weakness. He would give them fair warning, that no blow should be
struck, assassin-like, stealthily and in the dark.

He accustomed his body, Spartan-like, to all the fatigues and
exposures of war. He indulged in no luxury of tents or carriages, and
ate the flesh of horses and wild beasts, which he roasted himself,
over the coals. In his campaigns the ground was his bed, the sky his
curtain, his horse blanket his covering, and the saddle his pillow;
and he seemed equally regardless of both heat and cold. His soldiers
looked to him as their model and emulated his hardihood. Turning his
attention first to the vast and almost unknown realms spreading out
towards the East, he sent word to the tribes on the Don and the
Volga, that he was coming to fight them. As soon as they had time to
prepare for their defense he followed his word. Here was chivalric
crime and chivalric magnanimity. Marching nine hundred miles directly
east from Kief, over the Russian plains, he came to the banks of the
Don. The region was inhabited by a very powerful nation called the
Khozars. They were arrayed under their sovereign, on the banks of the
river to meet the foe. The Khozars had even sent for Greek engineers
to aid them in throwing up their fortifications; and they were in an
intrenched camp constructed with much military skill. A bloody battle
ensued, in which thousands were slain. But Sviatoslaf was victor, and
the territory was annexed to Russia, and Russian nobles were placed in
feudal possession of its provinces. The conqueror then followed down
the Don to the Sea of Azof, fighting sanguinary battles all the way,
but everywhere victorious. The terror of his arms inspired wide-spread
consternation, and many tribes, throwing aside their weapons, bowed
the neck to the Russian king, and implored his clemency.

Sviatoslaf returned to Kief with waving banners, exulting in his