Chapter 7: A Wife's Grief
'Hnnnnnnnnnn…'
Her silent cries clawed at her throat but never broke free.
A deafening roar curled in her soul, strangled and unvoiced.
Her body felt like a marionette, cut loose from its strings.
Agrippina was a leaf, whirled by an unseen wind, lost in a stupor.
She was so far away—she barely registered the world around her.
Not Drusus striking little Caligula.
Not even the looming Mausoleum of Augustus on the horizon.
Nothing.
Her calceus-clad feet sank into the damp earth.
It still held the memory of the recent downpour, where puddles—the gods' tears—reflected the sky.
SWISH SWISH
Every step was sluggish.
Her long dark stola dragged through the mud, its hem drinking water, grass and dirt until it clung to her like a chain—
A burden, as heavy as the crushing weight inside her chest.
Her face was a mask of marble.
But within—
'Hnnnnnnnnnnnn…'
Mundus doloris… a world of agony.
Endless.
Tormenting.
It twisted her soul.
Anima laniata… a torn soul.
She carried her husband's ashes close to her heart in a temporary urn—its crude design biting against her breast as she trudged on.
Her mind was blank, unable to form a single coherent thought.
Yet behind her eyes, something was playing—shattered memories of Germanicus—disjointed and fleeting… like a broken theater.
She feared that if she blinked, his image would vanish instantly, like a wisp of mist.
Grass tangled at her feet.
Mud sucked at her soles.
Each step was harder than the last.
'Hnnnnnnnnnnnnn…'
But she felt no struggle.
Didn't feel the added weight.
No nothing.
Heartbreak, despair… yearning and emptiness…
They gnawed at her insides, hollowing every breath.
Swallowing her whole.
Nihil sentit… she feels nothing.
SWISH SWISH
Then, her foot caught on a stone—she lurched forward.
In that brief moment she didn't even try to catch her balance.
Her arms only secured the urn instinctively, its rough clay was the only thing that felt real.
She was ready to fall—ready to crash to the earth with her beloved in her arms.
Strong hands seized her from behind, steadying her.
Claudius.
Germanicus' brother.
Another of Augustus' adopted grandsons through his sister, Octavia.
His gaze was grave, filled with something Agrippina could not name.
"Sister Agrippina…" he murmured.
She flinched.
Her name on his lips was like a stranger's voice in her ears.
An intruder.
Unwelcome.
Her body recoiled, shuddering at his touch.
She began to struggle, thrashing to escape.
His hands burned her, searing against her frozen heart.
A hiss tore from her lips.
Her hazel eyes flashed with venom.
Claudius hesitated, shook his head, and released her with a sigh.
SWISH SWISH
She staggered onward, resuming her march—bits and pieces of her wits returning…
Her silent wails still echoed within, while her family trailed at a respectful distance.
'Hnnnnnnnnnn…'
The mourners lingered nearby, reverent and hushed.
They dared not move, waiting in silence for their turn to bid farewell to their beloved general.
SWISH SWISH—
Agrippina halted.
She crested the rise.
A massive shadow appeared, blocking her path.
Her gaze lifted, slow and reluctant.
Finis itineris eius… the end of her journey.
The bronze statue of Augustus towered above her.
Frowning.
Watchful.
Piercing.
He was poised as if he was going to devour the man she loved—her grip on the urn tensed.
Mausoleum of Augustus.
A vast edifice of travertine limestone, wreathed by lonely cypress trees.
Statues of gods and goddesses stood vigil around it—faces twisted, as if in pain.
She stared at it, hollow.
On any other day, she might have marveled at its grandeur.
But today?
Nothing.
She wondered if she would ever appreciate beauty again… or feel anything at all—except pain.
A strong wind stirred the hem of her heavy stola, tugging the strands of her pale blond hair.
She clutched the urn tighter.
A chill seeped through her bones—
'Hnnnnnnnnn… hnnnnnnnnn…' she cried inwardly, shivering.
But she had been cold ever since she left Syria.
Her dry eyes fixed on the dark shadows ahead—
The Mausoleum no longer felt like a tomb, but a final barrier between her and Germanicus.
Her first rational thought flickered.
Fragile and fractured.
'Ever since... he left…'
She could never say it.
Never gone.
Just left.
She hugged the urn tighter, breath faltering.
'Ever since he left me… my heart stopped beating.'
She moved.
She breathed.
She still lived.
But aimlessly, like a ship adrift on a restless tide.
Then—
Another gust of strong wind—
It forced her gaze downward… to her feet.
She realized they were caked in mud.
'Move,' she commanded her legs, but they only trembled.
Then her eyes finally fell to the urn.
As if remembering what it was…
Who it was…
A tear slid down.
Then another.
And another.
"It's… raining," she mumbled.
Her throat was dry.
Her vision blurred.
Her body betrayed her, wobbling against her will.
She opened her mouth—slowly at first, lips quivering—then at last, a scream tore free.
"Aaaahhhhhh!!!"
The grief she fought so hard to suppress was finally heard.
"Waaaahhhh!!!"
Felt.
Seen.
Grief struck like waves.
Her knees buckled and she collapsed into the wet earth.
THUD
"Hhhhnnnnnn! Aaaaahhhh!!!"
Agrippina howled like a dying animal, grasping her beloved's urn as if it were the last piece of him left.
"Why?! Why?! Why?!!"
She asked the heavens, not waiting for an answer.
"Oh, gods—why?!"
The lifeless statues gazed down at her.
"Hhhhnnnnnn! Waaaahhhh!!!"
Her screams ripped through the silent necropolis of her ancestors.
Guttural and unintelligible.
She wept without shame.
Without restraint.
Snot and tears covered her face.
And yet, even in this raw display of emotion, no one dared mock her.
Nobody judged her.
Time lost its meaning.
The world faded, leaving only her agony.
Her black stola clung to her, heavy with rain, mud and grief.
Her children stood motionless, watching their mother mourn for the first time since their father's death.
They sniffled—affected—their feet shifting, eyes brimming with tears.
Even the mourners, silent in the background, felt the full force of her sorrow.
It radiated off her body like heat from a flame.
Agrippina was no longer just grieving.
She was the grief itself…
**
INDEX:
calceus(singular), calcei(plural)—a formal, closed-toe shoe or boot worn by Roman citizens on official or outdoor occasions
travertine limestone—a form of limestone often used in Roman architecture
necropolis—ancient graveyard