Hello to you patrons of the mead hall. I do not have much time to write anymore these days but i managed to do this little piece in a speck of free time i found myself in. I hope you enjoy it.
The last pages from the Journal of Tvorimir Grigoriev
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The sun had risen in the morning sky, yet it found itself blocked from view as a dense fog settled in over the land of Muscovy. The light of the world, though great, could not burn it's way through the thick clouds and mist that tumbled onto the land ever so often in this part of the earth. An area of the world named Russia, by the banks of the Volga a great state had risen here, the city-state of Moscow. The Prince of this fiefdom, Yuri III, ruled wisely over his domain, and many years of peace he enjoyed. Together with the fortress nation of Novgorod, he stood as the last outpost of Orthodox Christendom in the entire world, and he was a very stubborn man both at court and in war. He fought minor wars in his life, wars of conquest, wars for trade routes, and even wars for prestige but never did he keep what he took, and never did an enemy set foot in his homeland. Yuri III was a proud man and a great leader so it was no surprise when he passed away in 1347, that his son Grand prince Yuri IV would be just like his father, and some claimed he a mirror image the late ruler.
It was a time of hardship in the world, the Pagan empire of the Mongols ravaged any who dared opposed them. The southern kingdoms were vast and their lands rich, which earned the eyes of the Khan of the horde who decimated kingdom after kingdom. Slaying kings and putting princes to the sword, proud and poor whichever and where ever they may be. First it was the sultanate of the Turks which felt their wrath in Europe, then the remnants of the Byzantine empire was set to the flame and the jewel city of the world Constantinople fell. The Western Christians rallied sending crusades to try to free the lands lost under this new pagan empire, but each attempt was met with complete disaster. In all, five crusades, and more than thirteen thousand brave men perished, until finally the pope went so far as to declare the realm of the Golden Horde unattainable and Ground never to become cleansed. The world was entering a dark time of which the world had not seen in a thousand years, and when the Horde hit Poland in 1352, all of Christendom shuttered in fear. There was not a man nor a woman or child who did not believe their end would be at hand, many cried to their god and prayed for deliverance. All that was granted to them was the cold silence of the howling wind, and the fires of the coming wave of destruction.
The Mongols had their way with the Catholics of the West, the khan laughed and mocked them openly on the battlefield when he saw their meager defenses. The Fighting orders of the Church fought back, but their ranks slowly thinned. The Teutonic knights in Germany held the Mongols off for years before their order was slowly thinned, the Hospitallers of Italy joined the fight, ridding out alone against a greater Mongol force when Venice was invaded. They showed the Mongols the tenacity of the Western kingdoms, and though they perished they died well giving the rest of the world hope, though it never lasted long. I asked myself many times as i looked through the books of the great library and asked if there was some way they could be stopped. But the monks who kept the place in order always told me to go home as the sun rose.
Slowly one by one, the domains that i had heard so much about in my youth were destroyed, their cities left in ruin and many of their inhabitants slain. The Mongols would leave no one alive, at least that's what the bards said in shaky voices, no women, no children, no dogs or animals survived and yet they continued their advance, always to the west. I suppose it was only a matter of time until they turned their attention to the last fringes of Christendom in the East, the home of the bravest and hardest fighters this would has seen, the small city-states of Novgorod and Moscow.
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It was early dawn, the sun was ablaze on the horizon and the a gentle snow was falling as the red light escaped from behind the white hills in the distance when the rider appeared before the gates of Novgorod. I can still remember the look upon his face when i ran out the gate to him, his face covered in blood and an arrow jutting from his backside. That rider, that man who sat upon that horse with a horrified look in his face terrified me. Try as i might i cannot erase that scene from my thoughts, though it has been many nights since then. As he lay dying we gathered around him, trying to determine the words that escaped from his lips, and the only audible phrase we ever got out of him was simply monsters...monsters from hell. We knew what he was trying to tell us, and many us those present did not like what we heard. I remember my brother was there, and i looked at him and saw the fear in his eyes, as i'm sure he saw the fear in mine. If what he said was true, then the Mongols would not be far behind him. Monsters i remember sending that word in my head many times, i wondered if that could describe men accurately surely i thought no man can be so evil nor frightening, I was such a fool looking back.
Weeks passed by and soon the rider was forgotten, until late one night a piercing scream was heard echoing up over the walls, that sound sent shock waves through my body and awoke me from sleep. I rushed onto the walls, half dressed in my armor and climbed the stairs. The cold stone pounded as I went up and up, and when i saw what was in those fields below, I felt my body begin to shake. I cannot record on this paper how it made me feel, but those damned Mongols, they had no end to them. They filled up the land swelling into the horizon, I have never seen such a thing in my life. My Huscarl unit leader shouted for me to ready my axe for they would be through the gate at any moment, but i knew all to well, that to fight would mean to die. Running to the nearby stables and busting in I claimed the fastest horse for my own and exited out of the East gate just before the Mongols surrounded the city. The sight of those warriors were to many to count, they enclosed the city and demanded it's surrender. Though knowing the ruler of that city I know in my heart he refused, As i dug my heels into the horse below me the first sounds of battle flew by and rose up above the galloping of the horse. I heard a voice then, from where it came i do not know, maybe i was insane at that moment having left behind everything i knew and loved, but whatever it was it rang clear in both my mind and heart Tvorimir run it said Run to the east, Run to Moscow. Even now I can remember it's clarity, a booming yet soft voice, a commanding yet gentle sound. In the days since, I have never heard that voice again.
Night and Day melded into one, Ridding as long as the noble beast below me would allow at a time we both raced across the frozen lands. The birds and wolves were silent, not once do I recall hearing any sort of beast as i rode. In fact the only sound that was pounding of the horses hooves into the snow. When finally I had climbed the last ridge and passed the last hill, I saw shinning below me the city of Moscow. The Horse below me so tired i could hear him panting, slowly we nearly tumbled across the final few steps to the gatehouse. There we both were surprise to find the city on high alert, soldiers running about the high walls, bells tolling and horns being raised. It took me quite some time to realize i was the source of alarm, and it took even more time to convince them that I was not a spy of the Mongolian Empire. I was taken into the city and was given quarter for the night, though my sleep was uneasy. Filled with dreams of the deaths of my father and the burning of my home. Dreams that haunted me endlessly, forcing me to come to terms with my past. I awoke sometime in the morning to the sound of a loud noise from the center square, i knew that the prince of the city, Yuri IV, was calling his warriors. In my heart was a feeling of guilt at that time which compelled me to attend, and i felt an urging stronger than anything i have felt ever in my life. When i arose that morning i realized i had never taken off my armor, sleep was so unusual for me after the long ride to the city.
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Throwing open the door to the house i was let sleep in, i found many warriors running by me, many had with them their weapons, axes and swords bows and daggers, I saw them all. I grabbed my axe which i had left near the walls of the hut and followed them. Above me the snow began to fall, it was a gentle storm as the stars of frozen water drifted down effortlessly and found their home on the ground. When finally I made it to the center city square where the Prince had summoned his people and myself, he gave a rousing speech telling us about Novgorod. I already knew what he said even before he spoke the words, none had survived the attack. Again the pain of guilt returned and a burning sensation filled my body, I knew what i had done was the act of a coward and i could not face myself until i somehow redeemed myself. Yuri's speech ended about that very moment, though I didn't hear a word he said, I didn't need to, I could feel a hatred more powerful than my own fear burning hotter by the moment. He shouted aloud And who is with me? Many eager young warriors were around me as he spoke those words, standing shoulder to shoulder it made me feel as if i was in the midst of the most powerful heroes of my day. Even before the first hand could be raised to pledge their life to this leader, My hand thrust itself into the air in a fist and before my logic could stop me i shouted I stand with you following my voice many others filled the air. All of them echoed my cry, the very same words and in the very same way, throwing their hands into the air. I looked at the Grand prince as he was proud of his people, His face was filled with joy in hearing all those present, be they of noble birth or peasantry, giving their life to him to help defend their loved ones. Sometimes my mind wonders what he would have thought if he knew it was one not of his city who declared their allegiance to him before any others could.
I walked away from the city center soon after he left the assembly, knowing that there was nothing left for me in this world, I decided that my fate should be that of my family's. If I couldn't stop the Mongols then i would die trying. Walking those streets later that day gave me no comfort, seeing so many men leaving their families for what may be forever, the look in the eyes of a child as his father left for a reason that he couldn't know, I'm not sure I'll ever forget that.
It took some time before the warriors had assembled into battle lines outside the city, the shouts of the gate guards telling us to kill a few Mongols for them made us laugh. I found myself in a huscarl unit under the command of a man named Mil Orekhov, i could tell he had fought is share of wars by the scars that marked his face and arms. I could tell he didn't think much of me when he accepted me into his unit, but he did so only because they needed every man they could get to stand against the coming storm.
A few hours passed as I stood out in the cold, My arms began to gather snow i stood still so long. When finally our leader appeared, he was in fool armor. Yuri IV was in clad from head to toe as was his mount. As he galloped by me i saw his great pole arm that he intended to wield in the coming battle, but I still think that a good axe would suffice any day. He led his force out from Moscow and East, he pushed us all on in a forced march as the gnawing winter wind bit at any flesh that remained exposed. The sky overhead was clouded in a thick black as we arrived on the field of battle, the wind was howling as the snow was thrown into the air and then slammed into the earth. It was a full blizzard, the likes of which I had never seen before. In front of us I could see nothing, but those around me assured me i was on the banks of the Volga. How anyone could tell is and still is beyond me as I could not see six feet from my own face in the dense storm. As the march came to a stop My stomach felt as if it was moving inside of myself. My fear had returned and this time it seemed to be making up for lost time, no matter what i did reason could not suppress it. I remember falling to my knees, the cold snow crunched very loudly and my legs felt as if they were frozen. Yet as i was on te ground the warrior to my right grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back up until I found myself standing. He said nothing, but he looked directly into my eyes, and he sent me a message without using words. His eyes told a story, that he to was afraid, but no man, no enemy should ever have the honor of knowing that. Though it helped, the fear did not go away.
Looking to my feet i realized my helm had fallen off, I picked it up and looked for a moment at it. The steel surface was very cold as had rested in the snow, I put it back onto my head where it belonged and a strange smile crept onto my face. The Huscarls had been place in the forefront of the line, and my unit was right in the path of what would be the Mongol's attack route. I knew what was coming, and strangely I laughed.
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Around me songs broke out, songs i had never heard before in my life yet somehow i knew the tune. Soon the entire line was singing songs, though they were many going at a time, each said something about the singer. I found myself laughing and singing with men i had never before met before this day and I was sure i'd die by, but that didn't matter anymore. These were my brethren and we were fighting a war that we all believed in. I looked back and noticed that even the general of our force, Yuri himself was singing. Our songs fell deafly silent however as the sound of thunder echoed across the frozen river through the snow storm. Soon however we found it was not Thunder, but the sound of the Mongols as they charged across the cold stone bridge. Our laughter in an instant turned to shouts of anger and taunts as the Heavily clad Mongolian horse bared down on our lines. The huscarls rushed into the fight, myself along with them and we brought those damned horsemen a feeling they shall never forget, pain. My axe came down and hemmed into a horse as it charged forth at me, his rider was thrown into the air, but I didn't turn as many more horsemen were about and ready to killing. Axes were thrown into the air time and again, bringing down the proud riders who charged ahead of the main force thinking they could defeat us all alone. We taught them different.
By the time the first wave was beaten back, My axe was drenched in the blood of my enemy. I looked around myself to find the bodies of many horses dead, and those who were not dead were killed quickly. Though we hated the Mongols, we had nothing against their beasts of war who were noble in spirit. We returned to the lines beside our friends who could not see the battle themselves, we came back with our axes over our shoulders with smiles on our faces. They praised us for our skill. But they didn't have to wait long before they could prove themselves to us. Another wave of Mongols could be heard storming across the bridge, but my Unit did not to charge into the fight this time. Instead the huscarls to our right lept from their places and went into the swirling snow ahead of us. The screams of the dying filled the air, and though we couldn't see the fight that raged on in front of us, we felt the ferocity. Finally the screams stopped, and from the falling snow came our again victorious warriors, carrying their trophies and their tales of glory with them.
By now the Mongols must have realized that they could not break the Russian spirit to fight with simply a short charge of cavalry. The wind was beginning to die away as I looked toward the bridge and heard the shouts of some strange language i had never heard before. It wasn't Mongolian as it sounded different. Those in my unit and that of all the huscarls decided not to wait for them to show themselves, we held up our weapons, some still covered in blood, and rushed into the unknown. As we charged into our fight, the snow stopped and the sky began to slightly clear. but as it cleared we saw before us that we were charging into a wall of spear tips. I myself took my axe and was able to knock the spear in front of me away long enough for me to get in close and begin fighting, many others were able to do the same, but many more were not as they were impaled. We could not stop to help the dying, nor did we. For it we did we to would be lying beside them before we could gather our senses.
I swung my Axe from side to side, knocking men down wherever i went. Killing one man after another, my axe became as a whirlwind of destruction. My rage built greater with every man i slew, and before long these lesser men broke and fled. A cry of laughter again filled the air as we, the victorious huscarls had once again stopped the Mongol advance. I turned my eyes back to where Yuri was, but i could not see him. I began to think he had abandoned us but one of my brethren pointed and shouted, our prince had crossed the river further up. As the already weakened snow storm died away for good, we could see them sitting on the flank of the Mongol army, so far unseen.
We turned our attention back to the Mongols as they made on last ditch effort to dislodge us. I found myself again at the front of the line, my axe was ready as they thundered up the other side of the bridge. The men around were ready, and as the mongols came crashing into us, we dug our axes into their horses sending them wailing and falling to the ground. Many of our bravest warriors fell in this charge though, for the lances of the Mongols came down upon us and many were run through. Though we were fighting well, i felt my arms becoming heavier and my axe moving more reluctantly. Many of us at this time were completely exhausted. I was barely able to stand let alone fight, yet somehow i found the power to swing my weapon and into my enemy. As the fear in my stomach began to amount once more, i looked around me and noticed many of my brethren in flight. But i myself could not go. I stood my ground, my arms feeling like they weren't even there and my axe so heavy i couldn't hardly hold it. The Mongols laughed at me as i was the only one who bothered to stay.
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Their laughter soon turned to disbelief as they realized that my general and leader, Yuri the IV crashed into their flank. A loud whistle that rose above the sound of battle then could be heard and the remaining Mongols fled from the bridge. I then dropped to my knees, my enemy in a route, and looked about me. As i sat their I saw the slain piled along the sides of the bridge, their eyes still open sending a haunting chill down my spine. The men who such a short while ago I was singing songs and laughing merrily were lying dead, many cases their hands still grasping their weapons. They had the look of pure anguish and pain as they were upon the cold stone, frozen in a second of time where the last light of life had left their body. I gathered what strength I had left and walked back across the bridge, past the bodies of both Russians and Mongols. I saw men laughing and praising the leadership of Yuri for this victory we had obtained. Nobody praised me as i staggered past them. Looking down I noticed i had been cut numerous times and was losing blood, but i didn't care. I walked as far as i could not even knowing in what direction i was going before i finally took the time to tend to my own wounds the best i could.
I spent many years of my Life wandering that great wasteland of the steppe. Later i found that the battle i helped fight turned the tide of the war against the Mongols all across Europe. The news of Moscow's defiance gave the West hope where it had been lost for years. Thousands rose up in rebellion against their Mongol overlords, and slowly the world changed hands. Christendom rallied, putting aside their differences and fought the horde pushing them back east.
You may be asking yourself, Why am i writing this now? why record my experience. My name is not even known and yet i helped change the world's destiny. Yet that is alright for me, I have redeemed myself in both the eyes of my family and my own. It has been so many years since these events passed, and I have grown old. Soon i feel that i will leave this world, my name never known. But i still remember the songs sung on that day of battle, and i still enjoy listening to the songs of the minstrels as they recount the events of that day. The day in which Moscow stood alone and defeated an empire. The day heroes were made, and men were frozen forever in their agony...
*the journal ends with the name of the man Tvorimir Grigoriev written as a signature. you place the book down upon the wooden table and look at it again. The modest cover hid a tale that was never known before. Of a man who fought a war that changed the world, and he himself was forgotten*
