Skirmish at Murmino
The Summer Invasion - II
"A fragrant grasses" - V. Bazhenov
Battle tested and experienced against tatar nomads on the steppe, in defending Suzdal's tradingposts east of the Volga, her cavalry elite was truly something impressive. However Ryazan's force in opposition had much the same experience and it was only due to weight of numbers and the presence of the fearsome Suzdalian Prince, Yuri, that the allied forces were able to drive their enemies from the field. Vasili reflected upon this, upon his own mortality, the realization of which had been so rudely thrust upon him for the first time upon the hellishly hot and stifling fields east of Murmino. Now sitting in the grass, under a strikingly beautiful sunset that cast the great sky above in a myriad of almost unnatural colours the young urbanite of Pskov chillingly recalled the events that had made his brother's sacrifice all those years ago outside the city so much more meaningful to him.
That morning had started in a nameless collection of homes and shops surrounding a quaint little wooden church. Vasili Vasilivitch had only been rewarded his first command in Torzhok following the death of their previous commander Oleg in a drinking bout with a Tverskeey comrade. Vasili's command was a two hundred man infantry unit drawn from Pskov's urban population, and as such with the exception of some Novgorod and executive units was one of the best equipped and trained in the entire allied force. They had not arrived in time for the brief and conclusive assault on Kasimov and for their 'freshness' were earmarked to substantiate Prince Yuri's cavalry which was charged with screening the overland movement of the bulk of the army as well as capturing, or if necessary, destroying whatever supplies were encountered in the countryside.
The sun had been only been up maybe two hours and Vasili was still in the process of whipping his unit back into shape for marching after a particularly 'festive' previous night when a group of three soldiers on horse clearly and ominously meaningfully displaying the Princely colours of Suzdal.
"One moment Iosef... ", Vasili answered the questioning and slightly alarmed look on one of his sergeants' faces, before grabbing his sword and running at half pace to meet up with the oncoming riders.
"Commander Vasilivitch?", the lead of the riders called out.
"What can I do for you comrade?", answered Vasili with a curious glance at the eyes of the man with the distinct Vladimir accent.
The rider, catching the eye of Iosef who had come up behind Vasili, frowned at the man's dishevelled appearance before turning his eyes back on Vasili,
"His excellency Prince Yuri needs your men to march with all speed to the west, our scouts have spotted Ryazan's rear guard gathering supplies in Murmino, Prince Yuri wishes to launch an attack by midday. God's speed with you comrade."
Like so many others and aggrevated by the circumstances, Vasili was a man who recieved his command position not from his abilities but by his blood and the number of influential people with whom he had relations. Vasili Vasilivitch was certainly not a natural born leader of men in any conventional sense, in fact he had attributes that served to detract from that very quality. Not only did he enjoy being liked by as many as possible, people liked him not out of a respect for his abilities or position, but rather for his amicable disposition. If anything, by most normal standards Vasili Vasilivitch was the anithesis of exactly what was needed to make one a good military commander, he was indecisive, disorganized, at heart not very self-confident and his own combat skills were mediocre at best.
One might say that Vasili Vasilivithc's ability to get his unit from a hung-over stuppor in some nameless little hamlet to the fields of Murmino by midday was nothing but luck. A proper answer might simply be that most often one makes one's own luck. A good military commander or not, Vasili did have qualities worthy of his position, and paramount among them was an utter fear of letting others down. When lives were on the line, it is hardly surprising that this desire not to dissapoint would be magnified to the point where Vasili was capable of things that most would discredit him for long before even giving him an opportunity.
By whatever impetus as the sun reached its zenith in the sky choking it seemed the very Russian earth with its heat, Vasili Vasilivitch, wet with sweat under his armour reached the crest of a hill overlooking the town of Murmino, two hundred men in good order behind him.
"Vasilivitch, yes?", came the vaguely familiar, deep voice of Prince Yuri,
"Damn Andrevitch hasn't come yet, but we don't have time to wait, it looks like the enemy is planning on withdrawing within the hour. We simply won't get a chance to trap them like this again. I need you and your men to advance straight toward the town, my cavalry and I will position ourselves within that thicket", Yuri indicated with his hand as he spoke, his strong eyes occasionally glancing back to those of Vasilivitch,
"We need you to give their cavalry a tempting target, move slowly and draw them out. You see if we threaten to destroy their cavalry, the infantry must come and meet us as well or risk being besieged within the town with no cover." The sweet aroma of the summer grass so seemingly cooked under the fierce summer sun Vasili felt he was breathing into his very essence as the next few minutes passed upon the hill with Yuri going over the details of their attack.
Never the less soon those precious few moments were over and under cover of the thick forest stretched outward from this rise to the stream north Murmino Yuri and his cavalry dissapeared. Suddenly all of what had made so much sense in the presence of the powerful Suzdal Prince seemed so doubtful and apt to failure in Vasili's mind. Turning and looking over the soldiers waiting for his command, the heat beating down on him without mercy, and his mind suddenly overtaken with anxiety the young man felt dizzy and sick, his mouth dry and parched. Iosef looked at him expectantly (waiting for the orders) and this only aggrevated Vasili's condition further. Barking something at the now perplexed sergeant, Vasili stumbled over to his horse and took a flask, pouring the water into his dry mouth. The damnable liquid however was as hot as the air around him and did nothing to wet his tongue, in a sudden flash of rage Vasili violently threw the flask which bounced pathetically off a nearby tree, the soldiers looking at the odd behaviour of their commander with unmasked curiosity.
Noticing their looks Vasili Vasilivitch nearly screamed at them, when suddenly a seed of rational thought planted itself once more in his mind. Now he just felt helpless, who was he? Who was he to command these poor men, he didn't know what to do and what the Prince had ordered which had seemed so good at the time, now seemed impossible. As if the Prince expected something impossible of him, as if Vasili was anything compared to his poor dead brother as a commander. And now, now Vasili would die too, he and every last one of his men. Vasilivitch simply wanted to shrink and die, lay down in the scorched grass and sleep endlessly, not to face the gruesome death that no doubt waited for him in the coming minutes.
Iosef, his face hardening stepped forward and grabbed Vasili who was now leaning weakly on his horse by the shoulder,
"What the hell is wrong with you Vasya?" he hissed so as the men in the front lines would not make out what was said - not that they couldn't read the exchange by sight alone well enough.
Closing his eyes, a silly smile came over Vasili's face that even he would have been at a loss to explain, shaking his head he replied,
"I don't know... its hot... We have to..." and suddenly Vasili found himself going over the plan laid out by Prince Yuri. Iosef's face to Vasili, to whom this all seemed totally incomprehensible, showed he was clearly registering it all without difficulty. Somehow, Vasili found himself marching on foot in front of his men, moving down the hill and toward the village of Murmino, his seargants on either side and Iosef always on the right. His heart was beating rapidly already as the moments turned to minutes and the village was getting ever nearer before them. It had only a pourous ditch and rampart for defense and he could already make out the spearpoints of the Ryazanskeey soldiers inside preparing to march out to meet them, a force which to them looked well within their ability to overwhelm as it approached the village accross a thick field left fallow this season. This all causing Vasili to look constantly to his right, not just to Iosef but beyond toward the thicket where he knew Prince Yuri and his men were waiting, yet strain his eyes as he might he could not make out a single banner of the man's compliment. All sorts of ideas were pouring through Vasili's brain, what if Yuri had cancelled and Vasili had missed the signal, what if this was the beginning of some sort of Suzdal treachery and Yuri was laughing as he watched these Pskovskeey marching off to certain death.
In the midst of this, Vasili realized something was expected of him by a look given by Iosef. No doubt turning visibly pale, Vasili saw the Ryazanskeey cavalry thunder out of an avenue through the ditch, the beating of the horses' hooves tearing up the pozdol seeming to drum in his head as certain death approached on horseback. Training and instict took over now however, Vasili drew his sword and called to arms, retiring behind the first two ranks who now lowered their spears and readied their shields. Behind the Ryazanskeey cavalry, the infantry were now streeming out of the town as well, but they were the last thing on Vasili's mind as the Ryazanskeey cavalry pulled a feint to the right flank and loosed a volley of arrows. A number of men fell with alarmingly quickly stifled cries, one of whom had been standing right next to Vasili. It was then that Vasili's brain stopped its endless self questioning, suddenly questions didn't matter, this was life and death.
"Break ranks! Charge!", Vasili had heard this was the last command his brother ever gave before his few remaining men were overrun by the Lithuanian levy. As he cried those same words, he wondered how close his own voice sounded to his brother's. Regardless, the Ryazanskeey cavalry had put themselves between Vasili's men and the Prince's soldiers waiting in ambush, the Ryazanskeey infantry were not yet an immediate threat and it was the perfect opportunity to deal a crippling blow to the cavalry.
With a cry the men broke and poured forward, consciously splitting and spreading, brandishing their spears and a few of them armed with javelins hurled their weapons, one of which hit home bringing one of the Ryazanskeey to the ground twitching. Soon that man was overrun and no doubt trampled to death by the charging Pskovskeey which of course the Ryazanskeey cavalry had no trouble distancing themselves from, all the while loading their bows and more importantly getting periously close to the trees. Vasili heard a great roar, he didn't know if it was Prince Yuri's men about to charge or if it was the Ryaznskeey crying in despair at the trap they now found themselves in, regardless Vasili gave a roar of his own,
"Halt, form a line!"
The order was echoed by his sergeants set against the backdrop of the clash of men, metal and horses.
"Danilovitch!", Vasili yelled to the sergeant at his left and indicated for him to lead his men forward to cut off the best route of retreat for the enemy cavalry. The other two thirds of Vasili's men then turned to face the oncoming infantry threat, their rear secured by Danilovitch. It took precious few moments for the enemy infantry, who now outnumbered Vasili's men by at least two to one to engage and suddenly the first few ranks of both sides were a confused mass. Vasili drove his banner into the ground and pushed forward through the ambience of death and battle. The commander was not a large man by any measure and he found himself violently thrown about by the various bodies jockeying for position around him. There was never a single opponent it seemed, just eyes all around him, bodies, beards and helmets.
Vasili didn't know how many of them he had killed, or if he had killed any but the one. He had no idea how his men were faring, but he did know that they were still fighting and there were enough faces he recognized to know that they not yet been routed and that was all the encouragement he needed. In the searing heat it seemed that the blood on his blade dried immediately, only to become liquid once more when passing through the flesh of yet another poor victim. Again he was shoved painfully to the side, and reeling he caught sight of Iosef, in time to see the sergeant, his friend and comrade catch a spear to the back and crumple to the ground. In blind fury, with pain numbing his brain from a number of wounds he didn't even know he had, Vasili charged forward and drove his sword straight through the torso of Iosef's slaughterer. In spine chilling brutality Vasili felt his blade scratch through the bones of his victim, become trapped in the inner cavity. However the gruesome impalement did not immediately kill Vasili's opponent who having dropped his spear simple went to strangling Vasili instead. Commander and impaled opponenet fell to the blood soaked grass still radiating the heat of the brutal sun. Giving up on his sword Vasili managed to get the man's wrist in his mouth and bit down till blood came freely, not realizing that his opponent had finally died hands around Vasili's throat before the skin had even broken.
Prying the dead fingers from his throat, Vasili saw Iosef's dead eyes staring lifelessly at him. The only thing that saved Commander Vassilivitch from madness at the sight was a cry so loud that it pulled his attention from the macabre situation. There was a great movement in the deadly community that was the melee, Prince Yuri's men had broken in and suddenly as if their past struggles were nothing, the Ryazanskeey broke and fled. Staggering to his feet, Vasili watched as if a spectator as the men around him rushed forward to continue the chase and the horses' of Prince Yuri's men rode down and destroyed the routed enemy. It was not long before Vasili, staggering from out of the thickest of the bodies fell to the grass once more, too weak to continue standing. Only then did he realize that the last 'shove' had been a particularly nasty wound delivered to him by some peasants' hoe.
Prince Yuri told him later that day that he was lucky to still be alive having lost so much blood, praised his valour and skill in battle. Vasili could barely understand what the Prince was saying, much less the greater meaning of all this to the campaign. Vasili would of course learn later that the action at Murmino not only deprived Ryazan of vital supplies for the seige ahead but had led to the ability of Prince Yuri's men to prey mercilessly on enemy soldiers on the approaches to Ryazan who lacked sufficient rear cover. Vasili's weakened, blood deprived mind barely comprehended the sunset as Danilovitch took him back up to the ridge to 'rest'. Flashes of the battle, before and after attacked him in a series of unsettling conscious nightmares and Vasili wondered what lie in the depths of Iosef's dead eyes.
