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can currently muster. You are to be congratulated, Conrad.’
    Conrad adjusted the mail chausses that protected his legs, beneath which was linen hose to prevent chafing.
    ‘The Estonians do not understand why they march to assist King Valdemar, master,’ said Conrad.
    Rudolf picked up Conrad’s sword belt and drew the weapon.
    ‘Estonia will benefit from our expedition,’ remarked Rudolf, ‘in the long term. But at present I must ask you, all of all, to refrain from unleashing your base instincts.’
    ‘Base instincts, master?’ said Anton innocently.
    ‘I am well aware that Valdemar was responsible for the death of Brother Johann,’ replied Rudolf, ‘and indeed would probably have burned Conrad at the stake had it not have been for the timely arrival of Kalju at Reval.’
    He handed the sword to Conrad. ‘Remember the great knight who gave you this sword and the principles it and he represent. I would not blame you for wanting revenge upon Valdemar. I too have entertained such thoughts. But I would remind you that the very future of Livonia may be at stake in the next few weeks and our actions will determine what that future will be.’
    ‘Perhaps King Valdemar is already dead, master,’ offered Hans.
    Conrad laid the sword on his bed and pulled on his boots. ‘Pray God.’
    Rudolf shook his head. ‘You would like that, wouldn’t you? But if he is dead then his son will become king and Livonia will still be under blockade.’
    ‘And if we rescue him, master,’ asked Conrad, ‘what then? He despises the Sword Brothers and most likely will use the opportunity to attack us.’
    ‘We should let the Oeselians kill him before we assault Oesel,’ said Anton.
    ‘Kill two birds with one stone,’ smiled Hans.
    Rudolf sighed. ‘Like I said, you all must resist your base instincts. Keep your men and your emotions under control. God will not forgive you if you wreck my plans.’
    He began to walk towards the door to the dormitory.
    ‘What plans, master?’ Conrad called after him.
    ‘You will soon see,’ answered Rudolf as he disappeared from the chamber.
    ‘The master is worried that you will try to kill Valdemar, Conrad,’ said Anton.
    ‘If a Sword Brother killed a king appointed by God then that would surely be the end not only of Livonia but also our order,’ replied Conrad. ‘And that I do not desire.’
    ‘The master said nothing about his father, Count Henry,’ mused Hans.
    ‘He probably wants to forget him,’ said Conrad. ‘With a father like that so would I.’
    A sergeant appeared at the door.
    ‘Brother Conrad, the Estonians are gathering beyond the outer perimeter.’
    Conrad raised his hand in acknowledgment and put on his white surcoat emblazoned with the emblem of the Sword Brothers. He tied the straps of his linen coif under his chin, pulled the mail coif over it and then placed the padded leather headband on his head. The headband made the wearing of a helm more bearable. He then buckled his sword belt around his waist, the others doing the same.
    ‘Time to visit the armourers,’ said Conrad.
    At the armoury they were issued with their helms and shields, plus Conrad’s axe and Hans’ and Anton’s maces.
    ‘We will need crossbows as well,’ Conrad told the armourer, who like most of his comrades was a squat, ugly fellow with huge forearms and a condescending manner.
    ‘Brother knights aren’t issued with crossbows,’ he answered curtly.
    ‘Three full quivers each as well,’ said Conrad, ignoring him.
    The armourer grunted and disappeared into the dim interior of the squat stone building housing a multitude of weapons, armour and crossbows. When he returned, with another man who was uglier than he, they slammed the crossbows on the wooden counter, the full quivers alongside them.
    ‘Spare bowstrings,’ added Conrad.
    The armourer grinned and pulled the rolled-up strings from the pocket of the leather apron covering his thick chest and huge gut. He threw them on the