Before Russia could become a country, it had to win this battle ...News

Dmitry Donskoy defeated the Golden Horde at Kulikovo. Now the warrior prince has returned as a symbol for another age of conflict.

In the dim interior of Moscow’s Cathedral of the Archangel, a candle softly flickered. Russian President Vladimir Putin stood by an open white stone sarcophagus, made the Sign of the Cross, and bowed his head. Only a few inches remained between the Kremlin of the 21st century and an ancient Russian ruler who died more than 600 years ago. The Russian president called the uncovering of the relics a “miraculous discovery.”

Several weeks earlier, restorers had removed the sagging floor near the cathedral’s southern wall. The old stone lid, which was in danger of collapsing inward, was carefully lifted. Beneath the burial cloth lay the remains of Prince Dmitry Donskoy, a warrior prince canonized by the Orthodox Church and venerated in Russia as the holy savior of Rus’.

On August 18, Patriarch of Moscow and All Rus’ Kirill held a prayer service at the sarcophagus. Particles of the relics were placed in reliquaries for veneration by the faithful; one of them may be delivered to Russian troops at the front. Thus, the warrior prince who once led a united Russian army against the nation’s fiercest enemy will once again stand alongside the nation’s army, in a completely different era and war.

On September 6, one of those reliquaries was carried at the head of a major religious procession through Moscow. Led by Patriarch Kirill, the procession drew around 100,000 people and followed a 6.5-kilometer route from the Cathedral of Christ the Savior to Novodevichy Convent. More than six centuries after his death, Dmitry Donskoy once again led a procession through the Russian capital.

Grand Prince Dmitry Ivanovich of Moscow, better known as Dmitry Donskoy, is a fairly common example of a historical figure remembered by virtually all his compatriots, but known only to specialists outside his country. This 14th-century prince played a huge role in the history of Russia, which was then still known as Rus’. His contributions to the fate of Russia as a warrior and statesman were recognized during his lifetime, but after his death, Dmitry gradually became a symbolic figure of the struggle for independence.

Believers take part in a citywide religious procession marking the feast of the Synaxis of the Saints of Moscow on September 6, 2026 in Moscow, Russia. © Sputnik / Kirill Zykov

The uncovering of his relics could hardly have remained only an ecclesiastical or archaeological event. Modern Russia once again speaks the language of sovereignty, unity, and resistance to an external adversary – the same concepts which national memory associates Dmitry Donskoy.

To understand why Dmitry Donskoy is venerated by Russians centuries later, we must return to where his name became history – the field between the Don and Nepryadva rivers on the morning of September 8, 1380.

An existential enemy

Despite Russia’s long and dramatic military history, it didn’t have many long-standing adversaries with whom it was forced to fight again and again. The list of Russia’s historical adversaries isn’t topped by Poland, Germany, or Türkiye, as one might expect from a brief look at Russian history. The most formidable enemy, one that called into question the very existence of the Russian people, was a state that no longer exists on the world map – the Golden Horde, one of the major powers into which Genghis Khan’s empire was divided after his death.

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In 1237, the still formally united Mongol state began its great march westward. Rus’ was one of the countries that fell prey to the Mongols. From this moment on, an epic struggle began, encompassing several dozen wars, not to mention isolated raids and minor border conflicts. Until the second half of the 15th century, Rus’ remained a vassal state to the steppe kingdom.

Regular and heavy tribute payments served as the basis of this dependence. If the people of Rus’ attempted to avoid them, a punitive expedition would arrive, destroying everything in its path, after which the survivors would go back to paying tribute. Horde officials known as the ‘baskaks’ were responsible for its collection. As is usually the case, the baskaks abused their power and engaged in extortion. Whenever they overstepped the boundaries, another rebellion would break out, followed by a new punitive campaign.

The Mongols also skillfully manipulated the Russian princes. There was no single leader in Rus’ at the time, so the princes traveled to the khan’s headquarters to intrigue against each other, turning to the Mongols as arbiters. The winners of this vile contest received a ‘yarlyk’ or charter to rule, along with the obligation to pay tribute and support the Mongols against those attempting to shake off their rule. This period in Russia is still called “the yoke,” calling to mind the yoke meant for draft animals. It aptly describes the severity and humiliation of the situation in which Rus’ found itself for many years. 

Everything comes to an end, however; and by the 14th century, the Golden Horde had plunged into a protracted crisis. The khans were more likely to slaughter one another due to intrigues than to wage war on their neighbors. The nomadic empire was weakening.

Prince Alexander Nevsky begging Batu Khan for mercy for Russia, End of 19th century. ©  Fine Art Images / Heritage Images / Getty Images

The rise of Moscow

Some Russian principalities freed themselves from the yoke, falling under the control of other states, primarily the young and dynamic Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Lithuania’s time as a great Eastern European power was short but brilliant. The western principalities of Rus’ gravitated toward the Grand Duchy of Lithuania; this is how the future country of Belarus began to take shape. In the eastern part of Rus’, however, the control of the Horde was more strict, and events took a different course.

In 1325, Ivan Kalita became Prince of Moscow. ‘Kalita’ is a nickname meaning ‘money bag’ as he was indeed a sort of bagman, an unscrupulous schemer who based his power on the flow of money. He managed to ‘sell’ himself to the Horde as the most loyal of the princes and, most importantly, persuaded the khans to entrust him with collecting tribute from all of Rus’.

Baskaks and other options involving Horde officials were not very convenient for the khan: firstly, baskaks sought to pocket the money for themselves; secondly, dealing with one prince was easier: tribute collection proceeded more smoothly, a specific person could be held accountable, and naturally, the Russian prince had a better understanding of the country’s inner workings than the Mongols.  

Ivan Kalita’s position as a go-between was disreputable but highly lucrative. He profited from the cash flow but managed to strike a fine balance, avoiding further rebellions within Rus’ while satisfying the khan’s demands. His accounting tricks still allowed him to keep some of the money for himself. He also used his position to quietly undermine his rivals, particularly the powerful prince of Tver. Now a smaller city northwest of the modern capital, at the time Tver was a serious rival of Moscow. 

Portrait of Ivan Kalita in the Tsarskiy titulyarnik (1672). ©  Wikimedia / Public Domain

By 1340, when Ivan Kalita died, Moscow had become the richest and most powerful principality in Rus’.

Kalita’s successors – his elder son Simeon and later his younger son Ivan –  were not as cunning as he, but managed to preserve their father’s gains. The principality was supposed to be headed by Simeon’s heirs, but both Simeon and his sons fell victim to the plague. The cause of death of his younger son Ivan is unknown, but he was 33 years old at the time and may have fallen victim to the same disease. Be that as it may, in 1359 rule over the principality was formally passed on to a nine-year-old boy named Dmitry Ivanovich.

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The birth of a legend

Dmitry Donskoy’s personality is almost buried beneath the legend surrounding him. Generations of chroniclers and writers have described the prince as a chivalrous man and a patriot with deep convictions. Such a person was of course supposed to be ideal, and Dmitry was characterized as exceptionally virtuous and wise beyond his years.

More specifically, we may add the following about his character: Dmitry was certainly a religious man, and his faith was sincere. His guardian was Metropolitan Alexei, an authoritative figure and a shrewd politician who played a huge role in Dmitry’s development and the preservation of the principality. Dmitry always had a warm relationship with the Orthodox Church, not least because of the positive influence of Metropolitan Alexei, the most important Orthodox hierarch of his time.

The second important factor was that, after his father’s death, Dmitry was thrown headlong into the brutal maelstrom of politics. He had to learn self-control and military skills literally from childhood. Lithuania pressed in from the west, vying with Moscow as a rallying point for the Russian principalities; the Horde pressed from the south; and the independent principalities were in a state of constant feudal competition. In short, it was the ‘normal’ reality of medieval life. Thus, from childhood, Dmitry was exposed to the harsh school of politics, intrigue, and war. Young Dmitry had to endure short but intense wars with Lithuania. Moreover, Regent Alexei could not protect Dmitry forever, and the latter was forced to negotiate with the Horde and participate in campaigns against other princes. Dmitry besieged Tver, which had long been a thorn in Moscow’s side, and forced Prince Mikhail of Tver to pledge his loyalty to him. 

In 1375, Prince Dmitry, who was then 25 years of age, concluded a treaty with Tver. Prince Mikhail of Tver called himself Dmitry’s “younger brother” (behind this elegant formula was actually a vassal treaty) but from a historical perspective, the key to the treaty was the phrase “If God changes the Horde”: if Moscow fought the Horde, Tver was obliged to join the fight. Apparently, Dmitry earnestly hated the Horde and wanted to fight it. Such an opportunity soon presented itself.  

Equestrian statue of Grand Prince Saint Dmitry Donskoy (1350-1389) at the Kremlin in Kolomna, Russia © Legion-Media / Alamy / DE ROCKER

The rebellious prince

The Horde was rocked by coups. Its de facto ruler was the military commander Mamai. In Russian tradition, Mamai is often referred to as a khan, but this is incorrect. He was a ‘beklarbek’, i.e., one of the top-ranking officials. However, this position afforded him powers almost equal to those of a khan. Mamai ruled the Horde like an ‘eminence grise’, outliving a dozen khans while hiding behind the back of the nominal ruler Muhammad Bulak. Mamai maintained his rule by means of poison, dagger, and intrigue. In 1363, it was Mamai who granted the charter to young Dmitry. However, in the 1370s, Dmitry, feeling powerful enough, refused to pay tribute to the Horde.

This was a bold challenge. At that time, the Horde seemed almost invincible to the Russians. Psychologically, someone had to finally stand up and say “No”, and the most powerful prince of eastern Rus’ did so. Dmitry convened a congress of princes who expressed their support for him.

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This certainly meant war, but this was no longer a rebellion of isolated outcasts. Dmitry spoke on behalf of all Rus’. Not everyone was ready to support him, but Moscow was not alone; it could count on the support of different corners of a country which, though humiliated, was still alive.

The war began dismally: a Horde detachment managed to surprise and defeat a small Russian force on the Pyana River. The river’s name in Russian sounds similar to the word ‘drunk’ [pianaya] and alas, in this case, “nomen est omen”: the Mongols took the Russians by surprise when they were relaxing in their camp. After the defeat in the field battle, Nizhny Novgorod, a large city approximately 400 km east of Moscow was devastated. However, during the very next skirmish, on the Vozha River, things took a different turn. This time, Dmitry, who personally led the army, surprised the Mongols at the crossing and pushed their detachment into the water.

Mamai faced a serious problem. Rus’, which was seemingly subjugated long ago, now rebelled. Moreover, Mamai was in serious trouble: Khan Tokhtamysh, a protégé of the mighty Tamerlane, rose up against him. Mamai needed to act quickly and brutally.

Another punitive expedition was organized against Rus’. This time, Mamai, a contender for power in the Horde, led it himself. It was late summer 1380.

The domains of the Golden Horde in 1389. ©  Wikimedia / MapMaster / CC BY-SA 3.0

Preparing for battle

Mamai saw that this time, he would meet with significant resistance and focused on the political preparations for the campaign. He negotiated with the Grand Duke of Lithuania Jagiello. As a rival of Moscow, Jagiello saw advantage in weakening Dmitry. Prince Oleg, the leader of Ryazan, which bordered the Horde, took an ambiguous stance. A century and a half earlier, in 1237, Ryazan had fiercely resisted the invasion, but the city had been completely devastated, and its inhabitants had almost entirely perished. Now, the descendants of the few survivors did not want to get involved. 

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Prince Oleg demonstrated exceptional political flexibility, expressing loyalty to both sides but refusing to lend troops to either. Meanwhile, Dmitry was gathering troops – his own and those of his allies – in Kolomna, a city southeast of Moscow. He did not have the full might of Rus’ at his disposal, but commanded a considerably large force assembled from various principalities: his own domain, which included the cities of Moscow and Vladimir; detachments from Novgorod and Pskov; and his cousin’s forces from Serpukhov. Moreover, individual detachments arrived from Ryazan, despite Prince Oleg’s ambiguous stance, and there were also troops from the Rostov Principality, Nizhny Novgorod, Yaroslavl, Bryansk, and Starodub. Small groups even came from the Lithuanian Principality – these were the detachments of the exiled princes, Jagiello’s half-brothers. 

Admittedly, these troops likely numbered about 10,000 men – which is not a staggering number. However, we should remember that we’re talking about the 14th century, and at the time, Rus’, though large, was a sparsely populated country and could not assemble huge armies.

To dispel the fog of war, watchmen – i.e., reconnaissance detachments – were sent ahead to the steppe border. The first detachment went into the steppe and disappeared; a second detachment had already been dispatched from Moscow to search for it when a scout from the first group emerged from the steppe. This was Vasily Tupik, whose group managed to kidnap Mamai’s confidant. The scouts forced him to provide information about the enemy’s whereabouts and plans. This information was so vital that the name of the soldier who obtained it was written down in the chronicles, and thus remained in history. 

Dmitry Donskoy on the way to Kulikovo Field, miniature from the Illustrated Chronicle of Ivan the Terrible. ©  Wikimedia / Public Domain

Dmitry did not march directly towards Mamai. Instead, he first made a surprise dash west. This was done to accomplish two goals. Firstly, along the way, he ‘picked up’ several units that hadn’t made it to the general assembly. Secondly, he created a convincing illusion that he was busy attacking Jagiello’s Lithuanian army. Jagiello, unwilling to engage in a pitched battle with the strong Russian army, slowed his march. So, by the time Dmitry turned back and embarked on  the campaign against Mamai, it was hard for the Lithuanian prince to catch up. By the morning of September 8, Dmitry had crossed the Don River which separated him from the army of the Horde.

This was a very risky maneuver. The Don is a large river. In case of defeat, the Russian army would have been pushed towards the river and easily annihilated. However, Dmitry wanted to avoid lengthy maneuvers. Time wasn’t on his side: the threat of Jagiello’s Lithuanians in the rear was still present, and no one knew what Oleg of Ryazan was up to. Therefore, he had to defeat Mamai in open battle, and do it quickly.

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Dmitry employed a good deal of imagination in planning the battle. Historically, the Mongols possessed highly maneuverable cavalry. Dmitry occupied a battlefield bordered by forests, rivers, and ravines on the flanks; this protected his army from encirclement. But the Horde didn’t yet know the biggest surprise. The weakest link in the Russian position was the left flank, positioned next to a large oak forest. But it was precisely here that Dmitry had an ace up his sleeve – a powerful detachment of heavy cavalry led by the experienced commander Bobrok. Bobrok was an old, experienced warrior with strong nerves, and his task was to carry out a surprise attack when the situation became critical.

Before the battle began, Dmitry exchanged armor with boyar Mikhail Brenk. It was a cruel decision: both Dmitry and Mikhail Brenk knew that the enemy would try to kill the man wearing the prince’s armor. But Dmitry needed freedom to move around the battlefield and issue commands. However, he also took care to issue detailed instructions to the commanders.

The battle began on the morning of September 8. 

Kulikovo Field

The chronicle states that the battle began with a duel between two fighters. A warrior monk, Alexander Peresvet, rode out from the Russian side. A former warrior from Bryansk, he had retired to a monastery some time earlier, but left for the campaign against Mamai, with the full understanding and approval of the abbot. Peresvet encountered a steppe warrior, known as Chelubey in the chronicles. The name sounds Turkic, which is logical: Mamai’s main forces were composed of various Turkic peoples. According to the chronicle, both warriors struck each other with spears and died. Apparently, they engaged in a head-on clash, and neither turned away.

Duel of Peresvet with Chelubey, painting by Viktor Vasnetsov (1914). ©  Wikimedia / Public Domain

Mamai seized the initiative in the battle. Apparently, the steppe army had a numerical advantage, as the Russians spent almost the entire battle on the defensive.

The Horde launched a series of attacks in various areas. They persistently sought out weak points and fought in waves for several hours. Of course, we’re not talking about hours of nonstop fighting. Cavalry armies fought on both sides and the battle resembled a series of skirmishes. The detachments charged at each other, fought for several minutes, then dispersed, making way for fresh reserves. 

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The Advance Regiment was positioned ahead of the main body of the Russian army. Under the Horde’s attacks, it retreated toward the Grand Regiment, the main line of the Russian army. The right flank repelled all attacks and was in least danger. The center fought very hard, but stood firm and did not crumble. The battle raged past midday. Mikhail Brenk, who had exchanged armor with Dmitry, was killed in battle. The prince himself not only commanded the battle, but actively participated in it and was wounded. This had no effect on morale; everyone knew Prince Dmitry was somewhere among the fighting ranks, but his simple, unadorned armor made it difficult to know his exact whereabouts.

The left flank of the Russian army was in danger, however. This regiment was retreating and the princes that commanded it had perished in battle. A small reserve detachment came to its aid, but stabilized the situation only briefly. The Horde forded the narrow Smolka River and pushed the Russians further and further back. The battle had reached its climax; both armies suffered heavy losses and were terribly tired. However, the Horde army had inflicted serious damage on the Russians’ left flank and was about to move into the rear of their center. 

That’s when Bobrok’s Ambush Regiment struck the Horde army.

The Battle on Kulikovo Field, painting by Viktor Vasnetsov (1915). ©  Wikimedia / Public Domain

The old commander had calculated the moment with perfect precision. He arrived when the enemy was already exhausted by the long, hard battle, but the Russian line of defense had not yet crumbled.

Fresh cavalry reserves are a terrifying force at the end of a major battle. After several hours of heavy fighting, the Horde army was hit from the flank as if struck by a train. The balance of power didn’t just shift: the Horde panicked. Now, instead of the Russian left flank, the Horde’s right flank began to crumble. Mamai had no reinforcements left, as he had thrown all his forces into battle.

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Some time after the attack by the Ambush Regiment, the enemy wavered and began to scatter.

The pursuit of the Horde was led by Dmitry’s cousin, Prince Vladimir of Serpukhov. Mamai fled, and most of his army followed on exhausted horses. The Russians relentlessly pursued the enemy for about 30 kilometers.

The Russians suffered heavy losses. For several more days, the army stood “on the bones,” picking up the dead, nursing the wounded, and gathering all the weapons and equipment they could find. 

Prince Dmitry was found among a pile of corpses. He was alive, but gravely wounded; his armor was mangled, and he was unconscious. He fought the most important battle of his life at the forefront of his warriors, with a war club in hand, and nearly paid for the victory with his life. Unfortunately, the chroniclers did not specify in what circumstances he was wounded, but the location where he was found speaks for itself: it was, of course, the left flank.

From that moment on, Prince Dmitry of Moscow would be known by the name that would become part of history: Dmitry Donskoy, i.e., Dmitry of the Don.

On September 14, the army turned back.

Dmitry Donskoy on Kulikovo Field, painting by Vasily Sazonov (1824). ©  Wikimedia / Public Domain

Afterword

The Battle of Kulikovo had a huge psychological impact. The Russian army routed the Horde in a proper pitched battle – it didn’t hide behind fortified walls, and didn’t just defeat a single detachment; it utterly destroyed the enemy’s main field army. This was not accomplished by any single principality but by a broad alliance. Men who had seen the backs of the fleeing Horde army with their own eyes returned to Nizhny Novgorod, Pskov, Novgorod, and Yaroslavl. 

After the battle, the Lithuanian army quietly retreated home.

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The struggle for independence did not end there, of course. After this defeat, Mamai lost the internal struggle in the Golden Horde to Khan Tokhtamysh, fled to Crimea, and was killed there. Tokhtamysh set about restoring the Horde’s former glory. In 1382, he launched a new campaign against Rus’, and this time succeeded in taking Moscow while Dmitry was gathering a field army. Dmitry, through gritted teeth, paid tribute for the previous two years (but not for the earlier years). However, the Battle of Kulikovo marked a new style of relations between Rus’ and the Horde. Tokhtamysh made no attempt to install anyone else as ruler of Moscow. The idea of ​​independence and political unity took hold in Rus’, and Moscow clearly headed this process. The Russians were still paying tribute, but they already saw that they could seize the opportunity to avoid it. The gaps between payments grew wider and successful battles with the Horde became more frequent. 

In 1395, Khan Tokhtamysh suffered a terrible defeat at the hands of Tamerlane, with whom he had fallen out. The Horde was falling apart and the Russians accelerated this process as best they could.

In 1389, Dmitry Donskoy died before reaching the age of 40. The cause of his early death is unknown. However, he left behind a powerful legacy: a large principality that became the leader in the unification of Rus’; a son who continued his policies; and, finally, the idea of ​​a unified state that would never again lose its independence.

At the end of the 14th century, ‘Zadonshchina’ – a literary monument about the Battle of Kulikovo – was published.

In 1480, Ivan III formalized the complete political independence of Rus’; By this point, its dependence was more of a formality and Ivan III sealed the recognition of the new reality. 

In 1783, Empress Catherine II annexed Crimea – the last fragment of the Golden Horde to be incorporated into Russia. The great conflict thus ended, and all debts were settled. 

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