Army of the Wolf by Peter Darman

close?’ Otto said derisively. ‘You think I cannot handle a few pagans?’
    Conrad knew he could, having been a member of Rudolf’s mercenary band that had fought in Germany before venturing to Livonia to become members of the Sword Brothers. Rudolf had told Conrad that it had been a great surprise to everyone when Otto elected to become a Cistercian priest, turning his back on violence and warfare to tend to the spiritual needs of his companions and their souls and those of Wenden’s military and civilian personnel. That was the theory but Otto was not averse to strapping on a sword in emergencies, as he did now.
    ‘Blasphemers!’
    Conrad and the others stopped as another voice bellowed at them.
    ‘Sinners! You are all going to die.’
    Conrad turned and saw Abbot Hylas standing in the middle of the courtyard, oblivious to the frenetic activity around him as he spotted Conrad marching towards the drawbridge.
    ‘Conrad Wolff,’ bellowed Hylas, ‘Lembit has sent his devils to torment you. You are going to die, heretic.’
    ‘He’s started early,’ said Anton, holding up a hand to Hylas.
    ‘Lembit will kill you, Conrad Wolff,’ screamed Hylas, holding out his arms and spreading fear and alarm among the civilians who were being herded into the great dormitory that normally housed the brother knights, sergeants and castle workforce.
    ‘Lembit is dead, abbot,’ Conrad shouted back.
    Hylas’ eyes bulged wide and then he threw back his head and laughed demonically, causing some of the children to burst into tears.
    ‘Someone should send him back to Germany,’ said Hans.
    Abbot Hylas had travelled from Germany in the company of three Cistercian monks. They had inadvisably ventured into Saccalia to convert the heathen pagans when it was still under the lordship of Lembit. The Estonian leader had captured them all, had the three monks beheaded in front of Hylas, after which he had had the abbot tortured before sending him back to Livonia. Only the expert healing powers of Ilona had saved him from death, though she could do nothing to heal his mind. He was now quite mad.
    ‘God sent him back to us,’ Otto snapped at Hans, ‘and it would insult the Lord to turn away one of His servants.’
    ‘Lembit comes!’ screamed Hylas, clutching the four wooden crucifixes that hung around his neck. When he had murdered Hylas’ monks Lembit had placed their crucifixes around the abbot’s neck in mockery. Ever since that dreadful day Hylas had always worn them.
    Ilona, the raven-haired beauty who had saved Rudolf from the flames of Holm all those years ago, walked over to Hylas and smiled at him. The abbot froze, bowed his head and then appeared to visibly shrink as Ilona led him by the arm to the chapel where he would not bother anyone.
    ‘Thank God for Ilona,’ remarked Anton as they reached the half-finished gatehouse and walked between the towers that led to the drawbridge.
    They moved quickly over the bridge then down the track leading to the perimeter gates. Only if the enemy broke through the outer ramparts would the drawbridge be raised, though to date no enemy had breached Wenden’s defences. Conrad cast a glance to his left as they descended the slope from the drawbridge, the smoke columns still visible in the east.
    The gates had been closed after the mounted party had left, crossbowmen standing on the towers that flanked them and all along the perimeter. Two spearmen descended a ladder that gave access to the first storey of one of the towers as Conrad and the others approached the gates. There was a small door in the right-hand gate that he pointed to.
    ‘Open it up.’
    One of the spearmen nodded and unlocked the door, then swung it inwards.
    ‘Going for a stroll, Brother Conrad?’
    Conrad looked up and saw ‘leather face’, the grizzled old mercenary crossbowman who had been at Wenden since it had first been taken by the order. He wore a tattered gambeson beneath his mail armour and a simple iron