Same timeline with Lepidus from the previous chapter.

  'Our family has fallen,' a small figure of a kid, stated as he observed his surroundings.

  'Why are they being treated like this, with such pity and sadness?'

  'Where was the respect and admiration our family once commanded?'

  As he pondered on this, he gazed out at the crowd.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  The chariot he was riding in rattled along the cobblestone streets.

  And Drusus's eyes met the somber faces of the people following them in their procession.

  *clatter* *rattle*

  The twelve-year-old boy, Drusus Caesar, the second son of Germanicus—the war hero, scrunched his face into a scowl.

  He could feel the small vibrations of the uneven road in his body.

  Making him sick and tired. Impatience gnawed at him.

  *clatter* *clatter*

  It's been several months since they left Syria.

  Where they stayed for one and a half years—months of traveling not included.

  He remembered their first travel there.

  When his father was sent by Emperor Tiberius.

  It was a chaotic journey full of welcoming people.

  But this time around, things were eerily calm.

  *clatter* *rattle*

  In every city they passed by now, people lined up and bowed to them.

  Their faces were etched with somber expressions.

  But instead of feeling proud, he's consumed by the realization that they're looking at them with pity.

  Whereas when they first passed by here...the people had even offered festivities in his father's name.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  Drusus focused himself now on the present time.

  He suddenly felt like they were all staring at him.

  Their somber faces were fixed on him alone, not his family.

  It made him uncomfortable in his leather-upholstered seat.

  *jolt*

  The crowd's dark attire seemed to blend together.

  A plethora of muted colors stretched out before him.

  He noticed that some of the onlookers were still damp from the recent rain.

  Their dark clothes clung to their bodies.

  The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone and damp earth with incense.

  He can see the people's faces still etched with pity and sympathy in the clearing skies.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  Drusus's frustration simmered, his face growing hot with resentment.

  He hated being the object of their pity.

  Their sympathetic gazes make him feel weak and vulnerable.

  *fwip*

  He straightened his back. He was riding in a luxurious chariot.

  People have to see him in a different light.

  Even though he is surrounded by his siblings and his grandmother inside on the same chariot.

  'I at least should look dignified,' he said to himself.

  *clatter* *clatter*

  He looked around at the people riding with him.

  Their chariot is one of the imperial family's one of many.

  A luxurious five-seater with intricate carvings adorned the felly, complemented by a rail.

  That served as both support and decorative design.

  The grandiose of the chariot screamed imperial lineage.

  Four brown horses are pulling it—courtesy of his grandmother's.

  He held his head high peered down and looked around once more at the pleabians—he felt like a ruler overlooking his people.

  *creak* *creak*

  He stopped looking at the crowd and compared himself to his siblings.

  His two youngest sisters besides the babe in his grandmother's arms.

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  They look clueless, so oblivious to the problem on hand!

  *clatter* *clatter*

  He started to get irritated, and he didn't even know why.

  Drusus breathed in the smell of the leather and the scent of his grandmother.

  He was hoping to get himself back in control, but…

  *sniff* *sniff*

  'Doesn't smell great', he scowled again.

  And he glared at his grandmother, Antonia.

  Antonia's face was etched with lines of age and concern.

  But her eyes shone with warmth and kindness.

  His grandmother is the niece of Emperor Augustus and the mother of his father.

  'She's so old and small,' Drusus thought.

  'Doesn't look like someone with a drop of royal blood in it.'

  'And she's even a direct descendant, unlike grandpa!'

  He remembered the earlier stop before they entered Rome.

  When Antonia had tried to feed them.

  Urging them to eat before continuing their journey to the Mausoleum Augusti.

  "Drusus, here, eat," she had said, smiling warmly. She's giving him a panis focacius.

  But it only made him feel dismayed.

  'You are a member of the imperial family for god's sake! Act like one!'

  But instead of saying that to his grandmother, he just let his face speak.

  And he showed his grandmother his displeased face.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  She met them halfway from Syria, with her own chariots and horses.

  And urge that they change their exhausted ones.

  But his mother Agrippina refused and still rode in his father's chariot.

  He now fixed his attention on his mother, Agrippina.

  'Mother has gone crazy.' he looked ahead at the back of his mother's head.

  She's solely riding his father's chariot.

  'She hasn't spoken a word ever since father died.' his blue eyes narrowed slightly.

  'I'm the only one that's sane here!' he doesn't count his youngest sisters.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  His mother Agrippina was beside herself with so much grief.

  She had forgotten about her children, especially him.

  He remembered the look in his mother's eyes, her eyes vacant.

  Her face was a mask of grief.

  'She looked really crazy.' Drusus's heart twisted with a mix of anger.

  And something else as he stares at her lonely back.

  He can't explain it.

  Drusus glanced over at his older brother.

  Nero Caesar, who sat calmly.

  His eyes were fixed on some point ahead.

  How could he be so composed?

  'Our family has fallen!' he wanted to shout.

  Didn't he feel the same anger and frustration that Drusus did?

  Then his eyes automatically led his gaze to his younger brother, Caligula.

  .

  'That empty gaze again,' Drusus thought, feeling a spark of anger.

  There must have been something wrong with his brain.

  'You attention seeker!' he can feel himself getting angrier; his body is trembling slightly.

  The younger brother, who sat quietly, doing nothing and looking like a statue.

  'You are the one that was so sick, you should have been the one to die, not father!'

  *clatter* *clatter*

  He felt a surge of bitterness.

  This was the brother who had stolen their parents' attention, who had made them worry and fret.

  Drusus had been the favorite once, the one who had basked in their parents' praise and affection.

  But now, he was just a footnote, a mere afterthought.

  'Especially you, Caligula! I hate you so much!'

  *rattle* *rattle*

  As the procession continued on its way, he thought back about their time in Syria, hoping to calm his racing thoughts.

  He recalled their first journey to the East; it was a whirlwind of excitement and admiration.

  His father, Germanicus, had initially been reluctant, wanting to retire as a general and live somewhere quiet—some farm.

  He heard it on his father's lips, and Drusus remembered how it was the first time he wanted to rebel against his father's decision.

  He felt so confused and frustrated by his father's decision.

  Why would he want to leave the hustle and bustle of Palatine Hill, where all his friends lived?

  It is where all the nobles like him are!

  He had confided it in his brother Nero Caesar, but his brother had simply shrugged it off.

  "Well, if it's what Father wants, then we have no choice."

  Nero Caesar has dismissed it as if it's not a big deal!

  Drusus had felt a pang of disappointment with his older brother.

  But later discovered the reason behind his father's reason of wanting to live on a farm: his younger brother Gaius Julius Caesar, now Caligula.

  Another disappointment as a brother!

  Drusus's anger simmered as he remembered how his parents' attention had shifted after Germanicus and Caligula went home from the Vetera camp.

  Even in Syria! They fawned over the quiet Caligula! Lavishing him with attention while ignoring Drusus.

  A bitter taste filled his mouth as he glared at his youngest brother.

  'You stole Father and Mother's attention from me,' he thought, his heart seething with resentment.

  *clatter* *clatter*

  The chariot's vibrations brought him back to the present, and he exhaled slowly. He tried to calm himself.

  He recalled the day a lone messenger from the palatium arrived, bearing a decree summoning his father to the imperial palace. It feels like fate!

  'The gods have not abandoned me yet! 'Drusus thought.

  Drusus had cried, begging his father to take him along.

  At the palace, Emperor Tiberius, his adoptive grandfather, told Germanicus he would be sending him to Antioch of the Orontes instead of his son.

  "The commotion in the East could only be settled by the wisdom of Germanicus," the emperor said in his solemn voice,"..for his own years were trending to their autumn, and those of Drusus were as yet scarcely mature." (excerpt from The Annals of Tacitus)

  Emperor Tiberius is comparing Germanicus experience to his son's, also named Drusus, who was older than him and younger than his father.

  The emperor was also looking at him when he said this.

  And Germinacus, unable to say a thing, even though his whole body seems like he doesn't like what he heard, has no choice but to go.

  Drusus had felt a thrill of excitement, knowing his father wouldn't be retiring soon.

  'This means he won't be retiring soon! And we'll travel!'

  He couldn't wait to share the news with his friends, imagining their envy.

  Little did he know, this journey would change everything.

  *rattle* *rattle*

  They were welcomed with open arms in Nicopolis, near Actium, a city built by the great Emperor Augustus himself!

  The people of Athens feted us with endless festivities.

  And Drusus lapped up the attention, basking in the glory of his father's fame.

  But not every city rolled out the red carpet for them.

  He recalled visiting a province in Asia, where they met a fortune teller who spewed some nonsense about bad luck befalling his father.

  "Hogwash!" his father said while laughing.

  Germanicus ignored the prophecy and continued to carry out his duties with diligence.

  They even attended a coronation event in Armenia, forging diplomatic ties with Parthia.

  That's when things started to go awry.

  They arrived in Syria, where general Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso was the governor.

  He couldn't stand the way they looked at his family—with a mixture of disdain and contempt.

  Piso seemed to take pleasure in undermining his father's authority.

  Even making snide comments about his mother, Agrippina.

  That almost made Germanicus kill Piso.

  'I have to admit, Piso and his wife weren't exactly the most pleasant people to look at', Drusus thought in disgust.

  *creak* *creak*

  The Syrians themselves seemed to favor his father over the governor, which only added to the tension.

  When his father visited Egypt, Piso's rage was palpable.

  He remembers thinking that something was off, that the governor's behavior was more than just petty jealousy.

  Looking back, he realizes that Piso's actions were just the beginning of a series of events that tarnished his father's good name.

  'But at the time, I just knew that I didn't like the way Piso looked at us like we were inferior to him.'

  Drusus remembered the endless sun-baked days, the stifling heat, and the constant intrigue that seemed to swirl around them.

  And then, he remembered how his father had started to change.

  At first, it was just a slight fatigue, a hint of weariness in his eyes.

  But as the days turned into weeks, Germanicus's strength began to fade.

  His body was wracked by fever and pain.

  Drusus recalled the countless nights he had spent by his father's bedside, listening to his labored breathing.

  Feeling his hot skin, and watching as the life seemed to seep out of him.

  The rumors had started circulating then—whispers of poisoning, of treachery, of dark magic.

  Drusus's mother, Agrippina, had been frantic with worry.

  Trying to nurse Germanicus back to health, but it was too late.

  Now, as Drusus watched the funeral procession, he felt a wave of anger wash over him.

  Who had done this to his father? Who had taken him away from them?

  Now, as he looked around at the crowd again, he felt a surge of resentment.

  'Why were they all staring at him with pity?'

  'Where was the awe and respect they had once shown him as the son of Germanicus?'

  'I hate this.'

  He glanced at his younger sisters and his grandmother, who seemed oblivious to the gravity of their situation.

  'Tch,'

  He hates them too.

  He looked at Nero Caesar's unchanged, composed face.

  'I hate you too!'

  He looked ahead at his mother carrying his father's ashes.

  'I hate you both!'

  He then looked at his brother Caligula, his eyes narrowing; his eyes almost spit some fire.

  'Most of all, I hate you so much!'

  *creak* *creak*

  The crowd's murmurs and the creaking of the chariot's wheels filled the air, as they made their way towards the mausoleum.

  *creak* *creak*

  Drusus's eyes scanned the crowd's faces, searching for someone.

  Anyone, who would look at him with the same awe and respect they had once shown his father.

  But all he saw was pity.

  Then he heard Caligula's voice after a long, long time.

  He started to sing the seikilos epitaph.

  *******************************************

  INDEX:

  felly - The outer rim of a wheel, especially a wooden wheel.

  rail - A horizontal or sloping bar or structure, typically fixed, used for support or as a barrier.

  panis focacius - An ancient Roman bread, similar to modern-day focaccia.

  Antioch of the Orontes -An ancient city in Syria

  Nicopolis - A city in ancient Greece, founded by Augustus

  Actium - A promontory in ancient Greece, the site of the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE

  Parthia - ancient empire in the Middle East

  *******************************************

  NOTE:

  "The commotion in the East could only be settled by the wisdom of Germanicus for his own years were trending to their autumn, and those of Drusus were as yet scarcely mature."—(credits to The Annals of Tacitus)