replied Yaroslav. Conrad noticed that the Cuman male was glaring at Rudolf in an attempt to intimidate him.
‘A letter or courier would have been preferable to open negotiations on the matter rather than sending an army,’ replied Rudolf.
‘Then you do not deny that you possess the prince’s standard,’ said Yaroslav.
‘I do not,’ replied Rudolf.
Yaroslav spoke some words in a strange language to Gerceslav who smiled triumphantly.
‘Then you will not object to surrendering it to my safekeeping,’ said Yaroslav.
‘That will not be possible,’ replied Rudolf flatly, tilting his head at Gerceslav. ‘You have brought Russian soldiers into Livonia, along
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