CISALPINE GAUL. WITH LEGIO XXI.

The wheel hit a rut.

The impact of the wooden wheel into the bottom of this particularly deep depression in the Via Aemilia produced a brief shockwave, which worked its way up through the axle to the bed of the ox-drawn cart.

The shockwave moved through a prone body in the bed of the cart and finally emerged in the form of a deep groan escaping from the dried, parted lips of Lucius Junius Brutus.

He hurt in more places than he knew he had. His left arm hurt worst of all...that along with each and every rib on his left side, all of which had been broken. His arm, heavily splinteted and immobilized, was a dead weight. Unkown to Brutus but of deep concern to the legionary surgeon was the fact that he had been passing a great deal of blood, evidence of internal injuries of unknown severity.

The surgeon, who would have very much liked to have asked Brutus how he was feeling, where specifically he hurt, was elsewhere, tending men wounded every bit as gravely as their Legate. Brutus lifted his head weakly and looked around the wagon. He was alone.

With a great deal of effort, he turned himself onto his right side in an effort to avoid, at least temporarily, this constant pain and discomfort which was plaguing him.

That is when he saw...it.

Brutus stared, uncomprehending.

He blinked, tried to focus his eyes on the object next to him on his pillow.

Involuntarily, his mind raced back to that awful day in the Senate when he was expelled. But here now is this. Is this real?

He blinked again, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. Opening them again, the object reappeared. Two objects at first, then resolving themselves into a single circular shape. It was still there. It was real...

He tried to grasp the meaning of it all, but the pain was too great, and as a mercy, his broken body forced him back into unconsciousness.

A few moments later, Gnaeus Didius checked up on his commander, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. The Primus Pilus smiled, allowing his eyes to linger for a moment on the Grass Crown which rested next to the man who won it, the man who saved Legio XXI.

================================================

Arbiter's Comment: For his heroic action, cut off from the rest of the Roman Army and seriously outnumbered, the men of the 21st Legion awarded their commander, Lucius Junius Brutus, the Corona Graminea...The Grass Crown!