The Guardian's Legacy

by Luciana Cavallaro

  Even at a jog, Nik’s breathing sounded harsh to his ears. His lungs struggled to draw in air. Sweat trickled down his face and his singlet clung to his torso. As he approached the spot where his grandfather stood, he could see the frown on Papou’s face. Nik came to a lurching stop, hands on hips and breathing hard.

  ‘I didn’t realise how unfit you are.’ His grandfather squinted at him. ‘Don’t you work out?’

  ‘I … do,’ Nik answered, puffing. ‘Weights … occasional run … on a treadmill.’

  ‘Do you swim?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Right. Okay, got your breath back?’

  Nik nodded.

  ‘Time for the one hundred metre sprint. See that marker?’ Papou pointed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You run there and back.’

  Nik moved a few steps away and waited for his grandfather.

  ‘Off you go.’

  Nik took off. When he returned, his grandfather told him to go again. Back and forth he went until told to stop. His grandfather gave him a bottle of water. Nik drank half in one gulp. Before his body got too cool, he stretched his limbs. His leg shook as he pulled the other up for a quad stretch.

  ‘Is this necessary?’ he asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  ‘I must prepare you for every contingency, plus it is healthy for you,’ replied his grandfather.

  ‘Still, it’s just a coin.’

  ‘You’ll soon learn there’s more to being a guardian, and why.’ Papou handed him a towel. ‘We’ll head home for breakfast and I’ll go over the schedule with you.’

  When they arrived, Nik headed for the shower while his grandfather prepared food.

  ‘Hmmm … that smells good,’ Nik said fifteen minutes later, walking into the kitchen.

  ‘Here you go.’ Papou placed a plate and a Greek coffee on the table in front of him.

  Nik picked up the fork and knife and cut into his bacon. His grandfather sat down with a smaller serving, reached for a manila folder and handed it to him. Nik flipped it open and scanned the pages, ten in total. He stopped chewing as he turned each page. He returned to the beginning and read through again. When finished, he looked up at Papou, who had watched him in silence.

  ‘I’m surprised you allowed me time to eat and sleep,’ Nik quipped. ‘In all seriousness, Papou, you can’t expect me to follow such a gruelling schedule. I need to teach, I have marking to do and co-curricular activities to run.’

  ‘The first few months are intense,’ said Papou. ‘But it will ease once you have mastered the skills. When the first person discovered that the coin had unusual properties, it became the guardians’ duty to develop strategies to protect it.’

  Nik glanced at the typed sheets of paper. ‘This looks extreme, though. Running, weights and weapons training, boxing, martial arts, and sources to read and research, plus the sessions with you. This could be the program for the ancient Olympic Games.’ He flicked through the typed pages as he re-read the sections. ‘If the coin is this dangerous, why hasn’t someone destroyed it, or locked away it in a vault?’

  ‘A good question, one I asked my father when he started my training,’ Papou replied. ‘And I will give you the same answer he gave me, “The coin is our link to history, both familial and the world. It binds us as it is bound to us. One without the other cannot exist.”’

  Nik frowned. ‘Are you saying we’re connected to the coin? We’re here because of it?’

  Papou gave a hesitant nod. ‘In a fashion. It evolved because of an event which led to a decision that tied our bloodline to the coin.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Before we jump too far ahead, you need to learn how our family got involved. Have you finished?’ Papou pointed to his half full plate. ‘I want to show you something.’

  Nik scoffed down the now cold, congealed egg, bacon and sausage. Papou had risen and taken his plate to the sink bowl. Nik put his on top.

  ‘Leave those, I’ll do them later. Come with me,’ said Papou.

  Nik followed his grandfather along the passageway and into the bathroom. He opened his mouth to ask a question when Papou leaned over the tub, grabbed the spout and turned it anticlockwise.

  ‘Holy shit!’ Nik jumped back.

  The pink enamel tub groaned and squeaked as it swung away from the wall, coming to a stop at a forty-five-degree angle, to reveal a passage in the floor. A set of stairs led downwards, and lights winked on one by one to reveal a steel door at the bottom. Papou marched down the staircase and turned when he reached the door. His eyes twinkled at Nik’s stunned expression.

  Nik peered under the tub. ‘What about the plumbing?’ he asked. He looked from the bathtub to the vast hole in the floor, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It was like a scene from the old 1960s Get Smart series, and the weird contraptions and inventions underpinning the secret agency and its goofball agent.

  ‘The plumber set the taps and faucet in the wall to avoid jeopardising the water pipes, and rerouted the drainage system,’ his grandfather told him. ‘The next enormous job was setting steel tracks and large ball bearings into the floor to move the bathtub.’

  Papou beckoned him. ‘But what I need to show you is in here.’ He tapped at a panel on the wall, there was a click and the heavy door swung open. Lights flickered beyond him.

  Nik took a hesitant step and with faltering movements made his way down. As soon as he stepped onto the landing, his grandfather pressed a button near the light switch. Nik whipped his head around to see the bathtub had shifted back into place and the lights dimmed on the stairway.

  Papou opened the door further and entered the room. With a halting step, Nik crossed the threshold. As he did so, his mouth fell open. On the wall to his left was a bank of television monitors, streaming live images of various places. Three computers sat below, their monitors glowing and running programs. To his right stood wall-to-ceiling bookshelves, much like a high Victorian library, with a ladder to get to the top shelf. In the middle of the room was a large, blue exercise mat, the size of a boxing ring. On the far wall, locked in wooden cabinets, was an array of weapons: swords, shields, guns, rifles, bow and quiver full of arrows, spears, daggers, and a kevlar vest. It was a collection of weaponry from throughout the ages.

  ‘Oh … my … god!’ Nik could not believe his eyes. He didn’t know what to think. ‘How long has this been here?’

  ‘Since I became the next keeper,’ his grandfather replied.

  ‘And how many years is that?’ Nik walked over to the monitors.

  ‘Near sixty years now. Before he went to war, my father told me how the coin was now my responsibility. He wanted to make sure there was a successor in place, in case he didn’t return. He made it back home but died shortly afterwards.’

  ‘You were, what … twenty-something years old when you became guardian? So young.’

  ‘Younger. I was in my teens when my father left for the war.’

  ‘I need to sit.’

  Nik dropped himself into the nearest computer chair. He glanced around the room again, still struggling to absorb what he was seeing.

  ‘The room has changed over the years, in particular the technology as it got better and faster, but technical advances cannot replace certain objects with bits and bytes.’ Papou strode over to the bookshelf and placed a loving hand on the books. ‘Many of these editions date back over hundreds of years, and there are several thousands of years old. I store those in an airtight and secure room.’

  ‘Thousands of years?’ Nik repeated. He glanced across to the weapons. ‘Even those?’

  Papou smiled. ‘Those are my prized possessions.’ He walked to the furthest cabinet. ‘These belonged to the earliest guardians, dating back to 1500 BCE, and were used during the Trojan War.’

  Nik’s grandfather said something else, but Nik didn’t hear him speak: he felt dizzy. The room swam and his body felt hot and cold. Little bright stars filled his vision. He slipped from t
he chair, his limbs jelly-like. The last thing he saw was his grandfather rush towards him.

  When he woke he was lying on the blue mat, a cold compress over his forehead. His grandfather was sitting nearby with a worried expression on his face. Nik propped himself up on an elbow, the face cloth falling onto the mat.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You fainted.’

  ‘What? I did not. I’ve never fainted! Ever!’

  ‘Okay, you passed out,’ Papou said with concern. ‘Maybe seeing this room and hearing about the items is too much. Perhaps you are not ready to take on the position.’

  ‘I’ll admit it came as a bit of a shock. I was expecting … Well, I’m not sure what.’

  ‘Hmm. I am going too fast for you,’ Papou said, his brows knitted, ‘too much information too soon.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Nik, shaking his head. ‘I think it’s the realisation of the responsibility. This room and the contents took me by surprise. I imagined nothing of this magnitude.’

  ‘Regardless, we progress slower,’ Papou said, as he stood. ‘I don’t want you to feel burdened or pressured.’ Papou shook his head, angry at himself. ‘I am such a fool. I was excited about sharing our family’s legacy with you and forgot to check how you were coping.’

  Nik scrambled to his feet. ‘I want to be the keeper and I’m ready. A minor glitch, that’s all. It won’t happen again.’

  Papou studied him, his light blue eyes searching. ‘I don’t know, Niko. It is a unique world with a huge obligation. It’s not just the coin’s secret you are protecting, it’s all of this too.’

  ‘I am prepared and committed.’ Nik stood firm with determination. ‘I want to learn everything. I am the next keeper of the goddess’s turtle.’

  Chapter Six

  Nik nursed the cup of coffee Papou had made for him in the kitchenette recessed behind the door. Two worn but comfortable lounge chairs, and a low rectangular wooden table, the glossy surface long gone, faced the bookshelf. They both sat on the chairs. Nik scanned the titles of the books on the shelves. He itched to peruse the books; many in the collection were rare editions.

  ‘How could Herakles own the coin before the Greeks invented minting?’ he asked. The thought had been bothering him since the previous day.

  ‘What he had was a nugget, no bigger than a quail's egg.’

  ‘So how did he come into possession of the rock?’

  ‘Some said he picked it up during one of his deeds, others assumed his father, Zeus, gave it to him. A few were of the opinion he stole it from a miner who was bragging about a substantial find he discovered,’ said Papou. ‘I suspect he pocketed it. He was a bit of a rogue and had no qualms in procuring items he wanted. Besides, it was a good-sized rock to use in a slingshot.’

  ‘That’s not how he’s portrayed in the myths.’

  ‘He completed extraordinary deeds and people loved to hear the stories.’

  ‘What I don’t get is it’s just a coin, priceless yes, but why the secrecy?’

  ‘I will explain. Herakles, while out on a hunt, took down a deer with his sling, as he fancied himself as quite the marksman. In his haste, he fumbled with the stones and dropped them. Later he decided no one should ever learn of the nugget's power and protected it at all costs.’

  ‘Wait a minute, what happened when he dropped the rocks?’

  ‘He did not tell a soul of his experience. When he passed the nugget on to his son, he told him never to touch the stone but to keep it secured in a pouch and hidden. Each descendant thereafter was given the same instruction, and every guardian since stayed faithful to Herakles’ wishes. But when Helen of Sparta received the nugget, it was the most dangerous time in all the world’s history.’

  ‘You’re kidding! The Helen, Homer’s Helen? She existed?’

  ‘Niko, you will soon learn that the truth between fact and fiction is much more blurred than you realise,’ said Papou.

  ‘Helen of Troy,’ Nik said in wonder. He sat back, eyes wide, then jerked his head towards his grandfather, thunderstruck. ‘Helen was … we’re … she’s our ancestor?’ He blinked. ‘Wait! That means Herakles was as well!’

  ‘She wasn’t his blood relative, though the ties between Tyndareus, Helen’s father, and Herakles were close. Herakles had killed the king of Sparta, Hippocoon, and his sons, who took part in the death of his uncle. He entrusted Tyndareus with ruling the region. But, no, we’re not of her bloodline.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nik was disappointed. ‘So how did she end up with the nugget?’

  ‘Years later, Herakles’ children were seeking refuge and went to Sparta, knowing Tyndareus would provide shelter. Hyllos, the eldest of Herakles’ children, beguiled by the young Helen who, in exchange for a kiss, gave her the most precious item he owned when she asked for a gift. He gave her the stone.’

  ‘He gave it to her?’ asked Nik, incredulous.

  Papou nodded. ‘Even as a young girl Helen was beautiful and precocious. She knew how to beguile and seduce even the wiliest of men, and always got what she wanted.’

  ‘What an idiot.’ Nik shook his head. ‘And no doubt he told her what the stone could do.’

  ‘He did, and stressed the importance of not telling anyone of its existence.’

  ‘All for a kiss? How stupid can one be?’

  ‘This was Helen,’ Papou pointed out. ‘No man could deny her and she was very desirable.’

  Nik snorted. ‘Evidently Hyllos wasn’t thinking with his brain!’

  Papou chuckled. ‘I am sure you’ve been in situations where lust overruled your brain.’

  Nik’s cheeks warmed. ‘Well, I wouldn’t give away a valuable object for a pretty face.’

  Papou shook his finger at him. ‘Don’t make such statements you cannot guarantee to fulfil. Even the most stalwart of us are putty in a woman's hands.’

  ‘What happened after Hyllos gave Helen the nugget? Did she heed his warning?’

  ‘She did and, not only that, she made sure no one in her family or her attendants learned of its existence.’

  A chill snaked up Nik’s spine. ‘She had it with her while she was at Ilios.’ It was more a statement than a question.

  Papou’s expression gave the answer.

  ‘Cripes! She worked out what it did and used it,’ said Nik, aghast.

  ‘Nope. Helen kept her word to Hyllos. She never discovered the properties of the stone and kept it hidden during the ten years the city was under siege.’ Papou stood. ‘Another coffee?’

  Nik nodded and handed over his cup. He had to readjust his view of the woman for whom legions of men had died. Though the war the Greeks declared on the Trojans had a more sinister agenda: power and greed.

  Papou returned with two steaming cups of brewed coffee, the rich mouth-watering aroma filling the otherwise sterile room. Nik sipped the smooth, dark liquid and closed his eyes.

  ‘Good?’ asked Papou, with a slight grin on his face.

  Nik looked at him with a crooked smile. ‘Very.’ He crossed his legs. ‘What’s the story with the sword and shield?’

  ‘Our ancestor fought in the war, and was among the few lucky ones to return home. He was a Spartan and on the same ship as Helen and Menelaos.’

  ‘Is that how the role of keeper started?’

  ‘No, he became Helen’s bodyguard.’ Papou placed his cup on the table, and stood and walked to the bookshelf. He plucked a book, sat back on the chair and held it out. The book was old, the cover made from cloth, the title written in Greek.

  ‘I’ve read this,’ said Nik, scanning the cover.

  ‘Not this version. Take it home. This is as close to the original story as we will ever get. When Homer sang the events of the war, he merged several historical battles in one dramatic epic. The transcription of this publication originated from the first printed source of the Iliad. The ones that followed were copied from later adaptations, of which numerous passages were misinterpreted.’

  ‘Is this the first edition of the Ili
ad?’ Nik gaped at the book in his hands. ‘I can’t take it home.’ He thrust the book back at his grandfather. ‘I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to it. I will read it here and nowhere else.’

  Papou took the book. ‘If that’s what you prefer.’

  Nik sighed in relief, his hands dropping onto his lap. ‘I do, and if it’s okay with you, I’ll come here and read the books you suggest.’

  ‘That is fine. I thought you would like to read in the comfort of your own home.’

  ‘Any other book I would, but considering the age and how rare the collection is, I’d feel more comfortable reading here.’ Nik rubbed his hands up and down his thighs a few times and then clasped them together. ‘Going back to Helen, she was the first official guardian of the stone?’

  ‘Yes, she was,’ Papou replied.

  ‘Then how did our family become the protector of the coin if we’re not related to Helen?’

  ‘Following Helen’s return to Sparta, Menelaos assigned a warrior to guard her at all times. The king tasked our ancestor to protect her.’

  Nik sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Our predecessor’s first gig was as a bodyguard to the keeper? Did he know about the object she safeguarded?’

  ‘Guarding Helen was his priority and thereafter, the two families were bound by that initial position. Helen’s descendants not once divulged the treasure they possessed. Later, unfortunate circumstances saw Helen's royal line cease and new laws introduced into Sparta. It changed the city-state and with it, the most extreme living conditions.’

  ‘What happened to the nugget?’

  ‘Remember Hyllos, Herakles’ son?’

  Nik nodded. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and waited for Papou to continue.

  ‘He and his siblings left Sparta a few years later and settled in Athens. Eurystheus, the king of Mykenai, wanted Herakles’ sons to answer for the murder of a king, but the Athenians refused to give them up and war ensued. Hyllos killed Eurystheus, hacked off his head and presented it to his grandmother, Herakles’ mother, who gouged out the king’s eyes with weaving pins.’