When they returned to their camp, Dir and Askold were pleased to see that much of the preliminary work had been completed. Tents and shelters had been erected for the women and children, and the warriors were digging a trench and erecting a palisade in the ancient Roman style. Polonius had explained its effectiveness as a military encampment to Dir and Askold, and the Rus commanders had ordered the men to set it up.
All of the men were armed and prepared for a sudden rush from Kiev itself. Below the bluffs, the ships of the fleet rode at anchor; each manned with a skeleton crew and safely within the perimeter of the armed camp.
Askold ordered those who had attended the conference in the town with him to separate and spread the news of the negotiations to the others of the band, along with instructions to all to keep up their guard. If treachery was to be attempted by the Slavs, it would be soon. Once the newcomers had time to dig in, they would be a much harder nut to crack.
The biggest problem for the townspeople, and one which the Rus commanders were fully aware of, was that most of Kiev's military strength resided in Slavic levies from the surrounding countryside. The Varangian force would be slaughtering in the streets of Kiev long before these levies could be gathered from the scattered settlements and shaped into a viable force. The Slavs, in, turn, had no idea that almost half of the powerful Viking force intended to sail south within days.
Indeed, Dir and Askold had considered an immediate attack on Kiev, unprovoked, from the beginning; killing the town leaders and supplementing them with themselves. They had rejected it as a first choice, however, as it would cause no end of hostility with the Slavic population, and they would thereafter be required to rule through naked force.
As Rurik and his followers had found out previously, it was far more effective to rule through the local leaders, who enjoyed the respect and obedience of the populace. Perhaps even more important, the traders who had agreed to sit on the shore for a few days in exchange for supplies to be delivered later, were not prepared to throw themselves against the very solid walls of Kiev. The power of the expeditionary force was partly illusionary.
Others, such as Bothi, attempted to rule by naked force, but he had soon found his domains unruly. Polonius had pointed out to Ambrose that even peaceful farmers could be pushed too far, and aggrieved outlaws would strike back from their forest dens.
"With luck and determination, Prince, the joint forces of the Slavs, the Rus, and what Varangian allies they can attract, should be able to rapidly expand their domains to the north and south along the river valley. With a strong fleet and army, centred at Kiev, many isolated villages should be willing to trade a nominal overlordship for the iron protection that Kiev can offer them."
Dir and Askold had felt justice and fair-treatment would do more to further their cause than a thousand more Varangian warriors. Besides, the townspeople were acutely aware of the Magyars who lived to the west, but liked to raid as far as the Dnieper valley. And there was the still-powerful Pechenegs, who were being driven westward towards the river by the Khazars and the Ghuz. No single town or village could stand alone against such nation-tribes without help.
At last, near dusk, the gates of the town opened and a delegation of a dozen men strode forth. Each appeared dressed in his best finery. Ambrose breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that no large armed body of troops followed, nor were there archers to be seen on the town wall. Olaf, dressed in rich furs of ermine, led the group.
The delegation paused at the entrance of the Varangian camp. Askold himself, flanked by Dir, and their personal bodyguard, strode forth to do them honour.
"Gentlemen! Welcome to our humble camp! Please, come and join us in our command tent."
The dozen delegates exchanged uneasy glances, but obediently followed the Rus commanders.
Ambrose, Phillip and Polonius, travelling as traders with the expedition, had not been assigned a position in the Varangian military formation. Thus he and Polonius were free to stand at the rough gate and watch the delegation arrive.
Ambrose caught the glances, and whispered to Polonius. "They have come here with no military escort. Why then should they be so nervous about accompanying Dir and Askold to their tent?"
"Prince, we do not know what they have decided. Yet if I was refusing the offer of partnership, I would not come personally to the enemy camp to tell them."
"Agreed, Polonius. So the answer has to be yes. Then why are they so nervous?"
"The Varangians have a strong sense of honour, but it is not as you and I know it. They would rather die than break their word to a valued companion."
"Then, Polonius, the town elders should be at their ease. You have just said that the Varangians can be trusted to keep their word at all costs."
"Aye . . . To a valued companion."
"What are you saying, Polonius?"
"Lord, the sense of honour is very strong amongst the Vikings in general, but it depends on who you give your word to."
"I still do not understand."
"Let me put it this way. If Dir gave his word to a Rus warrior, I would expect that he would keep it even if it meant his death. But if he gave it to a foreigner, especially one who does not worship the northern gods, then he would probably consider the oath to be meaningless."
"Then we could never trust a Viking promise?"
"I think we probably could, Sire."
"But you just said that an oath to a foreigner was meaningless, and we are both foreigner and pagan to these people."
"Ah, it gets more interesting. The oath to us might be respected for the sake of Canute or Gunnar, who is not a foreigner, and is, not incidentally, a very powerful man in the Rus lands. There would be real risk of a blood feud if an oath to us were broken. It might also be honoured because of us personally. If we have been tested and are now considered to be worthy of respect, then I would expect the oath to be binding."
"Just what earns us this respect?"
"Amongst the Vikings, lord, I would think that the single most important major criteria is physical courage. If you are not prepared to defend yourself or your honour, to the death, then you are not worthy of being called a man. An oath given to such a man would be nothing but a convenience; something that could be easily broken if it was expedient."
"Then, my friend, you are saying that the town leaders are nervous because they do not know if Dir and Askold have given them a worthless oath designed to get them into a vulnerable situation, or really mean what they said."
"Well put, Prince.' The Byzantine smiled indulgently at the young man. 'If you put your mind to it, you could be a serious scholar . . . But if you want to know the fate of this expedition today, we had better follow those delegates!"
The dozen Slav leaders strode into the camp and past the honour guard of warriors. If Dir and Askold planned treachery, then it would be soon. The Slavs were now effectively captives of the Rus leaders, and the entire Slavic leadership of Kiev could be wiped out in seconds.
Dir and Askold led the Slav delegation to the largest tent in the camp, their command tent. After all the Slav leaders were comfortably seated on the many furs scattered across the floor, Olaf spoke up.
"Askold, Dir, and you other Rus leaders! Be it known that we accept your terms of an alliance between us, on the strict understanding that we will have equal control over Kiev and its subservient domains. Neither we to you, nor you to us, will be overlords. Instead, we will be equal partners, forming a new and great nation!"
A cry of joy from the Rus leaders escaped their lips at the announcement. Hugging the Slavs, and clapping them on the back, the Vikings greeted them as brothers and allies.
Askold shouted for his son, Askoldson, to be brought to him. Within moments, a lithe and blonde boy, perhaps of eleven summers, entered the command tent. Askold seized him and propelled him to in front of Olaf.
"Askoldson, you will be my pledge of friendship and faith to our Slavic brothers. You will stay with this lord, Olaf, and serve
him faithfully. It is my wish that your dear life will pay for any treachery upon my part!"
Olaf, moved deeply by this display of faith, shouted out in return. "This day my own son will be brought, to serve as our pledge of friendship to you. May his life be forfeit if we deceive you!"
So saying, both Olaf and Askold hugged one another again, and then sat down to drink. The women, at Dir's command, began to carry in large flagons of mead and amphorae of wine.
The gates of Kiev were thrown open and Dir ordered the partly constructed ramparts and palisade between the Varangian camp and the town to be levelled.
Fires burned late both in the town and in the temporary camp, and the people mingled freely in friendship. Veritable rivers of mead and wine sealed their bargain, and both Rus and Slavs drank until they fell into a drunken stupor, one on top of the other.
Within days, many of the fine details of the alliance had been worked out. Several good tracts of nearby land were ceded to the Rus lieutenants; that Rus leaders would be near the town in case of sudden attack. The displaced Slav land-owners were, in turn, promised larger grants of land further away. Some of these tracts, however, would only become theirs when the combined forces were able to seize the settlements from the other lordlings who had refused allegiance to Kiev. Most of the Varangian holdings, however, were to be in the frontier areas, or marches, where Slavic peasants would join the Varangian overlords to do battle against marauding strangers and encroaching forest.
The Slav noblemen were surprised to see a major portion of the fleet heading south on a fine sunny day. It did not take them long to realize that part of the Varangian army had been, in fact, made up of traders who had only agreed to lend their numbers temporarily to the expeditionary force. Then the Slav leaders laughed. Enough Viking ships and men remained that they knew they had a potent striking force against both neighbours and enemies.
In fact, many of the villages, both up and down river, sent notice of submission, for the local Slav landowners had no wish to be dispossessed of their own land, and the presence of the Rus, their Varangian allies, and their fleet, was already well known upon the river. Furthermore, enemy scouts had been detected towards the south, and it was rumoured that a new horde of Pechenegs were being driven across the lower Dnieper by combined forces of the Ghuz and Khazars.
CHAPTER 26.
The Pechenegs Arrive!
As they had done once before in Novgorod, Ambrose, and Phillip, aided by their friend and learned scribe, Polonius, worked to set up a trading factory. Surprisingly, most of the Varangians who had joined the Rus banners turned to colonizing with a great will.
Roving ship-crews of Varangians and Slavs, under Rus commanders, pushed the frontiers of Kiev's influence steadily north and south along the mighty river. The others settled in, built homes for their families, and travelled their new domains. The new rulers visited the local villages and met with the Slav peasants who had sworn loyalty to them.
The Rus leaders were adamant about military training. All able-bodied men, Rus or Slav, trader or farmer, were ordered to spend some time weekly in the practise of military formations, archery, and sword play.
The Slavs, who were not without courage and ability, soon built up confidence in themselves. The main problem of the Slav infantry; a lack of discipline in real battle, was worked on with constant drilling, until the men appeared more willing to face the wrath of thundering cavalry than the Varangian lieutenants when they were dissatisfied.
The fire threw up sparks and a flickering light. Polonius looked in turn at Dir, Askold, and Olaf, as they sat in the Seats of Authority. Ambrose stood behind the scholar. The Byzantine spoke.
"Jarls, you sent for me?"
Dir replied. "Polonius, I remember one night, on our journey south from Novgorod, when we talked of military matters."
"Aye, Jarl. If I remember correctly, we talked of the tactics of the ancient Romans and Greeks."
"Polonius, with no offense to Olaf, the Slavs will fight fiercely against other Slavs, but they seem to fear cavalry, and generally run like rabbits when the nomad horsemen attack."
Olaf smiled. "I am not offended, Dir. It is the sad truth. I would be foolish to deny reality."
Dir nodded to Olaf, and then continued. "Polonius, you are a military expert. Why do you think the Slavs can not stand up to the steppe nomads?"
Polonius hesitated for a few moments. "Jarls, my readings encompass the theories and history of war, not its practical applications. I do not think that this makes me a military expert. That being understood, I would be pleased to answer your question to the best of my ability."
Askold interrupted. "Please. This is a very important issue, and is, in fact, why we asked you here this evening."
"Well, I can think of several reasons. The Slavs live in small tribal units, and thus are generally vastly outnumbered when a horde of warriors rides against them. This is not likely to be the case when they face a small Slav raiding party.
The men are not born warriors, and do not glory in killing or dying bravely. My guess is that they will fight fiercely for their hearth, but, at least until now, have not had a larger entity to offer loyalty to.'
Polonius shrugged. 'And the truth is, if you gave me a three foot sword, and expected me to stand before hundreds of tons of galloping horseflesh, surmounted by wild men either trying to shoot me or stab me with a spear three times the length of my sword, I would call you crazy. I know I would die before I had a chance to strike a single blow."
Dir interrupted again. "But Polonius, you know that Varangian warriors, armed with only axes or swords, have held off entire nomad hordes."
"I know that, Jarl. The Slavs have had a very different experience. They don't know that infantry can prevail."
Dir leaned forward in his chair. "I see your point. Still, we know the nomads will return one day. We know that no matter how brave my fellow Varangians may be, we are relatively small in number. We cannot hope to defeat the nomad raiders without the help of large numbers of Slavs.
So, that being said, what can we do to stiffen the resolve of the Slav warriors?"
"You are doing it. The men need constant drill, until to obey is second nature. And they must constantly practise the basic formations."
Askold now leaned forward. "Polonius, if you were given carte blanche to arm or train a regiment of Slav warriors any way you wanted, how would you go about it?"
Polonius hesitated for several moments. "Hmm. I could think of several things. First, I would teach the men tactical manoeuvring. I would drill them until they could change formations with their eyes shut. Second, I would probably train the men in the use of the Macedonian twenty-two foot ash spears. That might give them the confidence to stand firm in the face of a nomad cavalry assault."
Olaf now spoke. "The spears might hold the cavalry, but how would you protect your men from the archers? Every nomad warrior is also an expert shot, even from horseback."
"I would enlarge the size of the shields your Slavic warriors carry, and would teach them the use of the Roman Turtle formation - your shieldburg."
The three leaders looked at each other and all three smiled. Dir spoke. "Scholar, we have a very important task for you."
"Aye, Jarls?"
"Polonius, we want you to take a regiment of Slavs, and train them any way you want."
"Jarls, I am truly honoured, but you know that I am no warrior! The men would never listen to me. As I said, I have studied the theory of war, not the practise."
"Polonius, we see all that as no obstacle. We have in mind two excellent officers, who can easily translate your theoretical ideas into practical instructions."
"And who might these be, Jarl?"
"One of them is standing right behind you. The other, I understand, was once the greatest warrior in far-away Wessex. There are few warriors among our own host who would willingly tangle with either one of them. Phillip's strength, and Canuteson's lightening blade, is both renowned. Canu
teson, are you willing?"
"If it will help protect Kiev, Jarl, how could I say no?"
Polonius ordered that the men be armed with the twenty-two foot-length ash spears, as well as large rectangular shields. The troops, after weeks of arduous practise, appeared capable of withstanding even such dashing lancer charges as made the Pechenegs a name to be feared. On a word, a veritable hedgerow of spikes was presented forward, so impenetrable that a swallow would have trouble flying through.
To counter the deadly mounted bowmen, the shields had been made larger than normal, and each successive rank learned to hold them high enough to protect the line behind. In the face of massive superiority, Polonius taught the use of the ancient Roman Turtle, where interlocking shields provided excellent protection. Against mounted riders, and in heavily forested territory, Polonius hoped that the combination of formations would prove effective.
Finally, the allied leaders encouraged all men to fortify their towns and practise diligently with bow or sling. With several years of relative peace, the new rulers of Kiev felt that they would finally be capable of defending themselves against the hordes of savage steppe raiders that had for centuries robbed and terrorized the people of the rivers and the forest.
As the warm and dry summer gradually moved towards a golden autumn and harvest time, the Slav conscripts, both in Kiev and the vassal villages, begged for a cessation of their military work. Each able-bodied man had, with some help from Kiev's treasury, armed himself, and agreed to spend a good part of the summer training. Now, however, the harvesting required full-time attendance, or all, in both Kiev and the villages, would go hungry when the Asian winter clamped its icy fingers on the land.
A fine fall day found both Slavs and their overlords sweating in the fields. Long threatening rain had held off, and the teams worked feverishly to harvest the crops while the sun still shone. Just below the city a river karve was run aground. Its exhausted crew ran yelling towards the upper citadel.
"To the town! The Pechenegs are coming!"