von Vrymersheim felt a Lith spear slam into his armor on the wall of Samogitia. With wince he spun about and slammed his sword down on the man's skull, splitting it asunder. Someone else was pounding on his back with a club, and another fool had wrapped his arms around the Livonian's legs and was trying to pull him down. von Vrymersheim was no fool; he knew if he fell in this melee the Lith peasants would be on him in seconds, driving knives into the joints of his armor.
With a strength that he sometimes forgot he had, he tore one leg from the Lith's grasp and brought his iron boot down on his face. He felt as a distant jar the nose and forehead shatter. The Master of the Livonian Order wheeled about clumsily, blessing and cursing his heavy armor in the same breath, and ran the Lith with the club through the stomach. His sword stuck there for a moment, and he found himself gasping for breath as he planted his gore-encrusted foot upon the Lith's chest and ripped his sword out.
Momentarily free of attackers, von Vrymersheim took a moment to review the situation. They were on the wall, but it was tight. His Livonians were attacking with the ferocity of men who knew their next hot meal was behind the walls, but the Liths were fighting for their lives.
It will be a close run thing, either way, he thought. He looked back to the camp of the Teutons. They stood there, a metal wall, watching their Livonian dogs attack Samogitia alone. The Livonian roared at them from across the field. "Come on, you cowards! Charge, and we take the city! Charge, you cursed cowards!" His bellows were consumed by the noise of the field.
He turned, and saw the left of the Livonian line collapse under a sudden assault from the defenders. "For the love of God, more men to the left," he shouted, but he knew it was already over. In the confusion of the wall, no one was going to listen to him. He almost wept as two Livonian banners went down in the mud, and his knights began to stream off the wall. Below, the mingled shattered bodies of Livonians and Liths told of the ferocity of the battle.
But the Liths had won the day.
The Master stayed upon the wall a moment longer, enough time to plant the Livonian flag upon a high point, where a breeze from the fires burning in Samogitia whipped it out for all to see.
von Vrymersheim climbed down the wall, among his retreating men. He raged at them, cursed them, slapped some with the flat of his sword and ran others through, but he couldn't stop their collapse. He heard a ragged cheer go up from the walls and turned in time to see them chop down the Livonian banner and toss it into the flames below.
The assault on Samogitia had failed.
Leaving his retinue to get his men in order, von Vrymersheim stalked over to where von Rothstein, impassive as stone. "We could have taken them, Grandmaster, if you had ordered your knights into battle. We had the wall. Why, why in the name of God did you hesitate?"
