As the radiant sun ascended the tower of Leo and flushed the world with dawn, the Roman nobles gathered to celebrate their high festival. Amidst the revelry, the daughter of Caesar—her heart bound to Shapur and her mind set on defiance—executed her bold escape. When the royal chambers emptied, she possessed the fierce courage of a lion; she secured two noble warhorses from the stables, gathered choice armor and weapons, and took a wealth of dinars, rubies, and lustrous pearls.
When night cast its veil, the two flee-footed companions turned their faces toward Iran, riding relentlessly through dusk and daylight without pause for sleep or bread. Sweeping through Khuzestan, they reached the realm of Suristan. As their limbs grew numb and their steeds flagged, they sought refuge. They chanced upon a lush village abounding with gardens and bright plazas. Worn by hardship, Shapur knocked upon the gate of a local gardener.
The host, a noble and hospitable man, came forth to behold two riders clad in mail, helmets, and spears. He inquired of their late arrival and desperate pace. Shapur replied that he was an Iranian traveler fleeing the wrath of Caesar and his host, praying never again to look upon the Roman emperor's crown. He begged for a night's shelter, promising that the seed of hospitality sown this night would bear rich fruit in days to come.
The gardener readily opened his home, declaring his very soul at their service. His wife prepared a generous feast, and after dining, wine was poured. When the host offered the first goblet to Shapur, the Persian King politely demurred, requesting his senior host drink first. But the gardener marvelled, noting that the scent of royalty clung to Shapur's hair and the lustre of ivory shone upon his brow.
Shapur laughed, took the cup, and exhaled a cold sigh from his chest before asking for news of Iran. The gardener wept as he recounted the ruin wrought by Caesar: Iran's fields laid waste, its people slain or dispersed, its chieftains carried off in chains to Rome, and many driven to take up the Christian girdle before the bishops. Of King Shapur himself, none knew if he lived or lay dead. Grief-stricken yet resolute, Shapur accepted the host's offer to rest for three days within his tranquil abode.