Episode V: All The Tvun Of The Tver
The simple circlet of gold was placed upon the young man’s head. Clad in a fur-trimmed robe of deepest maroon, draped around his broad shoulders and fastened with a silver clasp, he rose from the ornamental chair. To a man, the assembled nobility dropped to one knee.
‘God save the king! Long live the king!’
Aleksandr Rurikovich, the new King of Tver, strode past the assembled men, down the aisle of halberds presented by his honour guard, and out of the cathedral’s nave. There was work to be done.
He returned to the palace, striding up the grand staircase towards the study. By a table outside stood Mirosław Dobczyński, his father’s faithful retainer. By the old soldier’s side stood his son, Bronisław, Aleksandr’s long-time friend.
‘You’re sure thet you vant to leave, Dobczyński?’
‘You are too kind, your majesty. But I’m getting too old for the...excitements of this country. It’s time I returned to Poland. I’ll live out my years in Płock, telling stories.’
‘And vhat stories you’ll heve to tell. Vell, Bron. Ready to take your father’s place?’
‘Certainly am, Alek...your majesty.’ Dobczyński junior raised his head. ‘Your faithful servant.’
‘I would trust nobody else, my friend. So be it.' he turned to the older man. 'Farewell, Dobczyński. Be as happy as you deserve.’
‘Thank you your majesty. Look after him, Bron.’
‘I will, father.’ Dobczyński senior kissed his son, and his former charge, and stepped out of the palace. He mounted his horse, took one final look at the royal palace of Tver, and rode off towards the green hills of home.
The young king and his new retainer watched as the veteran warrior disappeared out of sight. Then, Aleksandr Rurikovich slapped his companion on the arm, and turned towards the campaign map on the table. The king was, to use the technical term, irritatingly handsome. Almost two metres tall, broad of shoulders and rugged of jawline, he spoke five languages and was a talented student of warfare. Old Dobczyński had taught him well – and young Dobczyński had long been his sparring partner.
‘Very vell. Let os begin. First item of business?’
‘Either our reseach into stealth technology has gone much better than expected, or people are going missing.’
The king waved Dobczyński’s concerns away. ‘Is Russia, Dobczyński. People always go missing. Is like netional pestime.’
‘That’s only good when we want them to disappear, isn’t it.’
‘
To prawda...talking of which, half-brother Dmitriy vas looking shifty at my coronation. I think he is jealous.’
‘He is popular at court, sir, and has many friends. Potentially dangerous.’
‘I agree...I think I should get to know him better. Ve vill go for a hunting acc...acce...vhat vas I saying?’
‘Expedition, sir?’
‘That’s the one. Expedition.’
‘So terrible. Will compose sad melody for him using haircomb.’
‘Touching, sir.'
'It breaks heart, Dobczyński.'
'Incidentally, sir, your archery has improved greatly in recent weeks.'
'You think so?
Spaseeba.'
'Next, apparently our Naval Research is wrong.’
‘Demn straight it is. Ve don’t hev navy. Anyone who is doing naval research is idiot.’
‘I could hardly agree more, sir. Oh, a petition from the peasantry, sir.’
‘Vhat do they vant?’
‘Now that you are king, sir, they want you to stop walking around the villages naked.’
‘Must I? Is refreshing! And healthy, doctor says. I em noble of Tver, half-man, half-bear. And bear does not wear ermine.’
‘All the same, sir. It’s causing loss of production output amongst ninety-five percent of our female workforce. And at least five percent of the men.’
‘Very vell. I vill vear pair of socks.’
‘A good start.’
‘And cheeky smile.’
‘And the most important piece of news, sir – Novgorod are at war with the Danes again.’
‘Again? They already lost Neva.’
‘They were still guaranteeing Pskov, my lord, and the Danes have decided to take more territory off them.’
‘They honour alliances? Not proper Russian. Ve show sem how proper Russian fights. So they now at var with half of norsern Europe?’
‘Yes, sir. All of Scandinavia plus various Catholic minors I’ve never heard of.’
‘A Slavic brother in dire need of assistance against western enemies. We must intervene.’
‘What sort of intervention, sir?’
‘Ah.
That kind.’
Production in Tver’s three provinces went into overdrive. Three more army regiments were recruited, the new armoury complex in Rzhev pumping out swords and helmets for thousands of eager recruits. Then, the assembled forces of Tver marched north, over the border into beleaguered Novgorod.
The Tverian troops laid siege to every town they came across. Dobczyński had years of experience in the Polish army, fighting the Teutonic Order and the Golden Horde, and the king did not hesitate to place him in command of the advance party sent into Archangelsk to hunt down Novgorod’s depleted army.
Sadly, history would not credit him with the victory. The Novgorodians swiftly made peace with Denmark, giving up more territory to the rampant westerners to try and marshal their pitiful resources against this new enemy.
Their efforts, though, were in vain. More troops poured across the border. The king remained in Tver, issuing orders through his trusted lieutenants. The last significant resistance destroyed, the Tverians laid siege to Novgorod’s cities.
A desperate counter-attack in Archangelsk was swiftly dispatched by the well-ordered Tverian soldiers.
So desperate was Novgorod’s position, that another neighbour sensed an opportunity. In a rare show of aggression, the Archbishop of Riga declared war upon the ‘heretics’ of Novgorod, seeking to wrest control of Estonian Ingermanland from the Russians.
The next report to land on the king’s desk made him smile: the garrison of Beloozero had surrendered to the Tverian forces.
The next prize was the greatest: the capital city itself, its walls crumbling under catapult fire and populace starving, opened the gates to allow in the attackers.
The king had one main concern: the Golden Horde were on the march in Lithuania again. If they were successful enough, they could once again border Tverian territory. He hoped dearly that the Lithuanians would be able to retake their cities and drive the Tartars back into the east.
Other than this worry, though, all was rosy in the garden of Tver. Dobczyński rode back to Tver to personally report the fall of Archangelsk, their capitulation swiftly followed by that of the defenders of Ustyug.
Worrying news, though, was soon to reach the king. Bryańsk, over the Lithuanian border, had been overrun by the Golden Horde, towns and villages sacked by the rampant Tartars. Not only was this distressing in general – the people of Bryańsk were Russians, like themselves – this meant that the Horde now had a foothold in a neighbouring province. Sure enough, with a crushing inevitability, another grinning, mad-eyed horseman rode into Vyazma with a scribbled declaration of unjustified hostility.
A legion of Tartars poured into Vyazma soon after, overrunning the town. The defenmders soon ahd no choice to surrender, the news reaching Aleksandr as that which he had been waiting for: the surrender of the main Novgorodian garrison in Kholm. The war was over. Tver was Tvictorious.
The young king sent his demands to the Prince of Novgorod, which were swiftly accepted. Tver took control of Novgorod’s central territories, as well as receiving substantial reparations for the inconvenience they had caused. Because war, dear friends, is very inconvenient.
Swiftly, the victorious armies of Tver headed south to drive the Tartars out of Vyazma. First, though, Aleksandr sent a messenger to the leader of the Horde, offering a symbolic concession of defeat. Thankfully, the leader of the Horde accepted, choosing to focus on their attack on Poland and Lithuania. There was little Tver could do to stop the onslaught, so a temporary truce was the most prudent course of action. Little had been lost – and much had been gained.
Back in the palace, Aleksandr walked with Dobczyński to the window, looking out at the expanded kingdom.
‘A great victory, sir.’
‘It was. It was. A great beginning, Dobczyński.’ A smile played across the handsome face of the prince of Tver. ‘But there is more work to be done. Come. Let us build a bright, and glorious Tvuture.’
‘
Tak jest.’ The two men settled down over the redrawn map.
I'll try and get some play time in over the next few days.
