A Diplomat Who Had Actually Met Him

Attila died in 453, on the night of his wedding to a woman the sources call Ildico, whom the historian Priscus describes as the latest of his "countless other wives." The death came without warning and, in the earliest surviving account, without a mark on the body.

That account belongs to Priscus, a Byzantine diplomat and historian who had actually been inside Attila's court. In 449 he traveled to the Hunnic capital as part of an East Roman embassy under Theodosius II, dined with Attila, and later wrote an eight-book history covering the Roman world from 430 to 476. Priscus's original text survives only in fragments, quoted by later writers, but his account of Attila's death was preserved almost word for word by the sixth-century historian Jordanes in the Getica, his history of the Goths, which credits Priscus by name as its source for the passage. Of the handful of surviving descriptions of Attila, Priscus's is also the only one written by someone who had personally observed him, which is part of why historians treat his version of the death as the anchor point for everything that came after.

What the Royal Attendants Found the Next Morning

According to Jordanes's rendering of Priscus's account, Attila "had given himself up to excessive joy at his wedding, and as he lay on his back, heavy with wine and sleep, a rush of superfluous blood, which would ordinarily have flowed from his nose, streamed in deadly course down his throat and killed him, since it was hindered in the usual passages." The text is blunt about the cause: "thus did drunkenness put a disgraceful end to a king renowned in war."

The discovery came the following day. "When a great part of the morning was spent, the royal attendants suspected some ill and, after a great uproar, broke in the doors. There they found the death of Attila accomplished by an effusion of blood, without any wound, and the girl with downcast face weeping beneath her veil." Huns mourned by their own custom rather than a Roman one: the best horsemen of the tribe rode in circles around the body reciting a funeral dirge, and rather than weep, mourners cut their own faces so that, in Jordanes's words, the king "might be mourned, not by effeminate wailings and tears, but by the blood of men." No account from anyone present describes a knife, a poisoning, or a struggle, only a body with a nosebleed and no wound. That plainer account holds up specifically because there is a rival version to weigh it against, which is more than can be said for a solitary claim of more than sixty duels that has no second document, however narrow, to confirm or correct it.

1884 oil painting by Ferenc Paczka showing mourners gathered around Attila's body, with his grieving bride Ildico seated beside him
"Attila halála" (Death of Attila), painted by Ferenc Paczka in 1884, Public Domain

A Stabbing Added Generations Later

A different account exists, and it did not come from anyone who knew Attila. The Latin chronicler Marcellinus Comes, writing in Constantinople roughly eight decades after 453, recorded a single line about Attila's death: "Attila rex Hunnorum Europae orbator provinciae noctu mulieris manu cultroque confoditur," or "Attila, king of the Huns and ravager of the provinces of Europe, was pierced by the hand and blade of his wife." Marcellinus's chronicle, a continuation of earlier annals covering the years 379 to 534, gives no source for the claim and no corroborating witness. A murder motive shows up again independently in medieval Germanic legend: the Volsunga Saga and the Poetic Edda both have the Hun king Atli, their version of Attila, killed by his wife Gudrun in revenge for her brothers' deaths, a story later absorbed into the Nibelungenlied. Historians generally treat both the chronicle claim and the legendary versions the same way, as later embellishment layered onto an event none of their authors witnessed, and side with Priscus's plainer, contemporary account instead.

Even the nosebleed itself has drawn modern scrutiny, though not in a way that revives the murder theory. One modern medical reading holds that what Priscus described as a nosebleed streaming down Attila's throat better fits a ruptured esophageal varix, a known complication of heavy, sustained drinking in which a vein in the esophagus bursts and causes fatal internal bleeding with no external wound. If that reading is correct, it does not contradict Priscus so much as refine his diagnosis. The underlying picture, a fatal hemorrhage after a night of heavy drinking, with no one else involved, stays the same in either version, in much the same way that a single unreliable 1724 book, not a courtroom or a shipwreck, is where Blackbeard's lit-fuse beard and fourteen wives actually come from.

Gold, Silver, Iron, and a Grave Sealed With Killings

Attila's body lay in state on an open plain under a silk tent while the best Hunnic horsemen rode circuits around it, chanting a funeral dirge that Jordanes records in full, praising a king who died "not by wound of the foe, nor by treachery of friends, but in the midst of his nation at peace." After the public mourning, the burial itself happened in secret, at night. Jordanes describes the body sealed inside three nested coffins, "the first with gold, the second with silver and the third with the strength of iron, showing by such means that these three things suited the mightiest of kings; iron because he subdued the nations, gold and silver because he received the honors of both empires." Weapons and jeweled ornaments taken from defeated enemies were buried alongside him.

To keep the grave's location secret, the men who did the work were killed once it was finished. Jordanes records it directly: "that so great riches might be kept from human curiosity, they slew those appointed to the work, a dreadful pay for their labor; and thus sudden death was the lot of those who buried him as well as of him who was buried." The precaution worked. No archaeological excavation has ever located Attila's tomb, and neither has any dig conclusively identified the site of his capital.

An Empire That Didn't Outlast Him a Year

Attila left at least three named sons, Ellac, Dengizich, and Ernak, and, according to Jordanes, they demanded that the subject nations be divided among them "like a family estate." The peoples the Huns had ruled, treated, in the text's words, as little better than "slaves of the basest condition," rose against that arrangement. A Germanic coalition led by Ardaric, king of the Gepids and formerly one of Attila's own loyal subordinates, met the sons' forces in Pannonia at the Battle of Nedao in 454, within about a year of Attila's death. Ellac, the eldest son, was killed in the fighting, and the battle broke Hunnic control over the peoples north of the Danube for good. A remnant of Hunnic power lingered under Dengizich for another decade and a half before he too was killed, by the Roman-Gothic general Anagast in 469, closing out the dynasty entirely. An empire that had made both halves of Rome pay tribute to avoid attack did not survive its founder by even two decades, a collapse nearly as abrupt as the gap between the moment a papal tribunal privately cleared the Knights Templar's leadership of heresy and the moment anyone found out, once the manuscript recording that verdict had spent nearly four centuries misfiled in the wrong Vatican archive box.