ve to Kief. But Georges was not a man to
bear such a calamity meekly. He speedily succeeded in forming an
alliance with the barbarian nations around him, and burning with rage,
followed the army of the retiring foe. He overtook them near the city
of Periaslavle. It was the evening of the 23d of August. The unclouded
sun was just sinking at the close of a sultry day, and the vesper
chants were floating through the temples of the city. The storm of war
burst as suddenly as the thunder peals of an autumnal tempest. The
result was most awful and fatal to the king. His troops were dispersed
and cut to pieces. Ysiaslaf himself with difficulty escaped and
reached the ramparts of Kief. The terrified inhabitants entreated him
not to remain, as his presence would only expose the city to the
horror of being taken by storm.

"Our fathers, our brothers, our sons," they said, "are dead upon the
field of battle, or are in chains. We have no arms. Generous prince,
do not expose the capital of Russia to pillage. Flee for a time to
your remote principalities, there to gather a new army. You know that
we will never rest contented under the government of Georges. We will
rise in revolt against him, as soon as we shall see your standards
approaching."

Ysiaslaf fled, first to Smolensk, some three hundred miles distant,
and thence traversed his principalities seeking aid. Georges entered
Kief in triumph. Calling his warriors around him, he assigned to them
the provinces which he had wrested from the feudal lords of the king.

Hungary, Bohemia and Poland then consisted of barbaric peoples just
emerging into national existence. The King of Hungary had married
Euphrosine, the youngest sister of Ysiaslaf. He immediately sent to
his brother-in-law ten thousand cavaliers. The Kings of Bohemia and of
Poland also entered into an alliance with the exiled prince, and in
person led the armies which they contributed to his aid. A war of
desperation ensued. It was as a conflict between the tiger and the
lion.

The annals of those dark days contained but a weary recital of deeds
of violence, blood and woe, which for ten years desolated the land.
All Russia was roused. Every feudal lord was leading his vassals to
the field. There were combinations and counter-combinations
innumerable. Cities were taken and retaken; to-day, the banners of
Ysiaslaf float upon the battlements of Kief; to-morrow, those banners
are hewn down and the standards of Georges ar