by — Vibrant tunics blanket the knoll, their owners busy chopping the forest. The harsh sun bakes the skin, leaving the Romans and their Gallic recruits slick with sweat. Muscles aching, the younger men imitate their elders and wrap their foreheads in rags before dusting their hands with more chalk. Each axe swing brings a grunt and the thump of metal on wood, and by midday, their labor silences the rolling ticks of lonely cicadas. Nearby, camp immunes, who are laborers forbidden to fight, keep things…