by Purple Hazel
* * * *
Thwarted and rebuffed repeatedly in the past, Devlet Giray had never tempered his ambitions for the Nogai Yortu to maintain its autonomy and expand its influence. Born in 1512, he was known by those close to him as a skillful politician. Always taking full advantage of opportunities for expansion and conquest, he’d played his cards right to gradually become the greatest and most successful of the Tatar khans, challenging Turkish domination over the region and stifling attempts for Russian expansion.
This time however, he planned to amass an army of many thousands of ferocious warriors to accomplish his objectives; and he wasn’t going to be satisfied with a mere few thousand slaves. Oh, no, this time Devlet wanted much, much more. This time he wanted Moscow itself—wanted to see it razed and plundered—and he was determined to rampage all the way across Russia in the process. Russia would feel his wrath, Devlet was sure of it. And he believed nothing could stop him, either from God’s design or the constructs of man. As Russians were solidifying their hold on the southern border of their territory, Devlet Giray, Khan of the Nogai Horde, began assembling an army of nearly 100,000 savage horsemen for one of the greatest invasions of all time.
* * * *
Unfortunately none of this was known to poor Ludmilla and her weathered old father as they settled into their little farmhouse for a long winter’s night following her return. They slept peacefully in their beds that night, secure in their belief that the Zasechnaya Cherta, and the tsar’s line of forts to the south of them secured their safety. For all they knew, maybe the Tatars wouldn’t campaign in Russia this year at all! Yet they could never have imagined the extreme danger they were about to face.
And perhaps it was better that they didn’t know…for events were unfolding to the south of Father’s farm, which would later turn Ludmilla’s, Tatyana’s, and the lives of nearly 170,000 other fellow Russians upside down. Death and destruction would soon be rushing forward in waves of senseless brutality and bloody carnage that would shock the entire known world.
Chapter 8
Moscow Burns
Come spring time, Ludmilla’s farm transformed from an icy wonderland full of frosted barley stalks bent over and frozen; into a muddy quagmire of melting snow and random patches of exposed soil. It was a little early to begin preparing the fields, but Ludmilla was once again on a very tight schedule.
So much to do, especially when it came time for planting. There would be preparation and repairs first, then before long it would be time to till the soil and get the ground ready for seeds. The process would be rather arduous when the rains came and soaked the ground but the rains also served to clear off the snow so she could get right to work on dry days.
Father disagreed with her early start, saying the hard labor required was simply not worth the effort. “In a few more weeks after the last heavy rains, Lyev, the job will be much easier,” he assured her. But Ludmilla began planting anyway. Father knew better, of course; and she understood his logic. It could be risky, if she planted and a rainy deluge washed out her seeds or “drowned” the sprouts within the first five crucial days before they could germinate. Ludmilla acknowledged the risk, but placated her father politely.
“Let me try, Father. It’s been dry for a week. With a little luck,” she promised, “I’m sure I can get the field planted long before it rains again.” Therefore, against Father’s better judgment, she went out and sowed the entire field in a day or two—once she was done preparing the field that is.
Working in muddy ground was extremely difficult for a horse and plow as she soon discovered! Ludmilla could get entire sections of the field done on dry days; but once a big rainstorm came she’d have to wait it out; and in some cases she’d have to plow some areas all over again. This set her back for several frustrating weeks. Father kept telling her to wait and let the rainy season pass, but Ludmilla needed to get this hard work done and her fields sown quickly. She had to get back to Belgorod and see Tatyana!
She also stuck little stakes into the soil randomly throughout the field, with flags attached to them made from parts of bed sheets. This old farmer’s trick served to scare off migratory birds returning to the area, because the noise of the flags flapping in the wind would startle the birds away; and prevent them from landing on freshly sown fields, feasting on the seeds before they sprouted.
Yes, it was indeed risky. If she planted and sprouts didn’t properly germinate, then her yield might be severely diminished months later come harvest time. Yet Ludmilla was willing to chance it. She had a backup plan anyway, once the crop was planted and she could get back to Belgorod: she was going to make vodka with Bogdan. If all else failed, perhaps she could pay the family farm’s rent with that! It was a long shot, but Ludmilla believed it would work.
True, she’d had months to think about it. And that look on Tatyana’s face when she embraced her the day she left? It was so odd. It was an expression like something had just occurred to Tatyana that she hadn't thought of before. Or perhaps it was something similar to that look people get when they detect a foul odor. It would be far easier if that had been the case.
Ludmilla had given it some thought and the best conclusion she could draw was that when pressed against her chest, the girl had simply gotten a face-full of Ludmilla's boobs. That made for the most logical explanation. Ludmilla’s breasts must have squished up against Tatyana’s face as Tatyana burrowed into her outside her father’s tavern that morning.
Over and over, Ludmilla went through that scene in her mind—the way people do when they've done something they want to make sure they got away with and later torture themselves night after night mentally retracing their steps to make sure they “made a clean getaway.”
Regretfully, when Ludmilla embraced Tatyana that morning outside the tavern, she’d been standing up straight and tall, allowing Tatyana to practically shove her nose right into Ludmilla’s cleavage. Little thought was given to it at the time unfortunately. Ludmilla was quite preoccupied with maintaining her balance in the slippery snow while Tatyana attempted to kiss her goodbye. It gave her butterflies when she went over it in her mind: something so simple; and yet so easy to avoid if Ludmilla had thought about it for a mere second! Now it occurred to Ludmilla that Tatyana might have become suspicious. Could Tatyana have added it up? The hairless hands? The smooth hairless face? And then on top of all that, female breasts underneath her rubashka?
That above everything else was the biggest reason for wanting to return to Belgorod as soon as possible. She'd be living there with Bogdan and Tatyana until harvest time, and that would take at least sixty, maybe seventy days. Of course, it wouldn’t take more than a minute to detect whether Tatyana still had feelings for her, but that would also give her two months in Belgorod to be around Tatyana daily. That should be enough time to gain her confidence again and make her comfortable with the relationship. That’s what Ludmilla must do first. The rest she'd have to figure out later.
Within a month, Ludmilla was ready for her long-awaited trip to Belgorod. She took a day to pack and say goodbye to her father, then loaded up the cart with some clothes and a lunch for her journey into town. It was a bit difficult explaining it to Father, but Ludmilla tried making it plausible as best she could.
“I’m going into town to find work for a couple months until harvest time,” she explained, “make a little money for us. Then I will return. I promise.” Her father got an all-too familiar look on his face, so she added, “That’s all, Father—just two months,” she told him. But she proceeded to assure him that she’d be back in time to help bring in the crops. “You can count on me,” she said repeatedly.
He seemed to understand. However, there was also a sadness in his eyes as he kissed her goodbye—embracing her warmly for the first time she could remember since perhaps when she was a little girl. This surprised Ludmilla. Almost made her want to beg him to try and believe her—that she really was coming back. Not surprisingly he was not completely convinced. All th
e older brothers had left him after all, so it was no surprise he had apprehensions over seeing her go.
Then, to make things worse, he even told her—for the first time in her entire life—“I’m proud of you, my daughter.” He never talked like that to ANY of his sons! Not even Vladimyr. Never. And when he embraced her again and urged her to hurry home very soon, as though he really didn’t expect her to, it was a heart-wrenching experience. Ludmilla almost felt like crying!
“I’ll be back Father, I promise!” she swore to him again. Then she turned and left. Father watched from the porch smiling uneasily toward her. She knew he was only trying to make himself believe she'd really be back someday.
* * * *
Meanwhile however—far to the south—the spring rains had washed out the snowy grasslands of the Crimean peninsula; and turned the soil into an infinite sea of muddy sod for the mostly nomadic herdsmen of the southern steppes.
They had lived like this for centuries of course, herding goats and horses—then surviving the bitter cold winters in their small round yurts made from animal hides. Goats could be milked or slaughtered, plus wild game could occasionally be caught to feed their families. Berries and herbs could be foraged. However, come spring, for most able-bodied males, it was raiding season. Their tough women and small children too young yet to ride, simply stayed behind with the herds. That’s the way things had always been.
Small bands of a hundred horsemen—or chambuly as Tatars called them—would be mustered by local Mirzas and called up to join the main horde in the winter camp at Qapi. But this year, the call for troops was bigger. Thousands and thousands of warriors responded; and began gathering at Qapi right after the snows melted and the torrential spring rains had ceased.
The great Khan Devlet Giray began organizing his forces, compiling around 80,000 light horsemen. He also recruited some Turkish irregulars (Bashi-bazook as the Turks called them) numbering around 30,000—and an elite unit of about 7,000 Janissaries to form his imperial bodyguard.
Janissaries were highly trained infantry armed with muskets and a saber. Recruited or conscripted from conquered Christian lands, these were reliable soldiers who could bolster most any army in a field battle. They were often very young when they started their training. Taken sometimes at age fourteen or even twelve, they spent their young lives first learning Arabic and converting to Islam while they trained for military service. Next, they went through extensive weapons training and marching drills. They became some of the Sultan's most gallant fighters.
Bashi-bazook on the other hand, were undisciplined mercenary fighters who rode along just to plunder, steal, and ravage the countryside. The Turkish nickname for them, “Delibas,” roughly translated into “crazy head,” and it was well-deserved. These unruly fighters could be most anything from runaway slaves to adventurous Arabs, Circassians, Kurds, Albanians, or native Turks. Often leaderless, they were only about as reliable as a shipload of scurvy pirates, but in a scrap they might be just enough to turn the tide if they felt like fighting that day. Usually they did, if the prize was worth risking their lives. But their reputation for uncontrollable brutality when sacking villages or towns was quite well-known everywhere in the empire.
Armed by the government but never paid wages, Bashi-bazook wore no uniforms or even badges for identification. They merely served the Sultan's forces in hopes of gaining a share of the booty whenever a city or town was captured. Most Turkish armies marched into combat with at least a small complement of these adventurers; and over time, they became employed more often in garrison and patrol duties. It was merely a necessity that grew from the demands created by the sheer vastness of the Ottomon Empire. However, Bashi-bazook were little more than government-sanctioned bandits. Devlet was glad to have them in this campaign; plus he fully intended to rely heavily on the Tatars’ most notorious other great strengths: stealth and deception.
Marching from the Tatar fortress of Qapi, which was the “front door” to the Crimean peninsula, Devlet’s massive army made its way north in late March following the Muravsky Trail. They avoided major river crossings, and stuck to the high ground; following this ancient warpath through mostly unsettled or lightly populated grasslands. In fact, Murava’ is a very old Slavic word for prairie, hence the nickname “Muravsky Trail.” By following it, they could avoid marshes and forests so they could move faster.
Each Tatar brought with him an extra horse or two, so the entire column numbered about 120,000 men and over 300,000 horses. It was quite a terrifying sight! Despite the massive size of the column though, they were able to move through the country practically undetected. Tatars normally preferred raiding during harvest time so that ripening fields full of barley and wheat would be plentiful for good foraging. However, with dry ground to travel upon come late March, Devlet decided to begin his campaign a little early. This was rarely done; but he knew the journey to Moscow would take nearly two months and he had the element of surprise in his favor.
In this campaign, Devlet wanted to move swiftly and then circumvent the Serphukhov line along the Oka River before running into any major Russian forces. To accomplish this, the army traveled in columns with the main body stretching over 30 miles long and a quarter mile wide. Naturally, the Tatars employed scout units, too, and once the main body had entered Russian territory, Devlet sent out reconnaissance units of around 10,000 men in several directions. They spread out for thirty to forty miles rounding up women and men along with livestock to feed the army, then returned to the Tatar main camp with their plunder. This harvesting of slaves prevented the rest of the countryside from knowing exactly where the main body of Tatars was at any one time, because these raider units would return by a different route than whence they came, confusing any Russian patrols who might be following them.
When encountering a village, Tatars would typically surround it and set up bonfires to illuminate the countryside. In this way, they could prevent their victims from escaping. Next day they would move in and take captives. The old or infirm would have their throats cut. Infants or those unable to march would simply be left to die or mercilessly slaughtered right there on the spot. Prisoners would be interrogated about Russian troop movements; and whenever reconnaissance units might be attacked, they’d simply split up into chambuly and scatter in all directions, further confusing Russian forces.
The trail took them northeast from the Belgorod line and moved west of the city itself. Devlet was not willing to waste time attacking fortified cities along the way. For that matter he avoided attacking any organized forces at all unless he was forced into a pitched battle, which was rare in this campaign. If pressed, Devlet could certainly engage the enemy, yes. He did have some light artillery in his column and an elite guard of about 7000 musketeers; but his main force was mostly made up of horse archers and light infantry. These could not stand against heavy cavalry or field artillery; plus they were useless against heavy infantry in melee combat. That’s why Devlet focused his campaign on swift movement and avoiding any detection of his main force.
* * * *
Despite that, word did indeed spread throughout the country—and in Belgorod, Bogdan was already hearing about Tatar activity from the guards in the town when they frequented the tavern at night. Fear and panic began to spread. Even the hardened town guards showed it in their eyes. Tatyana was hearing about it every day as well. Word was going around the market and the streets of Belgorod that Tatars were already ravaging the countryside, and small villages were being plundered for slaves and forage almost everywhere in the region.
What’s more, the stories coming into Belgorod from refugees fleeing into the city seemed to indicate this was indeed a massive invasion, not just a small raid. Just how big? No one really knew yet. Would the Tatars show up one day outside the city walls and demand surrender? Possibly. And if they did, what would Bogdan do then? How would he protect his lovely daughter? Should they make a run for it? If so, where would they go?
Ludmilla, however, k
new nothing of this. Leaving her farm that day and riding into Belgorod, she had simply no idea what all the excitement was about. Occasionally during her fifteen-mile ride, she'd see a large plume of smoke rising off in the distance, but it was always many miles away and she could otherwise see nothing else that seemed out of the ordinary. To Ludmilla it was just a peaceful April afternoon. It never occurred to her how much danger she was in.
Guards recognized her at the gate and waved enthusiastically as she entered, but as she passed through the streets people seemed very agitated and worried. “Welcome back, Lyev!” one hailed her. It was a guard she remembered from the tavern. “Good to see you in one piece,” he then commented, and that’s when it hit her how strange things seemed. She now saw people from the countryside and outlying farms heading into the city with bundles of clothing on their backs or pulling small carts filled with their belongings. They were apparently running from something! But what? It is only April, thought Ludmilla, what are they frightened of? She turned her cart toward the tavern and made her way through streets clogged with nervous peasants.
Ludmilla reunited with Tatyana that first evening after she arrived, and was delighted to find the girl quite happy to see her again. Bogdan was as well. However, as relieved as Ludmilla felt in seeing Tatyana pleased with her return, Bogdan and Tatyana were even more so at seeing her alive! Just having “Lyev” safely back in Belgorod seemed to give them both some measure of comfort. After all, since they didn’t know exactly where the Tatars were, they had been worried for weeks about whether “he” would even make it to the safety of the town. Ludmilla couldn’t have been more delighted with the warm reception, of course—yet she still hadn’t fully grasped what was happening. She’d soon find out.
