Back to Sparta
Back to Sparta
A tale to begin all new tales of strength and valor.
Imagination can be a debilitating thing, believe me, I know it. Every once in a while, though, the “truth-is-stranger-than-fiction” thing leaves one in a quandary. That’s because I’ve seen things, in all truthfulness, that few would believe on their most open-minded of days, right here in the real world. The conclusion I’ve inevitably reached: Who’s to say, really, what is actually possible?
This little story came out of the blue ten years ago, and it sat on me like an entire set of Britannica encyclopedias, after seeing a drawing on DeviantArt that touched my heart. I can’t use it in a publication, because the artist sold the rights. It appears all over the internet anyway, but I’ll not join those who display it. Originally I think it went to New Line Cinema and now it is being produced for Netflix, by someone who apparently has stepped into it, imagine that. You can see that photo here:
As originally Shakespeare and later, Bogie said, “It’s the shtuff dreamsh are made of.”
I hope you enjoy my interpretation.
Back to Sparta
Benjamin Trayne
The month was August, and it was just a small town, a simple American community, nondescript but welcoming. In that small town was a small brick home on a breezy tree-lined street with its broken sidewalks that just happened, for the moment, to contain the world’s greatest secret. America, as we know it, was built by immigrants. But were this particular home’s occupants also immigrants, or were they visitors? Quite likely, the latter.
It was just about nine P.M. there, and within that neatly-kept home, a stocky little Scottish Terrier sat erect and at full attention, anxiously awaiting a verdict. Obviously something very important was going on, as four-year-old Philip, his master, was presently on the hot seat. So many strange things had been happening of late, it was little wonder. Hector cocked his furry head to one side and perked his ears, to listen.
“So Philip,” his father’s deep voice demanded firmly, “Where did you get the matches?”
Philip was seated uncomfortably in his mother's big barrel-back chair in the corner of the dining room. Gazing up at his father with large, liquid eyes, he wondered just how much trouble he would still be in if he said nothing at all. That would never work, his father expected an answer. For certain he would be in trouble if he answered honestly, because he wouldn't be believed, and then he'd be thought to be lying. It was the very first no-win situation of his young life. There would certainly be more.
Philip wondered if his father would believe Hector, if the dog could speak. Probably. Of course, there was always the lying option, and though he really didn't want to do that, out it came anyway. Stammering slightly, he spoke. “Uh I, I found where mommy keeps the matches for the candles.”
His father frowned disapprovingly. “So you admit it, you were playing with matches?”
Strange how one admission of guilt leads to another, even if neither was so. Philip hesitated, then nodded, staring at the dining room floor past the crumpled footies of his fuzzy pajamas.
“What possessed you to set fire to your teddy bear? Hmm? What were you thinking??”
Aghast, Philip looked up, shaking his head vigorously. “I didn't! I would never hurt...”
“Well, you did something. That much is for sure. I don't expect you to lie to me.”
Philip gazed past his father at the frazzled teddy bear, parked now on his mother's sewing table. The truth was he'd done nothing; absolutely nothing. It had all been the innocent-looking teddy. Nights just weren’t for sleeping, any more.
For a time, Philip had hardly been able to sleep at all.
In all his days past, Hector remained on the rug beside Philip’s bed only until the boy was tucked in and his mother had gone back down the stairs. Then, with a little huff and a gigantic leap, Hector would join his master on his bed and curl up happily at his feet. The teddy was Philip's only stuffed animal, and for as long as he could remember, the bear had always been there. And indeed it had; Philip's Auntie Kalliopi had brought Teddy to him while he was still in his bassinet.
So Philip's nighttime comfort zone had included his soft bed, his quilted comforter, his pillow, Hector at his feet and always, Teddy, Philip's arm curled snugly about him. It was just exactly the way things were meant to be, such that his mother thought, ‘Would that it could be so, forever.’ Indeed.
But something had already changed, and in a monstrous, planet-trembling way. Perhaps Philip's parents hadn't told him something he needed to know, or maybe they didn’t know, either. Until this very night, Philip hadn't understood any of it, but now that had changed, too.
It began one night with the faint sulfurous odor of brimstone, which seemed to be coming from his bedroom closet. Philip had tugged the tall folding doors open to look inside, but the air in there was clear, and there wasn't anything there to see...just clothing, shoes and his little travel bag, used only once when Philip and his parents had gone on holiday. The strange smell had to have come from somewhere else.
A few nights later, long after Philip had been tucked in, he caught a glimpse of a moving shadow. From outside the house, the soft yellow light of a residential streetlamp illuminated the pastel-blue wall opposite Philip's bedroom window. There was no mistaking it; it was a sharp, fast-moving outline of something huge, apparently invisible to his eyes, but solid enough to interrupt the soft light from the many-paned window. The ‘something’ had a long muzzle and a big horn projecting forward from its head, and it was bigger than anything Philip had ever imagined. The clarity of the shape indicated that it was right there, inside his own room! And then, as rapidly as it had appeared, it was gone.
Philip quickly drew the covers up over his head and he clutched Teddy tightly. What was that horrible thing? Then, carefully, Philip slipped the covers back down, a little at a time, until he could see again. There seemed to be nothing there. But remember, he thought to himself, it has to be invisible!
Gently and quietly, he moved the covers down to his neck and raised his head to stare into the darkness. It was then that he realized, Hector's attention was fixed on the darkest corner of the room, his little ears standing vertical. Something had to be there! Philip directed his own attention to the same spot.
At first, as Philip lay still and watched, he saw nothing. But as Hector's eyes seemed to be boring two holes into the blackness, Philip couldn't look away. And then, just as Hector's low warning growl rumbled up from his throat, the very first proof of Philip’s own destiny, appeared.
An ethereal curl of smoke wafted upward through the broad shaft of dim light from the window, and Philip saw quite clearly, a huge, luminous yellow eye beginning to open, low in the dark corner. Very shortly thereafter, another eye opened as well. The pupil of each eye was vertical, like those of a cat. Both of the monstrous eyes were fixed on Hector, who was trying very hard to bark. The bark just wasn't coming.
No one had to tell Philip what to do! Rolling to the edge of the bed, he gripped Teddy with his left arm and grabbed onto Hector's long fur with his right. Then he jumped down and made for the door, as fast as his short legs could carry him.
Bursting into the upstairs hallway, Philip cried out. “Mommy! Daddy! Daddy, Daddy!!”
Philip and Hector were running for all they could go. It was fortunate that the stairs were covered with thick carpeting, because Hector got tangled up in Philip's feet, and Philip and Teddy went flying, tumbling down and down, to the carpet of the stairway landing.
Of course, Philip's parents came running.
"Ohhh, Philip! Philip! Are you alright? What happened??" Philip's mother rushed up the first flight of steps and cradled his head in her arms. But Philip was temporarily oblivious to bumps and bruises, and he pointed back up the steps as Hector stood at his side and barked excitedly, looking back at the hallway. Hector knew!
But before Philip could say what he'd seen, his father interjected. "Settle down, Hector! Son, what were you doing out of bed?"
"Monster! There's a monster…"
"Honey, there's no such thing as a monster..."
"What did he have to eat before bedtime?" his father queried.
"Daddy, this was no ord'nary monster!!"
Philip's father chuckled, savoring his young son’s innocence. "Tell me, Philip, what does an ordinary monster look like?"
Philip couldn't help it. He began to cry, pointing at the upstairs hallway. His tears quickly placed his mother on the defensive on her young son's behalf. "Now see what you've done!"
"What I've done?"
"Philip will sleep with us tonight. Okay, Philip?"
Philip nodded, and his father sighed.
The next few nights were uneventful, but Hector no longer slept at the foot of the bed. Now, he curled up next to Philip's shoulders. It was farther from that darkened corner, and closer in some way to his young master. When Philip finally drifted off to sleep, it was always after an extended period of wakeful watching, expecting to see the terrible, huge yellow eyes again. And when he did sleep, he had bad dreams, dreams that always included the monstrous something that had invaded an otherwise comfortable bedroom.
Finally the weekend came, and with it came Auntie Kalliopi's weekly visit. Philip climbed right up beside her as she sat at the kitchen table and began to tell her about the monster. As he did his best to describe what he'd seen, she smiled slightly and nodded. But when he mentioned the yellow eyes and the smell of something burning, her smile vanished.
"Philip, that's very interesting. Jump down now, and let me talk to your mother about this, okay?" Philip climbed down from his chair and went off to look for Hector.
Although Kalliopi was rather short in stature, she was a particularly attractive young woman with long, raven-black hair. Now she leaned forward over the kitchen table and addressed Philip's mother, her steel-gray eyes flashing.
“Sister, you know what this is!”
“No, Kalli. What you're thinking isn't possible. He's far too young, and it's probably more than ten generations away, anyway. In this case, it's nothing but his child’s imagination.”
"So you have thought of it! You don't really believe he's coming, do you?"
"I know there are a lot of you who obsess on it. I wouldn't say I don't believe it."
Kalliopi never looked away from her sister as she spoke. "Two thousand years! The Order has stood for centuries longer than that! You must protect Philip!" Then she straightened her posture and clasped her hands together on the tabletop. "I've suspected this since before your child was born. All of the signs were there! And look at him now! At four, no six-year-old is as big as he is! And I'll bet, no sixteen-year-old has his strength!"
Philip's mother shook her head as she looked at the table. She decided not to mention that she'd seen Philip pushing the heavy living room furniture around. "A child has a bad dream, and you turn that into this? What would we be protecting Philip from?"
Kalliopi frowned. "You do not know? Everything I’ve told you, forgotten? From the dark forces of the underworld! Of course, they will make an attempt on his life before he is old enough to defend himself! Of course they will!"
She tossed her head and pulled back her long hair. "You should return to Sparta. All of you."
"We had to come here. Kirios' work required it."
"Well, then, perhaps it's supposed to begin here. Philip is the reason I followed you. And Kirios is the biggest, the strongest, the most beautiful man I have ever seen! It's too bad he has no brothers."
"Some things never change, and so it's been forever. Stay away from my husband, Kalli!"
"Penelope! My only sibling! You were meant to be his, and he, yours. Look at you! Tall, strong, broad-shouldered, and lovely as a summer's day. And, I am so much younger," she reminded her sister, coyly. "Consider, what you've chosen for Philip's middle name! Someday, it will be his first. In the meantime, he must be protected."
"Well, do what you want. As long as you don't frighten Philip!"
"Sister," Kalliopi replied softly, "The day is coming when nothing on earth will frighten your son!!"
The two of them sat in silence for several long moments. Kalliopi seemed to be musing, her chin on one clenched fist. "Who are we...who is anyone, to deny the rise of Heracles?"
*********
That late August afternoon found Kalliopi in the nearby city, browsing the curios section of an ancient shop. She waited patiently until the only other customer had exited the shop, and then she approached the shopkeeper.
"Kalliopi!” he exclaimed, “How is our pint-sized seer?"
She flashed a smile in response. "Seeing. From 'way down here."
The tall, elderly and bespectacled shopkeeper laughed. "And what can I help you with?"
Kalliopi sat on a tall stool at the counter, and explained. During her animated description, the shopkeeper's eyes reflected first great surprise, then, great happiness, and finally, great seriousness.
"Give me a few hours," he answered, softly. "I can provide you with the weapon you need."
"I knew I could depend on you!"
Four hours later, Kalliopi had returned to the family home of her sister and once again was sitting at their kitchen table. She asked, "Can I see Philip? I have something for him."
"Philip! Please come here," his mother called, and Philip came running, shoes slapping the tile floor, just like any four-year-old.
"I have a gift for you, Philip," Kalliopi said, reaching into her oversized handbag. "Actually, it's for your Teddy." She extracted a brown paper package that was no more than eight inches in length, and began to unwrap it. "I haven't even seen this myself!'
Philip hopped up and down, and his eyes widened as his aunt finished unwrapping the gift. In her hands were two items, an obviously hand-made wooden sword just seven inches long, and a smallish round wooden shield.
"A sword! For Teddy?"
"Yes, Philip. The same man who made your Teddy made this sword and shield for him, too. With this, your Teddy can defend you from the creature that has appeared in your bedroom. You can sleep peacefully and remain unafraid. Just one thing...” Philip stared at the sword. “You must make sure he has it! Place it on your nightstand. That will be close enough."
"But...but..."
"But what?"
"Teddy is so small! So is the sword! It's not a little monster!"
Kalliopi beamed, a brilliant, reassuring smile. "Both Teddy and the sword are enchanted. Trust me."
Philip smiled back and accepted the sword and shield. He jumped up to get to his teddy bear, and then stopped. "Thank you, Auntie! Thank you!" Then, through the door he ran.
"Brilliant," Philip's mother remarked. "All he needed was something to help him to feel safe. Great idea. But I'm telling you, sister, it was just a bad dream."
Kalliopi smiled.
***********
For many nights, Philip slept peacefully with Hector curled up beside him, as he clutched his teddy bear and dreamed sweet dreams. If Auntie Kalliopi said he would be safe, then safe he would be.
Soon, the month of October arrived, and the days continued to shorten. Brilliantly-colored autumn leaves blanketed the landscape in the nearby countryside and decorated the trees that lined the streets where Philip lived. The breezes grew chilly, and pumpkins began to turn up at the local markets. Philip had reached the point of understanding the changing of seasons and the recurrence of annual celebrations, like Halloween. That particular celebration, candy aside, worried him a bit. So he asked his mother, "Do monsters come out on Halloween?"
"No, dear, I've told you, there are no real monsters. Children might dress up like them to go trick-or-treating, but they're still just children. Not much older than you are."
"Oh," Philip replied, softly. But he really wasn't convinced. If that's all this was about, why not just have candy? Why would anyone want to look like a monster?? Just a couple of times, he thought he'd caught another whiff of the smelly, hot odor he'd noticed when the monster had come. That worried him a lot more.
The final day of October arrived. The official trick-or-treat night for their community had taken place a couple of days earlier, and Philip's parents had decided against taking him around to collect candy. "Next year, if you want," his mother had promised. Philip didn't mind, but to him, that meant Halloween was already over. It was over, and no monster had appeared.
That evening, all had seemed to be fine. Only Hector suspected otherwise. All had been quiet and peaceful for long enough, so that Philip didn't give it any more thought. He dressed in his pajamas and went to bed, contentedly and without worry, like most other nights. And as usual, he placed Teddy's little handmade sword and shield on the nightstand beside the bed.
Fast asleep within minutes, Philip dreamed of times long ago, when cities were built of stone and cedar. Perhaps his dream was the result of some movie he'd seen. Perhaps not. But he didn't awaken when the odor of brimstone came, and the curl of smoke again appeared in the dim light from the window. Hector did, as he was a much lighter sleeper. He jumped down from the bed, uncertain what to expect next, or what to do when whatever it was, happened.
And all of it happened in a flash. One huge yellow eye opened, then, quickly, the other, but this time, the eyes were not fixed on Hector. They were fixed instead on Philip's bed. Hector noticed movement of the bed coverings, and he thought that Philip was awakening. That was good, because it meant they could run again. As his hackles rose, Hector glanced over at the bed for the appearance of his master. Instead, he saw the formerly inanimate Teddy, now walking, making his way around young Philip, headed for the nightstand. Hector shook his head in disbelief, and looked again.
In the moment it took him to look up at the bed and to shake his head, the body of the monster began to flow past the little dog, a seemingly endless train of bony scales, thorny spikes and reptilian muscle. The horrible monster had risen, its great body now arcing high over the bed. So huge it was, there didn't seem to be enough room for it to be there, beneath the height of the ceiling. Certainly there hadn't been enough room for it to be in the corner! Hector froze, paralyzed with fright.
But the monster had stopped. Now, its huge yellow eyes were fixed on something else. Just above the sweetly dreaming face of young Philip stood Teddy, not even one foot tall, grasping his little wooden shield and brandishing his tiny sword!
Hector's quick canine powers of observation were hard at work. There was a dull red, flickering glow from behind the monster, somewhere beyond the foot of the bed. The beast had huge, gleaming fangs that dominated the tip of its gigantic snout, and rows of sharp incisors in front and on either side. Surely just a single snap would end both the teddy bear and Hector's young master. But it seemed, the monster had other plans. First it would swat the teddy out of existence by crushing it between its clawed hands. Hector saw the big arms starting to move, and the teddy bear beginning to glow, then to flash.
All of it was far too much for Hector. He realized there was nothing he could do. The last things he saw were the long claws of the monster's feet, beyond the foot of the bed where it stood. He forced his way into the space between the door and its frame, opening it just enough to permit him to slip through, and then he ran for all he could go, to alert Philip's father.
Hector tore down the steps, across the dining room floor and into the living room where Philip's parents were sitting. The late show was on the television and his father had dozed off in his recliner. Hector instantly began yapping and barking his most urgent and alarming sound-off, saved for the emergency that every dog hopes it will never need to announce.
Immediately, Philip's father was awakened and annoyed. "What the heck, Hector!! You'll waken Philip! I've had enough of this!" With that, he rose from his lounge chair, scooped up the little dog and headed for the garage.
Poor Hector! He'd come to summon the only one who might have been able to help Philip, but before he knew it, he'd been deposited into his wire kennel. Now, the small door to the garage was closing behind Philip's only hope. Hector cried, and yapped, and barked his fiercest barks! And then, he vociferously grieved that he'd ever left Philip's side, as he howled a long, mournful howl that had come all the way from his distant ancestry of wolves, for surely, he thought, his master would die.
But Hector's barking had already awakened Philip, who immediately sat straight up in his bed and began rubbing his eyes with his fists. What was that smell? What were those noises??
As he opened his eyes, the spectacle he beheld was beyond anything he might ever have imagined. A fierce battle was raging, but it wasn't as close as one might expect. That was because there was no longer a wall where there had been a wall; now, Philip could see into the distance, a smoky, rocky, dull-red landscape that stretched far away from his little bedroom. It all appeared to be several steps lower than was he. With both hands firmly gripping his soft comforter, he crept closer to the foot of his bed, to watch, he knew not what. A hot wind from the land before him filled the room, and the bedroom door slammed shut.
Out there, spurts of fire shot from crevices in the rock, here and there in turn. In their light, a musclebound human warrior's steel sword flashed yellow-red as it moved, parrying and thrusting. The human figure was dwarfed by a hideous monster with yellow eyes, eyes Philip recognized. That was the monster? It was unlike anything he'd ever imagined, with six limbs and great claws, spiny and horned, with a great spiked tail! Its mighty attack seemed to be too much for the smaller man, who was employing his shield more than he was his sword. Neither man nor beast was paying any attention to Philip, but were locked in fierce combat which, it seemed, could only end in the death of one or the other.
Philip looked around quickly for his teddy bear, but he was nowhere to be found. His sword and shield were also missing, and at that moment, he realized what Auntie Kalliopi had meant by the word, "enchanted". Only now, he didn't feel so safe.
Suddenly, with a quick and powerful sweep of the beast's tail, the human defender was knocked from his feet, the sword flew from his hand and the shield came loose from his grip as he tumbled across the rocky plain. Blood poured from gaping wounds inflicted by the spines of the tail. But even before he stopped tumbling, the warrior was regaining his feet. As quickly as he did, he bellowed and ran straight for the beast! He leaped and grabbed the writhing neck, the force of his body caused the monster to topple, and the two went rolling, the beast flailing and stabbing with its claws, the man twisting and pounding, as the mighty warrior sought to weaken it's armor or to break the great neck!
Alas, the creature was too strong for that; but in his rolling about, the warrior had spotted his sword lying on the surface. He broke free long enough to retrieve it, while the beast, angry and now certain of victory, rose high on its hindmost feet to strike a final time, flames blazing from its gaping maw.
Instead, it immediately felt the sting of the warrior's blade, piercing its muscular midsection; once, and again, and again, as the sword was finally driven clear through the beast. The monster fell, heavily. The warrior stepped around its body and beheaded it with one powerful arcing swing of his weapon, and then immediately, retrieved his shield.
The portal to the landscape was beginning to close. The warrior noticed, and hurried to the edge of Philip's room. There he stood, on the very edge of the portal, his body apparently stopping its closure. He bled from many wounds, his chest heaved from exertion, his flesh torn and his breastplate smoking. He spoke, and Philip listened, in rapt attention. Then, after some minutes, the portal closed. Now, there was nothing there but Philip's pastel-blue bedroom wall. The air in the room smelled of fire and of brimstone, and his teddy bear lay at the foot of his bed, torn and charred. His tiny wooden sword and shield were lying on the floor beside him. Philip just remained on his knees near the foot of his bed, putting things in order in his mind.
Minutes later, Philip's father entered the room, having at last heard some sort of ruckus. The first thing he noticed was that his son was out of bed again. Then, he smelled the distinct odor of sulfur in the air, and then, the torn and smoking teddy bear on the floor.
"Which one of you went crazier, Hector or you? What is this?" He picked up the teddy bear. "What's going on, is it 'kill Teddy' night?" He quickly carried the stuffed animal to the bathroom and doused it with water from the bathtub faucet. Then he looked around Philip's room for other signs of fire.
"Philip, am I gonna have trouble with you? You're only four years old! What's it gonna be like when you're a teenager?" Then, he examined the teddy bear, and held it out for Philip to see. "Don't you want it?"
Philip nodded, and reached.
"Then I'll ask your mother to sew it back together. What in the world got into Hector? Why would he tear up your bear?" He paused, thinking. Then he pointed toward the door. "Get downstairs, young man. We're going to have a discussion!"
**********
So now, sitting uncomfortably in his mother's big barrel-back chair, Philip was doing his level best to think of a way to quell his father's upset. If only he could speak the truth, and not be punished! But perhaps punishment was unavoidable, after all. The one who had saved him deserved better than a lie. That was it; Philip had decided.
"Daddy, that's not the truth."
"I didn't think so. Out with it. What happened?"
Philip began his tale, gesturing and gesticulating, describing all that had occurred. His mother stood behind the chair for a short time, listening. His father believed with all of his heart he was hearing an imaginative fabrication from a lying four-year-old. But he allowed his little boy to speak, his head in his hands, wondering how a good father should deal with it. Meanwhile, his wife Penelope had rushed to the phone. "Kalliopi! You need to come, quickly! It's happened! Yes, Philip is okay! But I think he needs you. We need you!"
Ten minutes later, a new discussion had begun. Philip had freed Hector from the confines of his kennel and was now stroking the elated young terrier, beside a kitchen chair. The three adults, Kirios, Penelope and Kalliopi, were having a discussion, all in Greek. Philip, satisfied that Hector was happy, climbed onto the chair.
"Heracles!" exclaimed Kirios, somewhat angrily. "Hercules?" Our son??
Philip spoke up. "You don't think I understand, but I do."
All turned to look at Philip. "You do?" The question came from his father.
"Yes". Then Philip related what he'd heard, but in English. There was no question at all that he'd understood every word. Then he asked his father, "Why don't you believe it?"
Kirios didn't know of any good way to say that it was all nonsense. That Philip's mother and her sister were both insane.
But how in the world did Philip understand Greek? They'd been careful to use only English since he'd been born. They had expected to remain in the United States through at least Philip's early school years, and didn't want him to be burdened with learning two languages, from the outset.
Penelope, meanwhile, was in a daze, convinced at last. What would life be like, now that they really knew? What would her son’s life be like? Those concerns took second place to her knowledge that, no matter what, she was the boy’s mother. "Philip," she comforted, "It will be alright. I can fix your teddy."
"That's good, Mommy, I hope you do. But he's not Teddy. He never was. I just didn't know it."
Kalliopi was the first to ask, and was the only one of the three adults awaiting his answer with anticipation and curiosity. "What is his name?"
Without hesitation, Philip answered. "Tyndareus. He's always been my friend."
"And who is Tyndareus?" Kirios knew the name, but he was still certain it was all something Kalliopi had told him.
"He's a Spartan. A king." Penelope gasped. Philip continued. "He's a very strong man. A great warrior."
The thought struck Kirios as amusing. "Philip! You've claimed that your Teddy is really a man, a king? Don't you think he's a little short?"
Philip nodded. "Yes. Tyndareus never got very tall. He's short, like Auntie."
Then he brightened. "Tyndareus told me he's coming! He said we'll be of the same blood!"
All of the adults were quiet. Then Penelope asked, "Will he be your brother?"
"No," answered Philip. What does it mean, 'the same blood'?" Kirios and Penelope looked at Kalliopi.
"Don't look at me, I don't have a husband," she said, blushing.
Penelope glared at Kirios. "Hey, don't look at me! Penelope!"
At that moment, Kalliopi started to get up from her chair. Penelope asked, "Where are you going? Something wrong?"
Kalliopi sat back down. "Not any more," she replied, softly. "Philip will be fine now. I'm going back to Sparta. I'm going to pack, first thing in the morning."
"Why?"
"Because I left the only man I ever cared for, there. We talk, every single day. Time to return."
"Auntie Kalliopi! You're going away? Will you be back?"
Kalliopi turned and gazed at her nephew. "I will be back. I might be gone for a pretty long while. But I know I will see you again, and it won't be too long. And someday, I am sure you will return to Sparta, too." She brushed away a single tear. "I have to tell you, just one thing. Heracles is the divine protector of humanity. In this world, in this time, that will take much more than great strength!"
"I know. Tyndareus told me a lot."
Satisfied, Kalliopi smiled knowingly and took her handbag from the table, ready to leave. Philip quickly picked up Hector and parked him on one of the heavily-built solid oak kitchen chairs. Taking a wider stance, he then picked up two of them, one chair leg in each hand, lifted them both high over his head and held them there. Hector stood excitedly on the edge of one of the chair seats, looking down at Philip. Kirios gasped in utter disbelief.
Kalliopi was still seated on the other.
********
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