XXXII: Kicking Down the Door (1488-1491)
Death of the Devil
Hochmeister von Sangerhausen's popularity ran high following the Russian campaign. They'd taken Tver with minimal loss. Even now missionaries answering to the aging Komtur of Beloozero, Eustach von Freytag, converged on the city to fulfill God's work. Sullen Muscovites, for the most part, accorded the soldiers with the respect due. For their part the Order's men, many astonished at the relatively bloodless nature of their victory, left Russia with minimal fuss.
Part of this relative benevolence stemmed from knights and lay officers looking forward to the final test of their prowess and the justness of their cause. In modern sports parlance, if Muscowy was a divisional rival, they now looked forward to the championship match against their bitter enemy.
In the time it took fast galleys to sprint from Konigsberg to Neva, and riders to intercept the long columns led by priests singing the glories of God to the Russian countryside, word spread of Bohemia's disheveled state. The French sieged western Pommerania with Portugese carracks blockading. The Maltese
seized eastern Pommerania. Bitter fighting along the Austrian border. Soldiers eagerly force marched home as the temperature dropped and Moscow's greatest ally, General Winter, once more hinted at his presence.
In Prague, the court and nobles worried. Emperor Ladislav guaranteed the Pope against Neapolitan aggression, and that war went about as well as the French. Marshal Vilem Lablonec
(F 6, Sh 6, M 5, Sg 1) lay in a hospice recovering from wounds retained during a five hundred mile fighting withdrawl across the heart of Imperial territory. Spies told them the Teuton army was on the way home and could be looking for blood. Lablonec himself went to the emperor in early September.
Vilem Lablonec said:
My Lord, I will gladly fight the Empire's enemy, from my bed if needbe. However, I must tell you that we cannot fight on two fronts, let alone the possibility of three. I beg you: Make peace with the French. They have what they want and we no longer have the resources to take it back. As for the pope....
He caught the emperor in a reflective mood. Not that it helped:
Ladislav II said:
Do you know what seperates me from my father (Vaclav IV)? Determination. In his time Bohemia nearly fell. I have made us the most powerful nation in Europe. WE have done that. I will not see my work undone by an effete pretender to the throne in Paris. And what of the Pope? He supported us whenever we told him Bohemia needed to expand to protect the Empire. We cannot have a rival form in Italy that could one day challenge our southern border.
The war continues, but dread naught, my friend. These setbacks will pass. I am still here, and as long as I live, then God is with us.
He died on September 23, 1488 at age 69.
It is a testament to his accomplishments how much his enemies feared and despised him. Few outside Bohemia mourned his death. Some, like Komtur von Aderkas on Danzig, celebrated in a very un-Christian manner. In his reign Ladislav II (b. 1419, r. 1429-1488) the Great,
dei gratia Romanorum imperator electus semper augustus, recovered Silesia, conquered Pommerania, seized over half of Poland for his progeny, and even took Thorn away from the Teutons. He outlived all his rivals (save the French king) and turned Bohemia from the broken remnant left by Vaclav to something entire generations of Knights learned to fear and hate. His son Viktor, took the name Ladislav III in honor of his father.
Paradoxically, Ladislav served his country one last time in death. The Imperial electors met and appointed ten year old Joseph of Austria as heir to the Imperial dignities. This meant that Austria now had a moral obligation to protect the Bohemians against all aggressors... including the Ordenstaadt.
This left Hochmeister Sangerhausen a serious diplomatic problem. Attacking Bohemia would be risky enough, especially if Lithuania joined in and Austria didn't honor the alliance. If the Osterreich actively joined the defenders... Visions of tattered banners and ruined cities filled his mind. Bohemia once nearly broke the Order. Austria now was even stronger.
Still, he couldn't do
nothing, not with tens of thousands of men coming home from war and scores of lay soldiers joining every day. He'd already authorized Rittermeister von Dorpat to increase the Home army from five thousand to ten in anticipation of fighting Ladislav.
Sangerhausen wrote in his journal:
Adam von Sangerhausen said:
I have no choice but to betray your vision, my friend, I pray for the last time. I cannot fight the Bohemians now. I doubt I will be able to while the boy (Joseph of Austria) lives. Yet the men cry for blood, and I find myself slave to their desires. Would I had your strength to stand resilient. Would that you were here...
....having no choice, I must make the best of it.
Gift Wrapped
If the men returning home from war were disappointed at losing their chance against Bohemia, they hid it remarkably well. Though few men felt the same rancor towards Lithuania as the emperor, it still seemed like a gift: A rather pretty gift, as Ivan IV of Muscowy vented his fury by finding the heart of Vytautas' army and cutting it out. The Lithuanian army had fallen to roughly seventeen thousand.
Further, their allies were...busy. The new King of Bohemia showed no interest in anything but getting out of his current wars as soon as possible. Denmark and Ingria both joined the Norwegian defense against Sweden. Ingria, of course, was also a Teuton ally. Vytautas stood virtually alone.
Sangerhausen sent a message to Vilnius activating Hochmeister von Plauen's claim to Samogitia and demanding its 'return.' As usual there wasn't much point in waiting for a reply and soldiers crossed the border in early November.
Brandenberg joined the attack for form's sake, knowing they were safe behind Bohemian lines. Novgorod also joined their overlord, eager not to lose Teuton protection against Moscow. The Austrian regents sent a curious note on behalf of their emperor:
Unnamed regent for Joseph of Austria said:
We cannot join you in this affair, for we now devote ourselves to the active defense of the Empire. Please be assured, however, that though we will not fight the Lithuanians, we remain committed to friendship with the Ordenstaadt and you may certainly count upon us if any trouble your lands.
(Austria refuses to join, but almost immediately offers a fresh alliance.)
On the defense, Ladislav III reported that 'only a madman fights on three fronts' and bowed out. Denmark and Ingria, however, joined in despite their war with Sweden.
The commanders in the eastern field, Sangerhausen and Loringhoven, weren't surprised by this apparent betrayal and simply marched small detachments into Ingria before continuing with their grand plan. Having left a token force at Kholm, the two armies would meet at the trading center in Polotsk and disperse from there.
Rittermeister von Dorpat reasoned that Bohemia wouldn't change their mind and attack the Ordenstaadt separately, certainly not with Austria promising to defend them. He therefore swung his armies east to Medininkai (Samogitia) and Trakai (Troki).
It was a good plan, but as usual in these affairs plans have a habit of going astray. First, a Lithuanian banner pierced the Teuton defenses and sieged Wenden. That wasn't the problem, for Grosskomtur Tomas von Aderkas (a cousin to the Danzig komtur) simply recruited a small mercenary force to fight them off.
Second, the Teuton navy was old and barely worthy of the name. Five cogs, originally intended to transport troops to the Bohemian front, ran afoul of four Ingrian galleys intent on capture. Fortunately the wind served and the transport fleet ran down the coast to Narva and so out of harm's way. This was an embarassment, nothing more.
Third, the Ordenstaadt's naval commanders were even less worthy of the title. None of the sailors currently fighting were even alive the last time the navy fought a determined melee on the open sea. Their fifteen galleys, therefore, were completely unprepared when sixteen Danish carracks with nine galleys of their own appeared on the horizon. Worse, 'Admiral' von Paderborn didn't understand that he needed to flee. In a battle that lasted perhaps thirty minutes start to finish, the Order's fighting navy ceased to exist.
Fortunately Ingria's tiny army stubbornly defended their tiny enclave on the Arctic coast.
(Their colony. It's on the far side of Muscowy. I can only imagine that's where the Ingrian army is, because they didn't show up during the war.) As for Danish sea invasion, they had their hands full trying to fight the Swedes off. Despite the naval setbacks neither nation again played a role in the war.
In December 1488 Ivan of Muscowy chose not to pursue his advantage and declared a status quo peace with Vytautas. The king sent word for the Royal Army, some nineteen banners at his height but now reduced to nine thousand men, to relieve Kholm and Polotsk before counterattacking.
Through the winter both armies deployed for what would be the decisive battles of the campaign. Hochmeister von Sangerhausen held Vilnius long enough for Dorpat's army to arrive and invest the capital. He then marched towards Mogilyov to stop reinforcements from taking Polotsk back. In Kholm, Komtur von Loringhoven realized the danger posed by the main Lithuanian army and requested help from Komtur von Freytag and his 'missionaries.'
Sharp fighting broke out in March 1489. Sangerhausen destroyed the Lithuanian army at Mogilyov. The sieging army at Polotsk withstood an attack at 1:2 odds that left 300 Lithuanians and 400 Teutons on the field. Sangerhausen went on to crush reinforcements at Bryansk. Mercenaries finally attacked the Lithuanian army at Wenden and destroyed them as well.
In Kholm, the Royal Army deployed against Rittermeister von Loringhoven. King Vytautas made his way from Vilnius, avoiding Dorpat's army, to take command of the army reinforced to thirteen thousand men against ten thousand Teutons.
This, then, was the main battle of the war. A complete Teuton victory ended all resistance, while if Lithuania won the entire network of sieges would be undone. Vytautas enjoyed a 3:1 advantage in cavalry, while Loringhoven's infantry easily dominated their rivals.
For the better part of two days they hammered at each other. Sabre wielding cavalry whirled and spun around each other in a series of clashes over several square miles while the Teuton footmen ground their enemies into oblivion. On noon during the second day the king himself led a charge that flanked and devastated the Orders' neat ranks. A chance spear caught his horse in the throat however, and the screaming animal fell on top of its rider.
Loringhoven finally withdrew on the afternoon of the second day with seven thousand killed. The Lithuanians lost ten thousand and, more importantly, their king. Commanders blinded by fury and grief had three valid choices:
1) Attack and destroy the sieging armies in surrounding demenses. Eventually there would be another battle with Sangerhausen, but it'd be on Lithuanian soil with even greater numbers than before.
2) Sit and rebuild. Again there would eventually be a reckoning, but again the army would have had time to recover.
3) Chase Loringhoven to Novgorod and try to destroy his army once and for all, which would take about a third of the Ordenstaadt's fighting strength out of the war.
Instead they chose option 4: Attack Pskov, perhaps hoping to provoke Komtur von Loringhoven as he tried to rebuild his army.
Kestutis II of Lithuania said:
Is there anything so false as the Teutons? Show them no mercy. Destroy their armies. Kill their men. Burn their holdings. He who brings me (Loringhoven's) head shall have any boon within my power.
Yet, despite the tactical defeat at Kholm, the tide had turned. Polotsk and Trakai fell in June. Attempts to relieve Polotsk at the eleventh hour failed. Medininkai surrendered the next month. In August Neva, Ingria yielded and their duke accepted the usual terms.
By now the Royal Army had given up on Pskov and advanced to Wenden. Over the next few months a straggling series of armies from across the Ordenstaadt engaged them, often suffering defeat but leaving them disorganized for the next foray. In September Hochmeister von Sangerhausen engaged with ten thousand men against the Lithuanians, who'd reinforced themselves with mercenaries back up to five. He destroyed their force while losing perhaps one thousand of his own men. The stragglers retreated to Pskov, ran straight into Rittermeister von Loringhoven's replenished army, and were no more.
After September 1489 the war was over in all but name, though Kestutis for one was too stubborn to realize it. Both of the main Teuton armies, devastated by loss and attrition, split off individual banners to carry on the fight while the weaker units rested and recovered. Kholm once more fell under siege as Knyaz Rurikovich of Archangel marched on Luga (Tula) with six thousand. Minor setbacks in Bryansk and Trakai met with brutal retribution as reinforcements appeared. Bialystok (Podlasia) and Grodno fell under siege.
In December, the last battle worthy of the title was fought north of Czernowitz (Podolia) in southern Lithuania. Hochmeister von Sangerhausen led five thousand horsemen against an army of four thousand Lithuanians patiently building to retake their homeland. The Slavs were tired, hungry, desperate and not very well trained. Within hours those who could flee did so never to rise again, while Sangerhausen lost less than 400 men.
Firestorm
On January 11, 1490 Vilnius fell to Rittermeister von Dorpat.
Now I must again caution the gentle reader against literal interpertation of history, especially during this period when Europe first emerged from the superstition and general ignorance of the Dark Ages. Having given this warning, we may safely ignore widespread reports from Marienburg.
Marienburg had never been a large city even as headquarters of the monastic state. Those factors that led to the growth of cities during this era, such as available jobs, were more abundant in nearby Konigsberg. Since the headquarters migrated to that city, Marienburg fell into steady decline until only the diehards or the desperate with nowhere else to go lived amidst the ruins of their fallen castle.
It is these people who, on January 11, report a great shaft of light erupted from the ruins near the cathedral where many of the fallen Hochmeisters were buried. Allegedly this light could be seen by farmers and herders miles away.
This is probably false, 'history' written after the fact to glorify what would follow. Even if true there are any number of weather phenomena that would explain this.
Regardless of what one chooses to believe, what happened next in Vilnius is verifiable.
Anonymous manuscript said:
....I rode with (Rittermeister von Dorpat) as we entered the great marketplace. Buildings surrounded us on all sides and I had an impression of being closed in. Despite forcing Vilnius to surrender through starvation, our numbers were few while theirs were great. I had to cover my nose against the stench of death.
When Vilnius surrendered, they sent a leading citizen to our camp with the keys to the city gates around his neck. (Dorpat) hung the man and displayed the head in a most shocking fashion before entering the town. I could feel the fear and desperation in the air.
For perhaps the first time this campaign I prayed that Christian mercy and forbearance would grip Lord von Dorpat's soul, and indeed as I looked upon him he seemed to glow as if from a fire whose source I could not see. Then he looked upon me, and his eyes were not his own. Then he spoke, and his voice was not his own either.
"Burn it all."
Thus Rittermeister von Dorpat repaid the injury done by Svitrigailia of Lithuania 52 years earlier.
(Post # 12) Fear and desperation turned to riot as they torched the first buildings. Soldiers put down the riot with brutal German efficiency and continued their rampage. Only the cathedral was spared, in an unexpected echo of Marienburg's burning and as a nod to Teuton piety. King Kestutis himself escaped Vilnius through a sally port and fled into Bohemia to beg succor.
Ladislav III had no intent of getting involved in a hopeless cause, though he did grant the Lithuanian king sanctuary. It'd taken all his diplomatic skill to escape the French and Neapolitan wars unscathed. While a more energetic and daring ruler might have risked the throw, he feared Austria's intervention and simply offered his services as negotiator.
For his part, Hochmeister von Sangerhausen might have personally preferred peace, but with victory so certain he couldn't accept anything less than completely humiliating his rival. The war continued therefore, with Tula and Mogilyov falling in late winter. Reinforcements invested the last of Lithuania's cities and their army ceased to exist as a fighting force in a series of skirmishes against undertrained militia.
In September 1490 Minsk fell to the Teutons, while Bryansk surrendered to Novgorod. In January 1491 Pinsk (Polesia) fell...
...with Voronzeh, Kursk, Czernowitz (Podolia) and Chernigov following within the month. Kestutis sent a generous offer via Bohemian diplomats to the Hochmeister. Not generous enough, but close enough where serious negotiations could take place.
On March 17, 1491 Kestutis returned to the ruins of his capital and met Hochmeister von Sangerhausen. Neither man smiled (though the Teuton representatives did engage in some polite gloating), neither man shook each other's hand. It was a strange, uncomfortable meeting, made even more so by the fact their mediator wasn't a Papal legate or delegate, but a fellow ruler...one neither had much reason to like.
For the soldiers and priests of the Ordenstaadt, this was their finest hour, and if their faith allowed it they would have happily deified their Hochmeister then and there. Certainly he could be compared favorably with any of the thirty other men who'd held the title up to and including Hermann von Salza. In a handful of years he'd humbled Moscow at little cost and devastated one of their most hated foes.
Across eastern Europe nobles and rulers wondered if they'd exchanged one devil for another. Hochmeister von Sangerhausen could say he wanted peace, but the last several years said otherwise. Further, rather than delicate and relatively permissible shifts in the balance of power to make the Order safer, he'd gone for the throat like, quoted Duke Johann of Saxony, a wild wolf.
(Infamy 19.2 of 21, but Prestige 42) Their expansion particularly worried Johan II of Sweden
(Lots of Johans around here lately...) Having taken Neva from Ingria during their part of the war, he couldn't go further without risking Teuton wrath. The Ordenstaadt might be worse than useless on the sea, but their armies couldn't be ignored.
For the Hochmeister himself, the praise, adulation and near worship that followed him tasted bitter. They were praising him for making a mockery of Luneburg's dreams. After so many years as Hochmeister he wasn't even sure what his friend would have wanted anymore, but he doubted it involved taking over northern Lithuania or burning their capital.
Perhaps just as bad, Sangerhausen valued the friends and connections he'd made over the years, even when they disagreed. Now they shamelessly truckled to their great ruler. He found himself isolated, worried about making a mistake, and longing for the days when he was
only the Order's deputy and the world still made some kind of sense.
