The Seventeen: Gaius Aurelius

Gaius Aurelius

The year was 232 AD, during the reign of Imperator Caesar Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander Augustus. Rome's streets were alive with the usual hustle and bustle, where ignorance reigned supreme and dissent brewed beneath the surface. Among the throng, three figures emerged from the crowd: a Roman officer and two mutineers. The officer, nibbling absentmindedly on a piece of cheese, was insignificant. My focus lay with the mutineers.
I've been a blacksmith my whole life. It was always my source of income and my contribution to society. I was okay at my job if I do say so myself. Others would even joke that I was a child of Vulcan. As a blacksmith, I've always worked based on what others need and have always had an eye for detail. Such is necessary when forging precise items, like sharp knives, sewing needles, and Antikythera devices, a tool for calculating eclipses. So when I watched the mutineers approaching me, I noticed their guarded expressions and eyes on mine.
I had encountered them once before in a local tavern two months before, where they openly discussed their treasonous plans to overthrow the emperor. Seeing them again was no coincidence. As they approached me with purpose, their eyes locked onto mine, I maintained my composure and waited for their approach. I refused to stir a panic over it, as it wasn't worth it. The shorter of the two, with a demeanor heavy with disdain and calm, said, "We'd like to buy you a drink, Gaius Aurelius."
Now, I must say, the question caught me off guard. I'm not poor, but I'm also not one to refuse the allure of free alcohol. I can't resist anything free, for that matter. It doesn't matter who is offering; it is free. It doesn't matter if it's the god Orcus himself, free stuff is free. I responded plainly, "Sure," and we ventured toward the tavern where our paths had first crossed.

Wine and celery; alone are great, but together, they are nasty. The celery was soft and pale, and the wine wasn't the best. But it's not like I'm paying for it, so all is well. I sat in the corner of the room with Lucius Attilius and Decimus Javolenus, their names, as I came to learn. They shared their grievances and plans over this small snack. Javolenus, the more vocal of the pair, spoke of their opposition to the emperor's rule with a sense of urgency.
"We've had our eyes on you, Aurelius," Javolenus declared, his tone tinged with a hint of urgency.
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Not exactly subtle, are you?"
Javolenus' scowl deepened. "As you may have gathered, we stand opposed to the rule of the emperor in this empire..."
"Well, join the club," I quipped, earning a sharp glare.
"But we find ourselves in need of allies," Javolenus continued, his tone growing darker. "And unfortunately, this city lacks individuals of discerning intellect."
I took another sip of the wine, accepting the compliment and mulling over my options. "And if I decline your offer?"
A cold smile curved Javolenus' lips. "We can't afford any loose ends, Aurelius. However, we are not without mercy. You have until noon tomorrow to make your decision. Return to this tavern, or face the consequences."
Ah, the joys of being threatened. Life in Rome is never dull.

The next morning dawned slowly, but off I scurried to the tavern, armed with my bag of quadrans and an obvious sense of impending doom. As I swung open the tavern door, the mutineers' presence loomed like a storm cloud in an otherwise bright sky. I took my seat among them, making sure not to display any sort of respect because I have always been petty. I also ensured to stock up on my favorite companions—cheese and, of course, more celery. A man must indulge himself, even with poorly made food.
Attilius greeted me with a smile that could thaw even the coldest heart, but Javolenus, oh dear Javolenus. He wore his disappointment as if it were a part of him. It seemed my arrival had ruined his chances to murder me. How unfortunate.
"We meet again, Gaius Aurelius. I am surprised you made an intelligent choice," Javolenus grumbled, his scowl etching lines of frustration into his features.
I couldn't resist a quip. "You should really try it sometime."
Of course, Javolenus wasn't actually a problem for me. Aside from the minor inconvenience of his death threat looming over my head like the sword of Damocles, I held no personal grudge against him. No, it was his entire demeanor, his grandiose air of superiority that grated on my nerves.
Javolenus, barely able to contain his simmering rage, deemed it fitting to rid himself of my presence. "We should accustom you to the rules of the game. Follow Attilius; he will lead you where you need to be."
The noble art of rebellion—where threats of violence and plays of power are as common as chariot races in the Circus Maximus. Truly, I couldn't imagine a more enriching education than being tutored by such esteemed mentors.