[1] The king, rejoicing in the wretched imprisonment of our men that had come to pass, and anticipating like successes, set forth from there, and slowly advancing, came to Amida on the third day.

[2] And when the first gleam of dawn appeared, everything so far as the eye could reach shone with glittering arms, and mail-clad cavalry filled hill and dale.

[3] The king himself, mounted upon a charger and overtopping the others, rode before the whole army, wearing in place of a diadem a golden image of a ram’s head set with precious stones, distinguished too by a great retinue of men of the highest rank and of various nations. But it was clear that he would merely try the effect of a conference on the defenders of the walls, since by the advice of Antoninus he was in haste to go elsewhere.

[4] However, the power of heaven, in order to compress the miseries of the whole Roman empire within the confines of a single region, had driven the king to an enormous degree of self-confidence, and to the belief that all the besieged would be paralysed with fear at the mere sight of him, and would resort to suppliant prayers.

[5] So he rode up to the gates attended by his royal escort, and while with too great assurance he came so near that even his features could clearly be recognised, because of his conspicuous adornment he became the target of arrows and other missiles, and would have fallen, had not the dust hidden him from the sight of his assailants, so that after a part of his garment was torn by the stroke of a lance he escaped, to cause the death of thousands at a later time.

[6] In consequence of this attack he raged as if against sacrilegious violators of a temple, and declaring that the lord of so many kings and nations had been outraged, he pushed on with great effort every preparation for destroying the city; but when his most distinguished generals begged that he would not under stress of anger abandon his glorious enterprises, ¹ he was appeased by their soothing plea and decided that on the following day the defenders should again be warned to surrender.

[7] And so, at the first dawn of day, Grumbates, king of the Chionitae, wishing to render courageous service to his lord, boldly advanced to the walls with a band of active attendants; but a skilful observer caught sight of him as soon as he chanced to come within range of his weapon, and discharging a ballista, pierced both cuirass and breast of Grumbates’ son, a youth just come to manhood, who was riding at his father’s side and was conspicuous among his companions for his height and his handsome person.

[8] Upon his fall all his countrymen scattered in flight, but presently returned in well-founded fear that his body might be carried off, and with harsh outcries roused numerous tribes to arms; and on their onset weapons flew from both sides like hail and a fierce fight ensued.

[9] After a murderous contest, protracted to the very end of the day, at nightfall the body, which had with difficulty been protected amid heaps of slain and streams of blood, was dragged off under cover of darkness, as once upon a time before Troy his companions contended in a fierce struggle over the lifeless comrade ² of the Thessalian leader.

[10] By this death the palace was saddened, and all the nobles, as well as the father, were stunned by the sudden calamity; accordingly a truce was declared and the young man, honoured for his high birth and beloved, was mourned after the fashion of his own nation. Accordingly he was carried out, armed in his usual manner, and placed upon a large and lofty platform, and about him were spread ten couches bearing figures of dead men, so carefully made ready that the images were like bodies already in the tomb. For the space of seven days all men by communities and companies ³ feasted (lamenting the young prince) with dances and the singing of certain sorrowful dirges.

[11] The women for their part, woefully beating their breasts and weeping after their wonted manner, loudly bewailed the hope of their nation cut off in the bloom of youth, just as the priestesses of Venus are often seen to weep at the annual festival of Adonis, which, as the mystic lore of religion tells us, is a kind of symbol of the ripened grain.