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attire—helmets of brass, bronze, iron; leather kilts, plaid Gallic pantaloons; furred capes, and capes of cloth; sandals, leggings, boots; wool shirts, leather jerkins, bare chests. They wore their hair long, some braided, some blowing like golden pennants in the wind of passage, some greased up in jagged crests.
    Most of their horses carried one warrior, but some carried two, the second mounted behind the horseman and armed with a lance, a battle-ax, or a long sword. There were even a few chariots.
    The din they sent up was terrific and meant to be so; the clattering thunder of hooves, the rumble of chariot wheels, and, most fearful of all, the massed berserker rage of battle cries, bellowed at the top of a thousand and more sets of lungs. But no Roman deigned to glance back, as if even to acknowledge the onrushing presence of that which was gaining on them would be an offense to their dignity.
    As the valley narrowed, the hills confining it descended and it became a small meadow at the margin of a dense lowland forest. The Roman cavalry fled toward it, apparently seeking to disperse within the trees, where a large formation of mounted warriors would find it difficult to run down scattered single horsemen.
    Or so, no doubt, thought the Teutons.
    Instead, as the meadow curved to the left, they found themselves confronting a formation of Roman infantry. This might be only three cohorts of a full legion’s ten, no more than a thousand men, but their front rank confronted the Teutons behind an impenetrable wall of shields barbed with short thrusting swords. About thirty yards behind them, another such rank of swordsmen was visible, and in between were legionnaires armed with javelins. The flanks were guarded by smaller squads of sword-bearing infantry backed up by modest detachments of cavalry.
    The front rank of Roman infantry quickly opened a gap to allow the cavalry to pass through their line to safety, and just as quickly reclosed it.
    By now the Teutons were familiar with Roman infantry, and prudence would have dictated retreat. But their pride would not allow them to flee a force no larger than their own, and one not even mounted like proper warriors.
    The Romans greeted them with a barrage of javelins as soon as they came within even extreme range. The first volley did little damage, but the second and the third, delivered at closer range, caused considerable carnage and great confusion, as men fell screaming from horses or lost control of their mounts, as wounded horses reared and dying horses thrashed and whinnied on the ground, as other horses tripped over them and fell, spilling their riders.
    The front rank of Roman infantry marched toward them, followed by the javelin squads, then by the second rank of shielded swordsmen.
    The Teutons charged.
    This neutralized the Roman javelin squads, as the Teuton cavalry closed with the Roman infantry. But their swords and axes and lances were largely ineffective at penetrating the Roman shield wall to get at the swordsmen behind.
    The Teutons hacked away at the Roman shields with broad sweeps of mighty swords and battle-axes, but the Romans hunkered behind them, wielding short, double-edged, and sharply pointed gladii, thrusting straight at soft targets—the bellies of horses, the legs and groins of their riders. Soon scores of horses had their guts pierced and scores of Teutons lay dead beneath their fallen bodies. Men writhed on the ground screaming, bleeding, as they died in slow agony.
    Then a group of Teuton horsemen at the right of the Roman line found the wit to retreat far enough to regroup and try a flanking maneuver.
    They managed to round the right end of the Roman front line, and fight their way through the flank guard to attack the javelin-throwers and the front line’s vulnerable rear.
    But the javelin throwers had retreated behind the second rank of Roman infantry. And the Roman front rank
had
no unprotected rear.
    To the befuddlement and dismay of the