Wenden Castle

Near to Riga, only fifty miles to the northeast, among dense forests, on the picturesque hills, stood the Wenden Castle. It housed the residence of the Master of the Livonian Order. Around is a small town with the same name, which lived off trade with the castle. The head of the order chose this place for a reason, and not only because there was a trade route to the north, to Revel and Dorpat; not only because the place was quite convenient from a military point of view, in the event of a siege of the fortress, but also because it was here that the master could feel his exclusivity and not be constantly in the shadow of the archbishop. Only here he felt the fullness of his power and, at the same time, absolute security, which could not be said about his old residence in Riga, from where not so long ago the headstrong inhabitants of the city “asked” him by force of arms.

Although Riga had its magistrate, and hence the city government, when it came to serious issues, everyone investigated the mouth of the Pope's direct appointee, for he knew which side to lean on at the right time. For the Pope himself, from a political point of view, it was beneficial to keep the balance in the eastern lands between all three forces, but this did not exclude cases when a good offering made it possible to receive his blessing in any dispute. However, here, unfortunately, there was a small, but unpleasant nuance: another good offering, already from the opposing side, could radically change his point of view, and yesterday's leader became an outsider. Therefore, Wenden remained the base that, being close to Riga, allowed the head of the order to constantly hold his brought sword over the capricious city and thereby somehow influence his government. For this, the best fighting detachments of the Livonian Order were in the castle.

The Pope conceived the order as the punishing right hand of the Catholic Church in the newly acquired lands. He had to use the power of his arms to help the church to carry the word of God to the residents. But, as they say, trust in God, and do not make a mistake yourself. The head of the order strictly followed this centuries-old principle of life and had his views on the development of the situation in Livonia. The constant struggle that he waged not only with the gentiles but also within the order, created many problems. Therefore, it is not surprising that the master was deeply afraid for his life, and therefore he left only the best of the best warriors near him in the castle and distributed all the rest to garrisons and fortresses. Of the people most loyal to him, he appointed commanders who, to the extent of their understanding, supervised the military training of the units entrusted to them on the ground. The master regularly demanded from the heads of the fortresses reports on the work done, but all of them, without saying a word, sent him formal replies: they say, everything is fine and there is absolutely nothing to worry about. The master himself could not often travel with the inspection, and therefore he was satisfied with the reports sent. In addition, the master did not disdain information received from nonresident merchants who came to Wenden with their goods, and from time to time he managed to find out some details of the life of his commanders. That, in turn, often led to their replacement and civil strife among the members of the order. The master firmly believed in the ancient principle of divide et impera ("divide and conquer"), and it was in his hand that the knights, busy fighting with each other, did not have the opportunity to unite against their heads. Yes, disagreements between the commanders often led to small wars within Livonia itself, and this weakened the country, but at the same time, conflicts allowed the master to act as a noble peacemaker. However, he was never in a hurry to intervene in a fight, leaving the opposing knights to sort things out themselves, and then sided with the strongest. Through such simple diplomacy, he conducted a natural selection among the members of the order and at the same time strengthened his authority, and therefore at the next elections of the Grand Master always remained the only candidate for this title.

Walter von Plettenberg that day was sitting at a writing table in the Star Hall, which he inherited from the previous owners of the castle, and was writing a message to the Master of the Teutonic Order. Even though he was significantly weakened after the battles with the Poles and Lithuanians, he still retained the right of an older brother in relations with the Livonian Order. In the text of his letter, the owner of the Wenden Castle once again complained about the Russian Tsar Ivan, who dared to build a new fortress on the Narva River and concentrate his troops in it. Thank God, the Swedes destroyed the fortifications of the Russian ruler some time ago, but he pulled up additional forces and rebuilt the fortress better than the previous one. This unfortunate fact upset the Master. In his mind, all these preparations of the Muscovite meant that he might have the opportunity to nullify all the efforts of the Livonian Order, which is trying to prevent the supply of Hanseatic metal and weapons to the Russian state, which will complicate the offensive on Pskov and further on Moscow. And this, in turn, will jeopardize the establishment of the absolute influence of the Roman Church on all Slavic lands.

The master was about to put the last point in his message when the secretary quietly approached him.

“What do you have?” slowly turning to the newcomer, the master croaked in displeasure.

“A messenger has arrived from the eastern lands of our order, my lord.”

“So, bring him here! Something he was extremely late this time. I was expecting him with the news yesterday.”

The secretary did not reply to the remark of the head of the order, only bowed and, looking out the door, shouted something. A moment later, a short man entered the personal hall of the master with an uncertain gait, like a naughty schoolboy. The remnants of a dirty, tattered shirt hung in tufts on it, and large brown spots flaunted on the canvas breeches. His hands were covered with bruises and bruises, and under his left eye was a huge purple bruise. The man slashed his bare feet on the gray floor of hewn pine planks and stopped halfway to await the master’s further command.

“Who is this person?” Von Plettenberg grumbled in bewilderment, addressing his secretary. “You said that a messenger came to me, but I see only a dirty ragamuffin in front of me.”

“This man claims that he is a messenger from our eastern borders, my lord,” he replied calmly. “He just arrived at our castle and immediately announced his intention to meet with you, however, he did not have a travel letter. And he explains his ragged appearance, not befitting a knight of the Livonian Order, by the fact that on the way robbers attacked him in the forest and took away his weapon, and with it a message from the commander of the border fortress.”

“The knight of the Livonian Order, the envoy of our brother kultur - and were robbed by some beggars who had never seen a knightly weapon in their lives, and even more so who did not know how to properly conduct a battle?” the master croaked in surprise.

“Our brother explains this unpleasant incident by the fact that, as you rightly put it, there were a lot of hicks. The brother says that there were about two dozen, and even three.”

“How many robbers have spread in the forests of our venerable order!” indignantly barked von Plettenberg and looked with displeasure at the messenger, who stood in complete confusion at the entrance to the hall and shyly shifted from foot to foot, not knowing how to hide their untidy appearance from the angry gaze of the master. “Come on, come to me, warrior!”

The messenger glanced sideways at the assistant master, a hefty fellow, who at that time was watching him closely. Catching his nod of approval, the ragamuffin walked closer to the table and humbly lowered his eyes.

“Well, tell me how it all happened and what did you have to tell me from your commander? It was something especially important!”

“My lord, I was entrusted with delivering you a message from my commander,” the messenger said quietly, without raising his head and thus hiding his face swollen with purple bruises from the master's attentive and sharp, like a sharpened awl, eyes.

“And where is this important message that you were supposed to convey to me?” Von Plettenberg asked sarcastically.

“The robbers took it from me in the forest, Master-Master,” the messenger replied, barely audibly.

“And why didn't you prevent this barbaric act? Why didn't you grab these filthy criminals and escort them to the fortress for our fair trial?”

“Our almighty Lord sees that I defended myself as best I could from the forest robbers who attacked me, but the forces were too unequal, and, to my bitter regret, I had to give up the battlefield to them.”

“And what, there were so many robbers that you could not defeat them?” with a doubt in his voice said the master.

“I swear to the Blessed Virgin, my lord, everything was exactly as you say. There were a lot of robbers, no less than forty people!” Without batting an eye, the messenger lied.

“And where did you meet them, these beggars-robbers?”

“On a forest road, halfway between Mitava and Riga.”

“Heard, brother, where are these robbers hiding?” turning to his assistant, asked the master.

“I heard, my lord!” the secretary bowed his head in the affirmative.

“Then prepare the required number of people and walk with them in a wide network along the road from Riga to Mitava itself. Make sure that all the robbers caught by you are duly punished for opposing the true power, for this power is given to us by the Lord Himself and no one dares to challenge its justice. We must publicly cut off the heads of heretic robbers to do God's will. Execute half of them in Mitava, and the other half in Riga, on the central square of the city. And make sure that all citizens see how the order reacts to illegal acts and understand that any disobedience to our authority is a rebellion against the true faith and God himself.”

“Yes, my lord. It will certainly be fulfilled, and it is as you commanded!” answered the secretary.

“Ok ... So where did I stop? Oh yes! Do you know what your commander wanted to tell me?” Drilling the messenger with his black bottomless eyes, the master demanded asked.

“My commander in words did not ask to convey anything to you, my lord. He conveyed the message, but the robbers meanly stole it from me.”

“And you dared to come to me without this important document addressed to me personally?” the master croaked so deafeningly that the messenger's legs buckled in surprise. “What was written in this message?!”

“I… d-don’t w-know, my lord,” the messenger stuttered in fright. “I managed to escape from the scoundrels under the cover of night when the robbers lost their vigilance. I only know that three days earlier our brother arrived from Russia to the Komtur, who had been in Moscow for a long time and was carrying out a special mission there on the orders of the Pope.”

“And you, do not even know what kind of news he brought from barbarian Muscovy?”

“No, Master, I do not know what our brother told, for their conversation took place behind a closed door and without outside eyes,” the messenger said quietly, dropping his head.

“So why then did you not steal such an important message from the robbers if you do not know its content and cannot convey it in words?! And you still dare to come to me and take away from me precious time, which I intended to devote to prayer to our Lord, and instead, I listen to your stupid “I don’t know, I don’t know”!”

“I was afraid to find myself, Master,” the messenger said quietly, lowering his head.

“You were afraid to die in the name of our holy cause? In the name of the Lord?! Coward! The consummate coward! Into his captivity, into the dungeon!” Jumping up from his chair and addressing his assistant, the master yelled heart-rendingly and in extreme indignation stamped his feet loudly. “Tomorrow morning, in the presence of all our brothers, I will decide your fate. A knight is obliged in any, even the most difficult conditions, to fulfill his duty to the glory of the Lord and to do it relentlessly, and if it is God's will, then boldly go to death to fulfill the order given to him! Even if the knight is confronted by countless enemies, he is still obliged to obey the command of the commander, for this is his sacred duty! Take this man unworthy of the title of a knight out of my eyes and send a messenger to our eastern lands to clarify the situation! I will send him a message for my brother Komtur!”

“Yes, my lord!” the secretary obediently bowed his head before the owner.

The next morning was gloomy and gloomy. It was drizzling with a tedious, fine rain. From this, the canvas clothes of the knight brothers, who were engaged in household chores in the courtyard of the Wenden castle, quickly got wet and disgustedly adhered to the body, forcing them to move more briskly to somehow warm up. Those who were cutting firewood today were in an advantageous position: they, at least, did not freeze, despite the rain, cold and piercing wind. Those who were sent to weed the garden were not lucky. It was not very pleasant to crawl between the beds on all fours, on the wet ground, but what can you do: "God endured and told us to!" This was the master's favorite saying, and none of the inhabitants of the castle dared to disobey him and thereby violate the established order of life in the fortress once and for all, for Walter von Plettenberg did not always choose a proportionate punishment even for the most insignificant offense.