Year 1237 AD. Batyuev’s doom-bringing winter of the invasion. The Ryazan voivode Yevpaty, who had ridden for help, returns to the ruins of his native city. To the ruins of his own life. If your home has turned to ashes, if the dead ruler you served is gone, and all those dear to you are gone—if the very God you believed in has turned away from you and your land — where can you find help? And isn’t it time to remember that you bear not a Christian, but an ancient pagan nickname?
The chronicles tell of an unbelievable detachment of Yevpaty Kolovrat: the Tatars supposedly believed that the dead rose against them — could ordinary guerrilla fighting have frightened the thugs who passed half the world? And why did the conquerors have to throw thousands of their best warriors against Kolovrat’s small squad — a hundred against one? What did the last voivode of the dead city become when enemies managed to kill him only with siege engines? Who answered his call and came to his aid? And what actually happened on Russian land in the mortal winter of 1237?