However, the memory of that onslaught remained with the people who lived in constant dread of its repetition by that fearful horde. Those least concerned seemed to be the kings of the various provinces and their thegns, the boyars. Immediately after the battle at Kalka, they settled down once more to their former series of petty conflicts, disputes over crowns and the undermining of the democratic system of self-rule in the various townships.
How senseless! They were trying to uproot the oak which fed them with its acorns. If on the other hand, they had applied their authority and power toward the strengthening instead of the eradication of this system in the communities and the voluntary associations and spirit of national unity which arose between the people as a result of it, Rus would probably have never fallen before the arrows and battle-axes of the Mongol hordes, but would have firmly stood its ground and defended itself like a deeply-rooted, giant oak which withstands the autumnal hurricanes.
The Tukholian region was fortunate indeed, for up to then it had escaped the despotic, acquisitive eyes of the princes and boyars. Whether this was because it lay tucked away from the rest of the world, high up amid the mountain ranges or whether it was because there was no great wealth within it, the fact remained that the boyars didn’t seem to be particularly desirous of crowding themselves into this secluded nook. But this good fortune did not last forever. One bright, clear day brought the boyar Tuhar Wolf into this valley section and without saying a word to anyone, he started to build himself a house some distance away from the Tukholian community but on property belonging to it on the top of a hill overlooking the Opir river. The people were so astounded that they did not at once object to this new development. But gradually they began to question him, who he was, where he was from and why he had come.
“I am the boyar of king Danilo,” explained Tuhar Wolf
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