On the right wing of the Romans Theodoric and his Visigoths held the field, on the left wing Aetius and the Romans; between them holding the centre and himself held by Aetius and Theodoric was the uncertain Alan Sangiban.
The Huns were differently arranged. In the midst, surrounded by his hardest and best warriors, stood Attila considering as ever his personal safety. His wings were wholly composed of auxiliaries, among them being the Ostrogoths with their chiefs; the Gepidae with their King; and Walamir the Ostrogoth; and Ardaric, King of the Gepidae, whom Attila trusted and loved more than all others. The rest, a crowd of kings and leaders of countless races, waited the word of Attila. For Attila, king of all kings, was alone in command and on him alone depended the battle.
The fight began, as Jornandes insists, with a struggle for the rising ground between the two armies. The advantage in which seems to have rested with the Visigoths, under Thorismund, who thrust back the Huns in confusion. Upon this Attila drew off, and seeing his men discouraged, seized this moment to harangue them, according to Jornandes, somewhat as follows:
“After such victories over so many nations, after the whole world has been almost conquered, I should think it ridiculous to rouse you with words as though you did not know how to fight. I leave such means to a new general, or to one dealing with raw soldiers. They are not worthy of us. For what are you if not soldiers, and what are you accustomed to if not to fight; and what then can be sweeter to you than vengeance and that won by your own hand? Let us then go forward joyfully to attack the enemy, since it is always the bravest who attack. Break in sunder this alliance of nations which have nothing in common but fear of us. Even before they have met you fear has taught them to seek the higher ground and they are eager for ramparts on these wide plains.
“We all know how feebly the Romans bear their weight of arms; it is not at the first wound, but at the first dust of battle they lose heart. While they are forming, before they have locked their shields into the testudo, charge and strike, advance upon the Alans and press back the Visigoths. Here it is we should look for speedy victory. If the nerves are cut the members fail and a body cannot support itself upright when the bones are dragged out of it. Lift up your hearts and show your wonted courage, quit you like Huns and prove the valour of your arms, let the wounded not rest till he has killed his enemy, let him who remains untouched steep himself in slaughter. It is certain that nothing can touch him who is fated to live, while he will die even without war who will surely die. And wherefore should fortune have made the Huns the vanquishers of so many nations if it were not to prepare them for this supreme battle? Why should she have opened to our ancestors a way through the marshes of Azov unknown till then if it were not to bring us even to this field? The event does not deceive me; here is the field to which so much good fortune has led us, and this multitude brought together by chance will not look into the eyes of the Huns. I myself will be the first to hurl my spear against the enemy, and if any remain slothful when Attila fights, he is but dead and should be buried.”
These words, says Jornandes, warmed the hearts of the Huns so that they all rushed headlong into battle.
We know really nothing of the tremendous encounter which followed, the result of which saved the Western world. It is true that Jornandes gives us a long account of it, but we are ignorant how far it is likely to be true, whence he got it, and how much was his own invention. That the battle was immense, we know; Jornandes asserts that it had no parallel and that it was such that, if unseen, no other marvel in the world could make up for such a loss. He tells us that there was a tradition that a stream that passed over the plain was swollen with blood into a torrent: “they who drank of it in their thirst drank murder.” It was by this stream, according to Jornandes, that Theodoric, King of the Visigoths, was thrown from his horse and trampled under foot and slain, and so fulfilled the prophecy which Attila’s sorcerers had declared to him. The fall of the King appears so to have enraged the Visigoths—and here we must go warily with Jornandes—that they engaged the enemy more closely and almost slew Attila himself in their fury. Indeed, it was their great charge which flung him and his guard, the Hunnish centre, back into the mighty earthwork which before them seemed but a frail barrier so enormous was their rage. Night fell upon the foe beleaguered and blockaded within that mighty defence.
In that night Thorismund, the son of Theodoric, was lost and found again. Aetius, too, separated in the confusion of the night from his armies, found himself, as Thorismund had done, among the waggons of the enemy, but like Thorismund again found his way back at last and spent the rest of the night among the Goths.
When day dawned, what a sight met the eyes of the allies. The vast plains were strewn with the dying and the dead, 160,000 men had fallen in that encounter, and within that terrible earthwork lay what was left of the Huns, wounded and furious, trapped as Alfred trapped Guthrum later upon the Wiltshire downs.
The battle had cost the Imperialists dear enough. Nor was their loss all. The death of Theodoric brought with it a greater anxiety and eventually cost Aetius his Gothic allies. A council of war was called. It was determined there to hold Attila and starve him within his earthwork. In the meantime search was made for the body of Theodoric. After a long time this was found, “where the dead lay thickest,” and was borne out of the sight of the enemy, the Goths “lifting their harsh voices in a wild lament.” It is to be supposed that there Theodoric was buried. And it is probable that the bones and swords and golden ornaments and jewels which were found near the village of Pouan by the Aube in 1842 may well have been the remains of Theodoric and his funeral, for the fight doubtless raged over a great territory, and it is certain that the king would be buried out of sight of the foe. On the other hand, these bones may have belonged to a Frankish chief who had fallen in the fight for the passage of the Aube.