Along the way, as they moved further east, the number of refugees on the road increased. They were fleeing from the east, and their fear and unease showed how immense the shadow of the Nomadic cavalry was in their hearts.
The Rus' did not see any signs of burning, killing, or looting, nor did they find any villages reduced to ruins. However, these villages often had no one left except for old people too weak to move and waiting to die. Even those who remained were basically packing their belongings, either fleeing to Kiev or into the forests.
Rostislav tried to obtain useful information from the refugees, but the information they provided varied too wildly. News such as a hundred thousand Polovtsy besieging Pei City was rampant, making it difficult to trust.
Having no other choice, Rostislav could only abandon the idea of gaining information. He recruited a group of young and strong men willing to fight from among the refugees and continued his advance.
As they delved deeper, various horrific scenes began to appear before everyone's eyes.
The first thing that appeared before Rostislav and his men was just a corpse lying dead by the roadside. The corpse had an arrow in its back, and judging by the degree of decomposition, it had been dead for several days.
From time to time, bodies could be seen by the roadside. Initially, no one paid much attention, as corpses were very common during wartime. However, Rostislav heightened his vigilance, dispatching more scouts to investigate the surrounding situation and prevent a surprise attack by the Nomadic army.
Those bodies indicated that they had entered the Nomads' activity area, so now they had to be extra careful and absolutely not be surrounded or ambushed by the damned Polovtsy.
The further east they went, the more grasslands appeared, and forests became scarcer. They were moving towards the grassland side of the grassland-forest demarcation line, which was also the most frequent area for Rus' and grassland conflicts. For countless years, countless armies had marched and been annihilated in this place.
Finally, they encountered a village destroyed by the ravages of war.
This village had been reduced to cinders. The Polovtsian raiding party had burned it down, and amidst the ubiquitous ruins, you could occasionally see charred human bodies in the burnt houses, their limbs extremely twisted, indicating the immense pain they had endured before death.
The prince had seen such a sight in Estonia, but now his heart was much harder than it had been then. He merely glanced at it as if it were an ordinary object.
In such an atmosphere, everyone fell silent. The farmers who had regarded war as a long journey witnessed the cruelty of the battlefield. The brutal scenes shattered their illusions about war, and their previous joy and laughter vanished. They no longer had any desire to continue with such things.
"Stay vigilant. Look for any survivors or useful items in the village."
Rostislav instructed his subordinates, his brows furrowed. Judging by the various signs in the village, it had been burned and massacred only a day ago, meaning there were likely Polovtsy nearby.
"We have entered the combat zone and could encounter the enemy at any time. Let's set up camp early; we'll rest here tonight."
Many farmers were very reluctant to rest in a place where so many people had died, but an order was an order. Moreover, since the prince's personal guards were doing so, they had no reason to refuse, nor could they refuse.
They pitched their tents among the ruins, and Rostislav did not forget to encircle the entire village with wagons, planting chevaux de frise outside the large wagons, vigilant against any potential enemies, and preparing for a siege.
However, God did not seem to intend for Rostislav and his men to rest today. As dusk began to fall, the scouts he had sent out brought news:
A Polovtsian camp had been discovered nearby.
— — — — — — — —
"Are you telling the truth?"
Gvaran asked the scout again, his words still full of accusatory meaning, appearing very pressing.
"My lord, I swear again to tengri (God of Heaven) that everything I have said is true."
The Pecheneg swore again by his faith.
"There are probably two to three hundred Polovtsy, but the number of horses is over a thousand, and there are also some captives. I saw all of this with my own eyes, absolutely no falsehood! And the distance is also very close; even walking there would only take three hours."
"My lord, what do you think?"
Seeing that the man did not seem to be lying, Gvaran looked at Rostislav, asking for his opinion.
"What he said should be accurate."
Rostislav raised his hand, indicating that this person could be trusted.
"But are you sure there are only two or three hundred of them?"
"I am very sure, my Rus' lord. If I utter a single lie, may tengri destroy my soul!"
The scout swore a poisonous oath. On the steppe, where the Sky God was revered, a poisonous oath carried great power, as it was a guarantee made with one's soul. This directly dispelled Rostislav's last shred of doubt about the man.
"Then the next question is whether or not to eliminate these Polovtsy."
Rostislav subconsciously stroked his chin.
"Gvaran, what do you think?"
"If this news is true,"
Gvaran still maintained his vigilant demeanor.
"Then I suggest we do it. The enemy is only two or three hundred strong, and we are the attacking party, which gives us an advantage. If we capture important prisoners, then our mission will be considered complete. If not, the captured warhorses can increase our marching speed, allowing us to deal with the Polovtsy with greater ease."
"In that case, let's go."
What Gvaran thought was similar to what Rostislav thought, and so, the two of them decided on the strategy of ambushing the Polovtsy.
— — — — — — — —
The Polovtsian camp was loosely arranged, with the largest tent as the core and other tents scattered around it.
The number of horses was indeed as large as the scout had described. They were penned behind low fences. In addition, there were not only horses but also some livestock such as cattle and sheep inside these fences. It was unclear whether they were plunder or brought by the Polovtsy themselves.
In one corner of this livestock enclosure were the Rus' captives mentioned by the scout. There were dozens of them, all stripped of their armor and clothing, leaving only their underpants, tied to wooden poles. Their mental state seemed good; they must have been captured recently—the herdsmen of the steppe had no custom of treating captives kindly.
Night had already fallen, and perhaps believing that no Rus' army could be active in the vicinity, the Polovtsy lit numerous torches within the camp, illuminating the entire camp brightly. This pointed the way forward for the Rus'; the Nomads' camp was incredibly conspicuous in the darkness, like a shining star.
However, even with such obvious torchlight as a guide, the farmers still occasionally ran into problems. After all, they were all night-blind, and they made quite a bit of noise, which worried the prince. Fortunately, the livestock made even more noise, covering the sounds of the clumsy ones.
"It's exactly as the scout said."
Rostislav lay on a large rock on the ridge, looking down at the Nomads' camp. The enemy's vigilance was very lax; only a small number of cavalry patrolled near the camp. The rest were either gathered around bonfires warming themselves or huddled in their tents sleeping. The steppe at night was extremely cold, and only fire and furs could ward off the chill.
"Then what do we do now…?"
Gvaran, also lying on the large rock, made a throat-slitting gesture, but Rostislav indicated no.
"We'll wait a little longer. I need to confirm the leader's location so I can capture him then."
— — — — — — — —