Army of the Wolf by Peter Darman Page A

helmet on his head. He grinned to reveal a mouth of discoloured, rotting teeth. He looked like a thief but was one of the finest crossbowmen in all Livonia.
    ‘If the enemy turns up we won’t be able to open the gates,’ he shouted at Conrad.
    ‘In which case we will rely on your shooting to keep us safe,’ replied Conrad, holding up a hand to the mercenary.
    ‘You boys keep yourselves safe,’ called leather face.
    Wenden’s mercenaries had been recruited from northern Germany and were an irreverent, coarse lot but they knew their business and that business was war.
    Conrad stepped through the gap in the gate and raced across the wooden bridge spanning the wide, deep dry moat that surrounded the outer perimeter wall and then turned left. The others followed, no one talking as they kept up the pace to follow the ditch as it curved around the outer ramparts. They left the ditch when it continued to curve to the left and then raced across the meadow at the foot of the steep slope rising up to the stone wall of the castle’s eastern side high above. As they progressed the slope got steeper until it became vertical on the castle’s northern side. They had arrived at the village. The smell of pigs and goats housed in pens greeted their nostrils as Otto pushed past Conrad to speak to the villagers who had assembled in the open space in the middle of the settlement: sixty frightened men, women and children who had heard the castle’s alarm bell.
    Otto raised his arms. ‘Calm yourself, my children. There is nothing to worry about. You must all make your way to the castle.’
    Mothers clutched their babies and children to them and men looked beyond the huts, barns and animal pens to the forest beyond the fields.
    ‘You must come quickly,’ shouted Conrad, which did nothing to calm the villagers’ alarm.
    They began to babble and chatter excitedly and some of the infants began crying.
    Otto raised his arms again. ‘Silence! You must all follow me now.’
    He turned on his heels and began retracing his steps. The villagers followed him, instinctively huddling together and glancing in all directions to see an enemy that thus far loomed large only in their imaginations.
    ‘What about our animals?’ asked one of the farmers.
    ‘There is no time to collect them,’ snapped Otto.
    He increased his pace as the group left the village and began walking towards the castle. Conrad and his fellow brother knights kept to the rear of the civilians but no sooner had they moved fifty paces than Hans shouted at Conrad.
    ‘In the trees, look!’
    Conrad, Anton and Johann turned and saw riders emerge from the trees to the north of the fields that ringed the village. Some of the villagers also saw them and the women began screaming. All of the civilians stopped and clustered together. Otto turned and also saw the dozen or so riders had left the trees and had halt
    ‘They will see us soon us,’ said Conrad.
    ‘They don’t look like Estonians,’ mused Johann.
    The riders were some way off but were dressed in a mixture of blue and red tunics rather than the brown and green hues favoured by the Livs and Estonians. Otto ran over.
    ‘We must get to the castle.’
    Conrad pointed at the riders that were now moving towards them.
    ‘They will cut us down in the open. We should get back to the village.’
    Johann turned and looked up at the castle’s northern wall. ‘The garrison will send help, father.’
    The riders were now cantering towards them.
    ‘Time to move, father,’ insisted Conrad.
    Otto ran back to the villagers and ordered them to get back to their settlement as quickly as possible. He picked up one of the infants and ran back towards the huts. The others followed him, women dragging their children along by the arm as they sprinted for their homes. The dozen riders were now galloping towards them, widely spaced and some levelling spears in anticipation of an easy kill. Others were pulling bows from what appeared to be