The bishops of Vladimir counseled every one to prepare for death and the last hour, to have this passing life in their memories no longer; and assured them that Christ would forget no one made worthy through the crown of a martyr. All who heard these words began to work valiantly. From old to young, every man was to fight on the walls, or wherever the need was. All armed themselves for the coming storm and the battle. On the second or third day of the siege, news spread through the city that Suzdal had been taken, that Rostoff had yielded. Men on the walls saw on the Suzdal road Mongol regiments approaching rapidly, and then they saw men, women, monks, nuns and a multitude of people led captive.
That day the Mongols worked from early morning till nightfall, pulling up timber, and engines, and planting their wall-crushing [[235]]instruments. Next morning it appeared that they had not been idle in the night-time. A wooden wall now encircled the city. For the last twenty-four hours no man in Vladimir had slept. No person had undressed for a week past. All knew that their city was doomed. The princes, and Yuri’s whole family, many of the boyars and the people had put on the monk’s habit, making ready for death with great earnestness.
On Sunday February 14, 1238, the city was stormed and captured. At daybreak the Mongols were on the walls, and before midday their work was accomplished. They did not occupy all parts immediately, though they broke in at once on many sides,—on the Klyazma, the Lybed, the Golden Gate, and the Valski sides. At one side they made a long mound, traces of which are seen even to our day. They went up along this mound and came down inside the walls on their ladders.
The new city was covered with corpses. In the old city there was a stubborn defense and great slaughter. Savage fighting went on outside the walls as well. The Mongols killed every man who tried to escape. Then began the sack of Vladimir. Wherever Mongols entered, they seized what they found; they stripped the churches, taking everything of value; wherever they met with resistance, they brought piles of wood and burned all before them.
When the enemy sprang in over the walls every person in Vladimir who could carry a weapon rushed “to drink the cup of death” promptly, knowing well that resistance was fruitless. The young princes, who thought to break through the enemy, were cut to pieces. The voevoda, Pyotr Oslyadukovitch, pressed heavily on the Mongols with his “children,” that is, the whole population of Vladimir, who did not desert him. They fought fiercely on the walls, and at the walls outside the city, and on all streets within it. Blood flowed till midday, and not to win victory, for that, as they knew, was impossible, but to kill as many infidels as they could, and die fighting for the holy Orthodox faith and for their country.
The Mongol multitude crushed all before it; numbers conquered everywhere. The new and the old city were taken by assault, and the capital was burning from side to side in one vast conflagration.
Yuri’s princess, with her relatives, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, [[236]]all the wives and daughters of boyars, many of the people and clergy with wives and children, and the bishop himself had taken refuge in the Vladimir cathedral. The smoke and flame of the city’s burning had reached the walls of this edifice, while round about were heard the shouts of the oncoming Mongols. Those inside the building sought safety in the galleries. Suffocating from smoke, they would have gone down again, but there was a dense crowd below pressing upward. The Mongols forced open the door of the cathedral and, rushing in, seized gold and silver, and all the church vessels. They cut and hewed down those persons who had not hidden, and those who were trying to get to the galleries. Then they brought sticks and brushwood, filled the place well with fuel, and set fire to it. Smoke rose in columns within the cathedral. The roar of the burning building and the cries of victory from the wild conquerors were heard in one dull groaning thunder, mingling with the wails, shrieks and prayers of the dying. The bishop blessed all at their parting, crying: “O Lord, stretch thy unseen hands to us, and receive the souls of thy people.” The massive walls of the cathedral did not fall; they withstood the fire and have remained in integrity to our time.
The horrors of Ryazan were repeated in Vladimir. Only young women, nuns, and strong laborers were led away captive. The sick, the infirm, the weak and the aged were slaughtered at once, and without mercy. Smoking ruins alone were left of the beautiful city of Vladimir. When the Mongols marched away from the remnant of the capital, there was not a groan, or a cry to be heard from the people, for all who were in that city were lying dead.
To overtake Yuri and destroy his forces was no difficult task for the savage invaders. They found him in Yaroslavl regions, on the banks of the Siti. Among other princes was Vassilko, his favorite nephew, a son of Constantine, whom his dying father had asked Yuri to treat as one of his own sons. Crushed by news from Vladimir, Yuri seemed dazed, and repeated unceasingly: “Why am I left, why do I not die with them?” Grief for children and wife was swallowed up in his anguish over the destruction of the city, the people, the bishop, and the clergy. Volunteers who were pouring in brought similar tidings from every part: “The enemy are slaying all people, burning all places; they are everywhere!” Only one thing remained: retreat to the distant north. But from [[237]]Vologda, and even from Galitch beyond the Volga, came news of the same universal slaughter and destruction. Three thousand men, sent as scouts to the north, returned with these tidings: “The enemy are attacking off there, they are around us far and near, they are everywhere.”
Soon the struggle began on the Siti, and became straightway a most terrible massacre. Numbers crushed everything. The Mongols had scarcely begun when they had victory. Those people who were not mortally wounded, and who rose from the battle field, and a few who were unwounded fled, and hid in the forests. Yuri, Grand Prince of Vladimir, lay dead in a great pile of bodies,—his head was not with his body. More terrible still was the death of Vassilko. The young prince was taken alive by the Mongols. Attractive in mind and in person, his men said of him that whoso had served him would not serve another. He pleased also the Mongols. Batu strove to incline him to friendship. “Oh, dark kingdom of vileness,” answered Vassilko, “God has given me into thy hands, but thou canst not separate me from Christians.” He would take neither food nor drink from the pagans. Enraged at his stubbornness, they killed him most cruelly, and threw out his body to be eaten by wild beasts. The corpse of the young prince was found in a forest, under the guidance of a woman who said that she had witnessed his tortures, and Vassilko was buried with Yuri, his uncle. The headless Yuri, as found on the field of battle, was put in a coffin, but afterward the head was discovered and placed with the body, and the two bodies were taken later on to Rostoff for interment.