Aquila:The Letters of Lucius Spurius Pomonianus 5
The Great Rhinus Fluvius----
The great river spread out before the man standing in the shadow of the high cliff that overhung the river road. The river surface had the appearance of a very large white table set with an immaculate white cloth of the finest and most closely woven bleached linen. It was, of course, the Rhinus Fluvius in it's winter coat. A light snow storm that morning had laid a covering of white over all, softening the craggy features of the river ice, and the knarled and leafless trees close by the water's edge.
However, in these lands the Rhinus was thought to be more than just a great river. The stories were that the river was a god of sorts, or an evil spirit who lay deepwithin the river channel, and who swelled the river in it's spring floods and destroyed everything that it could reach close by the river bed. In the depth of winter the sounds coming from the river sounded very like the groans of a dying man and / or the smashing of glass or pottery.
Titus Otho Atticus, was a former legion legate, and now the Chief Engineer to Germania Inferior with the mssion of building a permanent bridge across this river. Not a tempory bridge such as the Devine Caesar had built from timber only, and then later detroyed to impress the barbarion peoples, but rather a permanent bridge of stone pillar supports and heavy timber roadway that would withstand the fury of the Rhinus through all seasons for years to come. in order for this bridge to be a lasting bridge he must be able to design it to withstand the wrath of the river ice in Winter, and the destructive floods in the Spring.
Titus smiled to himself as he drew his heavy cloak closer about his shoulders against the gusty and bitterly cold wind blowing down the river canyon straight from the high mountains in the distance. Even now, after his months here, he tended to think of this simple flowing river as something other than what it was. The wild tales of the "river spirit" whispered in the vicus, just outside the main fortress gate, the strange sounds coming from the river, and the raging floods that could be well imagined from the waste material of vessels, houses, barns, fencing, uprooted trees, and many other items now ruined and broken which lay twisted in the grip of the heavy brush along the long river bank made these "wild stories" hard not to believe. He shook himself as though to dislodge a bad idea. He came out here each day to look at the river, to get the feel of it and to better know it's strengths and weaknesses. But it seemed to be as great an adversary now as it had when he had first viewed it many years ago.
Not too awfully long ago, the ice-covered river would have been a natural bridge for barbarian raiders to cross the river and attack the vicus and the Roman patrols, but that was pretty much in the past now, and while there were still a few raids from those who had not yet leaned to accept the Roman world coming to thier own, most of the tribes had been either roundly defeated, or had come to the table to be a partner to Rome in some manner. Rome's laws and culture were beginning to tame the hill people and it was clear that
