There is nothing of interest to be recorded during his reign of seven years, save that Russia was swept by incessant billows of flame and blood.  The princes of the provinces were ever rising against his authority.  Combinations were formed to dethrone the king, and the king formed combinations to crush his enemies.  The Hungarians, the Swedes, the Danes, the Poles, all made war against this energetic prince; but with an iron hand he smote them down.  Toil and care soon exhausted his frame, and he was prostrate on his dying bed.  Bequeathing his throne to his brother Igor, he died, leaving behind him the reputation of having been one of the most energetic of the kings of this blood deluged land.

Igor was fully conscious of the perils he thus inherited.  He was very unpopular with the inhabitants of Kief, and loud murmurs greeted his accession to power.  A conspiracy was formed among the most influential inhabitants of Kief, and a secret embassage was sent to the grand prince, Ysiaslaf, a descendant of Monomaque, inviting him to come, and with their aid, take possession of the throne.  The prince attended the summons with alacrity, and marched with a powerful army to Kief.  Igor was vanquished in a sanguinary battle, taken captive, imprisoned in a convent, and Ysiaslaf became the nominal monarch of Russia.

Sviatoslaf, the brother of Igor, overwhelmed with anguish in view of his brother’s fall and captivity, traversed the expanse of Russia to enlist the sympathies of the distant princes, to march for the rescue of the captive.  He was quite successful.  An allied army was soon raised, and, under determined leaders, was on the march for Kief.  The king, Ysiaslaf, with his troops, advanced to meet them.  In the meantime Igor, crushed by misfortune, and hopeless of deliverance, sought solace for his woes in religion.  “For a long time,” said he, “I have desired to consecrate my heart to God.  Even in the height of prosperity this was my strongest wish.  What can be more proper for me now that I am at the very gates of the tomb?” For eight days he laid in his cell, expecting every moment to breathe his last.  He then, reviving a little, received the tonsure from the hands of the bishop, and renouncing the world, and all its cares and ambitions, devoted himself to the prayers and devotions of the monk.

The king pressed Sviatoslaf with superior forces, conquered him in several battles, and drove him, a fugitive, into dense forests, and into distant wilds.  Sviatoslaf, like his brother, weary of the storms of life, also sought the solace which religion affords to the weary and the heart-stricken.  Pursued by his relentless foe, he came to a little village called Moscow, far back in the interior.  This is the first intimation history gives of this now renowned capital of the most extensive monarchy upon the globe.  A prince named Georges reigned here, over the extensive province then called Souzdal, who received the fugitive with heartfelt sympathy.  Aided by Georges and several of the surrounding princes, another army was raised, and Sviatoslaf commenced a triumphal march, sweeping all opposition before him, until he arrived a conqueror before the walls of Novgorod.