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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

In Search of the River Kayala

19 December, 2000 - 00:00

(Continued from the previous issue)

Now I suggest you look at a schematic map showing my own hypothesis of the way Ihor led his expedition.

Reaching Izium, fording the Northern Donets, and bypassing a mound, Ihor’s druzhyna entered the Polovetsian steppe. As dusk fell, they moved forward for about two kilometers, and somebody turned around and said hoarsely: “Oh, Rus’ land! Thou art behind my helmet already!” They still could see the outlines of a long mound, or what is now known as Mount Kremenets, behind them. The scouts came riding and told the prince they had seen a Polovetsian outpost, the troops of which also saw them and rode far into the steppe.

Ihor decided to seize the opportunity and attack the Polovetsians before they managed to muster a larger army. But the Rus’ did not turn left and go toward the mighty Khan Konchak’s camp: it is no good to tease the beast in vain; moreover, it seemed somewhat unethical to attack and raise a sword to him, for the khan was going to be the prince’s relative. So they veered right to the sakma: this would make the horses feel easier and take the burden off the warriors’ shoulders. This is where Prof. V. G. Fedorov also sent the Rus’ troops. I also ride with them on my little bay mare. I am wearing what others are and carrying a steel shield, a sharp spear, and a sword.

It is a quiet night. The stars twinkle in the sky, and our shields glitter with the moonlight. I feel somewhat afraid, but I am not alone in the Polovetsian steppe. Next to me are my friends: Minka from our estate, Oska the falconer who, trying to become a merchant, has come here to get rich, and on my right is Fedul scampering on his stallion: he plans to get married and bring costly presents to his betrothed.

The harness clatters, the horses neigh. Our druzhyna has taken a position over the steppe. Gophers occasionally squeak, a black bird flies above our heads.

We are marching neither too fast nor too slow. Why should we gallop to encounter the enemy, why should we rush as far as the Dnipro itself, the watershed of the Murava road? Oh no, our prince is not so foolish as to thrust deep into the Polovetsian steppe. Nor will he ride to Samara. What are we to do there? Why should we tire our horses and ourselves? In the morning, we will ferret out where the Polovetsian settlements are, take rich spoils, and immediately turn around before the unfaithful wake up. Meanwhile, the dawn broke. Our scouts arrived and reported to the prince they had seen the Polovetsian troops and watchtowers beyond the river Siuurly: why not attack them?

Prince Ihor ordered his host to assume a combat posture, so the men of Rus’ turned their faces to the Siuurly (Bereka) and stood ready for battle. My little mare also comes cantering over, panting and breathing out great puffs of steam: we’ve run a little behind the main body of friendly troops. She had also got the whiff of the Polovetsian stallions over the river, gave a calling neigh and veered off toward them, bucking.

On the left flank, Prince Sviatoslav’s cavalry had already charged the Polovetsians. On the right flank, the kovui (Chernihiv warriors — Ed.) had already rushed to the river with a wild cry. They beat and began to pursue the enemy, making them run helter-skelter. Meanwhile, Prince Ihor’s regiment keeps its battle position, with Prince Vsevolod and his troops standing by on the alert, watching the course of the battle. As was agreed upon earlier, the young princes retreat a little closer to “the great Don.”

Late in the evening Prince Sviatoslav and his retinue were the last ones to rejoin the main force, bringing rich booty. Everybody, especially the horses, were very tired because the troopers had been ravaging one settlement after another in search of spoils.

Ihor does not insist. “Where ours did not go, let them praise their luck, but this time is our turn,” he thinks. For instance, last year we did not so good a job near Khiriya but still managed to take good spoils and beat the Polovetsians. I beat them on my own, without other princes. We’ve also taken good booty here. Should anything happen, we’ll reach the ford in time: it is only about 25 miles away. Or else we’ll move directly to ‘the Great Don,’ for it must be somewhere close by, only five to eight miles away...” They spend the night near the river Kayala (Bereka) halfway between the present-day villages of Hrushevakha and Velyka Kamyshevakha. But in the morning they saw they had been surrounded by all kinds of nomads from all sides. Prince Ihor decided first of all to strike in the direction from where they had come here by night and break through to the Donets.

But the nomads stood their ground — there were too many of them on the other side. The Rus’ druzhynas would break through one ring after another, but there always was a third one because the Polovetsians had marshaled fresh forces there. A new life-and-death battle began. “From dawn to dusk, from nightfall to daybreak, hot arrows fly, sabers strike on the helmets, and sharp spears thrust into the unknown fields of the Polovetsian land.” Prince Ihor attempted to make way to the other side and struck southward, sending the nomads reeling. Then the men of Rus’ struck again, and the nomads further retreated into the expanses of the Polovetsian steppe. But Prince Ihor’s druzhynas were upstaged by other forces which push forward from the north, driving the prince’s men from the Siuurly to waterless places, thus sapping the strength of the Rus’ warriors.

The battle lasted all day long, the night was full of swashbuckling, moans of the wounded, and the last cries of the mortally wounded. When morning broke, the Polovetsian troops, which had been pressing from the north, eased their onslaught: they must have tired also. Then the men of Rus’ began to mount pressure: thirst- stricken, they tried to move closer to the river Siuurly. So the Polovetsians wavered and began to retreat, allowing the Russes to try to break through and quench their incredible thirst and let their horses drink.

They got the whiff of a faraway river breeze and then saw a “sea,” i.e., a huge lake. Prince Ihor’s brave men slowly battle on, looking for rescue in the lake. Their faces brightened and spirits rose. But suddenly the battle- weary nomads attacked, and the men of Rus’ were flooded with a wave of the fresh Polovetsian warriors who had moved from distant pastures three or four hours earlier and had been lying in wait to ambush them. The kovui faltered and ran, while the fresh nomad troops finished the bloody work they had begun the day before, on Saturday May 11.

Many men of Rus’ fell those days, including Sunday, May 12, by that so-called sea near the Siuurly and many others were taken prisoner.

As it seems to me, this hypothesis, unlike the others, does not abound in contradictions. Everything goes naturally, according to the principle of minimal energy, as it usually happens. Of course, those events were also visited by Dame Chance herself. Prince Ihor, his young princes, and the Polovetsians all made mistakes, but the final outcome is well known.

When historians study Prince Ihor’s host’s route from Izium to the battle place near the river Kayala, they overlook a very important detail: the movement of the Polovetsians themselves, the khans’ troops, from their resting places. I once tried to figure out where all of them could have assembled early in the morning of May 11 if they had started simultaneously and moved at the same speed. I think the situation was exactly like this. For you cannot demand a horse do the impossible, the more so that it was at night, they were not the chargers of Dumas’ musketeers, and the steppe is not a place for three musketeers on horseback but for thousands of warriors. This is my logic.

On Thursday night, when Prince Ihor’s druzhynas began to ford the Northern Donets near Izium, the nomad lookouts spotted them and galloped to the headquarters of the chief khan, the powerful Konchak. They might have spotted the men of Rus’ at 10 p.m. The resting place Tor (now Slaviansk) is at least 45-50 km away. The Polovetsian lookout had to ride by night. Khan Konchak was awakened at dawn or even, suppose, at about 3-4 a.m. “A huge Rus’ host is coming!” the Polovetsian, more dead then alive as a result of that feverish night ride, mumbled. “There are lots of them, more than gnats in the steppes!”

The khan drank some kumys (mare’s milk — Ed.), became fully awake, and decided to battle the Rus’. He sent his messengers to all parts and sounded a clarion call: “Bring your troops here, my loyal khans, to ‘the Great Don’!”

Could they possibly have been assembled spontaneously in one area of the steppe? The Lay itself says: “Hzak runs like a gray wolf, followed by Konchak, toward the great Don.” So a messenger of Konchak’s galloped to the Polovetsians across the Dnipro. We take the position of resting places according to the works of K. V. Kudriashov (see his book published in 1948, The Polovetsian Steppe), S. A. Pletneva, and B. A. Rybakov. The messengers only reached their destinations on Friday evening or night. The Polovetsians quickly mustered their troops and set out at about 2 a.m. Now, if we turn to Prof. M. F. Hetmants’ hypothesis, these forces could have approached Makatykha at least on Tuesday or perhaps Monday, but never on Saturday morning. But they were already there on Saturday morning.

V. G. Fedorov’s and B. A. Rybakov’s hypotheses are somewhat more plausible. But in this case the troops of Khan Konchak himself must have been late. It is impossible that they began to pursue Ihor’s host immediately after the scout reported to Konchak about the Rus’ crossing the Donets. In this case, the dates of Polovetsian troop movements seem quite realistic.

But the place where all the Polovetsian troops of different groupings were mustered almost simultaneously will be precisely the area close to Bereka, or “my” Siuurly.

By Anatoly VORONY, historian, Kharkiv, special to The Day
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