Thursday, March 3, 2016

GALINA SEDOVA’S BULGAKOV. CCXLIV.


Dress Rehearsal for Master and Margarita.

The Rise and Fall of the Golden Horde.

A Historical Note Continued.


And so, Prince Dmitry Donskoy, after his glorious victory over the forces of Khan Mamai of the Golden Horde at the Kulikovo Field, where he used a brilliant military maneuver, cutting off Mamai’s core force from the forces provided by Mamai’s allies, was now facing a new challenge, namely from the new Khan of the Golden Horde, Tokhtamysh. The latter did not take Mamai’s defeat lying down, especially after Dmitry’s great victory emboldened the Russians to stop paying tribute to the Golden Horde altogether. In response, Tokhtamysh moved against the Russians, burned down several towns and devastated Moscow.

The coming of Tokhtamysh meant that a new political strategy had to be adopted by Prince Dmitry. The victory over Mamai gained little in practical results, except that it raised the spirit of the Russian people quite considerably. The Russians were firmly set on stopping paying tribute to the Golden Horde. So, what would be the next move?

In order to figure out the historical role of Khan Tokhtamysh, who can be safely called a mortal enemy of Russia, we need to look at another towering figure of the Moslem world at the time, who happened to play a decisive role in the eventual fate of Khan Tokhtamysh and the Golden Horde as such. This man is well-known to the whole world. His name is Timur, also known as Tamerlane, meaning “Timur the Lame,” the great Moslem military commander and statesman, whose name alone made his enemies tremble. Curiously, he has always been extremely popular in Russia, and earlier in the USSR, where the name “Timurovtsy” used to be given to young schoolchildren’s organizations, appealing to the Russian youth to be the best they can be.

The road to power at the Golden Horde was not an easy one for Tokhtamysh. Several times he tried and failed, each time fleeing to the safe harbor of Samarkand under the wing of his powerful protector Timur the Lame, aka Tamerlane. Each time was he given a new army to substantiate his claim, until finally Tamerlane’s army brought Tokhtamysh victory, and made him the Khan of the Golden Horde.

What happened next between these two “friends” is seemingly hard to understand. Tokhtamysh was no fool, but how could he have been so stupid as to bite the hand that had fed him? He had been to Samarkand, he had seen all he needed to see to recognize Tamerlane’s unquestionable superiority. Benefiting from the great power of his protector, he must have realized that he had no chance and hardly any reason to challenge that power. And yet he struck, and paid the price of his sheer folly. In fact, to use the Japanese word, he committed a harakiri.

***

As for the Grand Prince of Moscow, who in the words of the Russian historian N. I. Kostomarov, “was collecting subordinate princes for the common cause of protecting Rus,” could such a man be a pussilanimous man? Here is Kostomarov again:

“With Dmitry were the forces of the lands of Moscow, Vladimir, Suzdal, Rostov, Nizhny Novgorod, Belozersk, Murom. There were also the forces of Pskov under the command of Prince Andrei Olgerdovich, of Bryansk under Andrei’s brother Prince Dmitry Olgerdovich [that is, Lithuanian princes].”

The total troop strength, according to the annals, was 150,000 men. Even if the number is exaggerated, it was still an astonishingly large army gathered by Prince Dmitry of Moscow. Having laid a trap for his enemy, Dmitry hid a fresh unit in a forest nearby, and having selected the right people for this purpose, he obviously had to be a very smart man. During the battle with the Tatars, part of the fighting Russians ran toward the forest, pursued by Mamai’s men. The Lithuanian reserve did not budge, but allowed the running Russians and their pursuers to pass by. Only then, on the signal of their commander Bobrok, the fresh troop attacked the Tartars from the rear. Panic arose among the Tatars, they started running and many drowned in the waters of the Don.

Prince Dmitry, working on very good advice, made the right decision to cross the Don, in order to fight the Tatars with his army’s back to the river, cutting off any possibility of retreat for the Russian troops, which meant till victory. Such a man could hardly be guilty of wrong decisions.

Having left Moscow (not fled, as some historians would want us to believe, but left!), before the advance of the new post-Mamai Khan Tokhtamysh in 1382, Prince Dmitry must have made the right decision, ordering the people finding refuge in the Kremlin to under no circumstances open the gates of the heavily fortified citadel. It was therefore not his fault that the defenders of the Kremlin fell victim to the cheap trick of Tokhtamysh, promising to spare everybody if they just please open the gates.

Tokhtamysh triumphed by means of a treacherous scheme, which is why it is so important to understand what happened afterwards.

But why did Dmitry Donskoy abandon Moscow to Tokhtamysh, in the first place? This was a painful but unavoidable decision. While Tokhtamysh was able in no time to raise up a strong army for his attack on Moscow, the winner of Kulikovo could not perform a similar feat. His army, albeit victorious against Mamai, was sorely depleted and had no time to regenerate. Any military confrontation with Tokhtamysh was bound to end in a disaster for Dmitry Donskoy, and he chose to abandon Moscow to the enemy as the only way to save Russia.

Ironically, the great Russian military commander Kutuzov used exactly the same logic against Napoleon, yet nobody would ever dare to call him a coward!

Returning to the devastated Moscow, Prince Dmitry Donskoy knew better than to cry foul. Instead, he sent a delegation to the Golden Horde, headed by his son Vasily. On receiving the delegation, Tokhtamysh took Vasily as his hostage and sent the others back with a demand to pay back the whole tribute owed by the Russians to the Horde, in the amount of 8,000 rubles.

Meanwhile, having stayed as hostage in the Golden Horde for two-plus years, Dmitry’s son managed to escape. The year 1385 saw him in Moldavia, from where he moved to Lithuania.

This is already a highly unusual phenomenon. Other hostages trying to escape were normally caught and subjected to a gruesome execution. But what happened after that, in the year 1387, dramatically alters the whole picture.

To be continued…

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