Summary of “Nabat” – Galinsky Yuri Sergeevich

XVI century for Russia has become the age of the rise of Moscow. Ivan Kalita’s grandson, Prince Dmitry Ivanovich of Moscow, despite his youth, managed to put himself in such a position that very few people in Russia decided to stand up to him across the road. In most of the Russian lands, he was recognized as the main one, only the princes of Tver and Ryazan went against him in everything and did not want to reconcile with the strengthening of Moscow. They did not lose hope of eliminating a powerful rival, and they themselves were going to rise.

Under Prince Dmitri, Moscow was dressed in white stone. Since the winter of 1367, numerous masters from the Russian North, mostly Novgorodians and Pskovians, began to erect an unprecedented fortress with thick and high walls around the city, with thick, high walls and nine towers protruding from the hewn lime blocks. Some of them were passers-by with iron gates bound in iron. In three impregnable lines, almost two kilometers in length,

a new Kremlin arose and reliably protected Moscow from the enemy. On top of the walls and strelnits were arranged battle areas, from which, in the case of an enemy attack, it was handy to conduct a target fire and keep the defense. Since then Moscow has become known as the White Stone. This period of the history of our country is devoted to the novel by Yuri Galinsky “Nabat”. The novel begins with the description of Moscow, the messenger who saw it brought the disturbing news to the Grand Duke: ” Moscow is light. On Bolshaya Ordynka, where the Tatars and servants lived, who carried the letters of the Grand Duke to the Horde, a horseman galloped in the dust clouds. Along the long, straight street, overgrown with fences and fences nettles and weeds, there were buildings. In places, wastelands and marshes tore up a darkened chain of huts, sheds, churches. Occasionally, like horsemen in the foot of the battle, flashed two-tiered boyar and merchant mansions with figured roofs, and again miserable little houses surrounded by gardens and orchards… Chickens scattered from the horse’s hooves with cackling. A few slobozhans, already in their yards, saw off the rider for a long, worried look. Closer to the center of the city, the horse crossed for a lynx, and approached the bank of the Moskva River by step. Through a light haze of fog the mirror of the river darkened. Behind him rose the walls and towers of the white-stone Kremlin. The rider stopped the tired horse, took off his helmet. “Well, I’ve come all the way to you, Moscow-Mother! ..” He dismounted, unbuttoned the collar of the collar-shaped kosovorotki – the river wind was pleasantly puffing. Inflamed eyes, not looking up, looked at the Kremlin. The folds on his forehead and cheeks smoothed him, his stern face with a small dark beard became softer. “Redder than you, our dining room! ..

Every time he drove to Moscow from a battle or a hike and saw the banks of the Moskva River and the Kremlin, it became lighter in his soul. As if that distant summer day, when he was the seventeen-year-old boy, came back here for the first time from the devastated Algerd Mozhaisk. With a heavy heart, then he climbed the slope of the Vorobyovy Mountains, yearning for his dead father, he bitterly thought: “One has stayed, no one cares about me…” Having climbed to the top of the mountain, he looked at Moscow, and… the spirit seized – such a great and red she appeared before him! Many years have passed since that time. He was lucky: he joined the prince’s squad. And the war years were rushing off like a whirlwind! The warrior stood motionless. It was quiet at this time of dawn, only echoed roosters in the Moscow courtyards and heard the splash of the oars of a river floating on the river. “They sleep, they do not know about trouble, which is already near…” Rus still suffered under the yoke of the Horde yoke. But the Golden Horde, by the end of the fourteenth century, lost its former power and was divided into parts. Between the Mongolian khans, a struggle for power and primacy broke out, very much like the one that had recently boiled in Russia. Prince Dmitry Ivanovich did not fail to take advantage of the situation in the Horde in order to consolidate his principality and put an end to humiliating dependence. And then there were the battles with the Horde. Dmitry Ivanovich was already so confident in his abilities that he challenged the Horde khan, not fulfilling his will and sending him a ridiculously small tribute to the Horde. Dmitry Ivanovich did not hesitate to come to the rescue of his good ally the Nizhny Novgorod prince, when the Horde army raided his land. In August 1378, on the banks of the river Vozhi, which flows south of the Oka, the Russians for the first time dealt a crushing defeat to the Mongols. Then the ruler of the Horde Mamai decided to teach the obstinate Moscow prince, forever to discourage the Russians from showing disobedience, and not from the moderately strengthened Moscow, the stone on the stone did not leave. Mamai was going to repeat the bloody campaign of Batu and with fire and sword pass through Russian lands. But in the battle on the field Kulikovo, Mamai’s troops were defeated. Kulikovskaya battle of 1380 was the beginning of the liberation of Russia from the Horde yoke. In addition to Golden, there was also the White Horde. She lay behind the Volga and was the descendant of Genghis Khan Tokhtamish. After the Battle of Kulikovo, he finally defeated Mamai and became the master of his possessions. He was in a hurry to take rich Russia, too, by forcing her to pay tribute to herself. Prince Dmitry did not accidentally start a replacement of the old one, even under the grandfather of the constructed wooden Kremlin. He knew full well that oil-soaked arrows, released from the Horde bows, are able to set fire to even oak logs. But the brickwork of limestone bars is strong, and it does not give way to fire, and therefore it will serve as a reliable protection. With a calm heart, the prince now could leave Moscow, without fear that in his absence someone would attack the capital, burn down its walls, break in and destroy the city.

It was only two years after Mamayev’s massacre. The weakened, bloodless Russian army has not yet made up for the losses suffered. Dmitry Donskoy hastily went to collect militia in Kostroma and other cities friendly to Moscow. Tokhtamysh took advantage of this. With a large army he approached Moscow. All residents came to the defense of their native city, and the guests of the capital joined them. Headed by the defense of Prince Voevoda Osti. “It was on the night of August 23, 1382, deciding not to defend the posad and settlements, the Muscovites themselves set fire to them.” The air cracked! .. Shaking the screams, the bells ringing, the Horde tambourines and pipes, great guns and mattresses rattled on the walls. the whistle blew up the nuclei, and the curtains were covered in acrid gray smoke, the Tatars rushed in, pulling the long siege ladders from a moment ago, rushing to the Kremlin with uncontrollable crowds, trembling, and mingling. Fire, a roar, hot stones rushing with terrible force! For the first time on the Russian earth cannon shots were heard, for the first time the Kremlin walls covered the powder smoke. Nukers never knew about this! .. Throwing siege ladders, shields, sabers, bows, they fled from the fortress. And the sitters cheered up. From the walls, from the loopholes of the towers, arrows and stones flied after the fleeing ones. Leaving the dead and wounded on the ground, stairs and weapons, the Horde rushed to the ashes of the Great Land and Charges. Only a few shootings from the Kremlin, they stopped, barely breathing their breath, timidly looked back at the white stone community. “The Horde is running!” Ulyu-lyu! .. – exulting, shouted besieged. “They repulsed the wretches…” others sighed with relief. “They came together,” Ivan Rublev, patting the hot trunk of the mattress, lovingly inclined himself, “is small, and repairs a lot of noise.” “Not only the noise, but also deeds!” the young Russo-beaked gunman corrected the gunsmith with insult. – The Lord did not leave! – crossed himself to the icon of the Holy Face, solemnly proclaimed Vavil Koreiev; Spas and several other icons were taken by blacksmiths from the Andronikov Monastery and, according to custom, are exposed on the wall to help the besieged. This – the beginning only… – not sharing the joyful animation that reigned on the spinner, Lukinich frowned. – Soon to wait for a new attack. “

The hero of the novel Lukinich is an experienced warrior, not the first time he meets with the Horde. He was right. Soon the army of Tokhtamish went on a new attack. “In the distance, at the boundary of a swamped field and forest, tall soldiers were arrayed in rows of black cloaks and iron helmets.” “The Crimean friars from Surozh and Kafa!” Lukinich threw in gloomily. “They were on the Kulikovo field.” “Yes, they are! Now, “Brothers!” “Oh, we can not resist us.” Taranov and stone throwers drag so much, and they themselves are gathering together… “Vavil Koreiev was bored, and was baptized.” “Do not be afraid, Vavilko!” slapped him on Lopukhov’s stooped back. “We’re not the same as Shita…” A cry escaped from the Kremlin: “The Horde has gone on an attack!” … Archers who sit in their saddles in a hurry, they showered arrows Muscovites. The gate hummed rams against bumps and stones flew into splinters oak zaborola, beaten off from the fortress teeth, the fragments rushed in all directions, killing and mutilating people. The storming of the eastern wall of the Kremlin was led by Tohtamysh’s cousins ​​- the oglans Bek-Bulat and Kodjamedin. They were helped by ulus running: broad in shoulders, puffy Bekish, tall and heavy in movements, with narrow eyes of Turduchak-Berdy, even for Mongols, dashing Davud, arrogant, always gloomy Edugu and his brother, stooped Isabek. From the Cottage to the fortress came the tumuli of Tokhtamysh’s favorite son – Akkhozi-khan, from the side of the District there were soldiers of the second – Kadir-Berdy. Himself Tokhtamysh with the youngest, angular fifteen-year-old teenager Jalal-ed-Din did not leave the tent. The connection between the commanders and the White Tower was supported by the messengers – the young runs led by the agile Mubarek, son of Edug. On the walls, without ceasing, the mattresses and great cannons thundered. With a hiss and howling the cores flew, hitting the attacking Horde, breaking the copper-bound wooden partitions of siege machines. Now, hearing the shot, the besiegers no longer rushed away from the Kremlin walls. Before the assault, the thousandaires announced to the orderers Tokhtamysh’s order: “If one of the ten runs, the whole dozen will be executed, if a dozen out of a hundred will flee, the whole hundred will be executed! .. So bequeathed by the great Genghis Khan, and it will be so!” Finally, making their way through the fire of cannon and a hail of arrows, the Horde were placed on the walls of the staircase and, hiding behind shields, quickly climbed up. Muscovites met them with tar and boiling water, stones and logs, but in several places the besieged managed to climb up the spit. The swords and sabers began to ring, axes, fences, daggers began to play, hand-to-hand fights ensued. With great difficulty the besieged threw the Tatars from the wall.. . In the Horde hundreds that went to the attack, there were thirty or forty nukers left, black clouds of smoke rising over the burning turtle, several rams were smashed, but the pressure of the besiegers did not weaken. With the fury of the stormy sea, they rolled wave after wave on the walls. Bek-Bulat and Kochemedin, carrying out Tokhtamysh’s order to take the Kremlin today, did not take losses into account and continued to drive more and more new tugs to storm. “It’s hot! ..” Lukinich swallowed convulsively the smoky air, wiped his wet forehead. For more than two hours, the fierce battle for Timofeevskaya and Beklemishevskaya arrows continued. The three mattresses and the great gun were smashed by the Tatar stone-stones. Sadly smelling, smoldered by burning arrows, arms of wet straw, which the Muscovites sent down on the chains in front of the gate, to soften the blows of rams and stones. The defenders died. The Chernov, who had been struck by arrows, fell down, the boy’s son Lapin was smashed by the stone, the Kiev merchant Homa, the young smith Shiryaiko, and many other sitters fell from Tatar sabers. On the spiral appeared women and adolescents – wives, younger brothers, sons of black slaves, townspeople and orphans from other walls, where it was quieter.

In a hundred Ivan Rublev fought Tatars from Tannery settlement. Their dressing gowns, smelling of a caustic solution of kvass, are unbuttoned, swarthy faces shine with sweat. A man of thirty tanners is armed with bows. While the rest, two by three, dragged huge stones to the gap between the battlements and dumped them on the besiegers, they covered their comrades, hitting the enemy archers from the bows. Seeing how the Hordeans and freemen, knocked down by stones and logs, scurried down the stairs with screams and logs, the tanners spat them with Tatar and Russian curses, spat, excitedly echoed each other. Near the Beklemishev Tower, gunsmiths, led by the headman Mikhail and Savely Rublev, fought against the friars, who managed to climb up the wall again. They already got a few dozen on the backbone, and on the staircases lined up between the battlements, all climbed and climbed the others. Lined in a tight line, Genoese mercenaries moved along the wall. In black short cloaks and iron helmets, with rapiers shining in their hands like steel snakes, step by step they pushed the slobozhan. Several times the assailants attacked them, but the well-trained soldiers of the fry beat them off, while remaining invulnerable themselves. A long spear broke through the chain mail on Petrov, the elder, entered the chest on the tip. His black broad beard was stained with blood, pouring through his throat, and he fell. Vavil Koreyev, who was slaughtered with a rapier, fell down beside him, next to several other slobozhans… “Well, well, well done!” Rushes in Lukinich’s excited mind. “If we do not drive them off the spire, the end! Maybe the Kremlin can do everything! ..” But as always in a dashing moment of danger, the warrior’s head is clear, his heart is beating smoothly. Jumping on the parapet, he tries to shout over the noise of the fierce seething: “Away, friends!” We stand, as on the field Kulikovo! For Moscow! For Russia! .. Come on, Kulikovtsy, come forward! Come out! .. Lukinich jumps into the very midst of the battle. His long, heavy sword is pierced without a miss. Strike – and the horde with a cut skull or severed shoulder falls on a spindle. The wide, brilliant blade of the sword, blinding its own and others’ glares, sparkles, sparkles in the sun. At the feet of the Tysyatsky, fallen nukers fall. Two by three, the enemies rush at him, but after a short time they lie lifeless, piling on each other. The sword covered with a bloody film dies, blood on boots, on mail, even on a helmet… The thin, sinewy, thin fingers squeeze the handle decorated with a bronze prism, the hand does not know it is tired… Near the Lukinich Kulikovtsy – Ivan Rublev, the son Boyarsky Brednya, blacksmiths, armourers, smelters. Waving a large hammer, the strong Horde, burly Lopukhov crushes the Horde. Immediately, the Kievites and Temir are smashed with a group of tanners. The rest of the Tartar Muscovites and orphans pour tar from the cauldrons, throw logs and stones at the besiegers, that continue to climb walls… The besiegers trembled, swept along the line like wolves in a pen. The sitters chopped them, cut them, threw them off the wall. Clicking Ivan, Tereshka and Temir, that were close. Lukinich rushed to the battlements. The four of them pushed away from the wall a siege ladder with impending hordes, a second, a third… And only now, when the storm passed, the heart rushed excitedly, the heart began to pour, to the head, the fog looked, blood poured in: they took some trouble! .. He leaned his back against denticulated, gasped for air… But for a short time, not even catching his breath, he rushed to the Beklemishevskaya tower… Meanwhile, it was already quite dark. Cannons and battering rams ceased, the cries of people who were heated with fierce wounds died down. There was a silence, gradually broken only by the groans of the wounded and the distant play of the Tatar trumpets, who called to the tamen of the nukers scattered everywhere on the ashes of the Great Land and Charges. “

Prince Dmitry did not fear to leave his capital: he knew that it was reliably protected by new white-stone walls. Tokhtamysh also understood that he could not take the powerful Moscow Kremlin by storm, but did not break the wrought-iron gates. And he started on the trick. He told the Muscovites that he came with love and peace and hopes that they will meet him not as an evil enemy, but as a guest and will give him honor and attention with proper gifts. It was not without treason: the Suzdal princes Vasily and Semyon confirmed to the Muscovites the words of Khan Tokhtamysh. The defenders of the capital believed in sweet speeches and opened the gates of Moscow. And immediately they had to pay their blood for their simple-mindedness. “On Thursday, August 26, the day of Saints Adrian and Natalia, exactly at seven o’clock in the afternoon they struck all the bells of the Kremlin. The gates of Frolov’s arrow slowly dissolved, Prince Ostej, the archimandrites Simeon and Yakov, the boyars great, sedate, small, hegumens, children boyars, townspeople merchants, slobodskys artisans – all dressed elegantly, with icons and banners, built in rows and solemnly moved to the exit from the Kremlin. Thousands of townspeople, orphans, monks, crowding, escorted them to the gate. After the semi-darkness of the tower vault, people involuntarily squinted, their hearts were hammered anxiously, often. Past the standing horses on both sides of the Ilyinsky street of equestrian Horde, the procession through the ashes of the Great Land went towards the White Tower. He was followed by thousands of eyes – from the Kremlin walls with anxiety and hope, from the burned-out posad and Zaryadye – with hostility and triumph. Fifteen yards from the tent of Tokhtamysh some noble Horde men blocked the road to Muscovites. When the procession stopped, Eduta and Isa-bek dismounted and approached Prince Ostea. They silently took him by the arms and led him into the royal tent. The agitated people looked after him with alarm. At the entrance, the khan’s guards forced Ostea to take off the dagger and sword. In the midst of half a dozen bodyguards of the Moscow voevoda, I was led into Belaya. Stretching for a good hundred fathoms, the deputation froze in silence. A cold, gusty wind ruffled banners and banners overhead, made me shiver, waved beards and clothes. So in a tense, dreary waiting some time passed. No one appeared from the tent. Suddenly a deaf, squeezed cry came from Belaya Vezha. Muscovites became agitated, began to talk in anxiety. Still unaware of the terrible fate of Prince Osteja, they sensed something amiss, and, in confusion, threw anxious glances around them. The white felt canopy of the tent opened. Two hefty bodyguards of the great Khan dragged out something. A moment – and the decapitated, blood-soaked body of the voevoda was thrown at the feet of Muscovites, numb with terror. And then the tambourines struck, the whistles blew. Sitting hitherto in unconstrained, peaceful pose beside the bonfires, the Hordeers jumped to their feet and rushed to the horses. There were frightened shouts, curses on the heads of perjurers, but they were blocked by the animal roar of the steppe people. With bare sabers they rushed to the Muscovites.

Shouts, cries, groans, hootings, whistling sabers! Leaving behind a bloody mess, the Horde broke through the Frolovsky gate to the Kremlin. The massacre began. The unarmed people that fell at the bar fell all. Stepneys cut with swords, crushed horses, planted men, women, children on spears. With frantic screams, distraught city dwellers and orphans rushed to and fro across the Kremlin. They hid in houses, cathedrals, monasteries, but they were overtaken everywhere. Only some people tried to resist. In different parts of the fortress, fierce fights began to boil, but they immediately ended in the death of brave men. However, when the Horde, pursuing the fugitives, rushed to Podol, near the Timofeevsk shooting, they met a real rebuff. Several hundred smiths, gunsmiths, smelters, boiler-makers and other slobozhans, under the command of Lukinich and Adam-Cloth, stopped the Horde,

“Away, friends!” Dead shame not shit! shouted Lukinich, shaking his sword.

“The dead are not shameful!” echoed an ancient battle cry…

The last battle for the Kremlin began. Scattered, the way rang – Russian swords hit the enemy sabers. The avalanche of the Horde flinched, mingled, and a scattered crowd swept back. Muscovites, hacking riders, began to drive them from the gate. Next to Lukinich, Adam, Ivan Rublev and Tereshk fought two youths in chain mail and helmets. One with a white canvas-tied head, still quite a boy, was holding a large bow in his hands. With difficulty pulling the string, Andrei at point-blank shot the hunted Horde. The second boy… Alena Dmitrievna! It was not possible to force her and Andrei to leave through the secret passage from the Kremlin. Usually the pale face of the young woman was flushed, her blue eyes sparkled, beautiful light fair-haired hair fell out from under her helmet and fell to her shoulders. Covering herself with a round shield, she bravely chopped off the Tatars’ saber – Anton had not once taught… Lukinich, Ivan, Kondakov, Tereshko, encouraging them, tried to repel all the blows that threatened brave men. And from the slopes of the highland part of the Kremlin, the surviving townspeople and orphans were already in a hurry to join the last defenders of Moscow. The whole fortress was captured by the steppe people, the gates were open, and through them an endless stream of new Humenes of the Horde entered. Only between Timofeevskaya and Beklemishevskaya shooters did the subservience of the enemy cease. A handful against thousands! From all sides the Horde settles. On the part of Taynitskaya and Frolovskaya, the shooters, from the side of Makovitsa, have already appeared on the wall… From all sides there are exclamations: “Surrender, Uruses! Surrender! ..” And from the slopes of the highland part of the Kremlin, the surviving townspeople and orphans were already in a hurry to join the last defenders of Moscow. The whole fortress was captured by the steppe people, the gates were open, and through them an endless stream of new Humenes of the Horde entered. Only between Timofeevskaya and Beklemishevskaya shooters did the subservience of the enemy cease. A handful against thousands! From all sides the Horde settles. On the part of Taynitskaya and Frolovskaya, the shooters, from the side of Makovitsa, have already appeared on the wall… From all sides there are exclamations: “Surrender, Uruses! Surrender! ..” And from the slopes of the highland part of the Kremlin, the surviving townspeople and orphans were already in a hurry to join the last defenders of Moscow. The whole fortress was captured by the steppe people, the gates were open, and through them an endless stream of new Humenes of the Horde entered. Only between Timofeevskaya and Beklemishevskaya shooters did the subservience of the enemy cease. A handful against thousands! From all sides the Horde settles. On the part of Taynitskaya and Frolovskaya, the shooters, from the side of Makovitsa, have already appeared on the wall… From all sides there are exclamations: “Surrender, Uruses! Surrender! ..”

But it still rattles: “Dead people do not hate sram! Moscow does not give up!” There are fewer and fewer heroes. He fell, pierced by arrows, brave Adam, the wartime, the courageous Kiev merchant Tereshko lay lifeless, the merchant Ermil Kondakov, heavily wounded with a spear in the chest, killed most smiths, gunsmiths, orphans, Tartar Muscovites. A total of fifty brave survived. Many are wounded, but they are closely packed around Lukinich and Rublev. Sweat floods his eyes, his arms grow numb with the weight of his weapons. Lukinich throws a wistful glance at Alenushka and Andrei. They are unharmed, but they are hardly on their feet. A mournful glimpses in Anton’s mind: “You can not get anywhere – everyone must perish!” With a wild howl, fresh Horde hundreds attacked the remaining handful… A heavy blow fell on Lukinich’s head, he fell. “Damn you, Judas!” was his last thought. The darkness swallowed up consciousness and swallowed everything around. “Moscow was plundered and burned, and the Grand Duke treasury, merchant warehouses, and church altars were empty, and almost immediately the fire-covered wooden churches and houses were covered with fire, and how many Russian people were killed, how many died in the fire Tokhtamysh’s invasion turned into a disaster for Rus, the times of humiliating dependence on the Mongols and the payment of tribute to the Horde returned. Another Russian princes rejoiced at the weakening of Moscow, hoping to put a horse “Moscow has already firmly established itself as the main center of the country, and attempts by Dmitry Donskoy’s rivals to challenge this role have been unsuccessful and futile.” The invasion of Tokhtamysh only slightly swayed,