Banks of the Arar — Days after the encounter with the scouts
The terrain changed by the third day of marching. The forests gave way to soft, damp slopes cut by small streams feeding into a wider current.
The river was slow, broad, milky.
"The Arar," said Tullius, pointing with his chin."On the far side—Tigurini."
Sextus didn't reply. He simply looked.What lay beyond wasn't an army.It was an entire nation on the move.
Carts—hundreds.Pack animals, livestock, children wrapped in blankets.Women hauling belongings.Young warriors flanking elders.And men with hard eyes…watching from the opposite shore.
The Tigurini, one of the Helvetian tribes, had not yet crossed.The rest—the Helvetii proper, the Verbigeni, and the Tougeni—were already across.
The river separated them.
And when Caesar arrived, he understood that this river could be more than a border.It could be an opportunity.
Orders came at dusk.
Scaeva delivered them without raising his voice.
"Tomorrow, at dawn, we cross quickly and strike.Only those who haven't crossed.No prisoners. No negotiation."
Faustus swallowed hard. Veturius said nothing.Atticus spat on the ground and tightened his grip on the gladius.
Sextus cleaned his pilum.Not with nervousness—but as if finally, everything made sense.
That night, they slept near the water.No campfires were lit.The horses were readied without noisy bridles.The legionaries ate in silence, eyes fixed on the opposite bank.
Across the river, Helvetian torches were everywhere.So many… the river seemed to reflect a second night—brighter,heavier,and more inevitable.