Andrei sent a special envoy in this case, whose name, Yakov Stanishavitch, is preserved to us. The prince explained in a letter that Vladimir was at the head of a new, immense country where the Christian faith, unknown till recently, had become firmly fixed and widely extended. Vladimir needed more strength and order in church service; she prayed to receive a metropolitan. Boundless regions were now in light, regions which, till his father’s day and his own, had been in darkness. His recent victories had opened up new and vast countries. Andrei spoke a greater truth than he himself realized. He had in fact opened up a new world in such form and meaning as no man at that time comprehended.
The boyars gazed with dread on him. Well might they ask: “How far will his plans go? Does he think to enforce them on all Russia? Will he not take power from us, and every significance? If he makes Vladimir the great mother city, where shall we find a place in it?”
In due time came the answer to Andrei’s letter. The Patriarch praised the zeal of the prince in planting truth in new places, approved of his bringing order to lands hitherto without it, but while revering that for which Andrei was toiling so earnestly, his Humility the Patriarch could not grant the prayer of Prince Andrei, because the Kief metropolitan already had jurisdiction in those northern lands. If the prince had won new lands, in regions apart and divided geographically, the question would have been different, but the regions under discussion could not be taken from their present right relations without violating ancient rules and destroying Christian truth as existent. Andrei had asked in the name of religion and truth, concealing his chief, if not his only object. The Patriarch answered in the same way,—the [[101]]inevitable and ever recurrent method of masking the main point. Andrei was obliged to abandon the project.
During his father’s life, Andrei had married the daughter of Kutchka, a boyar who had been put to death by Yuri. In family life Andrei knew little, if any happiness. All his children died earlier than he, except one, the youngest son, Yuri, who married Queen Tamara of Georgia and died in the Trans-Caucasus, prematurely, after painful adventures. Neither from his wife nor her relatives had Andrei witnessed good-feeling. No matter how he strove to draw near the Kutchkas, no matter what he spent in lavish kindness toward them and their friends, they ever cherished for him a hatred which nothing could extinguish. The same might be said of the men near Andrei. He had removed his drujina and the boyars, and chosen new people. He treated those people with such kindness and so liberally that he might hope to see them grateful. “Father,” “Giver of good,” “Bestower of pleasant things,” “Nourisher” were the only words which they might with honesty have said of him. These were the terms used in satire by those men who witnessed but did not receive this attention. It was with the following words that all described Andrei,—all save the circle which opposed him. “The beloved father, the nourisher of orphans, kind and gentle, simple and strong, putting his arms round the poor, loving those who are abandoned, giving them to eat and drink, like his great ancestor Monomach.” He was holy also, though men did not know it. He had commanded that at any time of the day or night, if there were a really needy man or woman, that man or woman should be nourished. He had also built houses where the sick and the unprotected might be received and cared for.
From his youth Andrei, with all the kindness ascribed to him by the people, had not many friends, because he was abrupt in manner, and as he grew older this abruptness became more apparent. The expulsion of boyars and men who had been connected with his father caused great discontent, and now his one prop was the people, who, though with him to a man, were not in physical touch with him. He had incensed the princes because he commanded at all points in Russia as he did in his own house. There were reasons enough why princes and boyars desired the death of Andrei. Much was said about [[102]]defense against such a man. Reports were even current that Glaib of Ryazan and his boyars were plotting against him, and that Rostoff and Suzdal boyars had joined with Glaib. While men might expect action from this point, Andrei fell a victim to what seemed a conspiracy of his servants and relatives. In any case he died at the hands of his servants, brought to the deed, it may be, by keen machinations of princes and boyars. That princes and boyars were the movers, and the others only the instruments, there is, however, no formal proof. The story of the crime is as follows:
The whole number of assassins was twenty. Four men were the leaders in the murder,—Takin, whose personality is uncertain; Pyotr, son-in-law of one of the Kutchkas, Anval the key-bearer, at that time a great favorite, and Yevfrem Moiseitch, a converted Jew. A report was spread, on Friday, June 28th, 1174, that Andrei intended to summon and execute one of the Kutchkas. That same day the four men made this decision: “To-night, when Andrei lies down to sleep, we will kill him.” In the darkness between Friday the 28th and Saturday the 29th the key-bearer, Anval, stole from Andrei’s chamber the sword of Prince Boris, which had been an heirloom in Vladimir Monomach’s family. On the afternoon of that day, Andrei’s wife had gone on a visit. In the evening Andrei lay down to sleep without anxiety or suspicion. On the floor in the room lay one of the little serving boys called “Bones,”—thus are they termed in the chronicles. The murderers were completely armed. They came to the house, but when at the entrance fear seized them and they ran out again. To get courage they went to find drink. After they had drunk sufficiently, they returned and groped their way in the darkness. Having found the door of the chamber where Andrei was sleeping, one of them tapped at it lightly. “Who is there?” called the prince. The man who had knocked answered: “Prokofi.” The assassins heard the prince say: “That is not the voice of Prokofi.” Hearing this, they burst the door in with one effort. Andrei, suspecting the deed, sprang up and grasped for his sword; the sword was not there. The two men who entered first Andrei put down quickly. There being no light in the chamber, the assassins struck at random and hit their own men till they found Andrei. He, being strong, fought in the darkness a long time. The battle was [[103]]stubborn, but since twenty men were fighting with one, they at last overpowered him. The victim groaned as he said: “God will take vengeance on you for my bread, which you have eaten.” They hastened to finish. The breath seemed to halt in Andrei as if the soul were going out of him, and he lay on his back in agony. They gave him, as they thought, final blows, and waited in the darkness, till every sound ceased in his body, and they found no trace of breath in him. Then, taking with them a man whom Andrei had killed in the struggle, they started to grope their way out, but they could not go quickly, for in fear and in darkness the right passage was missed. Halting a moment, they discovered it, and going down the stone stairs to the open, again visited the mead cellar. Coming back, they stood a while to recover from the inner air, and from terror of the deed just accomplished.
While this was taking place Prince Andrei, who had been left for dead, regained consciousness. He sat up and remembered with difficulty what had happened; then, leaving the room, he began to descend the stone stairway slowly, but as he went he betrayed himself. He might have escaped had he gone down in silence, but he could not suppress groans of anguish. The assassins heard those groans. “He is not killed!” whispered one in alarm. They returned to the chamber hurriedly; Andrei was not there. “Where is he?” asked one of another. “Quick! quick! we must find him!” They struck a light and, through blood which had dropped from the wounds of the prince as he passed down the stairway, they discovered him. Andrei, who saw the men coming, rose and stood behind a stone pillar near the entrance to his palace, and when they saw him, he cried: “O God, receive Thou my spirit!” Those were Andrei’s last words, He struggled no longer in mind, but still he raised his hand and they cut off his arm at the shoulder. Thus died Andrei, son of Yuri Dolgoruki, slain in his own house, by men whom he had treated justly and with kindness.
The next work of the murderers was to kill Prokofi, the favorite of the prince, and their opponent. After the death of Prokofi they began to pillage. Before daylight they had emptied the palace, the cellars, the places where holy images were made, and the workshops where cloth of gold and of silver was woven and where precious stones were set. Everything had vanished, gold, silver, silk, satin, rich furs, weapons, and rare objects which Andrei [[104]]had possessed in abundance. At daybreak Bogolyuboff was as empty “as a hollow, old tree.” The assassins were gone, each stolen thing had been secreted. To remove those things quickly they had taken all the horses, even those used in the personal service of the prince. They now sent men to Vladimir to declare what had taken place. “Have no feeling against us,” said they to the people. “The thing done has happened in spite of us.” “We know not who were with you,” replied the Vladimir men, “but whoever they were, they will answer for this vile murder.”
In Vladimir the boyars feared the morrow, and with reason, for common men loved Andrei. And now came the clashing of forces. Men who had land and lived from it through the labor of others had been opposed to Andrei, but those who themselves tilled land had been on his side. These two groups stood face to face now like two armies. What was to be done? Among boyars and the powerful at this time of peril, there was no confidence in their own leaders. If there had been a leader in whom they could have trusted, they would surely have conquered, but that man was lacking. The leader of the people had been Andrei; now he was gone, and both sides were helpless.
At first there was utter discouragement in Vladimir, a paralysis of mind for the moment. Meanwhile no one knew where the body of Andrei was; no one knew what the murderers had done with it till Kuzma, a former servant of the dead prince, discovered it. This faithful man, who feared only God and loved no man on earth save Andrei, did not cease his questions: “Where is the prince? Where is his body?” “We threw it into the garden,” replied one of the assassins at last, with great insolence. “But go not near. We threw out the body that the dogs might devour it. If thou go near, men will kill thee.”