On cue, the cornu blast sounded the signal that we were waiting for, whereupon we immediately moved from column into line, facing the river near the top of the slope. The surprise was complete; almost before any of the Treveri could react, we went from an army marching away with our tail tucked between our legs to a solid line of veterans, staring out over our shield into the astonished faces of the enemy. A prudent commander would have realized that he had been duped, but the passion of the Gauls was strong enough to overrule any sense of caution, so instead of beating a retreat across the river, they chose to come on. It was understandable in a sense; because of the steepness of the banks along the river, even on foot we would have been on the rear of their army as they struggled back up them. They would incur heavy losses most probably, but still the Treveri would have an army at the end of the day. Once all but a few stragglers were across to our side river, with the main force coming into range, the orders rang out to launch our javelins. Our first volley flew into the front rank of horsemen, felling dozens of them, both man and beast and causing havoc. Immediately after the second volley, the command for the countercharge was sounded, and with a roar we bounded down the slope to slam into the now thoroughly disorganized and demoralized Treveri. I went bounding along with the rest of the Century, and because I was unencumbered by a shield, before I knew it my long legs outstripped the rest of my friends, the fact of which I was completely oblivious to until I heard the Pilus Prior’s voice.
“Pullus, you idiot! You’re too far in front! Get back where you belong!”
It was only then that I realized that I was well out in front of my Century, and glancing quickly around, saw that I was in effect leading our whole Legion. We were just a couple dozen paces away from the enemy when I came to a skidding halt, my face more red from embarrassment than any exertion. The Century went rolling past me, and I heard more than one remark thrown over my friends’ shoulders as they slammed into the enemy. The Pilus Prior went by me without a word, his eyes fixed on the impending collision, though I knew that there would be a talk after this was over. Shaking off my embarrassment, I turned to concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.
This battle was very short, with not a man on our side lost, while the same cannot be said for the Treveri. They were cut down like wheat in the field, most of them as they were finishing their scramble up the banks of the river, and the slaughter was so great that one could almost literally walk across the river on the bodies of the dead without ever touching water. The river, both at the site of the killing and for a few hundred paces downstream was solid red, as if that were its natural color. We did not pursue the Treveri very deeply into the woods on the other side of the water, still wary of the dangers posed to an army that fought in our fashion in the close confines of a forest, yet even without that pursuit, we killed several thousand of the enemy. Labienus sounded the recall, we re-formed to march back to our former places in the column, picked up our gear and began the march back to our winter quarters, our spirits buoyant at the easy victory.
It was less than a week later when the surviving leaders of the Treveri showed up at the gates under a flag of truce to offer their submission. They claimed that the family of Indutiomarus were the instigators of this latest revolt, and once we defeated them at the river, the Treveri banished them from their tribe, sending them packing across the Rhenus. The German tribes coming to the aid of the Treveri heard about their defeat and submission, turning back without ever crossing the great river. Labienus, under orders from Caesar, accepted the submission of the Treveri, although such things became something of a running joke in the camp since they happened so often and lasted such a short period of time. The submission of the Gauls among us rankers was compared to the sworn fidelity of a whore; it only lasted as long as the money did, or until a better offer came along. Cingetorix was reappointed chief of the Treveri, while Caesar came to join us at what could no longer be accurately described as our winter quarters, since it was now rapidly approaching late spring. Bringing three Legions with him, including our compatriots from Hispania, Caesar gave orders to make preparations for another trip across the Rhenus, and work began immediately. It was at that time I took delivery of my Gallic sword, and my comrades did not even bother trying to poke fun, instead just looking at it reverently. The only man I would let touch it was Vibius, and the Pilus Prior of course, who asked to see it. All of my friends were aware of how much it cost, and some of them talked about getting one for their own. Only Vibius, who had been thrifty like me but for different reasons, saved enough money to buy one for himself, except he had other plans for his money. We were halfway through our enlistment, with every day bringing him closer to Juno, who was still waiting for him. As for myself, I was beginning to get the itch that only a wife and family can scratch, surprising to myself not a little bit, and I began to have thoughts about things like settling down for the first time in my life. I do not know what scared me the most; the idea of settling down, or the fact that I was considering it, yet it was a subject that occupied my thoughts a great deal of the time.
Marching to the Rhenus, back to the site of the bridge, we found the pilings we had not pulled up still standing exactly as we left them a couple of years before, and began the process of building another one. This was more difficult in the sense that we had to range somewhat farther for materials, the forest immediately surrounding the area already being denuded. I remember having a thought one day, as I was working at chopping one of the larger trees down that would serve to replace the destroyed pilings. How long would it take for these forests to return back to the state in which we found them, and if some people in the future would be able to follow the track of every Legion of Rome by the destroyed forests that marked their passage? I must admit that I thought of all manner of strange things to help pass the time, something that I have never divulged until I blurted it out just now. Still, these were the types of things I sometimes contemplated, and I would not be surprised to find that I was not alone among my comrades. The work building the bridge did not take ten days like the time before, mainly because the design was already created and the pilings on our side of the river still stood. It was on the morning of the eighth day, Caesar giving us a day of rest after we finished, that we marched once more across the Rhenus and into the territory of the Ubii. They were there to greet Caesar to make sure he knew that they were not the tribe that the Treveri had summoned, and never broke faith with him. This was true enough; the Ubii’s name was never part of the rumor mill that produced the true food of the Legions, but the same could not be said for the Suebi. They were working with some of the other tribes to gather an alliance of German tribes to oppose us and it was the Ubii who informed us of this fact. Using this tribe as scouts, Caesar sent them into the lands of the Suebi to ascertain their intentions, and they returned to inform him that the Suebi had in fact gathered in force in the heart of their largest forest, where they were waiting to confront us. Word of where they were waiting for us was met with some trepidation on the part of the army, truth be known. It was not just that the types of forests that are endemic in this part of the world are so thickly treed, with heavy underbrush that makes fighting in our manner extremely difficult; it is well known that the forest contains more than its fair share of numen that haunt every nook and cranny. Anyone who fell in its fastness was almost sure to be confronted by the numen of the forest, angry at the intrusion. While I cannot speak for my comrades, I know that one of the things that bothered me most about the idea of being killed in a forest was the knowledge of all the trees that I felled over the years, and I could not help but believe there would be a reckoning. Sacrifices to the gods of the area became more commonplace, as we did everything we could think of to appease them at what we knew was about to happen. As I have said, Caesar was not one to be ruled by superstition, and despite his title as Pontifex Maximus, I never got the sense that he was overly religious, but the same could not be said for the men in the ranks. No matter how many offerings we made, we knew that we would be heading into that forest, no matter what was in it.