For when Totila gave the order to charge, it seemed as if a thundering avalanche were descending the hill upon the terrified enemy. The shining, clattering, snorting, threatening mass rushed on like a hurricane, and before the first row of the Armenians had found time even to raise their spears, they lay upon the ground, pierced through by the long lances. They had been swept away as if they had never stood there.
All this had taken place in a moment of time; and when Ambazuch was about to order his second line, in which he himself stood, to kneel and shorten their spears, he found it already ridden over; the third rank dispersed; and the fourth, under Bessas, able to offer but a faint resistance to the terrible horsemen, who now began to draw their swords.
He tried to rally his men; he flew back and called to his wavering lines to stand and fight; but just then Totila's sword reached him; a mighty stroke crushed in his helmet.
He fell on his knees, and held the hilt of his sword towards the Goth.
"Take a ransom!" he cried. "I am yours!"
Totila was about to stretch forth his hand to take the sword, when Teja cried:
"Remember Petra!"
A weapon flashed, and Ambazuch sank dead on the ground.
At this the last lines of the Armenians, carrying Bessas away with them, fled in terror. Belisarius's vanguard was annihilated.
With loud cries of joy King Witichis and his followers had witnessed Totila's victory.